#overnight watch 2

[parkswritessometimes]

Escapees Of I.R.I.S.

Chase wakes up with a small groan escaping his lips. He holds his head in the palm of his hands, trying to calm the pounding of his head . His eyes dart around the room that was not his own, nor the familiar room of I.R.I.S. Comics line the wall with decorative action figures sprinkled between them. A map placed on a cork board with little red tacks and pictures of random people and places with red strings connecting them all.

Baggy clothes that aren’t his own drape his frame, black sweatpants, and a soft dark blue hoodie. They were much more comfortable than the disgusting, smelly clothes he remembered being in just a few moments ago. The distinct smell of  fresh crisp snickerdoodle cookies wafted off of them making Chase’s lips curl upwards.  

But the happiness fades away as he remembers that he’s somewhere new. He forces his shaky legs up, while his mind fights itself to figure out what emotion he should be feeling. Anger, gratefulness, and fear all fight in his head. His hands hesitate for a brief second as the pad of his fingertips touches the doorknob, fear taking over his body. What if something awful is out there? What if the ALTR is out there? Should he even take that chance? 

But then he hears laughter. Music. Something warm and kind waited on the other side of the door. He takes in a deep breath, calming the paranoid voice in his head before pushing the door outwards.

Two figures sit on a couch, one with green hair slicked back into a bun, the other with shaggy brown hair like his own. They speak in hushed tones, to the point where Chase could only make out a few words. His heart longs to leave them alone, to just go back into the room and keep his distance.  But his head knows that these people have the answers, that he can’t hide in that room forever, he’d have to talk to them eventually.

He cleares his throat, getting the two men's attention. They both whip around, identical faces looking back at them. Chase takes a step back in shock as he analyzes the people in front of him. These men look exactly like him. Bright blue eyes filled with light and hope that he used to have years ago. A dark brown beard that covers both their faces. One has a slightly crooked nose, most likely from an injury, but that was the only main difference that Chase could see. 

They looked like him. They looked like the demon.

“Hey, you’re up.” The brown haired one says as he rises from the couch. Chase locks eyes with the strangers making sure they stay blue. “How ya feeling?”

Chase backs up until his back hits the wall. His hands scramble trying to find a doorknob, a lock, something, anything to get away from the new threat. His chest rose and fell at an alarming rate, and he could feel his heart beating in his throat. The situation all too familiar to him. He waits in anticipation for the pain and possession that would shortly come. He squeezes his eyes tight as the demon approaches. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you. You’re safe. I know that you’ve heard that a lot over the past few days, but it’s true. We’re not with him, and we’re not with Iris, it’s okay. I’m Jackie and that’s Marvin. It’s okay, it won’t hurt you. It’s not here.” Jackie soothes. His hand slowly reaches out to Chase, trying to seem as not threatening as possible. “It isn’t here. It can’t hurt you. I’m not gonna hurt you.” “How-How do you know about him? How do you know he isn’t here?!” Chase shouts. His arms wraping around his trembling body. Everything was too much, he just wants to go back home. To his family, to his wife, to his life. How could everything have gone so wrong?! 

“Hey, Chase. It’s okay. It’s okay. We-We have this place warded to hell and back. It can’t get to you. I know you’re scared so can you do me a small favor? Just follow my breathing, here.”  Chase feels his hand pressed onto the stranger's chest slowly rising up and down. The warmth coming from the man’s chest convinced him to open his eyes once again. He takes in a deep breath steadying his shaking body. His anxious thoughts steadily dissipate as he followed Jackie’s breathing. In and out. In and out. “Hey, good job. Do you want to sit down? I know this is a lot to process and you're probably really freaked out. We have some leftover mac and cheese if you want some. You must be starving! I know that Iris doesn't exactly have the best food.” Chase’s feet guide him towards the couch, each step made with caution and precision, sitting next to Marvin. He glances at the man who seemed to be completely engrossed in his book. Chase’s eyes land back on Jackie, who balances  over a plate full of food in one hand and a mug in the other. He places both on the coffee table and sits down on the floor, making himself comfortable. “Thanks.” Chase mumbles as he reaches for the plate. He can’t remember the last time he had eaten. He knew that I.R.I.S. had given him food, but the memories of his time there were a blur. He pushes the thoughts aside as he continues to eat. 

“I know that this is a lot, and you’re probably feeling pretty scared and freaked out, but I promise, you’re safe. And I know you’ve heard that a lot but, this time, it’s true.”

“How-How do you know that? That they said that to me?” Chase watches as Jackie bites his lip and fiddles with his fingers. The man was clearly hiding something, whether that was out of malice or lack of trust, Chase doesn’t know.

“Marvin and I are very used to Iris’ tactics.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Marvin pipes up, not taking his eyes off of his book.

“We also hacked into their cameras and watched the footage.” Jackie whisperes. “I’m sorry that you had to go through all that.”

Chase shrugges, not wanting pity from these strangers. It was shitty, but these people couldn’t grasp what he went through. That thing killing everything that moved, but sparing him. Not being in control of his body for hours at a time as Anti constantly reminded him of everything that he did. And that damn doctor asks those provocative questions, again and again. 

“Not your fault.” Chase decides to say after a few moments of silence. 

“Yeah, well you're safe now. That’s what matters.” “So am I in a safe house or something?” Chase asks between bites of macaroni. “Uh not exactly. You’re in our apartment. We just needed a place where that thing couldn’t find you. Like I said, we have this place warded to hell and back.” “Warded? I don’t understand.” Marvin extendes his hand  letting a small ball of fire sit in his palm. It’s so small but Chase feels the power radiating off of Marvin as he fiddles with the small flame. It feels familiar, like the ALTR’s presence but much…softer. The ALTR’s power felt sharp and powerful. Like a thousand knives cutting and slicing into him. Marvin’s power feels like a fireplace on a cold day, warm and inviting but still dangerous if you get too close. “Jackie and I have powers. He has strength, speed, enhanced healing and bioelectricity, I got some elemental magic and other stuff.” Marvin explaines as the ball of fire weaves between his fingers.

Chase sits in silence trying to absorb all the information being thrown his way. He presses the heels of his palms into his head, as he attempts to wrap his head around everything. Magic was real. That thing is real. He was in danger. He was safe. These people are magic and somehow know everything about him. “Chase? You okay man?” Jackie askes, placing a hand on Chase’s shoulder. “I know that we’re throwing a lot of stuff at you. Do you wanna…take a break or something? Lay down?” 

“No, no. I’m fine.” Chase mumbles waving, Jackie off. “Just…It’s a lot.”

A heavy blanket appeares on his shoulders and a warm cup in his hand. He feels Marvin’s warm hands rub circles on his back. Chase swallows as a sob as they continue to sooth him. These two strangers, they showed him more compassion in the ten minutes he was here than anyone had shown him in the last 3 years. Clothed, fed, and now comforting him. He doesn’t deserve this kindness. He doesn’t deserve any of this. 

“Chase, listen to me.” Marvin’s voice cuts through all of Chase’s thoughts. “You are gonna stay here with us, until we figure out this whole situation. Jackie and I are gonna keep you safe and you’re gonna tell us everything you can about that thing. Sounds good?” 

 Chase nods, not making eye contact with either of them. He takes a small sip from the cup, pleasantly surprised when the familiar taste of black tea hits his lips. He lets out a small sigh and placed the mug on the coffee table. 

“Okay, what do you want to know?”

“Everything.” Jackie says. “Tell us everything.”

_____

Revised on 11/08/2023

[Part 2]

[drowsydregon]

it's honest to god hilarious to me that chima is a not-so-great-quality show that a lot of lego fans in general dislike

yet somehow ninjago being a chima reboot generated so much hype and excitement bc of pure meme potential

(and also it's just a good callback to lore that's been around for close to a decade now but was never expanded upon)

[knightelf]

feeling complicated things this wednesday at 2pm

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

SENDING MY FIRST ASK FROM THE NEW BLOG!!!! i feel like i am sending a letter from a new address... crazy. ANYWAY HOW R U TONIGHT!!!! i hope ur havin a good day!!!! kicking my feet like a teenager at a sleepover rn tell me abt ur day who r the blorbos in ur mind rn what kinda art r u workin on lately how's it going friend!!!

HIIIIIII HI HI . HELLO SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG- i mean catboy cellbit!!! . dude i am. dreading the coming week tbh but it is fine !! we will get thru it we will survive!!! i am so sleepytired but alas i also cannot sleep so i may just have another night of reading and music ahead of me . wah. i hope u are hsving a good night <3 IVE BEEN COMPLETELY ART NERFED TOO BTW. my laptop died on me a couple days ago and while i was able to find a new one affordably it will not be here until the 13th 😔 so no digital art from me for a while. sigh. i DID just decorate my new sketchbook with stickers tho so im hoping that will get my brain in gear for traditional art again. AS FOR BLORBOS. oh . u know. the usuals. vash the stampede. zacharie from off . masky marblehornets (also tim marblehornets) . to name three of them.

[moveslikekeithrichards]

crawling out of a fissure in the ground like ive been down there for 30 years after plowing through needful things like my life depended on it

[docmccoy]

I am thriving at work

[bitchykuromi]

saw someone slandering ichika so now im an ichika fan. dont listen to them bby girl ull always be famous

[exopelagic]

I am baking cake at midnight and it is going to kill me <3

[thesingingrevolution]

that shop in la made winwin sad because they didn’t have the shirt he liked in his size if that employee were me i would have pulled out the materials and made a custom tailored bespoke original only one of its kind for him . i would NEVER let him be 😕. like no. Not on my watch

[plutotheplum]

Keep My Hand in Yours

emperor!zayne x concubine!reader - read part 1!

summary: the emperor is intent on convincing you that you are worthy enough to be his empress.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, oral sex, vaginal fingering, p in v, praise kink, throne sex, spanking

wc: 6.9k

a/n: part 2 is finally here! thank you for all the sweet comments, i cherish them all!! <3 umm... i do plan on adding some more parts to this series... so yeah, i hope you enjoy! :)

also on ao3!

“She is not with child.”

Zayne’s stern voice cuts through the chatter of his advisors, his fingers tapping against the arm of his throne irritatedly. The drone of voices silences, his advisors lowering their heads in respect.

You stand off to the side, playing with the sleeves of your robes nervously. Perhaps you’d been a little naive to think the advisors would have been accepting of your blossoming relationship with the Emperor. 

Word had spread throughout the palace, and most likely throughout the entire Empire about the new developments that had taken place overnight. The guards had heard you of course, their eyes averted and cheeks flushed pink when Zayne had held your hand and led you out of his chambers.

An unforeseen turn in events, and you had somehow excelled past the advisors’ expectations, garnering the Emperor’s affection for you. Whilst a small number of the Emperor’s advisors were pleased, the majority were not. Standing before them, you can see the disdain on their faces, the hatred that belies their thin smiles. Jealousy is above all however, for their own daughters were once placed forth as noble matches for the Emperor. 

You jolt out of your thoughts when an Imperial guard takes your arm, moving you to stand before the Emperor. Zayne looks down at you, and you can spy the slight softening of his eyes as he watches you bow to him.

“As I have said,” Zayne repeats, “she is not with child.”

“Forgive me, your majesty,” a voice speaks out from behind you, “how can she not be with child? We- we have heard of what occurred.”

Zayne motions for you to spin around, and you do as he wants. You now face his entire court, advisors gathered in hours of the early morning. It was the grand chancellor who spoke, a tall man, his face gaunt. You remember he had served Zayne’s father before he had passed.

“We are both not ready for children,” Zayne explains, “I had the palace physician brew a tea under my command.”

It was true. You had both spoken about the matter, and you simply could not handle carrying a child so soon. Zayne had agreed, snuck you out through the passages in the middle of the night, and had taken you to the palace physician. The brewing of such teas was not unheard of, but certainly not an accepted occurrence, although perhaps more commonly used among the nobility.

“I see…” the grand chancellor says slowly, his gaze fixating on you.

You want to shrink away, somehow hide behind the safety of the Emperor, but you cannot. Instead, you shift on the spot, averting your gaze to the floor as though you were not the very object of interest of this gathering.

“And you intend to continue this foolish endeavor?” 

Your head snaps up at the harsh words, gaze settling on the new voice that had spoken out. A lower ranking official judging by the coloring of his robes, his eyes narrowing as he stares at you.

“It appears you forget yourself,” the Emperor replies coolly. 

“Or perhaps you forget yourself, your majesty,” the official spits, stepping forward, “you would ruin the image of your rule to marry some… some lowly concubine?”

The murmurs of the other members of court are hard to ignore, hushed whispers breaking out at the official’s blatant show of disrespect towards the Emperor.

“And was it not this very court that decided to gather concubines without my knowledge?”

“For child bearing!” the official hisses, pointing his finger towards you accusingly, “not for marriage!”

You swallow harshly at the viciousness of his words, biting back the insults that threaten to spill out. Retaliation in such a meeting would only support the official’s cause. 

“She will be your Empress,” Zayne says calmly, “if you seek to insult my future wife yet again, I will have you removed immediately.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks when he affirms that you’ll be his wife. It may not be the best time, but the light flush covers your cheeks and you try to stop the pull of your lips, a smile threatening to spread across your face.

“If you think I- we will stand for such insolence, you are sorely mistaken, your majesty” the official snarls.

A bitter laugh echoes through the throne room. 

“Be grateful that I am not my father,” Zayne murmurs, “for he would have had your head. Remove your seal.”

The official sputters, looking around at the rest of the court members wildly. Most avoid his eyes, others unconsciously touching their own seals through the fabric of their robes.

You flinch when the official removes his Imperial seal angrily, tossing the little silver square at your feet.

“You have poisoned his mind,” he accuses heatedly, face reddened from his outburst, “and you should do well to remember your station.”

Irritation pricks at your skin, your teeth gritting together. You were well aware of your station, of your status and how you’re perceived. The incessant reminders aren’t doing well to calm your frayed nerves, brows pulling together as you glare at the official. 

“Bow to her.”

The rules of nobility have been set in place for longer than you could possibly know, and yet Zayne seems insistent on breaking them. It’s bold, even for him, to demand such a thing. You turn, shooting him a look, subtly shaking your head. There’s a hint of a smile on the Emperor’s face, as though enjoying this confrontation.

“I- I will do no such thing!” the official protests.

“You have already lost your seal and your position and you still will not do as I say?” Zayne murmurs, leaning forward in his throne.

You watch with wide eyes when the official does bow to you, the upper half of his body lowering. Another round of hushed whispers passes through the room, and you can feel the grand chancellor’s eyes boring into you. His authority was only second to the Emperor, the only man who held a real chance of changing Zayne’s mind.

“Good,” Zayne says, leaning back on his throne, “now leave us.”

The throne room clears out immediately, until you’re the only one remaining. You smile at him, stepping between his legs until you’re standing in front of him.

“I did not take you for a tyrant,” you tease, brushing his hair out of his face.

“And I did not know that protecting my future wife made me a tyrant,” Zayne muses, his arms wrapping around your waist.

He tugs you closer, his head falling forward to rest against your stomach, face burying itself in your robes. A soft sigh leaves you, fingers running through his loose hair, scratching at his scalp lightly.

“Tired?” you ask, arm wrapping around his neck.

The Emperor nods against your stomach, trying to press his face deeper. A laugh escapes you at his needy behavior, your hand managing to cup his jaw to bring him out of his hiding place. 

“The affairs of state have become bothersome,” Zayne says, peering up at you.

“Oh? You did not seem to mind before.”

“Playing coy?” Zayne smiles faintly, tugging you forward until you stumble and land on his lap.

“Hardly,” you whisper, pressing yourself closer as your hands curl into his robes.

The Emperor leans back on his throne, his hands kneading at your hips. You chase after him, eyes fluttering shut as you press your lips against his. Zayne lets out a low noise, drawing you closer, his hand sliding up your back as you kiss. The memory from last night is still fresh, the feeling of his hands on your body ingrained in your mind. 

“I cannot have enough of you,” he whispers, lips brushing over yours.

“You- you ought to rest,” you gasp, tilting your head to let him kiss down the length of your neck.

Zayne kisses your sternum, and back up your neck before he sighs and tucks his face into the crook of your neck. You hold him close, hand smoothing over his hair gently.

“I have made things difficult for you,” you say quietly.

He shakes his head, squeezing your waist reassuringly. 

“I have become complacent,” he murmurs, “simply letting others do as they please.”

You kiss his forehead when he lifts his head, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. Exhaustion mars the Emperor’s face, his eyes looking sunken and dull. The sudden gathering of his court appears to have drained his energy.

“I shall have to gather them again,” Zayne says, “the trade agreements need attention.”

A smile settles on your face when he kisses your cheeks gently, his hands petting your sides. You move off of his lap, standing up with him reluctantly. Reaching out, you fix his hair and his robes that you had held onto earlier. 

“Finish, then retire to your chambers to rest,” you instruct, patting his chest.

Zayne laughs, his head dipping down to kiss you. You return the kiss eagerly, pulling apart with a few sweet, little pecks to his lips.

“You are already acting like a doting wife,” he whispers.

You flush when he says that, looking away. It’s still hard to get over the fact that Zayne, the Emperor, wants to marry you of all people. The thought of it all makes your palms sweaty, cheeks hot and heart race. There’s a whirlwind upon you, Zayne, tearing apart your preconceived notions of the Empire. 

“I want to dote on you.”

The words tumble from your lips, soft and vulnerable. You’ve never felt this way about a man, never had a man pay attention to you, never been touched by a man before him. It’s as though the Emperor’s expressions are always tender in the way he gazes at you. You’ve never known what it’s like to be in love, but if it’s like this, so startlingly soft and sickeningly sweet, you fear you may be lost in him forever. 

“I- I just meant-” you begin to correct yourself, fidgeting with your robes.

“I know what you meant,” Zayne says softly, his hands finding yours.

Your breath catches in your throat when he lifts your hands to his mouth, his thumbs running over your skin soothingly. Zayne keeps his eyes on you as he kisses across your knuckles, squeezing your hands gently after. 

“I said I take care of what’s mine,” he continues, drawing you close, “and you are mine now.”

You nod jerkily, shoving your face into his chest. The Emperor hums, stroking your hair slowly. Unfortunately, you don’t get to bask in his embrace for any longer, a guard announcing the arrival of a messenger.

“Rest,” you remind him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

Zayne nods, squeezing your waist before allowing you to draw away. 

-

The other girls crowd around you immediately when you enter your chambers, their expressions sly and knowing as they tug you towards the middle of the room, soft giggles filling the air.

“Well?” one of them asks, eyes wide with curiosity. 

“Well what?” you ask, feigning innocence.

A chorus of complaints breaks out.

“Stop being shy!”

“We tell you our stories!”

“You must tell us!”

One of the girls reaches for you, her arm hooking with yours. She leans down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers conspiratorially.

“Was the Emperor well-endowed?”

“Oh, stop it!”

- 

The grand chancellor has been lurking in the hallways.

You’d noticed the tall man when you had left to make some tea, but after a considerable amount of time, he was still there. The cold breeze outside should’ve been enough to deter him, but you’ve figured he must be intent on speaking to you.

To be frank, you aren’t in the mood for another confrontation just days later from the disastrous court meeting that had occurred. It’s why you hold your breath as you sneak out from your chambers, feet padding against the floor lightly as you try to slip past the grand chancellor’s turned back.

“Will you avoid me for much longer?” he calls out. 

You wince, halting in place. The grand chancellor cannot be avoided forever, you suppose.

“Come along,” he says, his fingers motioning for you to follow him.

You do as he says begrudgingly, following after the grand chancellor. To your surprise, he leads you into the gardens rather than a private room. Snow is yet to fall today, autumn soon drawing to a close in a few weeks. You wipe the fallen leaves that have landed on a nearby bench, sitting down after the grand chancellor does.

It’s suffocatingly awkward, your fingers playing with each other agitatedly as he simply sits next to you, looking out at the plants and trees that make up the gardens. You realize it would be a foolish idea to let your guard down around him. The grand chancellor hadn’t reprimanded Zayne during that meeting and yet you remember the way he had been staring at you. His intentions are hard to discern, his loyalties to the Emperor and the Emperor alone. 

“Much like his father, his majesty is stubborn,” the grand chancellor says, “I have had the pleasure of knowing both men since they were children.”

“I see,” you murmur, peeking a glance at him.

You don’t know why he’s telling you this, half-expecting the man to begin berating you for becoming so close to Zayne. 

“I shall be frank,” he sighs, turning to face you, “I did not expect the Emperor to become so… enamored by you.”

“I did not expect it either,” you grumble defensively.

“His majesty is an intelligent man. He knows of the consequences and yet seems intent on taking you to wed.”

“Consequences?” you echo.

“Political alliances are frail,” he explains, picking up a fallen leaf and examining it, “marriage is the easiest way to prevent a war between regions.”

“We have not been at war for years!” you protest, shaking your head.

“And we will not be for many more,” the grand chancellor assures you, “I am simply warning you of what may come when you are Empress.”

You don’t understand the politics of the Empire, have never been privy to such things. The grand chancellor only adds to the confusion and uncertainty that has been brewing inside your mind. 

“I thought you would dissuade him,” you say quietly.

“The boy deserves happiness,” the grand chancellor murmurs, standing up, “if he wishes to be with you, then I will allow it.” He peers down at you, his lips thinning. “Take caution, child. Envy drives men to madness. The nobility may hide behind their bloodlines, but a cesspool festers within.”

The grand chancellor hands you the withered leaf.

“Loyalties change as the seasons do.”

- 

A week later, the Emperor finds you in the gardens, sitting under a tree.

“You have not come to see me,” Zayne says, sitting down beside you.

“I did not want to trouble you,” you reply.

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. The Emperor’s fingers are stained with ink, streaks of black covering his pale skin. Zayne’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.

“The grand chancellor is worried.”

“I surmised as much,” the Emperor sighs, his fingers playing with your robes.

You peer up at him, and Zayne leans down, dropping a kiss to your forehead. There’s a part of you that can’t help but feel you’re putting him in a position that he normally wouldn’t be in if he had simply chosen to marry someone of higher status.

“Do you truly wish to marry me?” you ask quietly, averting your gaze.

“Have I told you otherwise?” Zayne asks in return, his fingers gripping your chin to turn your head so that your eyes meet his again.

The tenderness in his eyes is overwhelming. You feel as though you’re drowning, swallowed up by his irises and his honest gaze. Things would’ve been far simpler if he were someone less important, but you can’t imagine Zayne being anything other than the Emperor, for it would be a disservice to the Empire.

You shift, standing up before settling your hands on his broad shoulders, straddling him as you climb up onto his lap. It’s improper to act so brazenly, but you’ve done far more improper things with him, acted far more brazenly in his presence. The Emperor grunts as you settle yourself on his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

“I am not fit to be your Empress,” you whisper.

Zayne doesn’t say anything for a moment, his hand simply rubbing up and down your back soothingly. Your throat is tight and you can feel your lips trembling. You don’t want to cry, but you can’t help it when a sniffle escapes you.

“And you think I am fit to be Emperor?” he whispers, “I am only here because of my father and his father before him and so on.”

“But you are the Emperor,” you insist, voice quavering, “I could not possibly-”

“Forget about nonsensical titles,” Zayne murmurs, his hands cupping your cheeks as his thumbs wipe away the hot tears that have begun to roll down your cheeks, “I meant every word I said that night.”

“B- but-” 

“But nothing,” the Emperor soothes, staring into your eyes intently, “I would sooner have no one than not have you.”

“You are the worst,” you say tearily, pushing at his chest weakly. 

“Ah, I am sure,” he says, a small smile spreading across his face.

The Emperor cradles your head, tilting it to his will as he kisses away the fresh tears that wet your cheeks. He doesn’t stop there, his lips dragging over your skin gently. The Emperor kisses your brows, your closed eyelids, the tip of your nose, every inch of your face that is bared to him.

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

You kiss him gently and Zayne smooths his thumbs over your cheeks, deepening the kiss as he presses his lips against yours firmly. A soft whine leaves you, letting his tongue lick over the seam of your lips before he licks into your mouth, tongue delving deep. The Emperor kisses you as though trying to convince you of his words, as though to make you stay. 

“I want to show you something,” Zayne says, his forehead pressing against yours. You nod, moving to stand up. Zayne doesn’t let you, instead hauling you up into his arms and standing up. A surprised squeak bubbles out of you when you realize the Emperor is carrying you.

“Zayne!” you protest, “Zayne, people will see!”

Zayne only tightens his grip when you begin to squirm, brushing a kiss to your forehead to calm your ministrations.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, people do see. You try to shrink in his grasp, pressing yourself into his chest as the palace staff pause their duties to watch with wide eyes as the Emperor carries you out of the gardens. Some are unable to stop their jaws from slackening, others beginning to point and whisper amongst themselves.

The Emperor hardly bats an eye, his stride strong and purposeful as he carries you through the hallways and courtyards. It’s a statement in and of itself. 

You spy the smirk on an Imperial guard’s face when he opens up the doors to the throne room, your eyes narrowing when the man sends you a wink. The doors slam shut with a resounding thud, leaving only you and Zayne inside.

“Zayne- Zayne, no!” you hiss, hands scrabbling at his shoulders when you realize what he’s doing. 

Your legs kick out, trying to somehow climb up the Emperor’s tall frame. It’s futile against his strength, his hands manhandling you until he sets you down on his throne. If he doesn’t punish you for it, you fear the Heavens will. 

“Stay,” the Emperor says, pushing at your shoulders when you try to shoot up from where you’re sitting, “I command it.”

You sit in place rigidly, back straight. There are centuries of history that make up this throne, and you can’t help but feel that you are somehow dishonoring it all by sitting here. 

“What are you-” your brows furrowing when he suddenly begins to bend.

Fingers digging into the arms of the throne, you feel as though you might faint as you watch the Emperor bow to you before sinking to his knees. Zayne stares up at you expectantly, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“G- get up!” you whisper heatedly.

There’s no one here, but you can only imagine the severity of the consequences if someone were to stumble in here and find the Emperor on his knees for you.

“Command it,” he says, looking perfectly content in his current position.

“No one can command the Emperor!”

“I will not move unless you exert your authority,” Zayne says simply.

Your eye twitches at his insistence, at his own brazenness. 

“Say it,” he coaxes gently, “say it and I will stand.”

“I-” your breath catches in your throat awkwardly. You flush when Zayne nods his head encouragingly, your voice breathy when you begin to speak again. “I c-command you to stand.”

“Very good,” he murmurs, standing up and moving towards you.

Zayne smiles at you, his head dipping to crash his lips onto yours, his hands braced on the arms of his throne. You gasp, arms wrapping around his neck as he kisses you fiercely. The Emperor continues his onslaught of kisses, dragging his lips down your neck as his fingers pull free the knot holding your robes together.

“You think your station determines your worth,” Zayne whispers, his teeth scraping your shoulder, “but this- you are worth more to me than the finest jade.”

“Stop,” you whisper, eyes slipping shut, “you must stop speaking like that. It does awful things to my heart.”

He laughs softly, kissing between your breasts. You bite your lip as his mouth envelops your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple. His teeth catch on it, tugging playfully before letting it pop free as he switches breasts. You run your fingers through his long hair, head tipping back against the throne as your body convulses.

The Emperor holds you in place, letting his tongue lave over your areola, his half-lidded eyes peering up at you to catch your reactions. You give him a weak smile and Zayne moans around your breast, his hand squeezing at the fat of your other breast.

Your dazed eyes watch as he kisses down your body, kissing your hip then your navel. He sinks to his knees once again, and you can’t find it in yourself to reprimand him, lost in the haze of lust and love. Zayne kisses the curls of hair on your mound, his hands gripping your calves to help guide your legs over his shoulders.

“I have missed this,” he whispers, his thumbs pulling apart your folds.

“As have I,” you sigh.

You moan when Zayne licks up a stripe over your cunt, collecting your arousal on his tongue. He rests his cheek against your thigh, watching intently as your aching hole clenches around nothing, watching as more slick drips from you.

“Stop staring,” you mumble, pushing at his head gently.

“I enjoy the sight,” he says in return.

Your thighs twitch when he pushes the hood of your clit up a little more, exposing the swollen bud. Zayne groans, kissing the inside of your thigh firmly before licking over your cunt again. A strangled gasp rips out of your throat, hands tightening in his hair as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

“Z- Zayne- ah- hah!” 

A soft whimper escapes when he kisses your clit, his fingers dimpling into the flesh of your thighs harshly. Zayne pulls you to the edge of the throne, his face burying deeper as he groans again, drinking down your slick. 

You squeal when he fucks his tongue into you, body shaking uncontrollably as you fist his hair tighter. He hisses against your cunt, renewing his efforts. You can feel his mouth opening wider, trying to consume you whole, licking and sucking desperately at every inch of velvety, sensitive flesh he can reach.

His nose rubs against your clit, and you’re seeing stars. The Emperor makes an obscene noise and you can feel his tongue moving inside of you, the feeling making your thighs clamp around his head. 

“Have- have you ever put your fingers inside of yourself?” he asks, raising his head.

You shake your head, watching as his fingers stroke over your clit lovingly, his mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to your knee.

“May I?” the Emperor whispers, his finger prodding at your hole.

You give him a jerky nod, legs falling apart a little more for him. He smiles up at you, his finger sinking into you slowly. You whimper at the sensation, clenching around his finger. Zayne adds another soon after, and you’re panting desperately, hips bucking as he curls them inside of you. 

“The scroll said to do something like this,” he mutters under his breath.

“You- oh- you read a scroll?” you grit out.

“It was quite informative,” Zayne murmurs, beginning to move his fingers.

“Why must you be so- ah!” 

You don’t get to finish your sentence, your knuckles turning white as you grip the throne for stability as he latches his mouth back onto your clit, his fingers thrusting in and out of you. The heat inside your stomach grows more intense with each flick of his tongue, his teeth scraping against your sensitive flesh for good measure.

Moans have begun to fill the air, and you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore, letting go completely. You guide his head to where you want him, toes curling against his back, crumpling his silk robes. Zayne’s mouth works with his fingers diligently, his fingers crooking up a little more to graze the spot where you need it most.

You peek down to see the pink flush on his cheeks and your back arches, his name leaving your mouth in a cry as you come on his fingers and his tongue. The Emperor moans as you writhe, his fingers moving in and out of you a couple more times before freeing them from your clenching walls.

Chest heaving, you pant, slumping back in the throne as he kisses across your puffy folds and sensitive cunt. Your thighs twitch a little when he peppers soft, little kisses against your clit and you can’t help but think the man has an obsession with its ability to bring you such pleasure.

The Emperor kisses up your body and you cup his jaw, kissing him sweetly.

“I fear this throne may be ruined,” you whisper against his lips.

He laughs, his nose nudging yours gently, “I recall promising to take you on it.”

“Before that,” you stand up on shaky legs, pushing at his chest until he sits back on his throne.

Adoration glimmers in his eyes, watching as your loose robes slip from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. You stand bare before the Emperor, and you catch the slight spreading of his thighs to relieve the ache of his cock.

This time it’s you that’s sinking to your knees, pulling his robes free. The muscles of his abdomen clench when you run your fingers down his chest, his hand coming up to cover his flushed face.

“Why are you shy now?” you accuse, pouting up at him.

His thighs twitch when you curl your hand around his cock and you can feel the throb of his fat, hot length. 

“You do not have to-” he whispers when he sees your head dip.

“I want to,” you say stubbornly.

Zayne nods in acquiescence, moaning when you begin to drag your hand up and down his cock. It’s a little intimidating when you stare at it up close, but you swallow down your worries, leaning forward to kiss the tip experimentally.

His cock twitches in response, pre-cum beading at the tip. Your tongue darts out, licking up the little glob, feeling the taste of him spread across your tongue.

“Zayne,” you whisper, breath fanning over his cock, “Zayne, you must watch me.”

The Emperor groans at your lilting voice, his eyes opening the moment your mouth envelops him. His hips buck and you nearly seize up at the feeling of the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You mewl around him, breathing through your nose, tongue swirling before your head begins to bob up and down.

“Fuck,” Zayne hisses, his fingers spreading across your scalp, “my love, you are devious.”

You hum in response, pulling off of his cock in favor of giving more attention to the tip of it. You swirl your tongue, tongue flicking at the flared head and it’s enough to make Zayne whine, his thighs spreading wider for you. 

“Can you take it deeper?” he asks, his fingers trailing down the curve of your cheek.

“I shall try,” you murmur, mouth opening for him.

He hooks his thumb into the corner of his mouth, cupping your chin before his thumb spreads over the flat of your tongue. You smile, eyes flashing with mischievousness as you suck his thumb into your mouth, tongue flicking against the pad of it. 

Zayne shoots you a searing look and you watch as he grips the base of his cock. He drags the tip of his cock against your closed lips, entranced as he watches his pre-cum smears across your lips. His other hand presses at the back of your head and your mouth opens again, letting him guide his cock into your mouth.

“Just like that,” he whispers, “good girl.”

You can feel arousal shooting through you at the praise, slick pooling between your thighs yet again. The ache is so unbearable that you shove your hand between your thighs, rubbing at your clit.

The Emperor pushes your head gently and you go willingly, slurping and sucking around his thick cock. Saliva drips from your mouth, coating his cock and his balls, strings of it landing on the edge of his throne. You rub at your clit faster, eyes fluttering as he brushes your loose hair away from your face.

“A- ah,” Zayne rasps, “hah- my love.”

The term of endearment is enough to have you taking it upon yourself to sink down his cock even more. The tufts of his black hair hit your nose for a moment, but you’re inexperienced and you’ve overestimated your own abilities. The feeling of his cock filling your throat is too much, and you choke, throat seizing, causing you to pull off with a hoarse cough as your eyes water.

Concern flits across Zayne’s face, his thumb swiping over your swollen lips. You give him a watery smile, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He sighs in relief when he sees you’re okay, leaning forward to place a tender kiss to your lips.

“So willful,” the Emperor murmurs.

He slides his hands under your armpits, picking you up and setting you down on his lap.

“I can do it again,” you mumble, gaze lowering to see his cock pressed between your bodies.

Zayne smiles, petting at your sides, “as much as I enjoyed the feeling, I cannot have my darling choking on my cock.”

“I was not choking,” you whine, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“If you insist,” Zayne soothes, “but when we are married, I will have many more opportunities to watch you swallow my cock.”

The Emperor’s constant promise of marriage has your heart lurching and you lean forward, crushing your lips against his. He grunts in surprise at your sudden action but returns the kiss just as eagerly, squeezing at your hips.

You whine into his mouth, his hair tickling your skin as he presses forward, his hips rolling up into yours. You can feel his hard cock between your thighs, the length dragging between your folds. 

Zayne groans at the sensation, his head falling back and you take the opportunity to kiss down his neck, rolling your hips wantonly, your nails digging into his broad shoulders.

“Who are you?” he whispers, groping the fat of your ass.

“W- what?” you pull back, confusion spreading across your face.

The Emperor guides your hips to continue moving, your folds hugging his cock as you grind against it.

“Who are you?” Zayne asks again, “your title, what is it?”

Pleasure has made your mind hazy, and you can’t discern whether he’s playing a game of some sort with his questions, or whether he’s suffering from some sort of untimely amnesia.

“Your concubine,” you reply, “I thought-”

You jolt in his arms when he suddenly lands a heavy spank to your ass, his eyes narrowing when he hears your answer.

“Incorrect,” Zayne murmurs, his hand squeezing your ass in warning.

“I am your concubine- ah!”

Zayne shakes his hand, spanking you twice. You can feel the prickly heat spread across your skin, the pain searing. You glare up at him, and he smiles back, his hand smoothing over your reddened backside. 

“Who are you, my love?” he whispers, his nose nudging yours.

Oh. Oh. 

The Emperor’s insistence is a remarkable thing, you think. He may be even more stubborn than you are. Zayne’s fingers tapping against your cheek brings you out of your thoughts, your eyes meeting his. 

“I- I am your Empress,” you say quietly.

“Precisely.”

Zayne slots his lips over yours and you mewl, your hips beginning to rock again, inner thighs wet with your slick and his pre-cum smeared over his abdomen. He kisses you over and over until you’re short of breath and your lips are swollen and slick with his spit.

“Will you take my cock, my love?” 

“Y- yes,” you say airily, lifting your hips as he grips the base of his cock, “please.”

Zayne squeezes your hip, watching as you bite your lip and sink down on his cock. His cock is just as girthy as you remember, filling up your needy hole perfectly. Your body falls forward at the feeling and Zayne kisses your cheek, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“Always take my cock so well,” he praises.

Your hands plant themselves against his chest as your head tips back, taking what you want from him. Hips rising and falling, airy moans filling the air, you ride the Emperor. Zayne moans with you, his hands kneading at the flesh of your sides before drifting to take handfuls of your ass too.

“So good,” you slur, the force of your movements increasing, “feels so good, Zayne.”

“I know,” Zayne whispers, watching the bounce and sway of your breasts as you move atop him, “use me, my love.”

You do as he says, using him to drive yourself further to the edge of pleasure. The sounds filling the throne room are lewd, the clap of skin echoing throughout coupled with your shared noises.

Your thighs burn as you roll your hips, taking his cock deeper into the heat of your cunt, feeling it punch into the most sensitive spot inside of you. It’s too much, the mind-numbing sensations and your own body tiring with every movement.

You slump against him, hips slowing to a pitiful stop, his fat cock still stuffed inside of you. It twitches and you whimper, peering up at Zayne desperately.

“Husbands should take care of their wives,” you mumble, lips pressing against his.

“But we are not yet married,” he whispers teasingly. 

Zayne kisses you slowly, his hand sliding up your neck and stopping to cup your cheek. He molds you to his will, maneuvering your body as he sees fit, grabbing at every inch of flesh he can reach.

“But I am yours,” you say earnestly, “and I will be yours till the day I die.”

“You will, won’t you?” Zayne smiles, drawing you closer, “nothing makes me happier, my dear.”

You wail when he suddenly ruts up into you, balls slapping against your ass as he tightens his grip to bounce you up and down on his lap. Your hands lose their holds on his shoulders, scrabbling for stability until you find purchase on the top of his throne. 

The Emperor is fucking you on his throne. 

You try to feel some sense of mortification, but you can’t, the feeling of his cock erasing all sensible thoughts from your mind. Zayne slaps your ass and you squeak, body falling forward even more. Your breasts press into his face and you whine when he mouths at them, sucking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

The Emperor’s name leaves your mouth in a pleading chant and he answers your needs, pulling you down until your cunt is flush with the base of his cock, pussy swallowing up his length completely. Zayne slows to a grind, keeping his cock stuffed inside of you. 

You curl an arm around his neck, hugging him closer to your breasts and Zayne groans, his mouth opening wider to try and take in your entire breast. He stares up at you, the flush on his cheeks deepened and eyes so, so soft. 

Your lips slot over his as soon as his mouth detaches from your breast, your lips working against his slowly and sweetly, hips swaying back to meet the slow thrusts of his hips.

“You have ruined me,” you confess, cheek resting on his shoulder.

“Better it be me than some other man,” he whispers.

You agree with him on that. Zayne has given you far more than you could’ve possibly dreamed, the twist of fate bringing you something, or rather, someone to cherish.

“You are everything, Zayne.”

He groans at your bold words, his head falling back against his throne. You come undone in slow waves, body trembling as he comes with you, his cock kicking inside of you as hot cum spurts from the tip, filling you up. You can feel the thickness of it, cum spilling into you for a few moments longer as your hips slow to a stop.

You both breathe heavily, his chest moving under yours. A thin sheen of sweat covers your bodies, robes forgotten as they lie at the foot of the throne. 

A soft smile graces your lips as you move his hair out of his eyes, tilting his head to kiss his forehead.

“You spoil me,” Zayne mutters, nuzzling into your palm.

“I think it is the other way around,” you laugh breathlessly.

He sighs, slumping in his throne, his cock still inside of you. You can feel it softening, no longer plugging you full as cum begins to leak out from your pussy.

“I may need more tea,” you whisper.

Zayne huffs in amusement, his fingers collecting his viscous cum. He smears it across your pussy, his fingers catching onto your clit as he rubs his cum onto the little bud. He lifts his hand to your mouth and you accept eagerly, staring into his eyes as you suck his fingers clean of cum.

“Minx,” he mutters.

You giggle, kissing the pads of his fingers affectionately, shifting to sit on his thigh. Zayne smiles in return, his hands massaging your sore thighs. He kisses your cheek a few times, peppers a few kisses here and there over your shoulder.

“Feeling better?” Zayne asks, nuzzling your cheek.

“Much,” you whisper, smiling up at him, “but I fear I may not be able to walk.”

“Shall I carry you again?” the Emperor whispers.

You roll your eyes, prodding your fingers into his chest, “I did not enjoy that.”

“Lying is punishable by death.”

“You are insufferable,” you whisper.

Zayne leans forward for another kiss, but you deny him, slipping off of his lap. He laughs when your thighs tremble, reaching out to catch you by the waist before your knees buckle.

He tugs you onto his lap, thwarting your escape as he kisses you again. You think you won’t be leaving this place anytime soon.

-

Zayne doesn’t think there’s anything more beautiful in this world than when you’re sleeping. 

The slow rise and fall of your chest, the sweet innocence of your face, your hair splayed against the pillows, the gods must favor him for they’ve sent him a vision.

He smiles as he watches you stir in your sleep, brushing away the hair that’s fallen onto your face. Zayne can’t resist leaning closer, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek, feeling your soft skin under his.

Zayne likes it when you smile, when you glare, the way you protest against his subtle teases. He’s never met someone as endearing as you, never bothered to take interest in another until you came along with that tray of tea clutched in your hands. He hasn’t told you about how his own heart flutters at the mere thought of you, and doesn’t think he will. He’d be better off showing you instead.

Above all, he remembers when you’d stumbled into his chambers, your flustered disposition as you’d apologized. He’d been lonely before you, trapped in a dull existence with others meandering through his life without purpose.

But you’ve changed things now. He feels free when he hears your laugh, the light in your eyes warming him from within. The world around him seems brighter, sparks of color appearing in places he had never seen before. 

You had painted the world for him.

[fixomnia-scribble]

Scientists are very serious.

This is a post about science. And soup.

Dr. Elinne Becket, a microbiologist from Cal State University, is in the middle of one of those Fridge Experiments that happens to us all - except in this case, she is uniquely placed to unravel the science down to the microbial level.

While cleaning out her fridge, Dr. Becket found that a tub of family-recipe beef vegetable soup had turned bright blue. “Ok I'm outing myself here,” she tweeted, “but there was forgotten beef soup in our fridge we just cleaned it out and it was BLUE?!?!? Wtf contam would make it blue??? Like BRIGHT blue!!  Even w/ all my years in micro I'm not handling this well.“

Read on for a breathless and ongoing saga of Soup and Science, and the wonderful international community that is Academic Twitter.

Academic Twitter quickly reminded her of her Responsibilities to Scientific Inquiry. (Cue the chanting from around the world of “CLONE THE SOUP! CLONE THE SOUP!”)

“I can’t believe y’all talked me into going back into the trash.” she tweeted in response, over a photo of a puddle of beautiful Mediterranean-sea blue soup in the trash bin, with bits of veg and noodles arising from the depths.

Scientists being scientists, Dr. Becket agreed to take a sample and send it to colleagues for cloning and microbial analysis.This involved getting arms-deep into the trash bin of Old Soup. “I’m never forviging @ATinyGreenCell (genomic biologist Sebastian Cocioba) for this.” Dr. Becket tweeted, with a photo of a properly dipped and snipped and VERY blue q-tip in a small clear plastic tub.

Diving into decomposing soup was not the only hazard. She writes: “My mom (who made the soup for my birthday) came across this thread and now 1) I have to answer for letting her soup spoil and 2) she's worried @ATinyGreenCell will figure out her secret recipe.“

Dr. Becket and Sebastian were able to culture the Blue Goo!

Becket posted a photo of three petri plates of streaked beef bouillon agar at 72 hours incubation, at 37C, room temp and 4C. She writes: “Left the plates where they were for another 2 days, except the 37°C one was brought to RT, which then grew white stuff over the yellow stuff and stinks to high heaven. RT looked the same. 4°C had impressive growth. Restreaked them all onto TECH agar, awaiting results!”

Sebastian, from his lab, tweeted a photo of three more covered petri dishes, with early results: “Great progress on isolating the glowy microbe from our #BlueSoup! It's so fluorescent the streak is GREEN. Still needs another restreak as it seems there is a straggler but should clear up in the next plate. Exciting!”

Then yesterday, Sebastian tweeted out an updated photo of his plates under daylight and blacklight. “Whatever grew on the #BlueSoup colony plates overnight glows under UV, but only on King's Agar B! That particular media is used to tease out fluorescein expression in pseudomonads. What are the chances that the same cell line expresses fluorescent AND blue pigments?“

“Looking closer, there definitely is a handful of different microbes showing distinct phenotypes. Could be that the blue producer and the fluorescent microbes are totally different microbes!”

At which point, Professor Cynthia Whitchurch of Norwich, England, responded: “Consistent with P. fluorescens being at least part of the #BlueSoup community. The fluorescence is due to production of the siderophore pyoverdine which is up-regulated when iron availability is limited. P. aeruginosa produced this too but my guess is you have blue Pf.”

And Australian agricultural researcher @WAJWebster helpfully tweeted a petri dish of ALL KINDS of colourful bacterial colonies from white to yellow to orange to stark black, with a cheerful: “You need bact-o--colours? I got you, fam.”

The best part is that as of today, March 9, 2023, THE BLUE SOUP MYSTERY CONTINUES. WE ARE WATCHING SCIENCE HAPPENING!

A paper is being written. And Dr. Becket’s mum is getting an author credit as the proprietary owner of the #BlueSoup recipe.

Dr. Becket’s Twitter is here: https://twitter.com/bielleogy

Sebastian Cocioba’s Twitter is here: https://twitter.com/ATinyGreenCell

Fun IFLS story is here: https://www.iflscience.com/microbiologist-investigates-after-her-beef-soup-turned-blue-in-the-freezer-67894?fbclid=IwAR0H27KqVZhzzrosnjzzKkxuKASZ-0L0Lt6hGwCRDJK8xvFbbSlyS4JvwlM

[hopeymchope]

No hardcore fandom has ever died so quickly and so completely as Veronica Mars. This is the story of its murder.

They should study Veronica Mars in Hollywood. I'm serious. It's an incredible story of how to go from "loud, passionate fanbase with its own fandom name that campaigns and advocates constantly for it" to "absolutely zero fucking interest" damn near OVERNIGHT with just ONE epically terri-bad decision.

If you weren't there, you don't understand: From 2007 to 2014, the fandom — the "Marshmallows," as they called themselves — were everywhere in the Internet's geek spaces, my friends. They routinely beat the drum about the series' three seasons and its excellence, lamented its cancellation, pushed others to give the show a try, and always - ALWAYS - proudly and loudly called for the series to be revived.

FULL DISCLOSURE/CONFESSION: I've not even watched that much Veronica Mars, frankly... ? Yeah, I'm sorry! it does seem pretty good from like the four-or-five hours I've experienced firsthand. I just never took the time to sit down with it. Regardless, I find fandoms and their dynamics — both how they operate internally and how they display to others externally — deeply fascinating. And I honestly find them easier to study from the outside than the inside. Like, if I'm IN a fandom, I'm more likely to stay in my corner and ignore places that seem negative. But being on the outside lets me just... absorb what's out there, looking into every forum without judgment. It's like studying pop-culture sociology or something? And it helps that I'm very close to some serious(-ly burnt) Marshmallows. It makes it so much easier to find and absorb the gamut of the fandom.

Besides: There is NO fandom story I've ever seen that's anything like what happened to Veronica Mars and the Marshmallows.

(Time to insert a brief explainer for the uninitiated: Veronica Mars was a TV series that aired from 2004-2007 on the now-deceased UPN network wherein Kristen Bell played the titular character, a high school girl whose single dad was a private detective in the fictional community of Neptune, California. She grew up working "unofficially" as his assistant, which meant that she herself was effectively a teenage private detective.

The three core elements of the series were: 1) Veronica investigating each week's big mystery with plenty of quips and snark, 2) Watching Veronica's various relationships develop and shift, with most of the focus given to a) her relationship to her father and b) Her romantic pursuits (which began as the Veronica/Duncan/Logan triangle before eventually becoming focused on the slow-burn, off-on Veronica/Logan love story), and 3) The gradual development of that season's "mytharc" — the overarching BIG MYSTERY that doesn't get resolved or wrapped until the season finale. So it went over the course of two seasons that took place in high school and the third, shorter season that was at the start of Veronica's collegiate career.)

Just how big and how passionate were the Marshmallows? WELL! When series creator Rob Thomas (not the Matchbox 20 guy) and star Kristen Bell announced the Kickstarter campaign for the Veronica Mars movie in March 2013, it achieved its heretofore-unprecedented goal of TWO MILLION GODDAMN DOLLARS within less than 12 hours. At that time, it was the biggest Kickstarter goal to ever succeed — and certainly the fastest to reach that kind of height. Fans fell OVER themselves to pay out for it. Hell, my own significant other was DEEP in the tank for VM at the time and invested enough to get multiple t-shirts as backer rewards as well as a disk copy of the movie when it eventually came home.

And AFTER the movie hit in 2014? It was thankfully beloved and embraced! The once-teenage characters were adults who were actually out living on their own and working for a living, but the fandom had grown up with them, so it wasn't like they were begging for them to stay young students. They embraced Adult Veronica and her new adventure. The fandom rejoiced loudly and continued to be all over the geek side of the Internet... where they, of course, still wanted more. Sure, there were new novels in the aftermath (which were written by the creator of the series), but most of the Marshmallows were calling for more movies or a streaming revival.

And then, at long last... season four was actually announced. And there was much (premature) rejoicing yet again.

Yes, Veronica Mars returned for a fourth season on Hulu in 2019. It was just eight episodes, and it was heavily centered on one season-long mystery instead of sprinkling that amongst a bunch of smaller ones, but it would still feature the same ol' Veronica. They promised a new, more "adult" mystery/investigation plus a strong focus on Veronica and Logan's love story.

New Hulu purchased the rights to the first three seasons and hyped up its presence on the platform while marketing the return for the new run. The marketing team played up the most popular quips from the show's history plus put out TONS of stuff centered on the Logan/Veronica ship to pump up the fans.

The season was dropped all at once using the classic Netflix "binge" model in July 2019. And then... afterwards?

There was a brief explosion of LOUD RAGE from the Marshmallows at what series creator Rob Thomas had to done to burn and spite the fandom and ruin his own goodwill.

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4: See, at the end of the movie, Veronica and Logan finally entered into a long-term relationship. In season four, they've been dating for years, and Logan proposes marriage. But of course there has to be drama/obstacles: In this case, Veronica isn't sure she's ready to marry... or capable of being in a marriage. Ah, but of course she eventually realizes how much Logan means to her. The two are married, and, in the season finale... Logan is killed by a car bomb in the penultimate scene. The final scene is a flashfoward to a year later, where Veronica leaves Neptune alone.

For most fandoms, that'd be a memorable point of pain. A big ol' speed bump that ultimately throws some people off the bus, leaving only the die-hards. But the fact that fans had been invested in this relationship for literally 15 years and that Hulu (and creator Rob Thomas) had heavily marketed the new season as being a big romantic event for the ship... it was too much. Unlike the aftermath of the Star Wars sequels, there was no lingering group of die-hard fans who were open to whatever was next — at least no significant one. I did some Googling and could only find TWO people who still wanted another season.

Funnily enough? Critics LOVED this. Hell, Vanity Fair infamously penned an editorial about how Veronica Mars had "finally grown up" with this finale. I suppose all the other murders and deaths and drug overdoses and r*pe weren't "mature" enough before now for... some... reason. (The same editorial also featured the author openly hating on Veronica ever being in a relationship because it causes "arrested development" and declaring that the movie -- which was acclaimed by both critics AND fans alike, I remind you -- was a lame dud. So. The writer must be a reeeaaaal fun person.)

But a series doesn't live based on critical acclaim, as it turns out. The fandom was murdered overnight. "Marshmallows" stopped appearing in geek spaces online entirely. No one expressed interest in seeing the next season or the next movie. The constant flow of fan AMVs on YouTube and fanfics on AO3 dried up to nothing or damn nearly so.

Since 2019 ? Nothing. Chirping crickets. An intensely dedicated fandom of 12 years was just... vaporized.

I've never seen anything like it before OR since.

That's why it's so fucking fascinating.

So what went wrong?

Creator Rob Thomas was adamant about two things: ONE, the series was intended to be a noir show, which meant there couldn't be any happiness for its protagonist. And TWO, the death of Logan was necessary to evolve and grow the series.

Thomas thought that having Veronica in a relationship would be holding her back, and that a marriage would absolutely kill the series and leave her stagnant. It never even occurred to him that marriage isn't the end of a character's life and growth. It never occurred to him that plenty of drama can be had AFTER someone is married, or that development/growth could be that the characters mature enough to be capable of maintaining a committed relationship. Thomas' view of his own universe was so myopic that he couldn't conceive of any possible way that Veronica could still be a private detective involved in life-threatening investigations AND be married at the same time. Futhermore, he felt that fans just wanted Veronica to become a pregnant housewife, which is about as far from what Marshmallows were after as you can get without straight-up killing Veronica and/or Logan. He managed to do the only thing wronger than what he wrongly thought was their insistence.

On top of the above, Rob Thomas only viewed "noir" as a vehicle for total fatalism... despite the fact that many of the most famous noir stories are cynical and full of moral ambiguity, but they still feature a positive outcome. The Big Sleep still has the protagonist get the girl. The Set-Up arguably ends with the happiest possible ending in spite of the beating the hero receives.

Perhaps most importantly? Despite Thomas own insistence that Veronica Mars was always "noir," the majority of both TV critics and fans did not think that designation ever truly applied. I suspect that's the reason why Thomas decided to go as dark and fatalistic as possible: He wanted to be noir, and he was being told that he wasn't. So he went so far into noir that he killed his own most popular property.

He was adamant that it was the only way for the series to grow. But as it turns out, it was instead the only way for the series to permanently end. Without that season four finale, a passionate group of fans would still be begging for more. With it? It's over. Nobody fucking cares now.

That's kind of amazing.

[moonstruckme]

rooomate james. 😭😭 literally obsessed w himm!!

Me too I love him (and you!) sm <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 808 words

You don’t recognize James’ car until he shouts at you. 

“Hey!” 

You give a little jump, turning midair to find James smiling out the rolled-down window. 

“Want a lift?” 

“God, you scared me!” You backtrack and open the passenger door. The seat looks to have been tidied in a hurry, receipts and takeaway containers tossed into the backseat. “How’d you even know I’d need a ride?” 

James refrains from responding to give you an expectant look. You roll your eyes and buckle your seatbelt. Satisfied, he puts the car in reverse, setting his hand on your seat to look behind him as he backs out of the parking spot. 

“You weren’t home when I got there,” he says, “and then I remembered on Sundays you usually get off at eleven, so here I am. Is Art not with you?” 

“No, he wasn’t working tonight.” 

James doesn’t seem too disappointed by this. He pulls onto the street. You watch him, looking almost unconsciously for signs of wear and tear. 

Now that rugby season is in full swing, he’s gone not just during the day for training but sometimes overnight for away games. You’ve been alone in your apartment for the whole weekend while he played in London and then Bristol. It was weird. You think you’ve accidentally grown used to having James around. You don’t fancy yourself a very tactile person, and the urge to hug him isn’t terribly strong, but it’s there. 

“How was work?” he asks you. 

“It was fine. How were your matches?” 

“They were fine,” he imitates you, grinning. “No, it’s like I said. Winning the second one’s always better than winning the first and losing the second. It’s nice to end on a good note.”

He’d texted continual updates while he was gone. You sat on your couch, pretending to yourself or perhaps to some invisible, judgemental observer that you were watching TV when really you were entirely focused on James’ texts. You imagined him sitting in his hotel room doing the same, or maybe in a pub with his teammates, smiling at his phone each time you responded. 

Your imagination has become terribly overindulgent lately. 

“Honestly, I was pretty disappointed you weren’t home when I got there,” James says, a familiar teasing lilt to his voice. “I was hoping to come in and catch you wearing one of my jumpers and staring tearily at a framed photo of me.” 

You roll your eyes, but your face burns. You did use his shampoo, once. In your defense, you’d run out of yours, but you thought that it wouldn’t be so bad to smell like him, nice and fresh and comforting. It had foamed more than you expected. It did smell really nice, but it made your hair feel dry (boy shampoo always does that, you’ve no idea how James’ curls seem to thrive under such poor treatment) and you felt silly about it for days, lovesick in the most derogatory sense. 

Didn’t stop you from sniffing your hair occasionally, though. 

“You weren’t gone to war,” you reply. “And where would I get a framed photo of you?” 

James looks affronted. “I assumed you already had one. How did you get through the weekend without even a photo? You brave, brave girl.” 

“I actually threw a rager,” you deadpan. “Rented out your room to six people traveling through with the carnival and let them invite over all their friends. Did loads of hard drugs.” 

“Well, we all have different ways of coping.” He reaches over to squeeze your shoulder consolingly. You pretend goosebumps don’t skitter all the way down your arm from the brief touch. “And what a marvelous job you’ve done covering up your escapades!” He exclaims as you pull up in front of the apartment. “I haven’t come across the cocaine dust on our bathroom counter yet, so you must have really done a thorough cleanup.” 

“Keep looking, it’s around there somewhere.” 

James laughs. You’re slower getting out of the car than he is, and by the time you emerge he’s in front of you, pulling you into a hug. You think your bones liquefy. He’s warm and strong and he smells like his shampoo, both arms squishing you heartily before he lets go with a little laugh. 

“Sorry,” he says, bringing his hands to your upper arms, “I didn’t even ask. I just missed you, you know?” James has this look on his face, smile brilliant and eyes wide open. So saccharine sweet you almost can’t look at him. “Guess I got used to having you around.” 

You do your best to smile back. “Yeah, me too.” 

He squeezes your arms before turning to go inside. “You smell like Italian food, too. I don’t suppose you’ve cooked anything recently that’s still in the fridge? I’m beginning to think about second dinner.” 

[sun-kissy]

chocolate-coated hearts | r.l.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

barista!remus x shy!reader

summary: you go to a new cafe to order donuts for your friend, immediately enamoured with the barista

tw: nothing? reader takes literature as a major, also kind of has social anxiety

a/n: might make this a series! i’ve got a few ideas <3

An anxious sigh escapes you as you stand idly outside the cafe, peering inside through the mosaicked windows. It was jam-packed, people pushing past each other and snake-like queues forming throughout the space. You wriggle your phone out of your coat pocket and glance at the message that your friend, Madison, had sent in a half hour ago.

hey gorgeous!! mind picking up a few donuts for me at Beanie’s before you come over? a few of the pbj ones, and some chocolate ones too. thanks xx

She was expecting, and you went by whenever you could to help her out after her asshole of a boyfriend left.

Normally, you wouldn’t bother. You hated crowded places, and Beanie’s was the definition of crowded – an old-style cafe which had blown up overnight because of its scrumptious donuts and vintage aesthetic. But who were you to deny the cravings of the woman bearing your goddaughter?

You take a deep breath and push the creaky wooden door open, cringing at how the bell rang and signalled the whole cafe to your presence. But no one so much as looked up, busy trying to buy or sell food, or find a table.

You push your way through the sea of people, joining the queue in front of the counter. It was long, you noted, and would probably take another fifteen minutes or so until it was your turn to place an order. You fish out your crumpled book from your bag and turn it to the page you had stopped on yesterday. It was the second classic of the term – Pride and Prejudice. Taking literature as a major meant you spent more time reading than anything else, but you weren’t complaining.

As you read, you scribbled down plot points to take note of and quotes which meant something worth writing about. Your eyes stayed glued to the page, trying to work out hidden meanings and flowery language. Once you were back home, you’d have to compile all your analysis onto that worksheet Professor Ragnarsson had given out, write the 10-page long review, and then –

“Hey! Shut the damn book and order, will you?”

Your heart jumps in your chest at the sudden harsh tone. You close your book and whip your head around to see a middle-aged man glaring at you before peering down at his watch. “There’s a long queue, and we don’t have all day.”

The heat rushes to your cheeks as you open your mouth to apologise – but before you can say anything, you hear an oddly soothing voice from behind you. “Hey, don’t be a jerk. She didn’t know the counter was open.”

You glance back towards the counter, and you swear your heart stopped beating for a second. Angelic was an understatement to describe the man standing in front of you, tall and lanky and absolutely fucking beautiful.

His chestnut brown hair perfectly framed his pale face, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he glanced at the rude customer behind you. There were pinkish scars tracing from above his eyebrows to right below his lips, but they looked golden under the orange light – he looked like some kind of heavenly being.

When his eyes dart back to you, his expression instantly softened, lips tilting upwards in a smile. You thought you would melt into a puddle right there and then just by gazing into his warm, honeyed eyes. “Hi, gorgeous. What can I get you?”

You blink, your mouth involuntarily falling open slightly. Gorgeous? Was he talking to you? Maybe he was referring to the man behind you.

His smile widens, and that does absolutely nothing to calm the feeling of your heart bouncing around in your stomach. “It’s okay if you can’t choose just yet, I know the number of options can be…” he chuckles, “overwhelming. Take all the time you need to decide.”

Oh my god, you thought. His laugh sounded musical, like the tender feeling of being enveloped in a warm embrace. You’d put it on a record player and play it on loop for hours if you could.

“Hurry the fuck up –”

“One more word from you and you won’t be getting your coffee today, buddy,” the godly-looking barista snapped in a slightly louder tone at the man behind you, face contorted in irritation.

You hear silent cursing behind you, a twinge of embarrassment turning you red. You quickly glance back up. “Sorry, hi, hello. I’ll um… I…” the words were on the tip of your tongue, but seemed to dissolve when he glanced at you with those agonisingly pretty eyes and kind smile.

Snap out of it, you internally curse as you open your mouth again. “I’ll get three peanut butter-jelly donuts, and four chocolate donuts.”

“Okay. Which chocolate ones?” he asks, tapping his tongs against the display dome with stacks of donuts. There really were a lot of options – chocolate sprinkles, belgian chocolate, chocolate glazed, double chocolate – your mind seemed to freeze up for a second. Which one would Madison want?

You quickly look behind you, seeing the man’s face twisted up in what looked like rage. It seemed to be taking him all his willpower not to lash out at you, and the customers behind him didn’t look much far off.

You turn back to the counter, eyes wide with panic as you feel the blood rush to your head. You had never been good at this; thinking and choosing on the spot. That’s why Subway was always a no-go for you, that’s why Madison had specifically told you what to get her – just that she hadn’t been specific enough. “I… I’m not sure. I think, um…”

“Hey, take it easy,” you look back up to see Remus giving you a reassuring smile, a slight hint of concern on his face. Your despair must have been embarrassingly evident, then. “It’s alright if you can’t choose. Do you want me to pick for you?”

You ought to have been humiliated, the way you immediately nodded and gave in to his offer. But he just gave you an easy smile and nodded, picking up one of each type and placing them in the box.

“Thank you,” you mumble sheepishly as you move to the payment counter, fishing in your bag for a wad of notes.

“Of course,” he grins, and it was so bright you thought it could probably light up the whole cafe. “That’ll be $15.90.”

As he waits for you to pay, he takes a quick look down and begins to brush crumbs off his apron. You look up at the wrong moment, eyes immediately fixing on the curves of his biceps visible through his T-shirt, and his slender fingers.

He glances back up at you, catching a glimpse of your flustered look and instantly smirking. You look away abashedly, counting the money and handing it to him.

The brush of your fingers against his calloused palm sent a jolting shock through you as you quickly pull back, not missing the way his smile widened as he cashed the money into the register.

“Thanks for visiting, sweetheart. Hope to see you again soon.”

You don’t reply, afraid you’d crumble into a blushing, gooey mess. Flashing him a brief, nervous smile, you pick up the box of donuts before turning around and heading straight for the exit. Sweetheart.

You huff as you open the door and step outside, pulling out your phone to complain to Madison all about the stupidly handsome barista at her favourite cafe. God, he really knew what he was doing.

[girlbloggercher]

how to glow up

i have like, a million posts about glowing up but one more won't harm anyone.

1. oral health

brush your teeth 2x a day for 2 minutes. use mouthwash. and, don't let your teeth rot until your next dentist appointment.

2. daily movement

always move around. this should be obvious, but you can't just lay in your bed all day scrolling on your phone. go on a walk, do yoga, or an actual workout. but you have to move.

3. work on your confidence

some good youtubers to watch for your confidence journey are: tam kaur, thewizardliz, persephonesmind, eléonora oxa, manifestelle, lenalifts, trindingtopic, simonesquared, and sheraseven. now, don't expect to just stop caring overnight. it'll take a while, but it'll be worth it.

4. give yourself your dream wardrobe

girl, please stop wearing that shirt with a band that you don't even listen to. it's not embarrassing to wear the same thing multiple times, but sometimes it's just too much. save up your allowance to go shopping. or, get your birthday and/or xmas wishlist ready with clothes you want.

[pepsichrry]

Ride Pt. 2 || Theodore F. Nott

Summary: Your relationship with Theo escalates further

Set after the Battle of Hogwarts!

Warnings: Sexual content, Smut, Mentions of violence, Theo is in love, Theo is obsessed with his wife!!

—————————————————————————

The spring had flourished into summer almost overnight, giving way to the birth of the sunlight and the heat that came with it. The Nott family home had grown more and more familiar as these days passed and you hoped that it would continue.

Things had shifted around the house, and not just because of the change in weather. You and Theodore finally began to align like rigid puzzle pieces. What was once a secret glance became a staring contest, being in the same room became sitting together and rooms on the other side of the house became Theo sneaking into your bed each night and staying to just be with you.

You soon became comfortable with the marriage, allowing Theo to shadow you around the house from time to time or even to sleep in your bed with you, sometimes you even allowed him to distract you from your reading and eat fruit with you on the lawn. As your relationship bloomed, you thought back to the very night that broke the silence.

It had become a regular occurrence now for Theo to spread you over your bedsheets and burying his head between your thighs. But that was all. Even as the months passed by, he hadn’t asked for anything more from you, only to sleep beside you and watch you as you slept. You obliged, not minding the company. You grew used to the familiar creaking of floorboards and the gentle nudges against your skin as he slipped into what was now his side of the bed.

But something urged you further than your new routine, to find out the extent of what could be done. You wanted to know what it felt like to be completely and utterly full with him, body and soul.

So, when he finally crept into your room in the dead of night, worshipped by the dim lick of candlelight, you were already waiting for him. His deep blue eyes watched you like he never had before, sensing the shift in the air. As he got closer, you sat up, looking over the expanse of his body. His hard chest was blanketed by a soft jumper which made him all the more comfortable than he already was, and his legs were clothed in a simple pair of sweats, ready for bed. It may have not been all that enticing, but the sight of him always seemed to drive you crazy. There was something about him so siren-like, so enchanting.

“You’re awake?” He asked you with his smooth voice and cheeky smile. You nodded, waiting for him to get closer so you could finally reach out to him. “I thought you’d be asleep, I didn’t mean to wake you, Bella.”

He drew your duvet back and climbed into bed with you, lying flat on his back with his hands over his middle. You turned to him.

Bringing a gentle hand to his head, you brushed his stray curls from his forehead as he watched you with tired eyes. He happily reciprocated your soft kisses as his eyelashes fluttered against your cheekbones and he breathed in your air.

You couldn’t stop, you needed him. You needed to drink every ounce of him up, you needed to feel him all over you, you needed his soft hands to touch you and hold you to him. It was as though, suddenly, you were overcome by desperation, or better yet, adoration.

He sighed softly, fanning soft air onto you as one of his hands cupped your neck, the other finding the small of your back and pulling you closer to him still. You gladly obliged, pressing your chest against his and kissing him like he was your final breath, your only lifeline.

Theo felt giddy at the sudden attention on him. Your experimental hand dragged over his chest and slowly down over his stomach. He couldn’t help but squirm in anticipation at the idea of your hand trialling any lower. Your fingers entwined in the waistband of his sweats and you ran your fingertips lightly over the edge of the fabric.

By the sounds that he was making, you could tell that he needed you just as much you needed him.

Your pinky preached the top of his bottoms and ran over the slowly tanning skin of his abdomen as he kissed over your cheek and jaw. His pillowy lips traced over the curve of your jaw, leaving hot and damp hair to travel down your neck as his breath began to deepen upon your fingers trailing beneath his bottoms.

You pulled back, the ghost of your lips hovered over his as you watched for his reaction as your fingers began to brush over the tiny curls at the base of his cock. Slowly, they came into contact with the ache that Theo so desperately wanted to ignore, until your smooth hands were wrapped around it, he could have died on the spot.

His head flew back against the pillow, his eyes shut and his brows pulled into a deep frown, not of perplexity, but of utter pleasure. Your grip tightened ever so slightly around the thickness of his dick and he keened from where he lay. His mouth tipped open, so you opted to kiss around the apples of his cheeks, over every mole and dimple, further down over his neck and in the sickly sweet spot behind his ear, whispering for him to take off his top.

Theo couldn’t help but shiver as he peeled off his jumper, revealing him to the cool air and your piercing gaze. Every inch of his gorgeous skin was kissed by the sun, leaving freckles and birthmarks in its wake. You made sure to do the same, bending your head to press your lips against the moles on his collarbones. Theo sighed softly as you began to work your hand as best as you could whilst it was restricted by the fabric of his underwear, the sound carrying through the room. Merlin, he hadn’t even taken the rest of his clothing yet, but you felt him in the place where you needed him most, and he was big.

His slender hand soothed over your back as you sucked light purple bruises into his chest and neck while you pumped at his cock, encouraging you to do something, anything further. He didn’t know if he could take any more anticipation. He’d been waiting for you to allow him the chance to sink into you at last, but he was so desperate and pussy-whipped that anything would do. He waited patiently and happily for his climax and inevitably cumming in his pants again, until you slipped your hand back out of his underwear.

You looked up at him with desire on your face and he knew what you’d ask. “Take these off.” You told him and he obeyed.

Theo thought you could ask him anything and he’d obey, just like a slave to your command, not that he’d mind. It was just one of the many things he’d do for you in order to satisfy you.

He lay before you, nearly bare except for his underwear which did nothing to conceal the embarrassingly obvious fact of his need. His chest lifted up and down as his lungs worked double time and you eyed him admiringly. Despite the hardness beneath his boxers, you gently squeezed him through the fabric, enjoying the tortured whine he gave out.

You hushed him sweetly, rubbing your thumb over his bottom lip with a grin. His eyes lit up with desperation. You booked a finger beneath the band of his boxers, yanking them firmly, and with his help, he became entirely exposed to you. You still wore your nightgown, which he eyed hopefully, but you made no move to take it off just then.

The lower you took your body, the higher Theo’s heart rate became, until your face was just above his crotch and he swore that he felt his heart stop. Testing the waters, your hand wrapped around him once again and brought your mouth down to place a teasing kiss over the tip of his dick. He puffed out a breath that he never knew he was holding and entangled a hand in your hair.

Slowly, you grazed the underside of his cock with your tongue, trailing over the soft skin with ease, wetting it with your saliva. You continued to do so, each time your tongue met the tip, you’d broaden your tongue and do the same thing over again as he grew more and more restless each time. You placed a reassuring hand on his thigh as they began to tremble and your thumb rubbed the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, dangerously close to the curve of his balls. His head pressed harshly into the pillows behind him as he panted.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you took the very tip of his dick into your lips, surprising you at how much bigger he was than you thought. You sucked, hard, and he let out a deep moan at the sensation. It was an unusual situation to you, but you found that you could learn quickly about what he liked, so you continued to suck. Your hand pumped his length as you suckled and licked at his tip, gaining confidence as his noises grew louder.

His cock began to throb and his balls tightened, the only warning he was able to give being the grip on your hair clamping down. That was when you pulled off of him with a ‘pop’.

“But- Wh-“ He began, but you cut him off with a kiss, enjoying how quick he was to melt into your sudden affection.

You didn’t give him long to ponder as you slipped your nightgown over your head, revealing your naked body for him to see. His intense gaze lingered over your chest before it trailed down to your wet pussy. You supposed he was half expecting for you to sit on his face like you often did, but you took him by surprise when you asked him:

“Are you gonna let me fuck you?”

Of course he was, how couldn’t he? All he’d wanted since he saw you in the big white dress at the wedding was to take you to bed and make love to you. And now that you were finally going to allow him the honour? How could he say no?

“Merlin, yes!” He rasped, watching you as you swung a leg over his hips as though mounting a horse. His eyes didn’t know where to look, so they raked over you as he prepared for you to take him.

You smiled sweetly, leaning down to peck his lips with your own. You took him into your hand and dragged his tip over your soaked folds; you had no idea how much pleasure it gave you to hear him whine. Finally, you lined his tip up against where you needed him most and sunk down onto him.

Theo felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him, you were right above him, as beautiful as the sun and the sky and he’d never felt such bliss. For a second, he swore he saw heaven.

That was until you started to move, and he was rendered powerless against the pleasure you were giving him. He moaned fully now, head twisting into the pillow as though it would give him some relief to be rid of the sight of you. He couldn’t take it, he was sure to come just by looking at you. His mouth was hung open as though he was screaming in agony, except he was only tensing in pure unbridled pleasure.

His length hit against the most dangerous of angles inside of you, sending shocks up your spine as you clenched around him. The twinge of pain you’d felt at the initial stretch had quickly subsided as you began to bounce on top of him and was replaced by a blinding blood rush to your head. You felt dizzy, only it was in the best way possible.

With each brush against his skin, your clit was stimulated, forcing you to let out a sigh each time. He poured every inch of his soul into yours with every breath he took, watching you like a lifetime of his memories and future all at once, worshipping at your altar of your goddess. He’d serve you, he’d obey, he’d care for you, if you allowed him.

You let out a loud cry as his hips jolted from the bed, pressing against your cervix in a sudden pain, though it soon dissipated, soothing into sparks of pleasure. He forced his weight off of the bed in time with you, encased to the hilt of his cock in your soft pussy. And with every meeting of your hips, the warmth in your belly loosened, allowing you to steal bursts of pleasure for your body. Heat throbbed over your body and your heart pounded, you were so close.

And then it stopped. Theo pulled you off of him with a firm grip, eyes wide, pupils dilated. He looked almost feral as you frowned up at him as he took his place above you. Without wasting a second, his lips were on you, trailing over your chest and sucking your nipples into his mouth.

His hand lowered down to where you needed him the most, guiding his painfully hard dick into your tight entrance, sighing as you squeezed him to nicely. The softness of his hair on your sternum, the kindness of his hands and the noises he made, it was all taking its toll on you. You were surrounded by him, his arms encasing you, the warmth from his body still on the sheets that you rested against, his dick inside of you. He was everything in that moment.

The slapping of skin filled the air as he drove his hips harder and faster with each pull of your charm. He let out a choked sigh as he pounded into you, chasing his high more desperately than he ever had. His constant motion made you clench around him, feeling your orgasm creep up through your spine.

“Theo!” You gasped, and he responded with a pitiful whimper. He’d dreamed about the way that you’d cry his name, about this very situation. It was feeling so real, so much. He couldn’t help but be dragged closer to the edge.

He buried his hot face into your hair, moaning with each thrust of his hips, his feet pushing against the sheets to look for any way to sink deeper into you.

Your body erupted with the winding of warmth and unbearable pleasure. Your orgasm washed over you like a tide as Theo’s body met your own. You tensed and it was like nothing you’d ever felt before, your thighs shook from where they were wrapped around his hips and your hand clawed at his scalp like you could pull yourself up from the fire of hell. But nothing felt better than the flames licking at your skin.

He couldn’t help but feel bus eyes water with tears as he so desperately wanted to scream. His climax hit him like a brick straight to the face, so much that he could hardly feel his own body. He tried to cry out, but it was as though you had complete control over his body as you shared your pleasure like treasured goods.

You felt him still, pushing into you as much as he could. That was when you felt him spill into you, a kind of warmth pouring into you, you realised that he’d just come inside of you, not that you minded. His skin was moist as he slipped his weight on top of you, and every inch of you was now touching him. You could get used to it.

You wondered if his nightly visits would escalate to this in the future. You certainly hoped so.

pt.1