#the one that doesn't rely on his abs

[movielosophy]

Dai Gao Zheng, of course.

[noirscript]

My Valentine

details: yandere!husband x AFAB!reader | Mentions of female genitalia, detailed sexual scenes, breeding,

note: I forgot where I got the image.

Despite the questionable setup and job description of your current job, your husband did not question it and even supported your endeavors. He cook your breakfast on the dot and even prepared your lunch and some snacks.

The warm touch of his soft lips against yours as soon as he sees you, somehow made you guilty of what you're getting yourself into. Truth be told, you haven't told him about the entire truth about your job. Only that you work as an agent.

You let him make an assumption about your job. Perhaps you'll never be able to tell him all about your job.

"Are you sure you still want to work there?" he asked while resting his firm hands on your hips. "I can support us both. We can even start our family and live comfortably."

You smiled as you cup his cheeks. "Val..."

He sighed before pulling away. "I don't really get why you're doing this," he said before meeting your gaze. "It's been two years since we've been married, you even begged me to let you enjoy for awhile before starting our family."

"Val, it's not that! I just..." you sighed. "I want to have my own money. I can't rely on you everytime. It... It doesn't feel right."

You looked up and feared what you've seen. His jaw clenched while his hold on your hips tightened.

"Was it my mother?"

Your brows furrowed. "What, no!"

"My grandma? My sister?" He closed the gap between you two. "Who was it, huh? Who influenced your decisions this time?"

You removed his hands from your body before taking one step away from him.

"Let's... just talk later." You tiptoed to reach his cheek before grabbing your packed lunch.

Maybe it's time to submit your two-week notice.

—

Your husband, Valentin, could get clingy at times. He'll tightly wrap his arms around your body, never missing the chance to feel the warmth of your skin.

It starts with gentle caresses against your skin, then the next thing you knew, you're being screwed and under his mercy for the next hours.

His honeyed voice that you love to hear turns to something deeper as he whispers the nastiest threats you've ever heard from him.

"Gonna make you a mommy... hngg... gonna be round and full..." He buries his face against the crook of your neck as he sensually grind his thick cock against your tight and creaming pussy.

"Pleasepleaseplease... make me cum... wanna cum..." you begged as you claw the arm that's been keeping you in place. "Val... Val... please... cumming..."

"Ah-ah... such a naughty girl." He took a deep breath against your neck before ramming his cock against your tightening pussy. "You don't get to treat me like a toy. I'm not a fucking dildo. You hear that?"

"M'srry... cumming please... please..."

"You're cumming, hm? You're gonna take my cum? All of it? Hm?"

You frantically nodded as you match his movements. It didn't take long until his cum painted your insides.

He nozzles his face against your skin. Peppering kisses against your neck, nipping it at times.

"We're gonna start our family soon..." he whispered while lazily grinding his dick inside you. "You, me, and our baby."

You chuckled. "We've talked about this before, Val..." The sheets rustled as you turn to face him.

"I still want to work. You know, to save up a bit." You pushed yourself up and looked into his eyes. "I also want to spoil them."

"You can spoil them with my card. What's mine is yours too, you know?" He responded while pulling you close to him. "We can have just one child. We'll take care of them. Raise them well..."

"Val... at least give me some time to think about it." You slowly run your finger against his chest down to his abs before barely touching the tip of his erect cock. "Besides... don't you want us to have some more time together?"

You slowly grind your moist pussy against him before he pulled you down with him. He aligned his cock and swiftly penetrated your pussy.

He doesn't hate the idea of getting you all to himself, but still. Your feelings might change once you learn more about him. He's not gonna have that. You're his for eternity, even if that meant having to share you with your child.

[alchemistc]

Part One

They don't tell anyone. Not about the marriage certificate, at least. Buck comes back from his conference with a new-old boyfriend and money exchanges hands despite protest from the losers that Bobby had inside knowledge.

(He did not.)

They put the rings away. They talk a bunch of shit out that they'd only skimmed the surface of on the patio of that dingy bar.

Buck buys him that beer.

Finally.

Things are - things aren't easy. Buck skips ahead in his own mind and desperately backpedals before Tommy notices (he hopes). Tommy continues to be tight lipped about things, goes with the flow more often than he should and absolutely hates being called out about it.

Eddie is slow to readjust to having Tommy back in their lives.

With Chris back, he swears up and down he believes Buck that they're both serious about this, but he invites Tommy over less, doesn't involve him in Chris's life as often. Buck tries desperately not to let Eddie's hesitancy inform any of the feelings bubbling in his chest, any of the half-formed futures in his head.

Bobby calls Tommy and they go out for coffee and Tommy spends a week pretending to be so fucking fine about whatever they talked about that Buck starts baking again.

Tommy's abs get a little less defined.

Buck takes him to a gay bar, because they never did that before, never explored anything that wasn't just the two of them, never talked about the community or the history or the impact of being queer. The first time someone approaches their spot at the corner of the bar, Tommy seems to be trying incredibly hard not to read into any of the reactions Buck is having, and failing miserably.

But the thing is. The thing is Buck did this on his own. Petty, unhappy, Tommy's words swirling in his head, he's tried a few dozen times to find another person remotely as appealing as the one at his side, and they'd all fallen short.

When the guy asks Buck if he wants to dance Buck blurts out words before he can think about it that he's absolutely certain are gonna send Tommy spiraling. "Appreciate the offer, but I'm here with my husband. We're celebrating."

The guy blinks. He's young. Younger than Buck, slim and attractive, dark brown eyes and light brown skin that glows golden even in the crappy bar lighting. His gaze darts almost eagerly between them, like he's seeing something he hadn't expected. Something hopeful blooms in his gaze, and Buck - oh.

Buck gets it.

That's a lot of weight to carry just for existing in the world and trying to snatch some happiness from it.

Buck smooths a hand over Tommy's knee and smiles at him, something soft and settled that has been harder to find this time around but still curls up against his spine like it belongs there.

The kid buys them a round and leaves.

"What are we celebrating?" Tommy asks, and Buck pretends not to notice the way his thumb is rubbing over the bare patch of skin where Buck had slid a ring, a few months ago. He's not freaking.

"Whatever we want," Buck says with a shrug, and doesn't mention that neither one of them have brought up the marriage certificate tucked away in Tommy's safe since they got back from Vegas.

---

"The Abby thing is still weird," Buck says, breath heaving as Tommy rearranges Buck's legs and tucks himself into Buck's side. They'd spent an evening talking candidly about their exes because Buck can't understand how they went six months without realizing.

Tommy's hands shift through the hair Buck stopped shaving the first time Tommy admitted he preferred it to the baby smooth skin Buck had tried desperately to maintain for the first four months. It's just now feeling normal, after so many years of keeping it smooth.

"I think she'd freak more than you did."

"I managed to implode a six month relationship with my freak, Tommy."

Tommy chuffs a laugh. Slides his calf up and down Buck's lower leg, and despite the fact that Buck has a few more notches in his belt that'd had that same scritch of hair against his, Buck relishes the feel just because it's Tommy.

"You had help." He pauses, though, tips his chin and tucks it against the give of Buck's shoulder. "I'm not implying her reaction was particularly homophobic, but - I think that was the worst part, for her. The fact that I hadn't just lied about how I felt. It was - she assumed I couldn't feel it."

Buck can't help the brow raise. "Tommy, you're a Kinsey six."

"I still loved her."

He's been working his way through romantic vs sexual vs platonic and learning a whole hell of a lot in the process. He gets Tommy's point. He's thrilled that Tommy is still in a sharing mood. It's just -

Tommy shifts, noses into Buck's underarm. Breathes deep, and Buck has to fight the urge to shove him away.

"If I'm totally off base here tell me, but I think you loved her like I love Eddie."

Tommy narrows his eyes. Contemplates. "Tell me again how jealous of his hair you were when you met," he decides on, and shrieks when Buck digs a finger into his ribs in retaliation.

---

They fight, and it's thrilling.

They never did that before. Minced their words and apologized and let it all drop away but never actually let it go, and when Tommy gets on a roll he's bitchy as hell. It drives Buck insane. He wants to wring his fucking neck. He wants to take him to the mat and actually learn enough about Muay Thai to stand a chance lasting two minutes. He wants to throw him against a wall and jack him off until he sees stars.

"He wouldn't do the same for me, Evan, so why should I bother?!"

Tommy's dad is dying. According to Tommy, it's days or weeks, not months or years, and Tommy had said it so emotionless that Buck had jokingly tried to check him for panels and plugs and wiring. Tommy hadn't appreciated the robot joke.

"Screw your dad, Tommy! Do it for yourself."

"I'm not like you, Evan! That bridge burned a decade ago. I don't need - ." He pinches the bridge of his nose. Grimaces and sucks in a breath. Usually that means he's yanking back words he knows he'll regret. Rearranging them in his mind until they're less likely to sting. "I don't want a death bed reconciliation any more than I want to be proven right about him."

Buck takes two weeks off to help Tommy plan the funeral.

Tommy tosses the contents of the urn into the ocean two weeks later, and when Buck asks about it, Tommy gives him a shifty look, like he thinks the answer might send Buck running. "He hated the ocean."

It's the last time they talk about his dad, for a while.

[hothammies]

morning hug - apoc au relationship details under the cut!

--- mike and will's (+ the og party's) background:

is it mike and will if they aren't childhood besties? their moms were friends before the infection hit and they saw each other occasionally before the apocalypse

after the apocalypse, they lived in the same walled community with their families and stuck together for a long time! from ages 4 to 7, they were basically each other's only friends until lucas came around at age 8 and dustin came around at age 9

the boys were separated from their families because a neighboring group attacked, effectively destroying the community (more on that another time)

this is when the og party learned to live and survive with each other!

in this au -> mike fell first, will fell harder :)

just friends... with benefits:

are able to talk about anything and everything

each other's closest relationship out of the party -> used to rely on each other emotionally (much more strained after they started doing fwb)

tentative fwb - usually only engage in benefits after they've had a bad day or are really stressed out

things feel normal when they're together and the morning after but then they give each other the cold shoulder...

mike has started making a habit of ensuring that there's a buffer person between the two of them when he assigns jobs (cannot handle the tension)

are currently -> avoiding each other + the other party members have noticed (they don't know ab the two of them)

what is their problem?

mike is scared of being committed to each other because he's seen what happens to people (his mom, rip ted LOL) who have lost their partners. he doesn't want that to happen to him or will were one of them to die.

he's also afraid of the possibility that a relationship between the two of them could affect the party's whole group dynamic and set things off, because he's more worried about their survival then he is about his own feelings towards will.

he loves will so unbelievably much that it hurts, and the idea of getting even closer to will and suddenly losing him hurts even more, so he keeps his distance.

-

will is most afraid of losing mike and the group were he to ask him to take their feelings any further. he's seen how devoted mike is to the group and to him, but he doesn't know if there's a limit to what mike is willing to tolerate from him.

he doesn't want to take the risk of alienating either of them, and he cherishes his relationship with mike so much that he's willing to go along with what mike is doing, which is straining their friendship.

will is a natural giver. if all mike wants is a fwb relationship even if he wants more, than he'll give it to him, even if it's tearing him apart on the inside :') he doesn't know if mike loves him back, so will is emotionally torn up from the distance that this is creating btwn them.

---

other notes: fwb byler is a really interesting dynamic to explore, especially in this apocalypse setting - by the point in the story that they become fwb, they're 17 and they don't really have any clue about what they're doing. most of their clues about intimate relationships stem from old magazines from a while back (that don't say anything about gay relationships) as well as what their older siblings taught them when they were 12, which highlighted the emotional aspect and not the physical aspect.

mike and will know that something within their relationship has fundamentally changed, and they have no idea how to handle it. however, they know that they can experiment and relieve tension with each other safely, but are also extremely conflicted on how they present themselves to each other outside of their experimenting and to the party.

heteronormative societal pressure is not a conflict in this story (at least, not yet) - they don't live with anyone else except the other party members for the time being. their only conflict has to do with them both being scared of losing the other. they live in a world where anyone can die so quickly, so they don't want to fuck up what they have :'D mike wheeler is the king of being unable to process his romantic feelings properly and will byers is the king of completely repressing his emotions! they're perfect for each other!

both of them are the equivalent of shaken up soda bottles with mints inside them, ready to explode (the mints are them being friends with benefits)

[lizzieisright]

Tranquility

dom!reader x sub!Abby

Summary: You want to help Abby relax and show her she doesn't have to control everything, sometimes she just can let go.

Tags: dom!reader, fingering, praise, consent checks, Abby doesn't really notice she is subbing, very light and vanilla, Sylvia Plath's quotes.

wc: 3.7k

MINORS DON'T INTERACT I'll hunt you for sport 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

You don't jump into power dynamics right away when you get together: Abby doesn't even think about it too much - she just assumes since between the two of you she is the killing machine, big strong scary Abby Anderson, she'll be in charge like she is everywhere else. And you don't seem to mind, even though you had the sex talk way prior to having actual sex (I can't bottom every time if it's something you want, you said to her, and Abby agreed: she liked topping but she could bottom just fine). 

So the thought of power dynamics doesn't come to Abby at all, until one day. 

You are too good at reading Abby's mood - for some reason you can notice even the small shift in her. It's a superpower that creeps Abby out sometimes, how you can recognise her feelings and act accordingly. You don't make a scene out of it, you don't take care of her like she is a child who can't regulate her emotions, but you're there through it all. You're not scared of her anger or her tears, always calm, and for the first time in years Abby feels like she can rely on someone. Can trust someone fully. 

And today Abby is on edge. She is tired, angry and frustrated - the plan for the next supply run isn't safe in her opinion. Abby likes her plans to be foolproof, "if you think they're smart enough think again and dumb it down" type of fool-proof. Everyone said Abby was being ridiculous about it, and maybe she was, but it doesn't make her feel any better. 

And you obviously notice it. You watch her from the couch as Abby walks around packing, huffing every two seconds in anger. 

"I saw that plan, Abby, it's good. Everything will be fine. Manageable if something goes wrong."

"Jamie is on the team, and this idiot will get us in trouble." Abby growls. "And then someone will have to clean up his mess and someone will get hurt and it will slow us down-"

"Okay. Okay, Abs, stop." You put your book away. "Come here, you need to relax." You pat your lap and Abby stares at you before laughing.

"What, you want me to sit in your lap?" Abby asks sceptically. 

"Yeah." You pat your lap again. Abby is unsure and she feels ridiculous: she is not a lap dog, she is a fucking German shepherd.

"I'm too big to sit in your lap, baby." 

"Do I look like I give a fuck?" You deadpan. "Big girls need to sit on their lover's lap too. Come here."

Abby blinks. She likes that she is big and tall - it makes her feel powerful, but it comes with a cost. She doesn't get to feel small. And you asking her to sit on your lap opens something so desperate in her she gets scared. Abby knows she won't feel small, but she wants to try anyway. Abby tentatively makes her way to you, still unsure how it will work, but you tug her lightly and she straddles you. Abby feels like she is a giant on top of you, and she doesn't really remember where to put her hands. She settles on your shoulders.

"This is awkward." Abby assesses, frowning. 

"It's not. Sit, Abby, I can feel that you're hovering. I'm not going to break, I'm not made of dust." You push at her thighs so she can spread them and finally sit. You seem pretty happy with this, hugging her by her waist and pressing her closer to you. Abby is getting used to this, but it still seems ridiculous to her. She is used to tugging you to sit on her lap, not the other way around. 

"Am I too heavy?"

"I like feeling your weight on me. Makes it feel real." You grin and stroke her back. "Really, relax. I can read to you if you want."

Abby doesn't really know what to do. She has no arguments against you, and your lap is very comfortable. As well as being this close to you, feeling your body, your breathing, your warmth. 

"Yeah, okay. We can do that."

Abby does what you usually do when she reads: she puts her head on your shoulder and lets you snake your arms around her. 

"Good." You comment and hold the book with one hand while you stroke Abby's back with the other one. 

You are warm and your smell is comforting, so Abby puts her nose into the crook of your neck and breathes in.

"Yeah. Breathe. Deep big breaths." You say offhandedly as you look through the pages. It's weird. Abby feels safe and taken care of and it feels good, but it is too unfamiliar to be comfortable with it. 

"Would it be too childish of me to say: I want? But I do want: theater, light, color, paintings, wine and wonder. Yet not all these can do more than try to lure the soul from its den where it sulks in busy heaps of filth and obstinate clods of bloody pulp. I must find a core of fruitful seeds in me. I must stop identifying with the seasons, because this English winter will be the death of me-" You've read out loud and Abby suddenly resonates with the first line. Would it be too childish of her to say: she wants your care? 

"What is this?"

"Sylvia Plath's diaries."

"She sounds dramatic." Abby murmurs into your neck while you are caressing her back. Fuck it feels so good. She is so safe. 

"Bitch is all over the place sometimes. But she is a poet."

You kiss Abby's head and she leans into your touch, surprising herself. She isn't usually… needy, but right now something is different. The sudden safety of your arms around her, your calm voice and familiar smell makes Abby feel dangerously vulnerable. 

"You feel pretty relaxed." You notice as you now stroking her head, putting all annoying baby hairs behind her ear. 

"Yeah. It's so weird though."

You chuckle.

"In what way?"

"Usually it's you who sits in my lap. But this is good. Just weird."

"I think the word you're looking for is unfamiliar."

"Are you a thesaurus?" 

You laugh and kiss her forehead. Abby nuzzles her nose into your neck and your breath hitches. 

You know Abby doesn't mean to get you horny with her breathing, but you are getting horny. 

"Come here." You tell her and Abby lifts her head just enough for you to kiss her. She is warm and welcoming, doesn't rush anywhere and you are not rushing either, just enjoying the kiss. Abby relaxes into you and it surprises both of you - she isn't a person who gives up control easily. Hell, the whole thing started because Abby couldn't deal with people not doing everything like she told them to. But you feel how she puts more weight on you and you buck your hips into her. 

"Okay yeah. Still weird, but good." Abby pants into your mouth. You dig your fingers into her ass and press her into your crotch. "Oh fuck."

"Wanna make you cum." You say, panting yourself as arousal takes the hold of you. "What do you think?"

Abby looks at you with a lifted brow. 

"You think I'm going to say no?"

"Well." You kiss her jaw. "I don't plan on letting you do anything at all, so, maybe take a moment to think about it."

Abby stares at you as your words settle in. She will what, just lie there and do nothing? It sounds wrong, it sounds like she is going to be out of control, but also…

Also it sounds like the sweetest sin she could commit. 

"If you're not sure, we can stop. Like, fully. Or at any point you want to." You stroke her cheeks with your thumbs as you watch Abby. You know she is apprehensive about this idea, but you want her to relax fully and forget about everything. And you know you can give it to her if she just says yes. 

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. We can do that." Abby smiles bashfully and you kiss her, so fucking grateful for how brave she is. 

It's one thing to stare death in her face and win, and the other thing to stare in your lover's face and decide to trust them completely. And any other day Abby would have chosen death, but with you the danger can't get safer than this. 

So Abby lets herself relax into you again and just enjoy your touch. 

"Thanks." 

Abby chuckles, but it turns into a gasp as you move your lips down her neck while your hands are tugging on her shirt. Abby helps you take the shirt and the bra off, and you just caress her sides, looking over her. 

Abby knows you like how she looks, but having your attention like this makes her nervous. Your eyes are so dark with hunger Abby wants to look away but she doesn't, as sudden greed for your love washes over her. You look at her like you want to devour her. 

"Pretty." You sigh as you smile. "You're so pretty, Abs."

"I don't think pretty is the right word."

"Beautiful?"

Abby huffs but can't help her smile.

"Gorgeous?"

"Stop it." Abby says, playfully stern. "You're so sappy, god."

You grin and kiss her again, shutting her up - if you say she is pretty, she is, and whatever Abby thinks of herself is totally irrelevant. Your lips make a trail from her neck to her shoulder and you gently kiss her freckles, listening to Abby's breathing closely: it gets heavier as you move your kisses down, and these small sighs are the greatest encouragement you can get. 

You slowly move one of your hands up and cup Abby's tit, kneading her doughy flesh as she gasps. 

"Feels nice?"

"Yeah." Abby murmurs and runs her hand over your hair. It's still hard to let go so she tries to occupy herself in some way. She gently massages your neck and you kiss her just above her nipple. "Yeah, this is nice."

"Good. Let's take your pants off, I need them out of the way."

Your intonation makes Abby throb in her pants - it sounds so commanding and for once in her life she doesn't want to fight it, no, she wants to obey - it's easy with you. Safe. 

Abby stands from your lap and you help her take her pants and underwear off, making a small pile on the floor. Abby reaches to tug your shirt off, but you gently push her hands away. 

"Relax, baby. Don't worry about anything, okay?" You tug her back into your lap and sigh so happily when you touch her bare skin. "Your job right now is just to be pretty. Can you do that?"

Abby is conflicted: you don't sound patronising, but it should sound patronising, shouldn't it? She stops for a second to understand her reaction and you just watch her. You know Abby needs some time to process what is happening, so you continue caressing her back and her pretty ass that makes you drool while Abby figures out how she feels about your new behaviour. 

"Well I can try." Abby shrugs and you smile. 

"Thanks. I wanna call you princess, you know?" You kiss her neck and leave a hickey on her collarbone. 

"Call me what?" Abby laughs in the middle of her gasp at how ridiculous it sounds, but it's not a bad laugh. It's just embarrassing. "I'm no princess, (y/n)."

"Would you actually mind if I called you that?" You kiss her breastbone and Abby watches you. 

"Don't think so." Abby pants and looks at you impatiently as you finally move your lips to her tits. 

"Princess." You murmur and look into her eyes while her cheeks become bright red. "My pretty princess." You suck on her nipple gently and Abby gasps, squeezing your shoulders. The pet name turns her on - a lot of things turn her on right now even though they're weird and embarrassing.

You play with her other nipple and Abby presses closer to you, so you let your restraints go and use all your strength to move her closer to the point where her back is arched. Abby sighs, surprised - obviously Abby knows you are strong (not as strong as her, but strong nonetheless), but she never actually experienced it. Maybe you can make her feel small. Maybe you can make her feel like no one else could before. 

You slowly move your hands up Abby’s muscular thighs, caressing every line with your fingertips - Abby is too hot for her own good, and the hungry monster that lives inside you claws at your chest, desperate to have its way with Abby and make her forget her fucking name, but you’re patient. You would never push Abby into something she isn’t ready for, especially in sex, but you want to show her an alternative. Show that she can let herself forget her fucking name and it will be safe. Because god knows Abby needs it.

Abby watches your hands in anticipation and you smirk at her when you place your hands on conjunctions of her hips, caressing her hip bones with your thumbs. Abby is soft here, but her V-line makes her look sharp and hard, and it gets to your head. 

“I fucking love how strong you are, you have no idea.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” Abby chuckles, but she is impatient, so she grabs your hand and moves it down to her pussy. 

“Hey, don’t spoil the fun.” You scold her playfully and bring your hand back. “I’m not going to keep you waiting, princess. Relax.”

Abby feels how her face burns when you call her princess again, but it gets her wet, so impossibly wet there's probably a dark spot on your pants under her. Abby grinds her hips down, searching for some friction, and you push your hips up to let her have it. Abby shudders as her clit grinds down on your pelvis and her hands clutch your shoulders almost painfully as she tries to set a pace of her hips. 

"This is so hot, Abs. Fuck." You tell her as you watch her get off just grinding on you. You grab her ass and help her grind harder and Abby whimpers quietly, and your brain barely holds back your filthy mouth. You want to tell Abby how good she is, how she is doing such a good job getting herself off, but you hold it back for now. 

The friction is not enough and you know it, so you lock her in place with one arm around her waist, praying she'd listen to you, and snake your other hand between your bodies. 

Abby is so fucking wet your eyes roll back into your scull from how hard it turns you on. 

"You're so wet, princess." You murmur into her ear and Abby whimpers again. "You okay?"

Abby just nods and it clicks. Abby is getting overwhelmed, but she clings to you so you figure out it's a good overwhelmed. 

"Do you like it when I call you princess?" You ask mostly to make sure, but it sounds so seductive to Abby, a little mean maybe but in a good way. 

"It's embarrassing." Abby admits and squirms around when you cup her pussy. Finally. 

"Do you want me to stop?" You ask gently and look in her eyes, serious. Abby looks back, but her eyes are glazed over, she is too horny to care about being embarrassed by this point. 

"No. Don't stop." Abby grinds against your hand and you press her closer to make her stop. 

"You wanna cum already?"

"You keep fucking teasing me." Abby says, annoyed.

"I'm taking my time." You kiss her cheek and part her folds carefully, circling her clit with two fingers and Abby buries her head into your neck, moaning. You stroke her back to soothe her, but your fingers only get faster, the pressure is featherlight and it drives Abby crazy because it will get her to cum way too fast, and you know it. 

"Yeah, that's right, princess. Relax and enjoy, yeah?" You can't stop talking now, desperate to praise Abby and make her feel safe in your arms. "Does it feel good?"

"I- I can't fucking-" Abby moans between her words, clinging to you harder as your fingers get her closer to her release. "Icantfuckingthink" Abby says in one breath and you barely make sense of it.

"Oh princess, don't. Don't think, okay? Be good for me." You pay closer attention to her reaction, not sure if Abby would like it, but she is too out of it now. She whines - fucking hell Abby whines - and presses closer to you.

"Yeah, I'll take care of you, I'll make you feel good." You promise her and slide your fingers down, gently pressing at her hole. Abby arches into your fingers, trying to get them inside, and your heart melts. "You're so cute, fuck. You want my fingers?" 

Abby growls at you, refusing to talk, and you chuckle. 

"Just nod for me, okay? Or shake your head."

Abby takes a second to process your words and then she nods. 

"Good girl." 

That makes Abby open her eyes in shock and her walls clench around nothing to push her slick into your hand, and you can tell she liked it. 

"Can I call you that, princess?" You slowly push your fingers inside and just move them to feel how soft and hot Abby is. She suddenly grinds down on your hand and you kiss her shoulder. "Nod or shake." You remind her. 

Abby nods, her embarrassment totally forgotten by this point: she feels small, safe and taken care of, and the way you talk to her only makes it better. Your stupid spidey senses let you know when to check in with her and Abby never knew it could be this way - that giving consent can turn her on so much because you ask for it like you're dirty talking to her. 

And you are so close and you hold her so tightly Abby feels grounded even though she is so overwhelmed she can't think anymore. She just feels, her world only exists in the tactile plane now, and your voice carries her away. 

"Yeah, don't think, princess, I want your head empty and your pretty cunt stuffed with my fingers." You murmur into Abby's ear and she buries her face in your neck deeper as you curl your fingers inside her. Abby moans quietly and you feel how you lose any self-control you had before. 

You pick up the pace, catching the balance between overwhelmingly fast and not fast enough just so you won't disturb Abby's delicate headspace, and you just listen to her. Abby is not loud, never been, but that what makes it so magical - every sigh turns into a quiet whimper the longer you fuck her, and then you feel it, how Abby clenches around your fingers, her orgasm coming closer. 

"You're close, princess, I can fucking feel it. Do you feel it? Does it feel nice when you're so tight around me?"

"Yeah." Abby says in a hoarse low voice and your teeth fucking ache because you want to sink them into her so much. 

"Fuck Abby." You kiss her temple and suddenly you're fucking her so hard Abby gets tense in your arms, overwhelmed. "You have no idea what you do to me."

But Abby is not listening to you because you turn your hand just enough so you could thumb her clit and-

"Fuck!" Abby shrieks and closes her thighs on you as she cums. You stop moving your fingers inside her to enjoy how she pulsates around them, but you continue thumbing her clit."Fuck-fuck, stop-" Abby asks when it becomes too much and you obey her. 

Abby is panting hard and you just kiss her neck and shoulders, waiting for her to calm down, but you can't help yourself so you start slowly moving your fingers in and out. 

"You feel amazing around my fingers, princess."

"Fuck, don't stop, please, don't fucking stop-" Abby whispers and hugs you around your neck. You’re more than happy to oblige, and you can’t help your mean smile as you move your fingers slowly but thoroughly, getting a feel of every centimetre of Abby’s walls. 

It doesn’t take more than a few minutes for Abby to whimper and shudder in your arms again, drenching your hand up to your wrist, and you gently kiss her to help her calm down. Abby is limp on your lap, her head comfortably tucked in your neck as she pants. Abby feels exhausted but ridiculously happy, giddy even - you opened something in her, something that freed her vulnerability fully. God, Abby always knew she could trust you, let you watch her back, but the thought she could be so vulnerable and small with you never crossed her mind.

“Do you want to nap, baby?” You murmur in her hair and Abby hums in agreement. “Okay, let me put your shirt back on, yeah?”

Abby reluctantly lets you put the shirt on her and wrap a blanket around both of you as you adjust your position so you’d be lying down while Abby would be on top of you, so it would be comfortable for her to rest. You open your book again while Abby’s breathing evens out.

“I am watching a pale blue sky be torn across by wind fresh from the russian steppes. Why is it that I find it so difficult to accept the present moment, whole as an apple, without cutting and hacking at it to find a purpose, or setting it up on a shelf with other apples to measure its worth or trying to pickle it in brine to preserve it, and crying to find it turns all brown and is no longer simply the lovely apple I was given in the morning?”

The present moment, whole as an apple - Abby doesn’t have to worry about not accepting it, lulled by your voice and your warmth and your smell - after all, the present is all she has.

[ominous-horse-noises]

im ab to be annoying ab dimension20 fhjy but im genuinely loving the character arcs for the bad kids this season?

kristen going from self-annihilatingly stupid to trying to build a genuine bridge with the man who not only wielded the religion that traumatised her (bobby dawn), but also was trying to ruin her life, just bc she thought a grieving father ought to be comforted in some way? her genuine distress at being unable to revivify buddy even though the two had only had negative interactions, or her biting her tongue in front of her parents so she could better look after her little siblings? grappling with the fact that she still, on some level, expected practising religion to be easy and convenient for her as a holdover from an entire childhood spent being a Chosen One, and finally putting her nose to the grindstone and committing to working her ass off for a deity that couldn't even benefit her for a hot minute? making an effort to be cordial with tracker's new gf and letting go of that codependency? the kristen applebees from ep20 would NOT do all the same stupid shit as ep1 and i love that.

fabian being humbled by the narrative again and again has been an absolute treat for his character. the whole ivy/mazey situation was great: freshman/sophomore year fabian would've gone for ivy no sweat, i mean her character seemed pretty similar to pre-redemption aelwyn and he had a huge crush on her then. but this time, when he realised he'd hurt a genuinely great person, and intentionally swallowed his pride to make it up to mazey, even though it required him being 'uncool' with the whole twister thing. his general arc of learning that earnestness and humility doesn't make him less of a man felt like a natural extension of fabian defining his own version of masculinity- sure, a 'maximum legend', but also someone deeply involved in the arts, and someone who is less afraid of saying sorry and being vulnerable in front of someone he likes

fig. fig fig fig. what a woman. its been absolutely fascinating watching build her sense of identity over these three seasons. at her core, fig is a character that loves so deeply. in freshman, she was terrified of the depth of her own devotion, so she tried to distance herself emotionally from everyone. in sophomore, she built herself around that love for other people. in junior year, fig's arc has been learning she can do both: that she's defined by her love for others, but not solely by it. ik emily wanted to retire the character before this season but i think fig's paladin arc was the best capstone to her journey possible.

gorgug's arc has been about establishing clear boundaries for himself and i love it. im aware there's been some Discourse ab the mango soda scene but to me that was pretty easily chalked up to teenage insecurity. a big part of gorgug's arc was trying to believe in himself when everyone around him told him he was too dumb to follow his passion- imagine struggling in an area that you have no natural aptitude for, and someone comes along and also trounces you in the one area you thought you were the best in. i'd be petty and reactive too (gorgug follows up calling her a freak with the fact that she beat the shit out of him, so its clearly him just still smarting from a bruised ego and not actual malice). in general, i've really like gorgug learning to put his foot down and say enough is enough without completely losing his gentleness.

adaine hasnt had an obvious arc, but considering she addressed most of her baggage in the first two seasons, i'm not surprised. i would've liked to see the other bad kids address her 'teenage adult' behaviour, but her self-awareness about it and relying on fabian to pull in clutch for the oracool stuff still felt like she'd learned to rely on her friends at least + her reaching out to aelwyn and the two of them healing from their parents together has been rewarding it its own right.

riz is perfect and has learned nothing. his neuroticism is part of his natural swag

[eisforeidolon]

Question: You guys have been so close for so long, what would you say each other's greatest character trait is and why?

Jared: As people? And I have to say this in front of him?

[Jensen theatrically turns to Jared, crosses his leg, and props his chin on his hand to listen]

Jared: I mean, where do I start, honestly? But I'd say one of the things that has been abundantly obvious to me, and I relied on for almost the last twenty years? Is he doesn't give up. He doesn't give up - not on a project, not on a person. He just goes, like, alright, one step at a time, let's do it. Not that he doesn't get down, I mean, we're all humans, we have good days and bad days [Jensen nods]. But when the shit hits the fan, he's - I always said he'd be a good, like, Navy Seal or something. 'Cause he's just like, okay, what's next? I can't change that, what are we doing? Like, didn't you just hear, the camera broke, the stage is on fire. And he's like, alright, well, can we get something from tomorrow's work? Like, he's just sort of like, alright - he goes. And that, that - I don't want to say it's confidence, because it doesn't come from a place of arrogance, or some ego? It just comes from alright then what can we do? And so it's infectious to go like, well, that guy over there, Jensen, he's still ready to get after it, even though everything went wrong and everything broke and everything's on fire, he's still ready to carry on. To borrow the name of an episode. So I think that that permeates a lot of his life, whether things are great or things are not great? He just goes, like, okay, cool, what's next? I can't change that, so what can I do, what can we do? And he doesn't put - he's not one of those drill sergeant, hey, I'm ready to do it, you better do it. But you see him doing and well, if he can do it, then maybe I can, too. So it's a very hopeful attitude, that I really appreciated. [Jensen pats Jared's leg, Jared pats his back]

Jensen: There are many, so I will pick one. And one that I admire and I, you know, wish I had more of is his appetite for knowledge in the things he becomes even remotely interested in. He can take a subject, any topic, and wonder about it. And he doesn't continue to wonder very long. I just kind of sit in that wonderment for a while, oh, that's - I wish I knew more about that. Oh well. Jared dives deep. And almost in just an insatiable appetite way of wanting to know more and that zest for knowledge and life is - it's inspiring? But it's just so unique and powerful for somebody to have that and have that drive to wanna know so much more about so many different - I mean the guy is insanely intelligent in a way that - I always knew he was smart, I always knew he had a really great head on his shoulder, but. Shoulders. Two just stunningly muscular shoulders. But he gets an interest in something and he just digs in so, like, amazingly. And any subject - if it's academics, if it's wanting to know about - like I'm always like, hey Jared, what supplements should I be on? Because I know he knows all about it. Or hey man, I'm looking for a book right now, what are your recommendations? And he'll give me thirteen, fourteen recommendations. He just has - his brain works in just such a brilliant way that I've always been in awe of how he's able to do that and do it consistently. You know he doesn't burn out, he doesn't tire out with the zest that he has for wanting to know more about life, and it too is infectious. And I was it was more infectious, I wish I would be infected with it completely. But I get a little bit of it and it's inspiring for me to wanna just know more and learn more and have that desire for knowledge the way he does. It's really really impressive and I think it's had an amazing impact on his life and the way that he can relate to so many different - you put him in a room with anybody and he will have a researched knowledgeable way of communicating with just about anybody and everybody on almost any topic. And that to me is just incredible, so. And again, that's one of many things that I could say, but that one just popped to the front. [Jared squeezes Jensen's knee and then puts his hand on his back]

[kentoxo]

ravish | reader(f) x bf!yuji

pairing: reader(f) x bf!yuji (aged up)

synopsis: after days being gone for a mission, yuji comes home and loves on your body, particularly your mouth

warning(s): face fucking

a/n: just a small thang. to those who have sent asks, im working on them! school/work drains me but ive been making progress in all of them, i swear xo also do we prefer proper capitalization or all lower case writings? just tryna gage based on other smut ive seen.

It was a mystery to recall how you ended up in this predicament.

Your pink-haired lover had you stripped, the entirety of your body exposed before him. Your back was pressed against the cold wall of your bedroom, with your knees digging down against the beige carpet. And before you was your lover, your beloved curse user. And his painfully hard cock.

You couldn't hold contact with his eyes, but whenever you did leave sight of his tantalizing limb, you'd be met with dark, hungry eyes. Those jade orbs had you in a chokehold, especially with how many days its gone without looking at you. You could tell Yuji was preparing to pounce you, as his pensive expression worsened the small pool developing in your flower. He was admiring you, as it has been a week since he couldn't.

"you're so beautiful, m'love," he murmurs quietly. "how is my girlfriend this beautiful?" You shake your head shyly, unable to accept his compliments. But your face goes crimson when his toothy grin disappears, and his lips straighten. "m'gonna show you how beautiful you are..."

Gently, Yuji puts one of his hands on the back of your head, cushioning it against the hard wall behind you. With the other hand, he holds his twitchy cock and looks down at you adoringly. "let me in, love." Obediently, your lips separate.

"Good girl," he whispers before completely filling your mouth. He doesn't ease it in, his tip quickly reacquainting itself with the back of your throat. Tears well up in your eyes, your breathing comes unsteady. Muscular thighs and toned abs fill your blurred view as the taste of salt dragged along your tongue. Squelches from your salivating mouth supplemented the silence alongside Yuji's satisfying grunts. "you... take my cock so well, pretty girl. god, mmph, i missed you and this pretty little mouth of yours."

His member slid in and out of you with ease, his cock shining gloriously from your saliva. You could feel your honey spill from your flower, your cunt eagerly waiting its turn. You could barely breathe now, relying on your nose to keep you going. Albeit this fact, you didn't want Yuji to stop. You wanted him to use you as he so desired. To be loved and ravished by him.

"babygirl, your mouth feels... so fucking, ah good-!" He proceeds to go faster, his balls slapping your chin with each thrust. You moan around his cock, which earns you a throaty string of curses from your insatiable partner. "more... god, i want more."

He then grabs you by the base of your ponytail, pulling you away from the wall. With both hands to the sides of your head, he continues to face fuck you. His hands guide you, bobbing your head up and down his desperate shaft. Your thoughts were fucked empty, you could no longer think. All you knew was this cock, and nothing more.

"your mouth is so fucking hot, y/n, holy shit," he praises through grunts. Your chin began dripping with saliva, your hands holding onto his thighs in struggle. He chuckled at your nails digging into his legs, knowing you were reaching your limit. You could feel his veins shape into your cheeks, and on your tongue. "i'll fuck you as soon as you get me to cum in your mouth. help me out, will ya?"

You finally hollow your cheeks, your mouth completely coating his cock. Yuji hisses in ecstasy, his hands moving your head just a bit faster. His tip keeps hitting the back of your throat, now causing you to swallow each time. He feels the walls of your throat close, wanting nothing more than to shoot cum right down it. "baby, i'm gonna cum..." He warns you, sweat beginning to bead on his abs.

You hum around his cock in affirmation. He chuckles again before looking up, profanities jumping from his tongue. With one final thrust, he forces his entire shaft into your mouth, part of it housed in your throat. Your eyes widen when you felt his hot load burst and roll down into your throat. Your eyes itched from tears, and you kept gagging on his cock. He was so big, you couldn't handle it. It's only been a week, and your mouth was virgin to his length.

He pulls out slowly, with his tip bouncing off your bottom lip. "come," Yuji's warm smile welcomes you, with two hands being offered to you. You take his hands and rise, your knees burning from the carpet. "you did so good for me, baby," he murmurs, his index and thumb holding your wet chin. Your lips were pink and tender from his relief, and he quickly mends them with a passionate kiss. Calloused hands find their way to your ass, his fingers teasing your pussy a bit with precum ornate on his tips. "looks like your ready for me, baby."

You nod your head shyly, unable to get the words out. Yuji chuckles, a toothy smile illuminating your world. With a kiss on your head, he lowers himself to one of your ears. "since you sucked me off so well, i'm gonna fuck you until the sun comes up. does that sound like a plan, princess?"

[thepointofme]

mind full of thoughts of erik accidentally being sent back to the past and staying with the x men until they find a way to send him back to the future and present erik being jealous charles with his future version.

ok so in my head here the timeline is different from xmfc, it takes longer for erik to find shaw so he stays with charles for at least three years and they open the school together. there's no beach divorce or charles getting paralyzed but the divorce eventually happens bc erik never gave up on his revenge plan, ends up killing shaw at some point, this causes a massive fight between him and charles and he decides to go on his own bc they're both too stubborn to meet each other in the middle. a year and a half passes after their dramatic divorce and this is precisely when future!erik arrives. in his mid/late 40s from twenty years now on, this erik is not that different from present!erik, they still look the same, save from how future!erik has shorter hair, a stubble, and a few more wrinkles.

the major difference lies in his posture. future!erik carries himself with more genuine confidence than his present version, since he's obviously older and has way more experience, he's way more confident in his powers and doesn't rely (that much) on anger anymore to use them. hes just.. a bit more calm. doesn't look like a bomb ready to explode. and this is what makes charles orbit around him like a moth to the flame. i keep thinking about young charles absolute FASCINATED with this version of erik, bc that's the man he loves so much, his dearest friend, now older and mature and comfortable in his own skin. this is exactly what charles wanted for erik and its right in front of him, after a year and a half of being away from erik, all that hurt and pain.. and future!erik is ACHING and YEARNING so badly like i bet he regrets all the things he did that hurt charles and always had those 'what ifs' in the back of his mind, 'what if he could change the past' 'what if he could change the way he treated charles' and now he has this version of charles, the first version of him he learned how to love, still full of hope for the world and with that soft look on his beautiful blue eyes.. he wants to make things right this time. so while hank is trying to find a way to send him back to his time, charles and erik spend their days together, playing chess and talking and talking and talking.

charles sees erik interacting with alex and helping him with his powers, everybody is still at shock to see how he's way more patient than his present version, and charles is about to EXPLODEEE with so much love. and in the middle of all this we have present!erik, hurt and bitter with his fresh 'magneto' suit of armor bc now he's the leader of the brotherhood of mutants, seeing this man who clames to be him in the future following charles around like a puppy, making charles smile and blush, he's about to start a new war. he also stays with the x men bc he wants to send his future version to the future as soon as he can, he's there to "keep an eye on him".

it goes like this until one day charles and future!erik are talking in the balcony of charles' room, they're talking normally and they simply CANT take their eyes off each other until charles blurts out of nowhere "are you happy? at peace? or at least getting there?" and erik says after a few seconds looking at him ".. im getting there." and charles smiles bright like the sun, holds one of his hands saying "good" and the moment is so soft and delicate and intimate they end up kissing. slow and wet and romantic with their bodies pressed against each other totally lost to the rest of the world, none of them hear the door opening until is too late and suddenly there's another erik in the room, furious. thats where things get interesting!!!!!! present!erik is absolutely out of his mind and tries to attack future!erik with his powers, but future!erik is more powerful and doesn't even bat an eye (thinking about present!erik trying to choke future!erik with that necklace he uses in dark phoenix but future!erik simply uses his powers to put it in present!erik's neck to choke him instead) until charles get in the middle ordering them to stop because theyre being ridiculous.

its just too funny the idea of erik fighting with himself bc other version of him got to kiss charles before him (got to kiss charles at all) and future!erik tauts him by saying that he could have that if he wasn't too much of a coward to act on his feelings and charles is a little offended how they're talking about him as if hes not there but hes also getting all hot and bothered bc cmon there's Two eriks fighting over him and theyre both so hot and attractive in the same AND different ways he's sweating a little!!! and then future!erik kisses him again... gets behind him gently pushes his body close to present!erik.. who looks at him as if he's pained and then he also kisses charles... they end up taking charles to paris if you know what i mean

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part sixteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.3k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: i am so excited for you guys to see everything I've got coming up for this series- ah!! also, should i post the masterlist for requiem soon?? i can't post the first part just yet, but i'm excited ab it so let me know if you guys want to see that to be able to get the vibes and stuff!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Hello there, Miss." Coryo grins at you, extending his arm to you to hold as you step out of your house and close the door behind you.

You pretend not to see, reaching down to retie your shoe which was already laced up perfectly. "Hi." You reply quietly, and his smile fades. You already seem in weaker spirits than you were this afternoon.

"Did you enjoy your nap?" He asks as you stand up straight again, making your way down the front path of your house to the street and he follows like a stray dog.

You turn when you reach the road, looking at him only briefly. "I did. Thank you." You mumble, unable to make extended eye contact without your heart beating out of your chest. It was hard to tell if you were awake or asleep when he was around.

"That's good." He nods, joining your side. He's there to walk you to The Hob, but he honestly was relying more on you to guide the way.

You don't say anything, walking with your arms crossed carefully, protectively across your midsection.

Coryo is worried, but he does know that you don't want to walk alone at night, so he tries to convince himself it's just that. Not him.

"You, uhm, you look nice." He tells you, taking notice of your change of clothes. It was refreshing to see you in something other than that short dress with the sewn-in shorts, though with the longer skirts you had worn today, it covered much more of your skin. Part of him missed the short dress that was now most definitely unwearable. It was your favourite, he remembered.

"Thank you." You say back, the hair on your arms pricking up from the chill that was starting to settle in. It wasn't a cold night, you didn't think, but colder than Twelve often saw in mid-August. Maybe it was just you. "You do, as well."

He laughs, and you look at him for the first time tonight. His blue eyes shine with the reflection of the sunset, and you're no longer cursing yourself for trusting him to walk you this afternoon. He wouldn't hurt you, and you knew that. Stupid dreams. Stupid nightmares. He saved you- he's the only reason you're alive today, you're certain.

"We're trying to blend in, Sejanus thought we were scaring people." He explains, laughter subsiding.

You smile at him. "I was going to say, that style doesn't feel like your own." You giggle. "But I like it."

"Why, thank you." He grins, tugging on the front of his white t-shirt as if he was adjusting a suit jacket.

Your dreams were just dreams. If he had that evil in him, could you live with it? That was what you had to figure out. Right now, though, with you, that darkness was nowhere to be seen. You were awake. You must be.

"How has Twelve been treating you so far?" You ask, suddenly self-conscious of his impression of your home as your feet crunch over the gravel path beneath you.

"Okay." Coryo shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It was hard to find someone to talk to us long enough to get a lead on where to find you."

"People tend to keep to themselves." You explain. "Also looking for me is an odd request."

"Why?"

Now it was your turn to shrug. "No one really wants to talk to me now, either." The stares you got were seemingly endless. People would stare, point, whisper, and it didn't particularly bother you, but you hated that maybe people were afraid. You feared that everyone thought the games turned you into something fragile, and they were scared of upsetting you with the wrong words or the alternative; you were a weapon ready to explode at any moment.

"That's because people are careless and cruel." Coryo replies, no hesitation behind his tone. "And they have no way of understanding... you."

"They're good people, honestly, I just-"

"I know that." He assures you, sensing your panic. "But it's not your place to prove to them who you are. Changed or not."

"Do you think I have changed?" You ask, genuinely curious despite the softness of your voice.

Coryo is quiet for a moment. "I would say no," He looks at you as you walk alongside him. "but you have, I think. There's more to you, now."

You chew on your lip, watching your steps as you pass under the streetlights.

He watches your reaction, nervous when you don't respond. "I don't mean that in a bad way." He clarifies. "To me, you're still you." He wants to tell you you're less naive, more experienced, that it will keep you safe, but he feels as though that wouldn't be the right thing to say. "But it's impossible to walk out of that arena the same person. We have that in common."

The flickering street lamps illuminate the blush on your cheeks for just a moment. "Thank you, Coryo. That means a great deal." 

"Of course." He hums, walking close enough now to just brush your arm with his own.

Your heart leaps in your chest, from fear or excitement you aren't sure- but you're grateful to be able to finally hear the music coming from The Hob as you approach the rundown building.

There's nowhere else you would want to be any less than The Hob during one of Lucy Gray's shows. You loved her, The Covey, the beautiful and fun music they made together, but since you'd been home, it had been impossible to enjoy yourself there.

You didn't even try until tonight.

Your fears came true. Almost as soon as you and Coriolanus walked in, scattered eyes were on you. You could feel it like pricks in your skin. It didn't help that you were with a stranger. People were dancing, drinking, laughing, but you couldn't help but feel like the laughs were directed at you. Certainly, some staring was.

Coryo looks down at you, seeing your hands still gripped onto your own arms, holding yourself together. He wasn't great with crowds, and seemingly neither were you. His urge was to retreat to the nearest wall, and so was yours. "Let's see if we can track down Sejanus." He offers, holding his arm out behind you while he looks around.

He doesn't want to touch you for fear of making things weird, but god, would it just be so easy to slip his arm around your waist and guide you more effectively. 

"There." He almost doesn't hear you over the music and the shouting surrounding you both, but he follows your finger as you point over to the bar, leaning down closer in case you speak again.

Sure enough, Sejanus is there chatting with some local guy. Coryo sighs. "I leave him for twenty minutes..." He chuckles, shaking his head. "I'll get him, are you okay to wait here?" He asks and you nod, giving him that smile of yours that he hasn't seen all night.

"Good. I'll be right back." He promises, stepping away and through the crowd to go get your friend.

You watch him go, but your attention is drawn when someone pushes past you rather abruptly which makes you jump. The girl looks at you like you're crazy, as you expected she would, so pulling yourself together again, you find an empty table by the side wall and go to sit down. This was too much for you already; you knew that before you even walked in the door, but you were just here to see your friends. Coryo would come back, Sejanus would be with him, and Lucy Gray would sing her songs while you laughed and talked like normal people do. As soon as they returned, it would be okay.

You keep your head down until you hear them bickering over the normal sounds of the bar.

"We're not here to make friends, Sejanus, we're here to-"

"No, no, I get that, but what's the harm?"

You smile at them, taking a shaky breath. "Welcome back."

"Y/N!" Sejanus grins, looking at Coryo briefly before taking the seat across from you. "Glad you could make it."

"Me too." You nod, avoiding looking at Coryo as he takes the spot standing next to you, considering there wasn't another seat.

"Here," He says, voice low in your ear as he holds a glass out to you. "Got you a drink."

"Oh, thank you." You mumble, blushing as you take it from his hand. You can't think of anything worse than being intoxicated and vulnerable in this environment, but the gesture was nice. You wouldn't deny him that.

He rests his arm on the back of your chair, leaning on it and you rest your arms on the table so you can place the glass down as you look at Sejanus. "Tell me more, what have you been up to?" You ask, desperate for some conversation to distract yourself.

"Well, we graduated." Sejanus answers, nodding toward the boy standing beside you.

"Oh, gosh, congratulations!" You smile, looking between the two of them. Coryo is stone-faced.

"I sent you an invitation." He says into the rim of his glass, looking down at you.

"Oh?" You ask, and Sejanus nods in confirmation.

"We were hoping you'd be able to make it. We were going to come get you." He explains, and Coryo lets the glass scrape against his teeth. It was his invitation that he sent, and he was the one who offered to come get you. Sejanus had nothing to do with it besides encouraging him to actually send the letter.

"I didn't- I didn't get it." You tell them honestly, brow furrowed. "I don't know if I could have... gone back, you know, but I would have at least sent a gift, or something. I am so sorry."

Coryo raises an eyebrow. "You didn't get it?" He asks, almost relieved by the idea.

"No, nothing."

"Oh. Well, nothing could be done then, I suppose." He shrugs it off. Maybe if you truly hadn't received the invite, you haven't received any of the letters he sent. Someone along the route to the address he used decided you weren't worth looking for, and that wasn't your fault. Lucy Gray had told him as much, but he trusted it more falling from your lips.

"Truly, though, I am so sorry I couldn't be there." You say, looking between the two of them with a newfound urgency. You didn't want them to resent you, especially if they thought they had been ignored. "I didn't know, honest."

"Don't worry about it." Sejanus assures you. "We didn't want to be there either."

"But I did, I would have loved to but it's just hard to get out of Twelve and I wouldn't have anywhere to stay and like I said I'm just not ready to go back but I really would have loved to be able to be there for you."

"Y/N, hey..." Coryo chuckles, leaning down again to be face-to-face with you. "We get it. We're not upset with you, I promise."

Promise. The two of you were always making promises to each other, apparently. It made you feel better and he knew that.

"O-okay..." You nod slowly, deciding now is as good a time as any to try your drink. You turn your face from him, having been just inches apart to take a sip. Beer was far from your favourite, but you were never much of a drinker anyway. You place the glass back down and smooth out your skirt over your lap, regaining your normal grin. "Well, Fortune is merry, and in this mood will give us anything."

"Very good point." Coriolanus agrees quickly, tapping his hand on the back of your chair. The smile that crosses your face when you look up at him, thinking he understood and cared to respond makes him want to collapse in on himself and sink into the floor. You deserved so much more than being elated when someone understood you, and he could give you everything if you would just trust him.

"Y/L/N, how dare you show your face here!" A voice calls you by your last name and you snap your head in their direction.

Coryo furrows his brow, watching warily as a boy about his age walks up to your table. He's ready to step in, maybe this is why you hadn't been coming- because people, boys had been harassing you. He should have seen that coming. You were beautiful, every time he looked at you it was hard to look away again- obviously, this kind of attention would be a common occurrence. He lifts his shoulders and puts down his drink, but he looks at you and you're smiling.

"Hi." You giggle, actually giggle- and it makes Coryo almost just as angry as if this random guy had just threatened you.

He leans his elbows against the table. "Been a long time since I seen you. How you been?" He asks, sipping his beer as he makes dead eye contact with you.

"Only a couple of days, River." You grin.

"Oh yeah, that's right..." He hums. "Been real interested in that book you let me borrow, you know."

"Have you?" You smile, leaning in with excitement, ready to discuss it.

Who was this guy? A friend? Something more? The way you were looking at him, the fact that you let him borrow one of your books made envy swirl in Coryo's stomach. He hated it. He clears his throat to remind you they were there before you got sucked into talking about whatever book you gave the boy.

"Oh." You look up at him. "River, this is-"

"Yeah, who are these clowns? Botherin' you?" He interrupts you, and Coryo is more peeved about that than the fact that he was just referred to as a clown.

"Not in the slightest." You hum. "These are my friends, Sejanus and Coryo. They came all the way from the Capitol just to visit me, isn't that sweet?"

"Ah..." The boy hums, standing back up and holding a hand out for Sejanus to shake before turning to Coryo as he keeps his grip on the back of your chair. "Nice to meet you both, then."

"It's Coriolanus." He corrects you as he shakes the boy's hand, squeezing it probably more than what is polite.

"Oh wow." River's eyes widen and he chuckles, looking down at you again. "You're not really the friendly type I guess. Y/N here can make friends with just about anyone, I suppose."

"River..." You frown, shaking your head at him. Coryo clenches his jaw.

"I'm sorry! Sorry, I'm not great with new people either. That's my bad." He laughs it off, patting Coryo's shoulder as he drops his hand. "Anyway, Y/N, I didn't expect to see you out and about. Holdin' up okay?"

"I'm well. Thank you." You nod, taking another sip of your drink. River was a good friend, maybe even a great one. He works with your father in the mines, he started as soon as he turned eighteen a few months before you. You've become closer since then.

"Glad to hear it." He nods at you, looking around the crowded room. He bottoms his drink, shaking it in your face. "Time for a refill so I'm gonna leave ya be, but shout if you need anything, alright sweetheart?"

"Thank you!" You call after him as he turns to walk off, winking at you.

"Sweetheart." Coryo mumbles into his glass with a slight shake of his head as he watches the boy walk away. You didn't hear him, and he wasn't sure he wanted you to.

"Who's that?" Sejanus asks. "He seems nice."

"We went to school together, now he works with my father," You explain. "but I've known him most of my life. He's very kind, just a little... outspoken. He'll always tell you what he's thinking." You chuckle, and Coryo bites his tongue.

You catch his expression of disapproval. "He didn't mean any harm, just trying to be welcoming. He was nervous, I could tell." Returning your gaze to Lucy Gray up on the stage, you smile and give her a quick wave. She smiles back, nodding at you.

"You never mentioned him." Coryo comments.

"Well, I..." You stop yourself, staring down at your lap. "I had a lot on my mind..."

"Do you know anyone else? Give us the tour." Sejanus suggests quickly, pointing around the room.

You smile, forcing yourself to ignore your worries about how Coryo is feeling. "Almost everyone, yes." You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand as you speak.

"Is that why you didn't want to come?" Coryo asks you and you look up at him again, smile faltering.

"I- It's not that I didn't want to." You answer, fidgeting now with the fabric in your lap. "I just... I don't know. It's hard to... I don't know. Everything feels so difficult these days..." You laugh nervously.

There's that word he was so afraid of. Hard. In reference to something as simple as going out and spending time with your peers- people you had clearly considered friends before the games. It seemed like another lifetime to you, he could see it in the way you so intensely watched yourself pick at your own fingernails. He wished while laying in his bed at night that you were happy here, that your life was normal, even if he couldn't be a part of it; but that was unrealistic and part of him knew that.

"It's okay." Coryo reminds you quickly. "You don't have to explain yourself to us." He smiles, trying to be reassuring. "If you want to leave we can go. Just say the word, Y/N/N."

You shake your head, looking back up at him with that same glowing smile that subtly begs him not to worry about you- but he has to. "It's completely okay." You assure him with a quick wave of your hand. "Okay, so..." You drum your fingers on the tabletop, looking around and attaching names to faces.

"That's Sienna, I went to school with her sister." You point over to a girl in a group of a few others. "And she's with Fern and Hazel, Hazel's the one with the light hair." The boy's eyes follow where you're pointing as you look over at another group. "Oh, and over with River, the taller boy next to him is Rowan." You explain. "His little brother is friends with mine. Then over there, by the stage is Billy Taupe- that's Lucy Gray's boyfriend. Kind of, they're on and off these days."

Coryo nods, trying to commit these names to memory. He didn't plan on speaking to any of them, but if you wanted to, which he doubted, he would try. 

"And that's-" Your voice cuts out so quick it's as if someone had slapped a hand over your mouth when another boy walked up to join the two standing by the bar. Quickly Coryo is looking down at you again as the blood drains steadily from your face. You cough, shaking your head. "Uh, I don't really know anyone else's names." You lie.

"You okay?" Sejanus asks you and you nod, quickly grabbing your glass and taking a few large gulps, the foul taste of beer forcing its way down your throat. 

"Yeah, just, I haven't seen these people in a while."

Coryo watches, jaw clenched tight as River converses with the blonde boy who just walked up to him and your other friend whose name he's already forgotten. River takes a swig from his drink, laughs as he puts the glass down on the bar, and then points over to the three of you. He was telling whoever the hell that was that you were there- and clearly you weren't keen on him.

"Let's go, yeah?" Coryo suggests quickly, abandoning his drink on the table to step in front of you. He extends his hand to help you up which you gratefully take. He could feel your hand trembling in his. 

He squeezes your hand gently, still shielding you from the group of boys. You didn't need to say a word. "Sejanus, I'm going to take Y/N home, are you okay here?"

"For sure." He nods, looking worried now at the very sudden shift in your energy and Coryo's clear protectiveness. "Do you want me to come?"

"No, no. It's okay." You smile, comforted by Coryo's presence behind you. "You stay and have fun."

"Alright, well, I'll see you soon?" He smiles and you nod, but Coryo is already guiding you away.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[alien-slushie]

Hazbin Hotel/Angel Dust AU that I can't stop thinking about! This is not completely thought out, kinda just jumbled thought threads.

Warning: The usual stuff that's talked about/discussed/implied when it comes to Angel Dust's line of work

Takes place years before before Charlie Opens the hotel but the timeline isn't super important other than that.

Another extermination has come and gone and Angel Dust is expecting another grueling year trapped under Valintino's thumb, with a higher probability of it sucking even more since the sleez has solidified himself as an overlord. But then, he gets to the studio and Valintino is nowhere to be found. That's not nessicarrily an odd thing, the stronger Valintino got the less he showed up. But then the news spreads; Valintino got extermated.

Valintino is gone and dead, meaning Angel's contract is null and void. And Angel...Angel doesn't know what to do. He's worked for Valintino for so long, and sure he hated the dick but he never expected that he would actually be free. What did he do now? What could he do now?

He still needed a job, money, to take care of himslef so he wouldn't end up exterminated next year, so he stuck to stripping and porn(maybe a few singing gigs if he could get them), it's kinda all he knew in terms of making money, and no way in Hell(pun intended) was he going to crawl back to his father. Luckily he had Cherri to rely a bit on, so he wasn't completely alone in such a sudden change. He refused to sign another contract, but because he was still so well known the people he worked with were fine with that as long as they got a taste of the business Angel brought in.

Things changed when he saw a John getting handsy and aggressive with another demon, and stepped in. He didn't need to step in, but seeing the demon getting ab*sed and hurt like he used to snapped something in him. From then on, Whever he saw something like that happen, Angel would step in, even if he had to shoot up the f*ckers.

Before long he was known for more than just a Pornstar, he made a name for himself as the Pornstar who took care of others in the buisness, and soon demons were coming to him. They wanted his protection, even willing to sign a contract to him.

At first, Angel was vehemently against it. He didn't want to be like Val and dealing in sould never sounded all that interesting to him. But, eventually, after one too many demons came to him bruised up, and beaten, he agreed. His contracts were pretty simple, he got a percentage of their earnings, not a lot mind you, like 10-20%, and in exchange he'd beat the shit out of anyone that tried to hurt them. Biggest of all, they could pull out of the contract whenever they wanted, and If he hurt them, the contract would immediately be void.

When word got out that Angel was taking contracts, more and more s*x workers came in droves.

His own income, on top of what he got from the contracts, allowed Angel to buy an entire apartment building, which many of his contractors took up residence in. From rent and working hard Angel was able to buy Val's old studio, gut it, burn it down, and rebuild it from the brimstone up! He started making his own movies(P*rn and nonp*rn alike) in the studio and more people would come, wanting fame and fortune.

Slowly, Angel was started building his own territory, filling the power gap that Val left, except stronger since his employees actually liked him.

After years of hard work, and shooting *ssholes, Angel became an Overlord.

Basically:

-Angel Dust pulling himself up and protecting others in the industry from what he went through

-Slow Burn Angel unintentionally becoming an Overlord(Maybe making a pact with Cherri and them working together similarly to the Vees' situation?)

-Angel is a good boss and people love working with/for him

-Angel still works in porn and such, but hes calling the shots now, and even acts in nonporny stuff because he loves acting, singing, and dancing(love a Creative King)

-Eventually Charlie does seek Angel out to be her first patron to the Happy/Hazbin Hotel. Since he already has a reputation for protecting those under him, she thought he'd be the best option, and his position as a Overlord is also a big selling point.

-Angel also having a preexisting connection to Alastor and/or Husk sounds hilarious

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

A mix of the posts I see about Sebastian bulking for The Apprentice and Chris being in NYC for filming The Materialists have me thinking up my first-ever evanstan nonsense 🥺

I know they're both in long-term relationships now. Chris just got married, I knowwww, but let me wallow in this like a pig in the mud 😭🤣

I'm just saying that it would be awfully convenient for Chris to stay with Sebastian in his New York City apartment while he films... Plus, I would like to think that they already have a relationship going here. It's pre-established. Another thing I see about Sebastian on Tumblr is his submissive tendencies. There are so many signs and they make me all melt. So, they're together for the few months it takes to film The Materialists while Seb is prepping for his own film and they have their low-key dom Chris and sub Seb dynamic going.

Evanstan belly kink weirdness below! Warnings for slight weight-related insecurities (that are quickly smoothed over by Chris), kink discovery, sub!Sebastian/dom!Chris, weight gain, stuffing, etc.

One afternoon on a weekend when neither of them is required to be anywhere, they're just having a slow afternoon in as Seb confesses to Chris, finally, that doing this sugar-heavy diet - shotgunning cokes and snacking seemingly constantly on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches - is kind of awful. He knows he shouldn't pout or complain because he's doing it to himself. He decided to take this film; he's the one who suggested that he physically go for it rather than relying on a fat suit like he did with Lee Bodecker; further, he shouldn't complain because it should be nicer and easier than his usual pre-filming routine. Like, he complains so much about his crazy diets and workout regime for every other role he takes (having defined abs is a job in of itself, after all). So, really, it should be nice to relax and stop restricting so hard. But it isn't.

Seb vents to Chris many more things, too. For example, not only how surprisingly tiring it is, he feels lethargic all the time, but also how much work it is to make room for all this food in his stomach. Even when he was bulking up and waking up in the middle of the night to eat a whole chicken breast, keeping his protein up, he didn't feel like he had to stretch his stomach in the way he has to now. Plus... he's kind of scared, he admits as he fiddles with his shirt, that he won't "bounce back" and if he never looks the way he did before, his career will go south. Hollywood is so vain. Even more frightening is his thoughts that maybe Chris won't like him as much if he can't go back to his old body after this.

Logically, Seb knows most of his thoughts aren't true but he needs someone else to say it back to him to verify those things. He's searching for something, someone in particular, to calm his swirling thoughts.

Chris does more than verify what he needs to hear - that he'll be okay, that it is hard to make such a drastic lifestyle change, that it is challenging to bulk with fat as much as it is to bulk with muscle, he's seen him struggle every day he's been here, and that, of course, his body doesn't matter to him. Seb can look however and Chris is still going to love him. Further, he can look however and he'd still find him sexy as hell. Chris reminds him extensively, until Seb is blushing, how he couldn't keep his hands off of him when he was filming Pam & Tommy and was the tiniest he's ever been, but also how fucking terrible filming Civil War was because all Chris wanted to do was shove Seb into the nearest dressing room and have his way with him rather than reciting lines. Not to mention, of course, every other role with every other body type he's had while they've been together. Chris can't get enough of him, not matter what the shape of his body is. But...

Seeing how pouting Seb is at that moment, Chris wonders out loud if it might help him feel better if this weight gain wasn't just for work. What if it was recreational, too?

Seb doesn't understand at first what Chris means but with more explanation, he does.

Oh.

What Chris means is that what if rather than just having to put on weight for work... what if they played a game like they do in the bedroom where Chris makes the orders up and Seb follows them until he's shivering with the feeling of being obedient and good. Not having any control, ceding it all to his boyfriend, and being praised for his subservience just the way he craves in exchange. In the bedroom, being taken care of how he needs to be, held by the back of the neck, stern, with a voice in his ear, firm and inarguable. Shit, Seb always leaves his body when Chris gets like that with him.

If Seb wants to play, Chris could order him to eat and eat until his stomach aches like he already has been doing. But it will be different because it will be because Chris told him to. And it'll be different, hotter, because if he does what Chris says, Chris can soothe his upset tummy however he sees fit. A reward for following orders. Chris can rub his belly for being a good boy and doing what he told him to. Devouring everything he told him to eat. Chris can kiss the apex of his rounded, stuffed belly and trail hotter, sloppier kisses down until he's hidden behind the taut hill of his stomach, sucking his dick until Seb busts down his throat. Chris can fuck Seb on all fours to let him feel what he did for him, how good he is, his belly hanging and jiggling underneath him without an ounce of shame because he did it for his boyfriend - feeling extra stuffed than he already does when he's fucked by Chris' thick cock.

Not to mention how, if that was the case with Seb eating for him and not some production, when Seb looks in the mirror, rather than being reminded of work and how exhausting it is, he'll be reminded of Chris. He will see his reflection widened, softened, and changed with evidence of what a good boy he is. His boyfriend's marks visible on his body in a way that they usually can't risk - no hickeys or bite marks anywhere that paparazzi can catch. Not even any mark as innocent as holding hands! Further, unlike a hickey, a bite mark, a collar... that weight can't be faded as easy. Chris' mark on him will last.

Chris has always been a little possessive, Seb is familiar with it and often enjoys it seeing as the possessiveness comes out as roughing him up, taking more control, and fucking harder. Ngh. And so, Seb can wrap his brain around why the weight would be sexy to Chris. He can believe him whereas before he was having trouble understanding what about being fat would be sexy to his unbelievably attractive boyfriend. Literally movie-star-hot. Talking like this, he can see it in Chris's eyes - they're locked onto him, the tiniest hint of a smirk on his lips, and one of his eyebrows is raised. His expression turned on and dangerous but with just enough of a question to let Seb know that if he refuses, he won't push or bring it up again and they will go back to normal.

Seb isn't sure if he can go back to normal after those words, though. Jesus.

Evidence of Chris on his body. All over his body. Not something he can take off easily yet something everyone can see. PLUS, God, the thought of Chris rewarding him, giving him treats, to coincide with daily orders? Seb isn't sure he'll survive. He'll be floating through days in a cloud of arousal, he can feel it already, just knowing that he's constantly pleasing his boyfriend, fulfilling his orders.

Possibly it's Seb's background experience of giving up control to Chris and getting his rocks off as a result that's giving this the appeal it has. But maybe... maybe there's something bigger here.

Bigger.

Something bigger like his ass. His ass that's been feeling considerably wider every time Chris can't resist but give him a teasing spank when they pass each other in his tiny apartment or the way he gropes him whenever they fall into bed now, taking handfuls of it. His flesh jiggles now in a way he didn't before and, suddenly, like a switch flipped right here, sitting on the couch with his boyfriend and talking, he's curious about how it would feel for there to be more meat on his bones. More fluff for Chris's big, strong hands to sink into. More to jiggle. He's...

Seb's mouth is dry, feeling like needs a drink. A coke?

He feels abruptly, intensely sexy in his own skin at the same time that he's thinking about getting bigger. Bigger and better to drive Chris insane with, flaunting how he can follow orders eagerly, not just eating as much as he tells him to but relishing in the eating, stuffing himself fast and moaning through bites, begging for belly rubs just to keep him close and have his hands on his body, exploring all the ways he's changing it to satisfy him. Gaining weight faster and faster, all to feel it but especially to hear Chris's praise and moans if he ever gets big enough for Chris to really fuck his pecs when he gets big enough for Chris to fuck his moobs.

Can we just admire how he squirms when he blushes? 🥴

[theelmoarchive]

Sanders Sides theory (rant). I know im mainly a mh acc here but I have thoughts i need to get out there

(just fyi this theory is Roman centric, I know most TSS people nowadays are talking ab Orange and Logan so if Roman's not interesting then continue on 🔥🔥)

(Also slight TW, talking ab the sides "ducking out" and depression themes, so yeah👍👍)

Okay so. I was scrolling through Sanders Sides theories and found that no one seems to have this theory, even though I thought the Roman angst enjoyers like me would be writing this all over the place but. Ig that means I need to talk about it.

I've had this theory for years now, since the day I first watched SVS Redux.

I think Roman is going to duck out.

I dont know if I have to explain why but. I mean, just looking at the explosive end SVS Redux had will tell you a lot.

He doesn't belive Patton when he tells him they love him. He thinks Thomas has lost all faith in him in favor of the person Roman views as the epitome of evil. He's been switching views left and right to stay on Patton's side (because Thomas prides himself on his morals), but he always ends up doing something wrong - he always ends up as an antagonist. He no longer believes that he is the one thing that being has kept him stable since "Am I Original?" - Thomas' hero. The only side he has a stable and positive relationship with is VIRGIL of all people. And tbh that could quickly be ruined too. Logan is second, though, but that's EXTREMELY fragile, as we've seen.

Roman always does something wrong and it will and has sent him over the edge. From Roman's perspective, with a very flawed view of everyone around him, he is inherently the thing that flaws Thomas.

+ Roman is really dramatic obviously, so ofc he would do this.

When you look at Virgil's reasonings for ducking out, it seems plausible after everything Roman has gone through recently, too. I mean like:

"I quit. Decided it wasn't worth it anymore"

Why would Roman keep fighting a battle he knows he will never win?

"Well, It didn’t seemed like I was wanted. You all made that pretty clear any time I showed up."

Again, from Roman's perspective, he is constantly and consistently antagonized.

"If I wanted to stand around being insulted, I would've shown up I would've shown up in person like I usually do."

[same thing]

"I actually think you were right to not want me around."

Roman fears that he is becoming the villain (as we see in SVS, SVS Redux and DWIT).

(In fact, Roman has already said something quite similar to that last one in sentiment.

In SVS Redux, Roman says this, which is pretty funny because of the dramatics and the stupidity, and does get shot down quickly, but I am begging you to listen to him.

"The blame falls to me. If you're missing that do-gooder drive... I think It's because I'm in the driver seat... And I'm an awful driver... Perhaps... Perhaps I should let Patton take the wheel.")

(2nd sidenote to the Virgil quotes, can we talk ab Thomas' acting again I just love how tired Virgil is in AA. He's so. Troubled. I love him.)

WAIT ALSO I FORGOT TO ADD THIS UNTIL I WAS AB TO POST IT-

"I've always aimed to protect you,"

THIS!! First of all his face makes me so sad BUT SECOND OF ALL yeah. Roman core idk what else to say, you get it right.

"I thought I was your hero."

So yeah.

Anyway, I think the episode where Roman does this will be centered around depression. Without Roman, Thomas is depressed. Let me explain this further.

Roman is Thomas' creativity, imagination, ego, passion, love, wills and wants, hopes and dreams, aspirations and enthusiasm.

Without any of that, what is left? A guy who can't even will himself out of bed, but can still feel the nagging voice of reason and logic telling him how unreasonable he's being. A guy who cant will himself to talk to friends, family and loved ones, but can still feel sorrow for letting them down and worrying them. A guy who can't will himself to pursue creative content that he relies on for a living but can still feel anxious about letting millions of people down and never being able to create again. A guy who cant even make food for himself or brush his teeth, but still knows he NEEDS to take care of himself. A guy whose only creativity is activly trying to disturb and scare him.

So yeah thats really awesome idk.

Furthermore, I think the sides might be SEVERELY impacted.

It has been said many times over the series that the sides are purely figments of Thomas' IMAGINATION. so. Without Roman, I doubt anything would be left. Obviously, if Roman does duck out, I don’t think they'd all immediately just cease to exist because an episode still needs to occur, but I find it likely that they'd all start slowly fading or maybe even "malfunctioning", glitching, putting them on a timer to get back Roman and making it far more tense.

Is this theory weird?????? I feel like it's the natural progression TO ME but I've seen no one even getting near this and im just confused ghfhfhfh. Maybe it is kind of weird and im just too much of a Roman enthusiast. SORRY I LOVE ANNOYING WEIRDO FREAKS!!!! AND IF I WAS HIM ID DUCK OUT TOO BECAUSE NO ONE IS APPRECIATING HIM ☹️☹️☹️ EVEN THOUGH HE'S LITERALLY WHAT MAKES THOMAS DO THINGS. 🙄🙄🙄🙄

Anyway.

I also think it fits really well because of Prinxiety's parallels, such as:

(using the ship name just as a duo name because that's what I usually do I am not trying to push the prinxiety agenda although I am a fan of it ghfyfgfh)

"Thanks everyone... Well, almost everyone."

And

"I mean, it's cool to see you all trying to be helpful. Well most if you, but-"

The only difference in these two is obviously that Virgil just silently ducks out, while Roman has the entire "You make us better" speech, probably effectivly saving Virgil and Thomas, because it seems like Virgil was going to insist.

(Also another sidenote that I think everyone will agree with: WE NEED A "YOU MAKE US BETTER" SPEECH BY VIRGIL FOR ROMAN that is all)

Also. Who can forget.

Virgil saying that he tried to "duck out" and then

"That's a thing you can do?"

😐

Do you understand what I'm saying. Do you. Huh.

Okay anyway.

Idk how to end this I feel like theres still more I wanna say but i forgot. In conclusion: prin up that xiety. Reminder that FWSA was real and not a fever dream. I lied this is actually prinxiety propaganda.

But Hey That's Just A Theory. A really quite depressing and sad theory. Thanks for tumbling down a hill with me 🫶

[uniasus]

Whumptober 23 - Day 15 - BBC Merlin

“You’re favoring your wrist,” Arthur points out as he watches Merlin prepare the hearth.

Merlin hums. “Fell earlier on the stairs. Used it to catch myself.”

Arthur shakes his head, only Merlin. He is injured regularly, clumsily doing daily tasks. It is a true miracle he hasn’t cut himself caring for Arthur’s sword. It is a mite alarming how often the man hurt himself, but Arthur has seen his clumsliness in action – dropping pieces of armor on the pitch, watching goblets slip between his hands, misjudging a corner and hitting his shoulder on the stone.

But for all that Merlin is constantly injured, it doesn’t seem to hamper his ability to do his work so Arthur doesn't press.

He watches from his desk as Merlin works, using his right hand to sweep the old ashes into a sheet. He keeps his left on his lap, out of the way. It's obviously a protective posture, but it is a bit odd that Merlin caught himself with his left hand. The man is right-handed. Maybe he’d been carrying something.

Ashes in the sheet, Merlin sets about tying the bundle for easy carrying. Prior to getting a good grip, Merlin pushes back his sleeves and Arthur’s pen freezes.

Just below Merlin’s wrist is a very obvious handprint.

There is no way he got that catching himself on the stairs.

Merlin hoists the sheet up into his arms, carrying the bundle in front of him. His sleeves fell, covering the bruise, but Arthur still sees the four purple imprints of fingers. For it to be that bruised, it couldn’t have happened in the past few hours. Last night maybe?

“I’ll be back soon with supper,” Merlin chirps. Then he is gone, out the door, leaving Arthur reevaluating every nursed hurt Merlin displayed in the past month.

----

A week later, there is a bruise on Merlin’s cheekbone. Not in itself an unusual thing, he has seen Merlin smacked in the face by everything from flying gloves to loose chickens. This one is caused by rolling out of bed and not catching himself.

“Woke Gaius up with my swearing,” Merlin chuckles and Arthur shakes his head.

“Only you.”

But he’s suspicious. Of course, he is. So he asks Gaius.

“Oh, that’s my fault, Sire. I opened his door this morning while he was preparing to do so himself. Caught him right in the face.”

All of which leads Arthur to decide that Merlin has been punched in the face.

-----

Arthur watches Merlin sweep his chambers. There are no visible bruises, no hand he’s using less or limp, but there is still something off about the way he moves. He’s twisting less to get into the corners, turning his head to look somewhere without his shoulders moving.

It takes Arthur a moment to recognize it. He’s seen that behavior on knights, who he then quickly gives a break to so they don’t overwork themselves.

Rib injuries.

Arthur marches up to Merlin and steals the broom.

“You’re injured.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re lying.”

Merlin snags the broom back, and there’s nothing on his face that hints at pain. No wince around the eyes or lines around his face. He's even standing straight. He’s good at hiding pain from his face, Arthur realizes, and that alarms him for so many reasons.

“You are. And this is not the first time. Someone is hurting you. Who is it, Merlin? I’ll see them punished.”

“There’s nothing to help with.”

Arthur grabs the broom again. “There is.”

Merlin tries to yank the broom back, but Arthur tightens his grip. If Merlin really wants it, he can’t rely on arm strength. He’ll have to put his torso to use, add a bit of shoulder strength. Maybe his abs. Merlin grimaces, tightens his grip, but he doesn’t pull.

It’s as good as an admittance.

“Your ribs. Someone hit you. Or kicked you? Who, Merlin?”

Merlin lets go of the broom and moves on to other chores. Arthur catches his jacket and Merlin freezes. Quickly, before his servant can brush Arthur off, he pushes Merlin’s jacket out of the way and lifts his shirt.

Bandages circle Merlin’s chest. Not Gaius's clean linen, but something with ragged edges as if they’d been ripped. And that’s what exactly they are – ripped sheets.

“Sit,” he barks, forcing Merlin to sit at the table.

Merlin bounces up as soon as Arthur releases him. “I don’t need you to help me. I can handle things myself.”

“What things, Merlin?”

Merlin presses his lips together. “Secret things.”

“I gathered that if you didn’t even let Gaius help you wrap your ribs. Tell me anyway.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Merlin stands straight, and Arthur remembers the handprint on his wrist. The bruise on his cheekbone.

“Someone is hurting you, Merlin. I won’t have them escalate to breaking your arm,” Arthur growled.

“No one is hurting me.” Merlin looks straight at Arthur as he says it. Two months ago, Arthur would have fell for it.

“I don’t believe you,” he whispers. “Is a lord blackmailing you or Gaius? Is that why you can’t say anything?”

“No.”

“Do you not know who they are?”

“No.”

Arthur glares. He can’t think of any other reason why Merlin wouldn’t ask for help, other than sheer stubbornness. But he’s never thought of Merlin as that independent a person. He and Gwen help each other with chores regularly. Pride?

“There’s no honor in suffering, you know.”

Merlin looks away. “I know.”

“So there’s no reason for you to work through pain other than wanting me to not know you were hurt.”

Merlin is quiet, which Arthur means he guessed right. Sighing, he pushes Merlin back into the chair. This time, Merlin stays put and Arthut sits in the chair across from him.

“Fine. If you won’t tell me who’s hurting you, at least let me know when you are hurt. I’ll lighten your workload.”

Merlin looks at him in disbelief. “You’ll let me handle this?”

“For now,” Arthur answers. “But if it gets worse, or doesn’t stop in the next few months, you’ll tell me.”

Merlin nods eagerly, and Arthur so, so wants to believe him. But the only thing Arthur believes in right now is Merlin's ability to lie.

“Since you were sweeping before, go back at it, but you can forget bringing up water for my bath. I’ll ask someone else.”

“Thanks, Arthur.”

Arthur gentles his voice. “Of course. And don't forget to get those ribs wrapped correctly before you finish sweeping the floor.”

He leaves Merlin in his chambers with free access to the broom and goes searching for Lancelot to ask him to follow Merlin around. Lancelot is too loyal and honest to hide what he finds.

[itsjaywalkers]

for the drabbles me n you 71 (jokes....unless..)

but seriously rosekiller 60—i think it fits their vibe perfectly

i seriously considered writing a silly drabble for u and me.. greatest ship of our generation etc etc

but anyways !! here u have some rosekiller darling <3

60. "Before you decide to murder me, let me explain..."

If you asked Barty how he ended up pinned to the ground, right next to an open and half-dug grave, and with a scalpel to his neck, he wouldn't know what to tell you.

He knows it started with the disinheritance. Or maybe it was a bit later, when Regulus had told him he couldn't keep hiding in his dorm room, because his neighbour was starting to get suspicious, and he couldn't afford to be kicked out, now that he had also stopped being a trust fund baby. Not like he behaves any less spoiled.

Barty is convinced that it had nothing to do with the risk of getting discovered, and everything to do with that brainless rugby player who has started coming over. Regulus keeps insisting that it's just for uni, because they have a project together, or something, but Barty has caught that stupid jock ogling his best friend more times than he can count.

And there's also that one time he climbed Regulus' dorm window a bit earlier than he had said he would, and had seen the rugby dude lifting his shirt for some unknown reason and Regulus touch his abs with a ridiculous amount of awe. Like it was the first he was seeing a human body.

Barty still wishes he had recorded it. Regulus keeps trying to gaslight him about it but he knows what he saw. Unfortunately. He still has nightmares.

The point is that Regulus needed him out of there, and Barty also had jumped at the chance of getting away. It was fun, at first, interrupting their alone time and being the target of all those murderous glares Dave—or whatever his name is—kept sending his way. But it was beginning to grow old. The fear of Regulus poisoning his food or choking him in his sleep was getting a bit too real—he gets so cranky when he's horny but doesn't get any.

It's not like it's Barty's fault. He used to take care of that for Reg, because he's a great friend like that, but, well, after that one incident of Barty eating Regulus out and Regulus moaning that stupid jock's name, he refuses to lend him a hand anymore. Literally.

Not being able to rely on Regulus' dorm room, Barty needed money, and he needed it fast. So, technically, it had started with the disinheritance. Because like everything else in Barty's life that goes wrong, of course his father is somehow to blame.

Although, and watching the angel straddling his hips and who's about to slit his throat open, Barty isn't sure he'd say this is going exactly wrong.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, blondie," Barty starts, voice a little strained. "I think the scalpel and the whole threatening my life is a little unnecessary. We can have a conversation like grown ups—"

The angel presses the tool against Barty's skin a bit harder, abit deeper, and he has to bite his tongue to repress a groan when he feels the first drops of blood trickle down his neck.

Is this doing it for him? Really? It's not the weirdest thing that has managed to turn him on, but it's about to get very awkward if he pops a boner all of a sudden.

"Or not," Barty rushes to add, chuckling hoarsely. "We can totally talk like this. The dirt is actually pretty comfortable, and it's such a lovely night. I'd dare to say it's even kinda romantic."

The angel tilts his head to the side, brown emotionless eyes blinking down at him. "Are you flirting with me?"

Blondie's voice is empty, lacking any form of inflexion, but so smooth and so soft it's genuinely doing things to Barty.

"Depends. Is it working?"

He blinks at Barty again. Somehow, the gesture looks more condescending this time. The angel cuts him a bit more, and Barty hisses.

"What do you think?"

"I'm taking that as a maybe," Barty retorts, managing a little smirk.

Barty really has no survival instinct. He might actually die tonight, and yet his brain doesn't seem to be able to get with the program.

Not like Barty can blame it. If his killer looks this pretty, then he has no complaints. Or not as many as he should, at least.

"You were nosing around my grave," the angel states, squinting his eyes slightly. "Why."

"Your grave? I don't know if that's right, blondie, you look quite alive to me—"

The angel exhales loudly through his nose, and then moves the blade to the side of Barty's throat, as if getting ready to properly cut.

"Wait, wait," he exclaims, attempting to grab blondie's wrist and then remembering both of his hands are being crashed by his own back. "Before you murder me, let me explain..."

He pauses, leaves the sentence hanging and stares up at the angel with what he hopes are convincing puppy eyes. They've never worked on Regulus, but then again, he's a heartless man who only gets moved by his Prada slippers, so it doesn't really count.

Blondie doesn't say anything, just continues watching him with the most deadpan expression Barty has ever seen in his life. But his throat is only bleeding just a little, and he's still alive, so he'll take it as a win.

"I didn't know it was your grave, blondie," he assures him, and it feels a bit weird, not having to lie to defend himself. Most of the time, he's done whatever they're accusing him of and worse. "Really. Maybe you should put some sort of sign, something that actually stakes your claim, so people like me don't get confused—"

"You shouldn't be digging up graves anyway," the angel cuts him off with a pointed look.

Barty arches an eyebrow. "I'm not sure how I feel about a bloke who's literally threatening me with a scalpel judging what I decide to do with my free time."

"You said you were gonna explain and I'm not listening to any explanations." The angel rolls his eyes so hard Barty is momentarily concerned. "My hand is getting sore."

"You know how it'd feel less sore? If you dropped that cute little knife, or at least put it away from my face—"

"You have thirty seconds to talk before I cut your neck open."

"Okay, okay!" Barty sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. "It really was nothing personal, blondie. I just needed a body, a recent one, with all its organs intact, so I could sell them for an insane amount of money and pay for a room in the uni accommodation."

The angel finally looses the grip on the scalpel, the pressure becoming bearable. "You're digging up graves because you're broke?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Barty confirms with a shrug. "It's easy money. And I have experience digging up graves." He stops for a second and then he adds, "don't ask."

"I wasn't going to."

"So? Truce?"

Blondie gives another one of his slow blinks. "Not yet. How good are you with dismemberments?"

Barty doesn't miss a beat. "As in, having enough stomach to watch them or doing them myself?"

"Both."

"Quite good, I'd say. If I have the right tools, that is."

"I can provide them."

"Can you? Really?" Barty questions with a lazy smile. "Why would a cute, murderous thing like you need someone who knows how to dismember bodies for?"

"That's none of your business," the angel replies, raising his chin. "It's just for a little project I'm working on."

A project that includes referring to random graves as yours? That needs dead bodies' limbs?

Oh, this guy is absolutely batshit insane.

Barty wants him so ridiculously bad he's starting to get dizzy.

"You can have the organs," blondie adds, after Barty takes a little too long to answer. What can he say, he's a little busy fantasising about bending the angel in half and having his way with him. "They're of no use to me. I only need the limbs. And a head."

"Tempting," Barty admits, nodding. "But the question is, can you afford to hire my services?"

The angel finally puts the scalpel in his jacket's pocket, sitting up slightly and crossing his arms over his chest oncee the blade is away. "Afford? An amateur grave-digger's fee can't be that high, especially when you're this desperate. I'm sure I have enough money to—"

"Woah, woah, no one said anything about money, blondie. That's what selling organs illegally is for," Barty chuckles, squirming until he can free his hands from behind him. Still, he's gentle enough to not jostle the angel in his lap too much.

"Then?"

"A kiss?" Barty bats his lashes for good measure.

Blondie glares at him for a few long seconds, and when Barty is about to laugh it off, assure the other boy he was just joking and simply agree to his insane business proposal, the angel leans down.

Barty is sure that blondie only intended it for it to be a peck, but he's nothing if not an opportunist, and the moment the other boy's lips touch his, he rushes to deepen the kiss. Surprisingly, the angel allows it, opening up his mouth all sweetly when Barty licks at the seam teasingly, and tangling their tongues together.

He lets Barty explore a little, shuddering when he hums lowly into his eager mouth, but then he pulls away, the back of his hand coming up and rubbing furiously at his lips.

It's too dark to tell, but Barty could almost swear the angel is a bit flustered.

"Happy?" he grumbles, slightly muffled.

"Very much so," Barty says, not bothering to hide his shit-eating grin. "That's only the payment for a limb, though, blondie. So, if you need more..."

"It's Evan," the other boy correct him with a huff, finally putting his hand away from his lips. "And don't push it. I have to see how good you are first."

"Barty," he introduces himself in response, offering a handshake that Evan accepts, if a little begrudgingly. "I can assure you, I won't disappoint."

[dylawas-reblogs]

Larian is wrong. Gale does not have a six pack. Gale does not have abs. Let me propose what's really going on with that dude.

First, let's look at the fighting style of the wizard. Yeah, they have a quarterstaff, but those are usually a last resort defense and not a primary form of attack. You still want to have the upper body strength to swing one around that's decently enough made to not snap like a twig if you've got to defend from an axe in a pinch, so they're not light, but it's not like he's bench pressing with the thing either. He's also not twirling it like a baton, or using it in a martial manner like a monk would, but that's where the other component of a wizard's fight style comes in; casting spells.

I'm not going to pretend I fully know/understand all the intricacies of magic and spellcasting in the Forgotten Realms, I play DND but we ignore that spell component bullshit. Somatic and verbal components still matter, but material? Ppf. Fuck that. All that is to say, take what I'm gonna suggest with a heap of salt.

Pretty much every spell in existence has a somatic component, meaning you move your arms and hands in a certain way to make it happen. So wizards may not be doing much heavy lifting, but they're still moving their arms a lot. Probably having to brace themselves to cast more powerful spells, too. And you can still very much build some muscle tone even if you're not throwing around bags of sand. Gymnasts and swimmers come to mind in this particular instance. Like yes I'm sure they train in other ways (and I know they rely on core and leg strength way more) but you can't tell me none of their increased arm strength comes from doing their actual sport.

And hell, as I was typing that out, maybe wizards do have arm-specific strength building exercises they do outside of spell casting. At the very least they're doing some hyper specific things with their wrists and fingers. Violinists do finger strength building exercises. That's totally not out of the question. It's likely, really.

Posture is also important for a wizard, not just because good posture keeps you alive in most dangerous circumstances in general, but it keeps you properly balanced to cast, and cast accurately. Given Gale's reprieve from the public eye for a year, though, this aspect has admittedly probably taken a little hit, and changes in posture can change the way a body's weight is distributed. And I want to make it very clear-- I don't think this man is thin. Especially not now, not with time and age. But I also don't think he completely stopped keeping up with his spellcasting, either. He'd want to keep his mind, tongue, and fingers sharp. This man doesn't do core exercises, mind, but he probably only spent the first few... Weeks? Maybe a month or two-- wallowing. You can take the wizard out of the spells, but you can't take the spells out of the wizard. He was trained to cast with efficiency and precision, and he'll keep doing that, so his posture, and therefore core strength, wouldn't completely lapse. In short, tummy plush, but likely not round.

Now, everything beneath the belly isn't as important for a wizard's needs, so I'm going to skim past them a little to get to my conclusion, but to summarize, if he has cake it's not because he was doing squats, if his thighs are thick it's not because of muscle, and we all know this man's knees are dogshit. There's a reason one of his canon lines is, "Given my propensity towards verbosity, it surely can't be a surprise that I have a practiced tongue." Suureee bud you can use that as your excuse for being a cunning linguist instead of your knees.

In conclusion, all of this is to get to the point that Gale does not have abs. Gale is, in fact, closer to dadbod, with some pretty decent upper body strength.

Oh yeah and he's hairy. I don't make the rules sorry.