#the ending of this puts a new twist on the ending

[beckyninja]

Hope

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warnings: So. Much. Angst.

Description: Guilliman mourns his beloved's "death".

Oof, this was a rough one to write, even though it's short. I've really put this poor blueberry through the wringer.

(This is a continuation of my Guilliman x Reader series. To find the previous chapters, check out my Masterlist.)

Guilliman observed the rage in Captain Takahashi’s black eyes as if from a great distance. Dimly, he registered her voice as she bent over the holographic star map.

“We will come to the beginning of the Wards in a few standard hours’ time.” She gestured with her left arm, the right ending in a bandaged stump just below the elbow. “I’ll need a moment to observe the maelstrom and discern the patterns, before I can begin imparting instructions.”

The Chief Navigator stood at her elbow, double-jointed fingers steepled before his gray lips. “These ‘Wards’, you say? They are a… maze, in the Warp?”

“And out of it.”

“How is this possible?”

Guilliman let his gaze drift between the two.

The Captain’s eyes remained fixed on the map. “You’d call it, Archeotech. The secrets of its creation have been lost to time though, thank the Light, TerraNova’s original colonists preserved the knowledge of its maintenance. I am no engineer, but every school child learns how our forebears scattered mechanical ‘beacons’ of a sort behind them as they fled the Machine War.” 

Pressing her remaining hand to her lips, she gave a single, tearing cough. A medica in a charred uniform, half her face bandaged, stepped forward.

“Captain, you should return to the infirmary for your next round of anti-rads.”

Captain Takahashi waved her away. “In a moment, Lieutenant.” She returned to the star map. “As I was saying, these ‘beacons’ emit frequencies that twist both the Warp and Realspace, bending reality and unreality into a knot of ever-shifting pathways. The Wards.”

The Navigator’s white eyes widened. “As a child I heard rumors… stories of Navigators caught in such knots… driven mad….” His head jerked toward the Captain. “How do your people pass through such insanity?”

“Few ever do.” The Captain’s lips tightened. “But for those who must, we are taught to recognize the patterns in the maelstrom, our reflexes sharpened to make split-second navigational corrections. It is a brutal process, and in the last few decades has mostly been delegated to new navigational computers.” A sharp snort. “Mine, which now happens to be charred debris in the void.”

Something rose inside Guilliman, clawing at his shield of detachment. “You made promises, Captain Takahashi.”

Every soul in the room, even his Ultramarines, flinched. The TerraNovan Lieutenant cowered back against a wall. 

The Captain trembled a moment, then turned to face him. “I did. And I will keep them, Lord Guilliman.” Her eyes rose to his face, but did not meet his gaze. “I am of the last generation of naval officers trained to manually navigate the Wards. I will see your fleet through.”

“Some would call your actions treasonous.”

Her eyes managed to meet his. “All those to whom I swore oaths of service betrayed me, Lord Guilliman. Because of them, hundreds of my crew are dead. Not just proud voidsmen and women of our Navy, but the families who sailed with them. Children. The ship we called our home lies a broken corpse.”

Her eyes dropped away. “I failed them. And I failed the only one of our royal family for whom I felt any true loyalty. Let them call it treason.” She clenched her one fist.

“I call it vengeance.”

For a brief moment, a flicker of understanding passed between them. Primarch and Captain. He felt himself nod before turning away and exiting the room.

He moved without conscious thought, feet following patterns drilled into him long before his ten thousand year stasis. Corridors, doors, people all passed in a blur. The cacophony of the ship morphed into a meaningless babble. Vaguely, he registered the heavy tramp of ceramite boots behind him.

Too late did he realize his destination.

The door to your quarters stood before him.

No….

His hand reached for the control panel.

No…!

He watched himself enter the code, heard the hiss of sliding metal as the portal opened into darkness.

Stop….

But his body refused to obey. Or, perhaps, it obeyed some urge far more powerful than conscious will. He heard himself ordering his guard to remain outside, and stepped through the door…

…into memory.

Your scent rose all around him, overwhelming, choking. It shattered the frigid defenses he’d erected around his mind and hearts. It stabbed. It soothed. He loved it. He hated it.

He stumbled forward, hands pawing blindly until they met the bed. His knees buckled. He crashed to the floor, hands still tangled in the sheets that smelled achingly of you. 

You…you…you…you….

You, standing before him for the first time, single heartbeat fluttering like a bird in his ears.

You, face earnest as you advocate for the home and people you care for.

You, giggling at one of his ill-timed, foolish jests.

You, laid out beneath him, eyes shining as you tell him you love-

“No…,” Guilliman groaned, “stop. Please….”

The memories ceased, replaced by something far, far worse.

You, dressed in purest white, standing before him at the altar, pledging love and faithfulness for the rest of your days.

You, blushing fiercely, as he presents their new Lady to the cheering crowds of Macragge.

You, panting his name as he worships your perfect body.

“No, no, no!” He buried his face in your sheets, only for the concentrated fragrance they carried to unlock his most searing fantasy.

You, glowing with joy as you bounce a golden-haired child on your hip, your belly growing round yet again.

“Pater! Pater!”

“Come, Roboute! Work will wait. Come spend time with your family, my love!”

Roboute Guilliman, Primarch, Lord Regent of the Imperium of Man, wept.

He did not weep as he had as a young man when Konor Guilliman, his true father, lay dying before him. He did not weep as he had when, after his reawakening, he discovered the memorial to Tarasha Euten deep within the Fortress of Hera.

Even in those times, he’d known there to be a future beyond his pain.

But now….

Fabric tore as his fists clenched around the sheets. He raised his eyes to find one of the innumerable skulls carved into every surface upon the ship. A grisly symbol of the deity supposedly watching over them all.

“Why?” His voice felt ripped from the bleeding center of his being. “If you have the power people say, why do you use it to torment me?” 

He staggered to his feet, still clasping the torn sheets. “Have I not given enough? Did you find me undeserving of even the smallest modicum of happiness? Why, then, did you let me feel it, only to rip it away?”

His next words came as an agonized roar. “Why did you give me hope?!”

The very cruelest of punishments.

Guilliman looked down at the shreds of fabric in his hand. “What did she do to deserve your ire?”

But, deep within, he knew the truth. The Emperor had not doomed you. He had. His love was a poison worse than any follower of Nurgle could concoct.

Hadn’t everyone he ever cared for died?

“I am sorry. Oh Throne, I am so sorry, my love.” Once again, he buried his face in your fragrance. “Forgive me. Please, forgive me.”

He knew he tortured himself. He also knew he deserved it.

Vengeance and rage could only light his steps for so long. He would destroy all who had taken you from him. And then their fire would flicker out, leaving him with nothing but a cold, lonely trudge into the gray of the future.

At the thought, all strength left him. 

Roboute Guilliman curled onto the floor, knees tucked to his chest, whimpering like a child left alone in the dark.

…ping….

His eyes snapped open.

…ping…ping….

He clawed to his feet, chest heaving in great gasps. 

…ping….

Guilliman hurtled from the room, nearly bowling over Cato Sicarius. The Commander’s queries went unheeded as he crashed through the great gilded doors at the end of the corridor and into his personal office.

ping…ping…ping…

There, on his desk, lay a small vox receiver, gifted to him by Captain Takahashi. The unfamiliar device was set to receive one specific frequency from one specific source: a miniaturized beacon set into a band of gold and sapphire.

A band he’d placed upon your finger minutes before you left the Macragge’s Honor.

“If you need me, press the largest gem in the ring. A beacon will activate.” He’d grasped your chin, ensuring you looked into his eyes. “And I will come for you.”

Ping!

The receiver lit with a pulsing, golden light.

And hope, that cruelest and most enduring of flames, ignited in Guilliman’s hearts once more.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

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[loveandleases]

Since we do not have our sweet puppies to pet our stress away, how would the ROs feel about MC wanting to comb through the ROs hair with their fingers?

Well, for those who choose to, Angela is ready for a few pets. Below the cut~

❤️ Cam - That is probably one of his favorite things to have MC do. (you'll see mention of it.) It just helps calm him, when he was younger and sick, Aunt Em would do it whenever he struggled to sleep. Ever want to calm down an angry Cam, just massage his scalp for him,

twist some strands of hair around your finger. He's all putty after that. Granted, with MC, there is an added intimacy; it changes things a bit, and you better believe once they try to move their hand, Cam is grabbing and whining for them not to stop.

💙 G - They would have let MC play with it before when they were elbow-deep in term papers and more assignments than they had time for. It would break that little spell they put themselves under when studying. They would wonder if it feels different because G has changed their hair over the years. They get a bit embarrassed about how much they enjoy it. Pretend they don't want MC to do it, only to end up resting their head in their lap and nudging their hand. "Why are you rubbing me like I'm a cat?" They ask brow arched as they eye MC. And the moment MC moves their hand, G grabs their wrist, making them rub once more. "I didn't say to stop."

💚 Kara - Very dependent on the state of her hair. Suppose it's freshly styled, no way. "No can do, sweetheart." But if it's when they're alone and hanging out, she would ask MC to braid it. Even willing to teach them if they don't know how. She would even try to get MC to help put in her hair oils or leave-in-conditioner when she's fresh from the shower. It's new to her, that sort of intimacy, and far more soothing than she ever thought it could be.

💛 M - They're completely still, no idea what to do. No one has ever played with their hair. Is it supposed to feel this good? Is it weird that it does? They're thinking it all over in their head and only really calm down when MC asks if they prefer they stop. "Fuck, no-," M blurts out, clamping a hand to their mouth and cheeks tinted over with color. They'd try to move some of their hair so that it can help cover their eyes so they don't get caught staring at how nice MC looks. Only to find they end up saying it instead.

💜 Isaac - "If you wanted to touch me that bad, all you needed to do was ask?" They try to change the subject, instead offering to rub MC's head. Isaac likes it, and they do. But the last person they let do that… well, remembering that level of intimacy and what happened after leaves a bad taste in their mouth. Once Isaac begins to warm up and stop hiding behind all that flirting, when they realize how much they can trust MC (and care), Isaac will like it. Isaac would even ask why MC isn't massaging his scalp when they're cuddling.

🖤 Ardent—So, this can go two ways. Either it's calming and enough to make him wrap his arms around MC's waist and hold them tight until he's asleep, or… if MC is applying more pressure, maybe raking his nails along his scalp and pulling slightly, that changes things. "C'mon, I know you can tug harder than that."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

What a Mess 8

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: thick!Bucky Barnes

Summary: Your new job isn’t all that you expect. (maid AU – short!reader)

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You take care of the food when it gets there. It's an easy distraction from the man prowling like an animal. You don't know if he's more hungry for the food... or you.

You dish up the Thai noodles on plates and bring them to the table with the little styrofoam tray of spring rolls and plum sauce. As you lay out the utensils, Bucky approaches the table. His hand rests on the back of the a chair.

"Would you like something to drink?" You eke out, keeping your eyes on the black wood.

"I am thirsty... but could use a beer too. Thanks, doll." He sits with a smirk. You understand he's referring to something else but not entirely sure.

You go to the fridge and take out one of the dark bottles. The beer has a German or Dutch name. You don't know.

"You want one?" He offers. "Help yourself to whatever you like. What's mine is yours. I'm... all yours."

You hide behind the fridge door. You grab a beer stein from the cupboard and bring it to him with the bottle. You place both before him.

"I'll have water," you assure him.

"Good idea, doll. Drinking's no good for ya."

He twists off the metal cap with his prosthetic hand. You try not to stare. He's only in a pair of gray sweats and a black tank top. You still feel sticky from what he did.

You go back to get a glass of water. As you return to the table, he clears his throat. "Uh, uh, doll, come here," he beckons you with his gold and black fingers. He winks and you obey. You put the glass down as you near him.

He puts his hand on your hip. His real hand, and guides you around. He pulls you between him and the table and sits you on his lap. You flinch but don't try to get up.

He reaches around you and grabs the fork. He twines noodles around the tines and lifts them off the plate, wrapping them until there are no loose ends. He offers you it. You hesitate but open your mouth. You can see that glimmer of anger in your mind. You don't want to awaken that any further.

You chew and he takes a bite of his own. You watch the plate then look at the one you placed by the other chair. There's something off. Like he's not seeing reality. He just has an idea in his head and he's following that.

You continue the meal like that. It's strange and awkward. He doesn't seem to notice. When you're done, he slowly nurses his beer, one hand on your leg, rubbing through your pants. You fidget and clutch the plate.

"I'll clean up," you offer.

"You can relax," he coaxes. "There's no hurry."

There is. You were done hours ago. You have an apartment. A home. Your life might not be much but it's yours.

"You alright?" He asks.

You nod. "I just... I'm quiet. Please don't be mad."

He takes a breath and lets it out, "mad? At you? You can be quiet, doll. I don't mind."

You chew your lip. He's crowding you. Touching you. His hand crawls closer to your pelvis and you twitch.

"Please, I... I don't want the plate to dry up. It's harder to wash."

You get up before he can stop you. He catches the loop of your belt and tugs. You pick up the plate and look back at him.

"Sorry, I..."

"You're nervous. I am too. I told ya," he grins and unhooks his finger. "We don't gotta rush."

"I know. It's... It's just..." You look at the dirty plate. "I should clean."

You spin away and scurry before he can catch you again. As you turn on the sink, he huffs. You sense him get up. He strides to the other side of the counter and watches you.

"Stop acting like the maid." He says.

You nearly drop the plate. You glance at him and frown, "but... I am."

"No. You're fired."

You drop it then. It hits the bottom of the sink and you turn to him with lather dripping down your arms. "What?"

"I don't want you to be my maid. I want you to be..." He stares at you and his eyes grow foggy, "mine."

Your lip quivers. You peek at the door and suddenly, he's charging toward you. You back up against the fridge and shield yourself with your sopping hands. He stops short and winces.

"Doll, you think I'm gonna hurt you?"

"N-no," you look at him between your fingers then drop your hands. "No, it's just... I don't know. It's..."

"I know it's sudden. I know it's kind of crazy but doll, I know you feel it too," he cups your chin and looms over you. "I tasted it. I know you want me too."

You gulp and flutter your lashes at him. You squeeze your legs together. Your eyes flit away in embarrassment.

"You don't gotta be shy. Please. It's been a long time for me. It's like... it's like new for me too," he cooes as his thumb stretches up to pet your lip. "We'll both be learning, together."

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Big day in the morning

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Your name was everywhere.

Trending on Twitter. Flooding the news. Fans were demanding your comeback, and you had no idea what the fuck to do about it.

It wasn’t like you didn’t appreciate them. You loved your fans. They were the reason you stood where you did. But none of them knew what was actually happening behind the scenes.

None of them knew how tired you were.

And now, thanks to Utahime’s drunk impulsiveness, the internet was going crazy over your almost-kiss.

Last night, at the club, Utahime had pulled you into a dance both of you tipsy, breathless, laughing. And for a second, just a second, you two had leaned in a little too close.

Shoko had been the one to pull you back before anything happened.

But Utahime? That little traitor?

She posted the damn picture.

Now the entire world was obsessed with the idea that you two were dating.

You groaned, throwing your phone onto the bed. "What the fuck was she thinking?"

But honestly, a part of you didn’t even care.

Because there was something else weighing on your mind.

Something that had been suffocating you for weeks.

Nanami.

He had promised he’d be home by 6 PM.

But as always he wasn’t.

And you didn’t even have the energy to be mad anymore.

So you just went to bed.

morning

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

You woke up feeling warm.

For a moment, you thought it was a dream.

The familiar weight of an arm draped over your waist. The quiet sound of steady breathing.

But when you opened your eyes

Nanami was actually there.

For the first time in weeks, he was sleeping beside you.

Your heart clenched.

Carefully, hesitantly, you reached out and ran your fingers through his hair.

"Nanami?" Your voice was soft, still heavy with sleep.

A low hum rumbled in his throat.

"Mmh… I’m sorry for coming home late yesterday, love," he murmured, voice thick and drowsy.

His golden eyes fluttered open, looking up at you with something tender.

And fuck.

How could you not love him?

But then

Then you remembered.

The hickey. The perfume. The woman in his office.

Your stomach twisted.

You shoved him away, the warmth of his embrace suddenly suffocating.

Nanami didn’t resist. But his grip on you tightened.

"Please," he whispered. "It was just… a moment of weakness."

Your chest ached.

A moment of weakness.

Was that all six years meant to him? A moment of weakness?

A thousand words fought to leave your lips. You wanted to scream, to cry, to ask him why.

But in the end

You said nothing.

Because despite everything, despite knowing you should walk away

You forgave him.

Because you loved him.

Loved him so much you were willing to put up with his bullshit.

"I saw your tweet."

Nanami’s voice broke the silence as his fingers traced slow circles over your stomach.

"You wanted to get married, hm?"

You stiffened.

"It… It was just an excuse to get them off my back," you lied.

Of course you wanted to marry him.

You wanted it more than anything.

He hummed, unconvinced.

"You must have seen the news, then," you continued. "Everyone’s trying to figure out who the lucky man is."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Yes," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "And I don’t mind you posting me at all."

You sucked in a breath.

Then, as if he could read your thoughts, he cupped your face tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him.

"I meant every word I ever said to you," he whispered.

Your lips parted.

"I worshipped you," his voice dropped, low and intense. "I still do."

"Do you know what you are to me?" His voice was soft, but it carried weight.

You swallowed, unable to speak.

"You are the first thought in my mind when I wake up," he confessed, his lips ghosting over your temple. "And the last thing I think about before I sleep."

Your breath hitched.

"You are my peace, my chaos, my greatest weakness," he continued, his thumb stroking your cheek. "I have loved you in a way I never thought I was capable of loving anything."

He exhaled slowly.

"And it terrifies me."

You blinked, startled by the rawness in his voice.

"I have never been a selfish man," he admitted, his fingers tightening slightly on your waist. "But with you? I am."

Your heart pounded.

"Because I don’t want to share you. Not with the world, not with your fans, not with anyone." He leaned closer, his forehead pressing against yours. "I want you to myself."

"You are the only thing that has ever made me feel truly alive," he murmured. "And if I lose you, I don’t know if I could ever feel that way again."

You swallowed hard, heart pounding.

"So don’t doubt me, love," he murmured. "Because my heart has always been yours."

Fuck.

You forgot everything.

The cheating. The lies. The pain.

You forgot it all when he held you like this.

And you hated it.

But you smiled back anyway.

Because loving him hurt, but not loving him felt impossible.

a day off

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Nanami took the day off today.

And for the first time in so long, things felt normal.

You spent the morning baking together. Flour dusted his shirt. Dough stuck to your fingers. He chuckled softly when you stole a bite of cookie batter.

And yeah.

You totally posted a couple of pictures.

Muhehe.

Then, later he took you out on a date.

It felt like old times. Like before.

Soft words. Affectionate glances. His fingers brushing over yours just because.

"You look beautiful," he had whispered. "You always do."

Your heart swelled.

And just like that

You fell in love with him all over again.

Night

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The day ended peacefully.

Nanami sat beside you on the couch, reading a book while you scrolled through your phone.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

And yet your heart wouldn’t stop racing.

Because you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

That this happiness was temporary.

That sooner or later everything would come crashing down.

And you weren’t sure if you were ready for it.

Somewhere other the universe

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Gojo Satoru had never been a man of patience.

So why the fuck was he still here?

Scrolling through your posts. Clicking on your pictures. Watching the videos of you and Nanami with a scowl on his face.

He told himself it was just curiosity. Just harmless interest.

But the truth was so much uglier.

It boiled his blood to see you with Nanami.

Nanami. Of all people.

An old classmate, a so-called friend someone Gojo had always thought was too stiff, too rigid, too unfeeling to love someone like you.

Were they happy? Sure.

Would Gojo ever fucking admit it?

Absolutely not.

Because deep down, he knew he wasn’t just criticizing Nanami.

He was jealous.

And fuck, he hated it.

Gojo had never been particularly close to you. Sure, you had been featured in his songs. Sure, he had spent hours replaying those tracks just to hear your voice.

But beyond that?

Nothing.

You were a fellow artist. A colleague.

And yet

To him, you were so much more.

He had tried to forget it. Tried to drown himself in distractions.

But it never worked.

Your voice was still the one he searched for in crowded places.

Your face was still the one he found himself watching during award shows.

Your name was still the one he typed into search bars at 2 AM just to see if you had posted something new.

And now, as he sat there, glaring at yet another picture of you and Nanami

He decided enough was enough.

He was done watching.

If he wanted to hear your voice so badly he would make it happen.

A remix.

That was the perfect excuse, wasn’t it?

A new collaboration. A remastered version of one of your old songs.

Just an innocent business proposal.

Not an excuse to see you. Not an excuse to hear your voice up close.

Not an excuse to remind you that you had other options.

That maybe just maybe you were better off with someone else.

Gojo leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his snowy white hair.

"She just needs to sing for me," he murmured to himself.

But deep down

He knew he wanted so much more than that.

Gossip in the group

He then went to the group to share about his idea to feature you in his remix, and fuck, as always, it was useless.

It was always the same eye rolls, dismissive texts, insults disguised as jokes.

But did that stop him?

Hell no.

If they weren’t going to support his genius plan, then screw them.

Gojo would make this happen on his own.

But he was genuinely shocked when Geto actually backed him up. Of all people, he expected Geto to be the first to shoot him down, not the one defending his idea.

So this bastard actually liked your songs? And he had been pretending he didn’t just to avoid getting teased? Unbelievable. Gojo smirked oh, he was never letting this go.

IS GETO FUCKING KIDDING HIM

Suguru. Of all fucking people.

Gojo could handle Nanami.

Nanami was stiff, reserved, predictable. He was a good man, but he was a man who followed the rules. And rules? Rules were meant to be broken.

But Suguru?

That shocked him to his core.

Because Suguru wasn’t supposed to want you.

Yet he did.

Gojo had always known, deep down, that Suguru secretly listened to your songs when he thought no one was watching.

He knew Suguru had pictures of you tucked away in his room.

And yet, every time he confronted him, Suguru would just smile. Brush it off. Deny it.

But now?

Now, Suguru admitted it.

Now, Suguru said it out loud.

And worst of all Suguru had the audacity to say,

"She was never yours to begin with."

Gojo knew that was the truth.

But he didn’t want to admit it.

Didn’t want to hear it from Suguru, of all people.

Because Suguru knew.

Suguru knew Gojo had an eternal, fucking pathetic, all-consuming crush on you.

Suguru knew that Gojo wanted you in ways he didn’t even know how to put into words.

And yet, if Suguru ever got the chance to be with you?

Gojo wouldn’t be able to bear it.

He’d end it.

He’d ruin it.

Because the thought of you with Nanami was frustrating.

But the thought of you with Suguru?

It was maddening.

His best friend. His brother. The only person who could truly challenge him who could steal you away from him.

It was unbearable.

Because Gojo didn’t want to share.

Not with Nanami.

Not with Suguru.

Not with anyone.

He wanted you for himself.

And he didn’t even know how.

Maybe just maybe he’d take a turn that was insane.

Something that no one would expect from him.

His fingers twitched. His mind raced.

Then, abruptly

He slapped himself.

A loud, sharp smack that snapped him back to reality.

And then he laughed.

Because fuck.

Maybe he was already losing it.

Don't have the motivation to continue to series :( and fuck i lost some of my works

@blushedcheri @kazupop @thesunxwentblack @fuffyfun123

Previous___. Next____

[em1989ts]

𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐞

five hargreeves x reader smut

word count: 1.9k

warnings: enemies to lovers smut 18+, five and reader are 20, kinda switch! five? idek, choking, fingering, unprotected piv

summary: you and five return to elliot's after a failed attempt at reaching reginald at the mexican consulate, leading to a fight that leads to a little more...

author's note: i need to come up with some new stuff cause pretty much every single fic has the same dynamics but i just love it so much i can't stop lol, also i'm still working on a request but it made me think of this so i got a little distracted lol

not proofread

“It’s your fault he got away in the first place.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

You and Five, your bothersome partner at the time traveling agency known as The Commision, were making your way up the stairs back up to Elliot’s place. 

After failing to save the world back in 2019, Five managed to muster up enough energy to time travel with you and his siblings to get you all out of danger. He ended up dropping you and his family off at different points in time between 1960 and 1963 in Dallas, Texas. 

You had only gotten here two days before he did, staying in Elliot’s giant home and sifting through his enormous collection of conspiracies. It was you who accidentally planted that alien idea in his head when he watched you use your power. Whoops. 

“You were the one who got all soft on seeing your daddy again that you gave up our hiding spot and made him run off,” you retorted. 

You made your way over to the door before Five blinked inside without you. Hearing his footsteps walk away, you sighed and pulled the key you had borrowed out of your pocket and opened the door. Five blinked the two of you a majority of the way here, as far as his energy could take you, leaving Diego and Lila behind to walk all the way here. 

“And we could’ve caught up with him if you would just hold your own,” he scoffed, already having poured himself a cup of coffee and heading into Elliot’s living room. 

“You think I can’t hold my own? How many goddamn times have I saved your ass while you were getting beat down, Five?”

You were getting even more pissed, raising your voice now as you walked over to him angrily. 

“Not to mention you only had to deal with one of those assholes while I had to fight two! In heels! And even after you tossed your guy out the window, you just blinked off! Some partner you are.” 

You pushed him a little as you emphasized your words. Of course, he was a good partner when it mattered, he did save your life after Vanya blew up the moon after all. But it sure seemed like he didn’t care about you at all in moments like this. 

He almost lost your balance when you put your hands on him, spilling his coffee over the side of the mug. Setting it down, he turned to you with an angry glare and shoved you back. 

“Well don’t go thinking you can fight me now, Y/N,” he said, almost daring, “Because trust me, you won’t win-” 

As he was finishing his sentence you took a fast swing to the side of his face, before he caught it and blinked you both into the small guest room that Elliot lended you both. 

He twisted your arm back and threw you forward onto the wooden floor. The room was dim except for a warm tiffany lamp on the bedside table. The air was clear and warm due to the open window, letting in the sounds of Dallas nightlife. 

You landed rough on your hands and knees. Maybe you shouldn’t have picked another fight considering you were still sore from earlier, but you weren’t going to back down now. 

After looking up at him for a moment, all smug yet still awaiting your next move, you quickly got up and tackled him, thinking it’d be easier on you to take this fight down to the ground. 

Five braced himself from your impact and blinked, not wanting to hit the hard floor, and you both landed onto the guest bed. The anger in your eyes never left as you landed a punch right on his cheek, your might distracting you from your new position. 

Before you could pull your arm back to hit him a second time, he wrapped his fingers around your forearm and used his other hand to grab you by the throat. 

A whimper left you as he tightened his grip, cutting off your airway. Bringing up your other hand, you tried to peel his fingers off your neck. Yet he didn’t let up, his fingers getting tighter and tighter, waiting for you to tap out. 

You inevitably did, your muscles way too tired to fight this stupid battle, as you tapped your hand on his wrist to get him to release you. 

When he let go, you brought your hand to your neck, massaging where his harsh grip once was as you caught your breath quickly. 

You hadn’t fully taken in your position, but Five sure had. 

He watched you as you laid on top of him, crading him, sitting just where he wanted you to. 

You looked dazed, all red in the face, hair a little messed up, chest raising as you panted heavily, his hormones had been driving him insane ever since the two of you traveled back and landed in your 20 year old bodies. 

It took you another moment to get the blood flowing through your brain again, but once it did, it acknowledged how you were sitting on top of him, pressing against a growing bulge in the front of his dress pants. 

Your breathing slowed more as you looked down to where your crotch met his before meeting his eyes. He stared at you with nothing more than lust darkening his irises and a flush on his cheeks. 

A smile crept on your face as you looked at him beneath you, eyeing his lips slightly before leaning forward, lowering yourself and meeting them with yours. 

His lips moved with yours perfectly as he pushed further into the kiss. He was about to move his hands to entangle them in your hair, but you had taken them in your hand and brought them up over his head.  

The kiss was definitely messy. Tongues clashing and lip biting, you were surprised neither of you drew a little blood. 

You felt him trying to assert dominance in your mouth as you fought right back, his hands remained held together until suddenly he blinked free. 

You landed on the bed, confused for a moment until you saw a blue flash in the corner of your eye. His hands landed on your shoulders, strongly flipping you onto your back, maneuvering himself to be in between your open legs, and immediately latching onto your neck, causing you to let out a gasp at the sensation. 

Instead of holding them above your head, he grasped both your hands in one of his and held them to your chest, reaching down under your pleated sixties skirt, feeling you through your underwear. 

“A little fight gets you this wet?” he teased softly as he nipped at your neck. 

You bit your lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of getting any more noises out of you. The fact that you were this wet for him was already bruising your ego.

He peeked up to see the look on your face, admiring the struggle he was putting you through as he slowly rubbed your slit through your panties while sucking harsh marks into your neck. 

He moved the damp fabric to the side, coating his fingers in your slick, before stuffing them into you. The little gasp you let out satisfied him but not to the extent to which he would’ve liked, so he kept at it, moving his fingers through you, reaching that deep spot that made your eyes roll back in pleasure. 

Once he picked up the pace, he could tell it was getting harder for you to keep quiet, with the tiniest of whimpers leaving your lips. The palm of his hand met your clit as the pressure became too much. You turned your head into the soft pillow which your head laid upon to stifle your noises. 

He didn’t like this however, as he let go of your hands in front of your chest and grasped your chin instead, squeezing your cheeks slightly to keep your mouth open. 

At this point it was no use. The pressure built up inside you as he planted kisses on your neck, with little teases of encouragement, telling you you let go, which you did. 

Moans, pleading, and chants of curses spilled from your open mouth as the growing pleasure finally gave in, letting you come hard all over his fingers. 

He let you ride out your high slightly as he admired your face. The usual stern and angry look you usually addressed to him was long gone, now replaced with a dazy, flushed look with dilated pupils as wide as saucers. 

He removed his fingers slowly, before flipping up your skirt and pulling your underwear off entirely, before unzipping his pants and pausing before he lowered his own underwear. 

Leaning back down to kiss you softly, he made sure you were okay with continuing. Once he received your quick, eager nod, he finally released himself after being restrained against his tightening boxers for so long. 

As he leaned over you, you observed him closely. His dark hair now messy, his usually cold green eyes now softened, you’ve never seen Five look so not put together but you loved it. 

Him sliding inside you broke you out of your thoughts. He fell into the crook of your neck once again as he groaned at the feeling of your walls surrounding him, your warmth was too much. Your head dipped back, almost hitting the headboard as you didn’t even bother stopping yourself from letting out whimpers every time he hit that spot. He quickly rutted into you as you both didn’t want to waste any time before getting to that high that your hormonal bodies have been craving ever since your consciousnesses had been thrown into them in 2019. 

Although the two of you weren’t that rough, you could still hear the headboard knocking into the wall every time he thrusted into you, but your mind felt mushy with the pleasure and couldn’t come up with the words to say anything. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you were panting each other's names and you felt the pressure built up again. You came loudly, squeezing him before he came too, pumping himself into you at a slowing pace before he stilled. 

The two of you were wrapped up in each other, panting into each other's faces, gasping as he pulled out slowly. 

You both quickly cleaned up and fixed your disheveled clothing, not making eye contact just yet, not knowing what this meant between you. 

Five ventured outside the room first, you were worried that maybe Diego or Lila overheard and were going to endlessly tease you both over the fact that the tension between you finally snapped. 

But instead, you heard your new acquaintance/host awkwardly question Five about alien procreation. 

~~~

[michaelwheelerdefiodental]

Jocks dynamics on Season 5 and comparing them to Henry Bowers gang from IT (and others iconic 80s villains):

This boy below with a blue shirt is the only one that didn't wear their jersey in season 4. I believe he wasn't part of the team at all in Season 4. My theory is that just like Lucas, he is just a black boy trying to fit in; he even did some research and helped them with Eddie's case, just like Lucas. He helped them find the house of that drug dealer named Rick. But he was never seen with them while they were going on a "mission", he just gave them tips and hanged out with them during parties, he doesn't appear in the basketball game, playing or even in the bench, if i remember correctly. His shirt is similar to Lucas blue shirt in episode 2 too, i think they were purposefully making parallels with these two.

We can see Andy and Chance on this paparazzi pic, and supposedly the same guy from season 4, but now he is wearing the jersey below his jacket (we can see the collar from the jersey they use, and some green color too).

Now we have a new jock, a blonde one, that not only resembles Jason (of course), but young Johnny Lawrence from Karate Kid too. This means he will be a big problem, the Duffer Brothers wouldn't cast someone similar to Johnny, a 80s iconic bully, to just make him a random weakling bully (the actor name is Deric Replogle).

He is following Dustin on the school grounds, so he is taking the lead against the actual symbol of the Hellfire Club. Meanwhile, Andy, Chase, and the new teammate are following Mike. When Dustin is at the cemetery, he is the one person more close to him; i think he will do the most damage to Dustin. Chance is there with him, the actor is shaking hands with one of the Duffers. There's no sign of Andy, maybe the actor is behind the camera, or he didn't participate in this scene.

Now i'll explain what i think their conflict will be. Andy is probably the leader now that Jason is dead, and we know he is way more crazy than him; Jason had a twisted idea of justice, but Andy seems to like to inflict pain on others. He made jokes about Chrissy being the one that was murdered, smiled while talking about hunting Eddie, and tackled Erica, a 11-year-old, while threatening to break her arm. Now this new blonde jock could be another violent and sadistic asshole, he looks like Johnny Lawrence, who is someone very dangerous to mess with, and he is the one most close to Dustin after they beat him; this can make both Andy and the blonde to try take the leadership for themselves. The blonde resembles Jason, and this would make Andy feel like an underdog again. I think he actually cared about Jason in some twisted way, but now that he is in a leader role, he won't let anyone take this from him.

We can compare this group with the four core. Andy would be Dustin, the blonde guy would be Mike; both Mike and Dustin are the ones to take the lead a lot of times, and some people tend to discuss who is the real leader of the four core, but they wouldn't care about it. On the other hand, Andy would definitely care about somebody taking him off his leader role, and this blonde jock can be the one. Chance would be Will; both are quieter guys, but Will actually has his own opinion about things and isn't always hiding them; Chance just followed Jason and Andy like a stray dog. The blue shirt guy would be Lucas, as i said. He just wants to find a way to fit in (there's a post here on Tumblr comparing the four core with the original jocks from season 4, but i couldn't find it, if you have it, send it to me so i can put the link right here).

After being challenged by the blonde too many times, Andy would end up killing him, and right after this, he would decide to kill the whole main characters gang for good, after the whole town turned into absolute chaos. He can be influenced by Vecna to do all of this, just like Henry Bowers from IT book and movies. And we know Stranger Things is heavily influenced by IT; Vecna is literally a mix of Pennywise and Freddy Krueger. Pennywise influenced Henry to kill his father, then he made the whole city of Derry be engulfed by a storm. Soon after this, he made Henry and his friends, Victor and Belch, go after the Losers Club. On IT, Henry's main target was Mike, a black kid, and it isn't a reach to say that Lucas, a black teenager, will be Andy's main target too, as he will probably think Lucas killed Jason.

After seeing all this crazy shit happening, the new boy (the one with the blue shirt on season 4, in case you have forgotten, lol) would be scared, as he didn't really want all this to happen, he just wanted to fit in, just like Lucas. Now there are two options that the writers can take, 1: he decides to get the hell out of this group just like Lucas on Season 4; 2: he can continue in this hellhole and die with Chance, just like Victor and Belch from IT, to show that not everybody is like Lucas, some people will decide to continue in a bad environment just to fit in; Andy would die later on after having an encounter with the main group, just like Henry Bowers.

Or: Andy could end up being someone like Patrick Hockstetter, a sadistic maniac that ends up having a premature death, then the blonde takes the role of Henry Bowers for himself. But i think the other way is more coherent; Andy is already established as a character (and there's always the chance of this blonde guy being just a random that don't even has lines, but i hope not don't think so, lol).

I think this would be a good way to implement some horror with human villains in the series. If you're going to make a high school bully a villain, make him terrifying, just like Henry Bowers. There's the military like Sullivan and Linda Hamilton character, but i ain't really scared of them; i just know they have resources like guns; they aren't scary at all for me.

I came up with this idea after seeing @will80sbyers posts about these paparazzi pics, thank you!

[rainydayathogwarts]

Never ending song - Sirius Black... coming soon

summary: when your parents divorce, you decide to move to london to finish your last year of school, and take your music career there with you. what happens when you meet another pureblood rebel named sirius black, who you become eager to share your music knowledge with?

-> a slow burn (ish?) romance told through switching points of view between rockstar!reader, sirius black and wizard tabloid articles.

!!teaser!!

WITCHES WEEKLY

In a twisting turn of events, rockstar y/n l/n ditches her parents amongst their divorce to move to London with her aunt.

A new light has been shed on rockstar y/n l/n since the beginning of her parents’ divorce. The singer songwriter, famously known for her most recent album “Heart of Chaos” was seen in court this week, finally showing her vulnerable side to the public, contrary to the heartthrob persona she usually puts on.

[cheshitora]

❝ psycho x killer ❞ ✧ ೃ༄

hanma shuji ver. (2/3 valhalla trio)

on the stand :: hanma shuji x afab!reader

crimes comitted :: DARK CONTENT, aged up characters, muder, mentions of death, blood, stabbing, gun usage, electrocution, explosions (well, you blow him up), you make a bomb, body parts everywhere, immortal hanma, body rejuvenation, Read at your own discretion, MDNI

che's verdict :: oh he's def guilty and he doesn't care either lol. part 1 with baji is up and i have the original with sanzu up as well. also with the way this one was coming out, i didnt wanna add smut to it. its kind of sweet in a twisted and morbid way yk? anyways enjoyy <33

word count :: 1.5k

"we're in a very weird and strange relationship..."

Hanma’s not like Keisuke that he stops you from killing him. No - instead, he encourages it, roots for you, cheers you on to do better, to think cleverly and be as eccentric as you wish to be.

A supportive husband indeed, even if it’s about helping his dear little wife try to find new ways to kill him.

The best part about him - he doesn’t fight back. He casually lets your modes of attack happen as if it were a normal occurrence in your daily life, and at this point, it had been.

When your dark haired lover first informed you of his immortality, you had become slightly more intrigued about the nature of his eternal life. The first death that took place in your home was actually an accident. Really, it was.

There had been a string of robberies going around in the neighborhood that put you on edge, forcing you to become acutely aware of every odd sound and sight that didn’t make sense. Hanma had been out buying you flowers to surprise you with. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his sweet wife that he had come to adore, especially on Valentine's day.

Now imagine his surprise when he arrived home quietly in an attempt to surprise you. He expertly snuck up behind you as you were cutting meat for tonight's dinner, speaking in your ear with a low, hushed voice, catching you by undelighted surprise.

“Surpri-”, that was all he could muster after finding himself at the end of your steel kitchen knife, having been spooked by your own husband and retaliating by instinct. The news of the robberies had you on edge all day and you hadn’t anticipated your husband coming home so suddenly and without notice.

Your blade was plunged in the center of his forehead, blood trickling down from the open slit, coloring his face in red as the blood splattered onto his glasses and down his cheeks and eyes. All he could see was red, the familiar coppery taste dripping onto his tongue and lips, like he had a mouth full of pennies.

In his last moments of consciousness, he struggled to figure out if he was mad or impressed by your reflexes. Either way, he knew he was dead, falling to his knees, his body tilting to the side until he met with the cold, tile floor of your kitchen, dark red fluids pooling around his head as you stared down at him in terror.

Your eyes nearly fell out of your head as you began to scream, piercing cries of sorrow echoing throughout the house as you kneeled down next to your dead husband. You never meant to kill him and it was evident in the way you mourned him, mentally berating yourself for your own carelessness. And no, you hadn’t missed the bouquet of peonies in his grip when you stabbed him, making your heart ache even more.

Your hands shook as you tried to discern what your next course of action should be. Should you call the cops? Clean up the mess? You weren’t in the right headspace to make such a decision. Luckily, you didn’t have to, as Hanma’s once lifeless eyes began to blink rapidly, inhaling a hoarse breath of life as he pushed himself off the ground, his dark and gold locks soaked in his own vital fluid.

Hanma pressed his hand to his temple, a strong pulse making his head throb as he turned to face you, your horrified expression burning into his retinas. He started chuckling, then his chuckles turned into a full on maniacal laughing fit.

“Wow, didn’t think you had that in ya,” he choked out in between laughs. Your face had gone pale, almost ghostlike as you watched Hanma stand up from the ground, readjusting his glasses on his face. He patted your head as he swiped up the discarded bouquet of peonies he had picked out just for you.

“Happy Valentines Day,” he said, an affectionate and loving smile on his face as he handed the bundles of flowers to you, your body still struck with fear.

From then on, any opportunity he saw, he took. It was a game to him at this point - to see how many times he could die and how fast he could rejuvenate. You had merely gone along with your husband’s twisted ideas, though you always hesitated to pull the trigger, literally.

When he handed you a 9mm Luger pistol with its safety off, you could imagine what he wanted you to use it for. He held your hand in his as he guided the barrel to his forehead, a sly grin on his face as he waited for you to take your shot and end his life.

But it was always too much for you to handle and yet, you found yourself slowly easing into murdering him anytime he voiced another idea. His favorite death by far had been electrocution by a defibrillator to his temples, the jolt of electricity coursing through his nervous system, breaking him down by the second before he collapsed to the floor.

Every time you effectively killed Hanma, after allowing his body time to heal, he’d shower you in praise, kissing your cheeks, letting his lips trail down to your neck, whispering against your skin how proud he was of you for being the incredible wife he always wanted, finding joy in the rush adrenaline you gave him.

Twisted love, indeed - morbid, to say the least and yet it was profoundly sweet. You’d cook his favorite meal, dress him in his best clothes like a man heading to Sunday service. In a dark way, you adored the smile that stretched across his lips just seconds before another planned death.

You knew he had enjoyed the electrocution death more but today, you had concocted a devilish plan. You were going to blow him up. In the past week, you secretly had been looking up ways to build a bomb in your own home - a small one with a force destructive enough to rip your lover apart but not strong enough to take you out as well.

You were going to be on the FBI watchlist now but it didn’t matter.

After Hanma returned home from whatever business he attended to, you dragged him outside to your expansive backyard, quickly strapping the makeshift bomb to his chest with an eager smile. He smiled down at you too, his heart thumping from the sight of your excitement.

You swiftly ran away from him, leaving him out in the open as you ran back inside, the small switch in your hand. You sincerely hoped this bomb wouldn’t kill you too but there was only one way to find out.

Without a second to waste, you flicked up the switch, triggering the bomb attached to him. A loud explosion rang through the air, shifting the house on its foundation as the ground. Your small house rattled uncontrollably for a few seconds before resting in its place, the smell of smoke quickly filled your nostrils as it seeped in through the cracks of the windows and doors.

You remembered hearing the sound of debris hit against the frame of your home, inciting you to inspect the damage left behind from your scheme. You tiptoed towards the back door, eyes falling on the sight of smoke clearing in the air. As you pushed the door open, you realized what you had heard was not debris - well, it wasn’t rocks.

Your gaze fell upon the scattered pieces of your husband’s body littering the grass, some splattered against the side of your home while others neatly decorated your bushes and flower beds.

You stepped back inside, shutting the door as you took a seat at your table. He was gone, possibly for good. Was it possible for him to recover from this? Would he be able to put himself back together and if he could, how long would it take?

You didn’t let your mind wander for too long. If in the event he magically respawned, you wanted to uphold your tradition of making him his dinner and wait.

After two hours, he still had yet to pop in. Worry flooded your body as you silently prayed you didn’t actually send him back to the underworld. Another hour rolled by and he wasn’t here. His plate of food had gone cold and you were becoming more and more anxious the longer he stayed away.

You settled your head in your arms on the table, closing your eyes as you silently wept. Maybe you actually killed him this time. The fourth hour flew by and he hadn’t reappeared. Your body went limp with exhaustion, soft sighs leaving your lips as you slept peacefully. And as you slept, the back door creaked open, Hanma’s disheveled figure coming into frame, his eyes finding you resting on your arms.

He smiled softly as he inched closer to you, leaning down to press an affectionate kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m home,” he whispered, and even in your sleep, your heart swelled, immediately recognizing the sweet sound of your doting husband. He didn’t bother to wake you. He sat across from you, pulling his plate of food close, his gaze never leaving your sleeping form.

Your relationship may have been strange but you were the only one who could get his heart racing with adrenaline and that was true love.

©ABOVE WORK BELONGS TO CHESHITORA. PLAGARISM AND STEALING WILL NOT BE TOLERATED. CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR ORIGINAL CREATORS

[annoyinglilbro]

YOU FINALLY WROTE IT 🤩🤩🤩

PART 2 PART 2 PART 2 PART 2 PART 2 PA

-🗡

I told you I woulddd!! It takes me a minute sometimes 😭😭

The prince isn’t even sure what he’s doing. He fought himself for hours, debating whether or not to go and see that stupid knight. He decided he would, just to give him a piece of his mind! How dare he talk to him like that? And kissing his cheek? Yeah he was going but only to yell at him, really!

Only that’s not what ended up happening. He marched through the garden, eyes narrowed in on the knight who wasn’t in his armor for once. That’s what caught him off guard. He’d never seen the man outside of his uniform and here he was, in a loose fitting shirt and trousers. He was looking at the flowers, fingers softly caressing the petals and that shouldn’t have sent a shock up the princes spine but it did. His bare fingers toying with the red petals was an image that would be burned in his head, messing with him for unknown reasons. Maybe it’s the idea that he’s able to be gentle with something so delicate despite the various scars littering his body.

When the knight sees him he shoots him a wide grin, he’s quick to grab him by the wrist and start tugging him deeper into the garden, into places even he didn’t know existed.

“Hey what are you doing?!”

“Shhh keep your voice down. I’m just making sure we’re not interupted.”

“I don’t know what you think is happening here, I just came here to give you a piece of my mind, honestly you’re delusional if you th-mmphff!!”

Rough lips are pressed against him, silencing his complaints. Rough hands are sliding up his shirt and he shivers, not used to the feeling of being touched. Hes a prince, most admire with their eyes not their hands. He definitely wasn’t expecting to be shoved down into the dirt. He yips and glares up at the other man who just keeps looking at him with that stupid smile. Calloused fingers caress his face, thumb rubbing over his bottom lip.

“You ever suck a cock before?”

The prince sputters, face blushing brighter than the flowers he’s surrounded by. He shakes his head, eyebrows pinching together in a scowl.

“Ofcourse I haven’t! What is wrong with you?!”

The knight hums, grabbing the princes hand and pressing it between his legs. The prince is frozen, fingers slowly wrapping around the buldge. He’s never touched a cock before, and it’s new to him. He glances up to the knight with an unsteady gaze.

“I’ll show you how, don’t worry.” He’s already undoing the ties of his trousers.

The prince is nervously looking around, sure they’re hidden in brush and thorn but he doesn’t know who uses the garden often. He doesn’t know who is familiar with the twists and turns of this floral maze. It’s hard to care when he turns back and see the knights cock infront of it, hard and begging for attention.

He hesitates before running his hand up the length, feeling the slight curve it has and the weight of it in his hand. The knight groans, hips bucking forward for more friction.

“It’s okay, just start slow. Put your mouth on it, lick it, kiss it, I promise you can’t mess up. Anything you do will feel good, okay?” The knights hand is tangled in the princes hair, bringing his face to his cock. “No one will know but us, okay?”

The prince takes a slow breath before pressing his lips against the cock in his face. He kisses at the underside before sticking his tongue out. He gives a few experimental licks, adjusting to the salty taste in his mouth. The knight is moaning above him, clearly enjoying the treatment no matter how inexperienced it may be. When the prince finally takes the tip into his mouth, the knight has to stop himself from ramming down the princes throat.

“Fuck..there ya go. Good boy, you’re doing so good…just get used to it yeah?”

The prince hums, swirling his tongue around the tip and causing the knight to throw his head back. The prince struggles to take more in his mouth, pulling off and coughing when the head hits the back of his throat. The knight encourages him to keep trying, but his resolve is starting to snap.

He can’t stop himself when he grabs the prince by the hair and starts fucking into his throat roughly. Ignoring the whines and fists hitting against his thighs, he slams his cock in and out of the princes spasming throat.

“Yeah just like that…so fucking good fuck fuck fuck good fucking boy take it..”

The prince is struggling for air, his eyes pooling with tears that leak down his face and mix with the drool that’s all over his chin. His eyes are rolling back and his throat burns, his fists weakening against the knights thighs and he’s positive he’s going to pass out. When the knight pulls his face free from its abuse he’s gasping for air, sloppily wiping away the drool and precum from his mouth with the back of his sleeve. The air burns as it enters his lungs and he glaring up at the knight once again.

“Asshole! What is wrong with you?!” He wheezed out, voice hoarse and pained.

“Fuck I’m sorry, your mouth just feels so good. We’re almost done, promise.” The knight is on his knees now, forcing the prince further into the grass and dirt as he squeezes his legs together.

“H-hey! Don’t even think about-“

“I’m not! Don’t worry, I wouldn’t. Just trust me okay? Keep your thighs squeezed together…”

Not like he could really argue, the knight was already squeezing his legs together in a painful grip before slipping between them. The prince cringed at the feeling of his own spit coating his thighs like this. The knights weight ontop of him squeezes the air from his lungs once again, he’s pinned and trapped and can’t do much but let out little “ah..ah..ah..” as the knights ducks his thighs. His cock slips between his legs and presses against his own aching parts, the friction bringing him a dull pleasure that just isn’t enough.

“Pretty Prince, so fucking pretty. Fuck you feel so good too. Knew you would. So fucking good.”

The knight is pressed against his back, grunting and groaning in his ear like an animal in rut. He presses kisses to the princes shoulder, occasionally nipping at his neck while he uses him.

“M’gonna cum oh fuck M’gonna cum..” his grip around the prince gets tighter and he’s sure he’s going to bruise. That’s the only warning he gets before something warm and sticky coats the spot between his thighs. The knight lays there for a minute, pressing his forehead to the princes back and trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck…thank you thank you thank you..” he’s pulling himself free from the prince.

The prince sighs and rolls on his back, swiping between his legs with two fingers and examining the sticky mess there. It glistens on his fingers and he gives it a small lick, which pulls another groan from the knight.

“You’re so hot…”

“I’m a disgusting mess right now and it’s all your fault, you giant oaf! You have no self control, really!”

The knight pouts out his bottom lip, leaning in and kissing the glare off the princes face.

“I’m sorry, you’re just so pretty. It’s hard to control myself. I didn’t think you’d actually show. Give me a minute, I’ll clean you up yeah?”

The prince tries to look away when the knight pulls off his shirt and starts wiping away the mess between his legs but it’s hard. He’s toned and muscled, arms that’s could easily snap him in half and scars decorating his skin. Still, he’s a prince and that means he has to keep his composure, so he looks away and struggles to keep the glare on his face.

“Will…will you be in the garden again tomorrow?”

The knight pauses, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“If your majesty wishes me to be, then yes. I will spend every day here for my free time.”

[flickeringquip]

1. Let Cody kiss you. ++Love -Respect

2. Bite him. +Love(???) +Respect <<

(feat. @sweetestflow3rs's Cody cuz the ideas just KEPT COMING, bonus at the end)

You snap out of whatever tipsy haze you were under and bite down on Cody's lip, hard enough to have him reeling back with a hiss—

And then you smack him, the sound crisp and clear even amidst the pub's hustle and bustle. -Trauma

Any interest generated by the scene is lost when spectators realize it's just the two of you again.

"Fix it," Your lips twist derisively as you scoff, pushing yourself up from your seat with a baleful glower at your menace of a co-worker, "—Go fuck yourself." -Trauma

If you didn't know him so well, you'd be disappointed by how quickly Cody recovers, flashing you a smirk as he rubs the quickly reddening mark on his cheek.

"Now, why would I do that when I have a perfectly good toy right here?" His grin sharpens, giving you a lazy once-over as he lounges back against the bar-top, "—Adorable blush, by the way."

(1) You are very, very tempted to hit him again. +Stress

But you don't, because two hits would be pushing your luck on what Cody will take without hitting back, and while you might have enjoyed the opportunity to really wipe the smug look off his face — you don't love your odds, two drinks deep and the adrenaline from your last job starting to wane.

More importantly, you don't want to have to sit through another lecture from Landry; he'd just force the two of you to work together more often, which is about the last thing you want right now.

You leave, flipping Cody off over your shoulder as he laughs behind you, retreating to the opposite side of the pub because you'll be damned if you let that blue-haired bastard ruin your night.

(1) But the thought lingers, no matter how you try to stop thinking about it. +Arousal +Stress

You have another shot and then have the bartender cut you off, knowing yourself well enough to not want to get blackout drunk over something so— stupid.

Because it is stupid.

It's stupid because you know the asshole well enough to know he was just using you for his entertainment, another piece of kindling to feed the mile-wide humiliation kink he didn't even try to hide, most of the time. Something new to lord over you, to try and get a rise out of you with.

You glare at the empty shot glass in front of you, because it's only under the influence of something that you'd ever be dumb enough to talk about firsts with Cody, of all people. A completely one-sided bit of over-sharing, to make matters worse, because it's not like he was ever that careless, no.

(1) More than happy to take advantage of your moment of weakness, though. +Stress

You force yourself to breathe. You mingle with the other patrons, regulars you recognize and others that you don't. Consider, more than once, about taking someone to the backroom just to really put the thought from your mind—

But the idea of sleeping with a stranger makes your skin crawl, now that you no longer do that shit for money, and unfortunately: you don't really have friends, let alone fuck buddies.

Fuck.

You need to get out more. Do things other than work— and lounge at your workplace.

(1) Your mind drifts entirely against your wishes.

What if he had been your first kiss? You don't think it's necessarily a compliment to say that it would've been an improvement — there's not a lot of ways it could've been worse, really. And it's not like it's a memory you even dwell on much, shoved into the same tidy little box you put all of your traumatic unpleasant memories in, but—

You think it would've been. . . nice, at least. Softer, probably, especially if he'd known it was your first — Cody loved letting people think he was much, much nicer than he actually was, after all. He'd have pulled you into his lap, because what was even the point if he couldn't make a game of it? In a quiet corner of the pub, or maybe in his office, so he could really appreciate the way you would've flustered. You could see him dragging out the whole affair, teasing you for as long as he could get away with before finally, finally—

"Fuck." +Arousal +Stress

You groan the curse into both palms, uncaring of the confused looks it draws from the patrons beside you.

And then you look up just in time to catch Cody's gaze — the bastard fucking waves at you — and all at once you hit your breaking point.

1. Start a fight. -Love +Respect

2. Make a bad decision. ++Love +Trauma <<

You push up from your seat with enough force to have the chair scrapping loudly against the pub's floor, stalking across the bar, radiating enough menace to have people parting to get out of your way despite your unremarkable stature. Presence, you'd found, was far more effective than size—

And fury had a very special kind of flair.

You cross the bar in less than a minute, but unlike last time, you have no intention of giving Cody the opportunity to fluster you like he always fucking does—

Before his mouth can even open, you fist both hands into his sweater and yank, pulling him up (for once in your goddamn life) and out of his comfortable lounge until the two of you are nose to nose for the second time this evening.

This is a mistake.

You know it is.

But it's a mistake you're making on your own terms, and that's about all you can ask for, at this point. +Control

(1) Kiss the Messenger. Probably regret it later.

[hislittleraincloud]

This was so beautifully done 😭👔JAIRO🎀💖✨

[heynhay]

scene from where the apple falls by @jupiters-junipers :-) wholeheartedly recommend any and all of her work

[smartzelda]

Sorry guys I gotta speak my truth on this one

I'm not kidding when I say that I think that blaming shit media literacy from fans on shipping/shippers avoids the actual root of the problem to throw people you can easily throw under the bus (simply because it's not unpopular to consider people who post about ships or ship characters in media as having lesser or derivative tastes by default)

And here's why.

I think when you blame people who are "shippers" or "consume media through shipping lenses", the true root of it all is a mindset problem.

In actually, putting on shipping lenses can be helpful when trying to analyze a piece of media. When analyzing media you're supposed to approach it through a number of mindsets and put on different lenses (both to deepen your personal understanding of the media, and to pick it apart and see what you can find there (whether intentional or not on the author's part)), and different ships can be some of those lenses

When it comes to ships between main characters (for those who are genuinely willing to see what the narrative is showing with their relationship and what it's doing), there are times when analyzing it from a shipping lens may be helpful. As someone from KH fandom, I have seen people come to deeper understandings and pick canon apart in the process of analyzing a relationship that is genuinely integral to the story (platonic or not). I've also seen people get into rarepairs of characters who barely interact or who just suffer little screen time, and I've seen them come to better understandings of those side characters and how they potentially fit into the world of the media simply because people are now focusing on these characters and how they fit into the narrative.

Frankly, I resent the idea that the only way to truly objectively analyze a piece of media is by turning off the part of your brain that gets excited over relationships and individual characters. Don't get me wrong, that is a way to approach a piece of media and a valid one at that, but the truth is that we cannot be free of bias.

For instance, I was watching House MD with my parents circa last year. At some point I started heavily tuning into what was going on with House and Wilson's relationship. My parents, on the other hand, were largely watching casually. They're not thinking of character relationships or getting heavily invested in most characters, they're watching because they like watching. One of them in particular did try to analyze things that were happening in the show as they happened. However, when it came to the scene late in the series where House threw out Dominika's letter approving her American citizenship, my parents could understand that he was doing that because he didn't want her to leave, but not much beyond that. I ended up explaining to them that House's fake marriage for Dominika was an explicit parallel to when Wilson was living with House in the early seasons. Both situations started with House being none too happy about it but ultimately letting them stay, spending a considerable amount of effort getting them to leave/getting this situation to be finally over so he didn't have to deal with it anymore, and then by the time a piece of news comes through that would mean the person in question actually leaves, House hides this news as long as he can. Because he doesn't actually want them to leave and has grown attached. And by doing this he became a self fulfilling prophecy. By reacting to the truth of Wilson and Dominika leaving him the way he does, he seals his fate and they ultimately leave anyways. Maybe I ship Hilson, but becoming open to how their relationship was handled allowed me to transition to doing character studies and recognizing patterns/parallels that I wouldn't have noticed if I didn't particularly care about the characters or their relationship.

Likewise, I've seen mutuals complain about how people who don't like or don't care about certain characters often overlook these characters (what they're actually like and their place in the narrative), while the mutuals in question (by default) are able to come to deeper understanding of what the writers/story is trying to do because they care about this funky guy

You can't eradicate bias when you're engaging in media analysis, but you can consciously put on a range of lenses and observe the media through different povs with the goal of understanding the media better or bolstering your reading of it. And those lenses/povs can include focusing on specific relationships or the perpective of certain characters

And this is why I say it's actually a mindset problem. Shippers and people who have this one blorbo they like a lot aren't inherently terrible "fandom brained individuals" who are the root of media analysis problems. The problem only arises when people's readings/analysis of a piece of media are inherently restrictive/narrow and self centered. Your problem is with people who view a piece of media through a ship they like but don't keep an open mind about it, and whose "media analysis"/views on canon cannot be split from fanon and their comfortability levels. These are the people whose "media analysis" starts and ends with justifying their fanon as canon, whose views on media revolve around sorting characters and relationships into categories they personally enjoy rather than trying to understand what's going on.

Here's another example.

Here we have a fictional ship we'll call uhhhh...Blanebin. this fictional ship I made up on the spot for characters that don't exist named Blane and Corbin

Person A is super into Blanebin. They're part of the main cast of characters and canonically childhood best friends, so person A (as much as they enjoy fanart and fic) is also enjoying analyzing how narratively important to each other they are. Recently, Corbin started dating another character in canon, but Person A is enjoying watching how Blane is reacting to this. "Is this potentially a tell that Blane is jealous or is having complicated feelings about this? What if he was, how would that contextualize his behavior this season? Here's what I think based on how Blane dealt with explicit jealousy last season in a different situation". It's not impossible that person A is still missing further understanding due to their obsession with Blanebin, but at the end of the day this obsession has allowed them to start picking through the characters both in and outside this relationship. It has allowed them to see potential subtext and theorize on what might happen next with these characters' relationship. Not to mention that with addition of Corbin dating someone else, instead of trying to erase this fact or state that Corbin canonically isn't into that person, Person A is trying to factor in how Corbin's current dating life affects his relationship with Blane (irregardless on personal views on the nature of Corbin's relationship with the person he's dating).

Person B is also super into Blanebin. They really enjoy fanart and fic of the characters, love obsessing over their moments together, and just feel like there's really something between the characters. To person B, every moment between them is just further proof that the writers are ship teasing them. But Corbin getting together with someone else this season? Oh that pissed person B off. They cannot believe that even though Corbin and Blane are CLEARLY gay for each other the writers had Corbin get with someone else this season. Perhaps, they think, it was even a decision specifically made to spite fans. How evil of the writers to tease a perfectly good ship and then have them not get together first? They must have been just doing those teases to get views from Blanebin shippers those scoundrels. To Person B, since Corbin started dating someone when he obviously has some chemistry with Blane (even though the series is far from over) means that Blanebin can never get together now and Corbin x person he's dating is ruining Blanebin by existing. In fact, they think, this is terrible writing for Corbin to be dating someone else because they don't like that relationship and don't see the point. Obviously if the writers were good then Corbin would have started dating Blane instead because this was supposed to be the Blanebin show.

Person C despises Blanebin. Don't get them wrong, they've always enjoyed the character's childhood friendship, but they actually have always thought Blane would have been better off with Victoria. They have a lot of moments too! But they're tired of seeing people ship Blanebin. Corbin just got together with someone else, so obviously that's not gonna work out. Plus Corbin and Blane totally has always given person C bro vibes. In fact, person C thinks, sure Corbin and Blane have a close friendship, but people shouldn't be shipping them. Person C likes Blanetoria and Blanetoria can't be canon if Corbin is in the way of it. So Person C likes to read Blanebin as siblings anyways. Sure they're canonically friends, but obviously their friendship turned into brotherhood. This means that nothing can be in the way of Blanetoria and Corbin can keep dating the person he's already canonically dating. Actually, now Blanebin just straight up makes Person C uncomfortable. Don't the pesky shippers understand that Blanebin are sibling coded because they're childhood best friends and that they're important to each other because they're brothers? It's obvious to anyone with eyes.

Sure, ships are involved here, but is the root of this problem shipping? Character A isn't as knowledgeable of other characters in the plot due to this lens they're using, but at the end of the day they're dedicated to analysis. Their love of the characters is pushing them beyond what they like or dislike to try to understand what might be happening through their lens. Not perfect, but they are slowly broadening their horizons. But Person B and C's problems here are their restrictiveness. What is or should be canon to them is tantamount to what they personally like or find comfortable. Is person C actually analyzing the this fake show when they decide to "read" Blanebin as basically canonically siblings (and this all of their moments are totally a bro thing) just because they don't like Blanebin and the idea of them getting together over Blanetoria makes them uncomfortable? Is person B actually analyzing this fake show when their "analysis" of Blanebin goes only as far as asserting it's being ship teased and deciding anything short of canonizing Blanebin is a targeted attack or "bad writing" because it's not what they wanted personally to happen?

This is what I'm talking about. This is the mindset. Shipping isn't the problem. The problem is when people marry fanon and canon to the point where they have a vested interest in superimposing their fanon over canon as "a reading" and trying to make "collective decisions" on what is canon (or what canon is trying to say) based on what does or doesn't make them uncomfortable. The problem is people being restrictive and centering their own likes and dislikes in the conversation, so they can only interact with canon "analysis" wise by deciding what is canon or should be canon "as obviously agreed on by everyone". You can't simply claim you like media analysis. To be able to analyze media and bolster your views on any given canon, you must be open to looking at it through multiple povs, to studying characters without trying to pretend things you don't like don't exist or do like do exist. There is a balance that must be kept between trying to keep objectivity and putting on specific focus/bias based upon the lenses you're putting on. You have to be willing to try to figure out what a media is doing or saying, not saying you're trying to figure out what it's saying while in actuality trying to define the narrative around what people believe it's saying in ways that suit you.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[vynnyal]

Actually you know what, I'm gonna post this. Check it out, I'm fiddling with this PMV. Spoils the whole game ofc. And the name of the song is pure imagination by Fiona Apple!

Also I'm apparently a big fan of drawing moon laying down 😂 total count including scrapped drawings is 5 (technically 6)

[thegreatyin]

HELL YEAH POWER ENDING SEEKERS ARE MY FAVORITE MR CARDS GENRE i mean they're all my favorite because i legitimately love seeing different people's interpretations of the power ending and the weird fucked up (the fucked up part is important, one must always make their bat fucked up) OCs they make as a result of it. but also i think there's a lot of really fun stuff one can do with a human who deliberately chooses to discard said humanity in order to ascend as a potential replacement for the very figure they're desperately Seeking to learn about and potentially avenge. i'm always kinda surprised it's not more common tbh?? nemesis and BaL just (very very understandably) lend themselves more obviously to seekers i suppose

also that alt strategy is totally valid. it's basically what i pulled with caeru's account all the way back before finishing heart's desire + a not insignificant chunk of evolution. have fun with the dream collecting :)

[mariocki]

New Scotland Yard: A Gathering of Dust (2.3, LWT, 1972)

"Judging from the wound, the gun was fired from very close range; almost point-blank, I should think. Indicates the possibility of suicide."

"That's right, governor: he blows his brains out, crawls in here, walls himself up, throws the gun away, and dies laughing. That's cos he's got a sense of humour, he knows that a quarter of a bloody century later two stupid coppers are gonna go out of their mind wondering how the hell he did it!"