#Let me live

[magioftheseas]

Probably the best fucking au idea for svsss I'll ever have and will never write because I'm a loser: "Platonic" cumplane marriage of convenience that is completely sexless but that's fine because both men think they're straight and don't want to fuck each other. They still end up with Binghe and Mobei-jun respectively.

Binghe was actually so fucking ready to steal a married man and had a fully detailed and convoluted homewrecker scheme and he is...kinda disappointed that SY is so efficient and amicable (or as amicable as he can be) in just divorcing SQH (who doesn't even really try to keep him from leaving) and getting with Binghe instead. But he's not going to complain TOO much...

As for Mobei-jun, he just demanded SQH marry him because SQH was KINDA bummed about losing the tax benefits and SQH was too intimidated to do anything but say yes.

Would've included this exchange:

SY: I'm...in love... SQH: Well our marriage is only for show so I don't ca-- SY: With a man. SQH: YOU'RE GAY?! SY: If it's not gay to be married to a man, then how can it be gay to be in love with one?!

[kithtaehyung]

i just fell to my knees in a walmart

[darylssunshine]

A Little Bit Dangerous, But, Baby, That's How I Want It

warnings: stockholm syndrome, f in v, swearing, TWD violence

genre: smut

era: reapers

word count: 2.1k

a/n: no I don't condone actual stockholm syndrome obviously, but I am deranged and have Fantasies.

~~~

The tightness of the ropes was harsh against your wrists, the skin growing red and raw. Your ankles were bound as well, to the legs of a metal folding chair, with your hands behind your back and a rag fastened over your mouth. You moved your hands around again, trying to find a loose spot, but it was to no avail. Those ropes held you, and held you down good.

—

The Reapers had found you in the forest, scavenging for food with Maggie and Gabriel. You had gotten separated from your companions to avoid a herd of walkers, finding an abandoned cabin in the process. Musty and ever so slowly falling apart, but it had four walls, a roof, and it hid you from the dead, so you were sold. 

The herd was almost past your cabin when you saw a couple of masked figures dressed in all black stride towards your cabin, knives in hand. You quickly ducked behind a tattered recliner in the corner of the room. The sound of knives plunging into rotted flesh sounded off before one of the masked figures opened the creaky door of the cabin and entered, with the other following suit. They padded their way through the cabin, making stealthy footsteps and slamming open every door to check for scavengers.

Just as the two of them were concluding that there was no food or supplies left in the cabin, one of the mysterious figures caught your reflection in a nearby window and dashed to your so-called “hiding spot.” You realized your mistake a second too late, and suddenly the base of a pistol came in rapid contact with the back of your head, feeling yourself fall forward and the world go dark.

—

Your wrists were getting more and more irritated by the second, so you stopped the pointless struggle and looked around to get your bearings. There was a window on the right wall with blinds that were shut, providing not a lot of light, but enough to see what was around you. Though, there wasn't a lot to see. It was a gray, brick room. It was presumably built for the torture of others, considering how empty it was, and that there was a window next to the wooden entrance door so that people on the outside of the room could see whatever sick and depraved things were happening on the inside. 

As soon as you were about to try to get the leg restraints loose, you heard heavy boot steps just outside of the door and the click of the lock being unlocked. Your breath hitched beneath the cloth that binded your mouth. You stopped whatever movement you were doing to stare at the door, waiting for the masked people to come and kill you slowly and painfully.

What came through that door wasn't a menacing looking masked figure, however. It was a tall, broad shouldered, brunette older looking man. He was dressed in a long sleeve button up black shirt, black jeans, a black leather vest, and dark brown combat boots. He had a hunting knife sheathed on his belt. His face was rugged and wounded, the most noticeable being a red and jagged scar cutting through his left eyebrow, the rest of the scar being about an inch from his eye. It was the face of a man that has seen, and done, a lot of things. 

You were taken out of your thoughts when you heard the stomping of his combat boots come towards you. Before he even stops walking, you spit on the ground in front of him and mumble, “I’m not telling you anything, you sack of shit.”

“So tha’s how ‘s gonna be, huh?” He questioned, one eyebrow raised. 

He began slowly walking around the metal chair, reading you, drinking you in.

“Wrists hurt?” He asked rhetorically, noticing the harsh rash blossoming from the base of your wrist. He watched the back of your head as you were unresponsive, refusing to give him anything to work with. 

He leisurely walked around to your front, with you looking back at him, trying, and failing, to look intimidating. He got down on one knee to speak with you face to face, eyes stern and unwavering. “Jus’ tell me where yer friends are. It don’t haveta be like this.”

“Go to hell.” You responded immediately. The brunette man sighed and gave you a rough punch to the jaw. You yelped and lolled your head to the side, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“I can go all night, Gimme a location, sweetheart.” He said lowly, flexing the hand that just pounded into your jaw. 

“Go. To. Hell.” You emphasized through gritted teeth. The next punch was straight to the left eye, so hard that it was sure to leave a nasty black eye. He then suddenly unsheathed his silver hunting knife and started flipping it in his hand absentmindedly.

“We saw who they were. A country girl ‘n a preacher. We can either find ‘em with yer help, or we’ll find ‘em, and before we kill ‘em, I’ll tell ‘em both how I killed ya, nice ‘n slow. Yer choice.” As the man was saying this, he leaned over, painstakingly slow, to put his knife to the base of your neck, his face inches from yours. 

Unfortunately for you, your stern demeanor faltered. Your breath hitched when you felt the cold blade pressed firmly to your neck combined with the man’s warm breath hitting your face. You were so scared that you were trembling, but also there was another feeling you had in that moment that you couldn’t quite place. “I’m n… not telling you anything.” You avoided his gaze like the plague, knowing that the man was catching on to how he was already breaking down your walls. 

“Huh? What was tha’? Use yer words.” He interrogated. He placed his hand on your knee and used it as leverage to lean impossibly closer, the knife nearly breaking the skin. Almost unconsciously, your eyes drifted from the man to his hand. It was so large, it could easily surround your relatively small hands. His fingers were so long and thick, and the veins. He had too many for you to count. There was dirt and a small amount of oil under his fingernails, implying that he worked with his hands every day. Maybe a car guy? Those hands could easily snap your fragile neck without a second thought, and it made you breathe heavier than you already were.

“Hey. Hey!” He moved his hand from your knee to roughly pull your hair back, causing the back of your head to slam against the back of the chair you were tied to. That got your attention. Also, earned a high pitched yelp from you. 

“Did ya even hear wha’ I jus’ said?” He asked, not as rough as just moments before but still firm. 

You decided to finally tell the truth. “No… I was… looking at your hand.” You said sheepishly, not looking him in the eye.

This time, the man falters, leaning back to get a good look at you. He eyed you up and down and smirked. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” 

“N-Nothing. No reason.” You blabber out, honestly a little embarrassed that you told the truth, considering that you were supposed to be getting tortured at that moment.

He roughly tugged on your hair again, your head coming in violent contact back of the chair again, making your head fuzzy. Your eyes were half-lidded when they find the man’s piercing blue ones. “I… uh… think it’s hot.”

It looked like something clicked with the man in front of you. He eyed you once again while unconsciously licking his lips and smoothly resheathing his knife. He got down on both knees to properly look you in the face. To properly get you all hot and bothered. The same hand that was on your knee mere moments ago raised up to your throat, squeezing hard. Your eyes became wide and he chuckled maliciously. 

“Tell me what you want me to do with ‘em then.”

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly becoming very dry. You very much noticed the resistance on your throat when you swallowed, and he knows you did too.

“Touch me.” 

The man gave another laugh in response with how brazen you were with your desires. With one had still clutching your throat, he moved his other hand up your leg in a teasing manner. 

“Here?” He rubbed his thumb on your knee before continuing.

“Here?” His calloused fingers rubbed the inside of your thigh, and he could feel them tremble at his touch.

“Here?” He rubbed the crotch area of your thin shorts, already feeling how wet you were from him. For him. He thumbed at your clit, earning a soft whine from you. 

“Yeah? This where ya want me?”

“Yes.” You responded desperately, letting him know that you do, in fact, want this.

He then slowly removed his hand from your throat, resting both hands on your hips for a moment before starting to lower your pants and underwear. The process is excruciatingly slow, his hands rubbing up and down your ass and then your inner thighs. He finally gets your pants and underwear down to your ankles, then yanks both articles of clothing off. Your silky, red panties get shoved in his back pocket while your shorts get thrown behind him haphazardly.

His calloused hands then started making quick work untying the restraints around your ankles, getting them both off in about ten seconds. Without even exchanging words, you knew what he was doing. You swiftly wrapped your legs around his torso, adjusting so he would have the best angle.

“Good girl.” He rasped. You clenched over nothing.

He rubbed his hand dangerously close to your cunt, while his other arm was casually resting on your other leg. Like this is just a normal night for him.

“This hand? Ya want this?” He motioned to his hand with his icy blues.

You languidly nodded.

“Then beg.”

A strangled gasp forced its way out of your mouth at his comment. You then forced your brain out of its lust induced haze to come up with a coherent thought. “Ple… Please.”

He smirked, teasing your folds. “Name’s Daryl, by the way. Say my name if ya wanna be a whiny bitch.”

You were getting more needy by the second, trying to buck your hips to get even a little friction. “Please, Daryl.” Your voice was airy and you struggled to get your breathing under control.

He then shoved two shoved two fingers deep into your pussy, not even caring to stretch you out first. 

A strangled scream forcefully leaving your throat, you throw your head back in ecstasy. His- Daryl’s long, thick fingers fit perfectly inside you, almost like they were two pieces of the same puzzle. You arched your back as far as your arm restraints could let you, craving even more of his touch. You needed to feel his bulging biceps. You needed to pull and tug at his hair in desperation. You needed him. 

His pace was slow and excruciating.

Daryl spoke with a rasp. “Ya like bein’ tied up like this? Bein’ exposed? Huh? Little slut?”

All he got in response were fast deep breaths.

“Answer ‘n I’ll go faster. Told ya ta use yer words.”

Your brain was temporarily paralyzed hearing his accent get thicker, so you had to physically shake your head to snap out of your daze. “Yes. Yes, Daryl. Yes. I’m your slut.” You struggled to breathe out.

His eyebrows raised in a smirk as he quickened the pace. Unholy moans and whines left your mouth, not caring if anyone else hears. High pitched yelps and a tight feeling in your gut started when he continuously hit your sweet spot, his finger curving inside you. Your eyes were beginning to roll back, completely consumed by your hunger for Daryl. For only Daryl. 

“I- I’m gonna-”

“‘S fine. Let go, sunshine.”

With a few more pumps to your sweet spot, you did what you were told and let go. Your whole world was blurry and you felt lightheaded, but it was the best you’ve felt in a while. And no one has ever made you feel quite that good.

Daryl stood up and waited patiently for you to come down from your high, licking his fingers clean and grabbing your discarded shorts. 

You finally came back down to the same astral plane as the man now standing next to you and gazed at him with adoration. “Holy shit.”

The brunette chuckled and your dazed state. “‘Holy shit’ is right.”

He then suddenly went behind you and loosened your arm restraints. You looked over your shoulder in surprise. 

“What happened to wanting to know information?” You cocked your head.

He kneeled back down to caress your face. “Fuck yer friends. I only want you.”

[yasminhananis]

challengers (2024) dir. luca guadagnino // the social network (2010) dir. david fincher

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Price who knew Simon before Roba. Who thought he was a good kid, disciplined solider and got along well with him.

Price who then found out about what happened and decided to check up on Simon when he was cleared to come back.

Price who thought Ghost’s aversion to food was a trauma response. Who thought him staying up all night was because of nightmares and joked that he needed to stop covering himself up when he went outside because, “you’re as pale as a ghost.”

Price who noticed Ghost’s irises were red, not brown, but always thought it was the trick of the light or the fact that his eye color was always dark.

Price who noticed his strange speed and strength. Who began to get a little concerned when Ghost started getting aggressive, how he always blamed it on him being “hungry”.

Eventually one night, after noticing how strange Ghost was acting, he went to confront him only to see Ghost eating what he assumed was a rat.

Price who had to take a moment on whether or not he should call for Ghost’s removal from the military due to psychological distress or to politely ask him what the fuck was going on.

Only for Ghost to look back at him shocked but with hungry eyes that Price could only describe as “not human”.

Ghost who had to explain what exactly happened with Roba and how he’s different, how strange everything’s been, how he can’t go out into the sun without feeling like he has a sunburn or how he sees better in pitch black darkness and how no matter how many times he tries to eat real food he just throws it back up, so he resorted to drinking blood.

Price who had to take a long time to sit with this information before he took action, making sure it was only him who knew about this and making sure Ghost never hurt anyone when he got too “hungry”.

Price who trained him to cope better with daylight and helped him with his new found strength and speed. Who told him the only people who could drink from were enemies and that if that wasn’t an option he’d give his own blood.

Price who now as the leader of the 141 is the only one who knows what Ghost really is and refuses to disclose other information about it to save his lieutenant from other experiments.

[vanglaggle]

"why would a skeleton have boobs" "why would a skeleton blush" "why would a skelet—"

why would a skeleton blink why would a skeleton throw you around with magic why would a skeleton walk why would a skeleton talk why would a skeleton have a blue and yellow glowing eye why would a skeleton have a brother why would a skeleton be sweaty why would

[lokisprettygirl]

Daemon in the streets

Daemon in the sheets

[snoopy0706]

Most people probably didn't notice how intimate Charles reaction to Edwins Confession was.

Edwin has this type of edwardian pyjama/underwear kinda thing going on. The wide boatneck opening. But there is fabric on the shoulders.

Charles puts his hands on his shoulders. Saying all those very reassuring things.

(going to hell for him is btw the most romantic thing)

he slides his hands down his shoulders

and the decides to slide them up even further. touching Edwins collar bones. a very sensitive spot. It's lovely. and very intimate in a way.

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends Episode 12 | Sand x Ray: Pool Kiss

[antiphan]

guys i don't know if you needed to hear this but dan and phil fuck hard like literally they are homosexuals

[gherkinlizard]

rewatching rebels from the context of Thrawn 2017 sure is interesting

((i just think that thrawn is loosing his mind a bit after Eli leaves and he goes off the rails but he thinks he can handle it and he has to stay strong for the sake of his mission))

[mokofrappuccino]

it's the blue bitch's birthday and my friend loves her so I drew this for him but it's been 84 years since I drew anything so I gave up and settled for a messy sketch

[iwannascreameurekaa]

Me: happily enjoying a piece of media about a ship I like

Someone: THIS ISNT CANON!1!1!1!1!1

me:

[hearts4robs]

This sounds disgusting but the nickname ‘mama’ is so fucking attractive it’s making me lose my mind

Same with ‘gorgeous’ and ‘luv’ (I don’t want that “loveeee” I want “ey, come on luv’!” kinda shit)

It’s just so BAGAHSJDKANKEOFOD

Like, the way beast boy calls Raven ‘mama’ throughout teen titans is so RATWRMGKGHHIKS

I’m shaking and quivering and foaming at the mouth y’all

[buxomgirlie]

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[cecoeur]

Retainer appreciation post?