#Scorched Preview

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[dragaliareferencearchive]

Flowers Resplendent on the Sun-Scorched Sojourn - Genshin Impact (2/2)

[celestite-caroline]

still can't believe I got to participate in this zine!! it's gonna be a digital one, hosted by @turbofox-zines :] you can check out their page for more information

[dispatchdcu]

Batman/ Catwoman: The Gotham War - Scorched Earth #1 Preview

Batman/ Catwoman: The Gotham War - Scorched Earth #1 Preview #scorchedearth #gothamwar #battlelines #batman #catwoman #batandcat #tomking #brucewayne #selenakyle #gotham #DC #dccomics #comics #comicbooks #news #DCEU #dcuuniverse #art #NCBD #previews #reviews #Amazon

Batman/ Catwoman: The Gotham War – Scorched Earth #1 Preview: The final chapter of this epic crossover is here, and Batman and his family must find a way to overcome the endgame of an ancient enemy! Can the Bat and the Cat set their differences aside? Is this the end of the Bat-Family? Lives change forever in this action-packed conclusion! Written by CHIP ZDARSKY and TINI HOWARD Art by MIKE…

[gildead]

@dayfourwmv asked:

TACKLES Gold to the ground, locking him in a bear hug. [ CONGRATS ON THE MOD REVIVAL. ]

Gold yelps happily as Ben tackles him, slowly morphing his cry into an infectious giggle as he wraps his sleeves around Ben in his own bear hug. The two roll around on the ground for a while, Gold laughing all the way.

"T-Thank you, Ben!" Gold's voice cracks as he tries to calm himself down, his sleeves flapping in excitement. "I can't believe it's gonna be back for real this time!"

He sits up. "Are you gonna be at Pasta Night again? I think they're gonna change out the song on the jukebox..."

[orphicmusings]

a preview (?) of this | 18+

and he realizes, he could still smell you on his coat. cigarette smoke underneath something sweet. artificial fruity syrup, he guessed, as there was no way that bar had access to fresh produce. his breathing quickens as he puts it back on, unbuckling his pants and leaving the bottom half of his body bare. the only thing worn is the smell of you mixed with him— the coffee and oil grease lingering from working the day away at the lab. he chews down on his lip hard enough to break the skin as he wraps his hand around his length, scolding himself through mumbles and pants. but he turns his head and buries his face in the cool leather collar against his scorching rosy cheeks and groans, something deep, something breathless, something pathetic, something heavy. you’re tucked there, scratching his cheekbone with the scuffed material. you’re there, with your lopsided smile and eye rolls and dexterous fingers and—god, your hands—a sharp inhale of breath, his flushed chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm. the way you say his name so stern, so bitter, with your eyes narrowed almost as a taunt opposed to the nicknames you once held for each other. he would take his name on your lips dripping poison, if it meant having him grace your mouth at all. the thought sprung from his groin to his brain as he made a noise all too unfamiliar to him behind his teeth. he threw his head back as he hit his peak, your smug expression still painted behind his eyes. he can’t wonder what you would think if you saw him like this, a flushed, panting, whimpering, filthy mess, all because of you— he knows he does not have the energy to go another round with his fist tonight.

[tempests-bards-and-birds]

Flowers Resplendent on the Sun-Scorched Sojourn | Preview Page

[1800titz]

LIQUID SMOOTH | Best friend’s dad

age gap. 6.9K on patreon

You tell yourself, it’s not because he’s older— not the way you linger in the crows feet by his crinkling eyes when he beams like sunshine, or the way his hands look (not the way, you know, he knows how to please a woman inside out)— but because he’s him. You tell yourself that you aren’t chasing after the placeholder in the shape of the mangled wound you have (need to fill it), and still spend your time taking insubstantial surveys on the internet— daddy issue symptoms in your search bar. (The results are always the same.) (The downfall, culminated, is that he fills a gap— but you’ll never admit it.)

preview

His mouth is a dogged line under his scruff. Mullish— like even in the insober dew coating his eyes, Harry feels that ripple of the undertow. Wrong— right— you want him to chew into your collarbone. Latch on, never let go. 

Something just for him— anything— trapped in the orbital chimera of an impermissible wet dream, all consuming.

He doesn’t, but he tucks his other hand along the side of your neck— fingers at your nape— palming, swallowing, huge (sacrosanct; you freeze, lungs clotted, and let him, let him, let him—), and he pastes his mouth to your jugular. His stubble scratches an itch that stems from pool parties, your gaze coasting the pool decking to savor a glimpse of his supine shape, thighs split, on a chaise lounge in six-inch inseam trunks. 

It’s wet. Muricate, his tongue drawing a hot, slick line. Hungry, sloppy; a roily forerun to a bastardized rendition of lovemaking. Animalistic, nearly— drooling along your neck before taking a bite.

And you think, maybe— bastardized rendition of lovemaking— he’s going to fuck you like this. Tuck his fat cock deep behind your navel on the creaky couch in the garage, hammer up, in, until you’re mewling, dripping all down his balls. Until your orisons feel like crumbled, shedding stars across your shoulder blades. 

Thinking is a rickety concept. Exhausting, feels like wading through the slush of a knee-deep morass, clinging to bald cypress; conversation starters, what-ifs, contemplating mini-skirts over teeny gym shorts. And you wonder how long he’s felt it too. How long his fingers have been aching to find purchase in your proscribed, soft sinew, how long he’s been waiting to score scorching lines along the column of your throat with his tongue. A while, maybe, you decide. He clings like it’s centuries, scrapes with the blunt flats of his teeth like it’s eons.

You stick to his lap like it’s a plinth, mold around his thighs, split legs, and it’s molten. Fever in the blistering revelation, forbidden, denim rough against the skin bared under the flimsy length of your sleep shorts. He paws at your ass, climbs the stretch of your thigh to seal curvature in a palmful, and under you, he’s achingly hard. It makes you ache.

The way Harry licks a stripe across your throbbing pulse, the soft ridge of your jaw. The way his nose grazes your blistering cheek, still tingling from the liquid courage you found in tequila off the hutch. The way it bumps your own, once, twice, and then his mouth slots to yours. Hungry, wanting— throes tangible in the way you angle your head to let him consume, let him tangle his fingers in at the hair on your crown. Let him lead, roll slick into the gap between your teeth until you taste tequila, tongue, the dirty oneirism in the heat of his bulk under you, finally coming to fruition. Your fingers twist into the fabric under your hands. 

He says your name against your teeth. A surly, gravelly sound, like a cosmogyral confession— everlasting, recurring duplication along stardust, again, and again, and again, in every ulterior crevice of the cosmos where another version of this exists. Meant to—

Be. 

He says it again, like a plea. Eyes creased, crushed nephrite, like he’s begging under the notch of his eyebrows. And he’s still clinging like wet paper, like you’re— 

“Fuck,” Harry slurs. Peels away. Shakes you with the purchase he finds on your shoulders, shoving— away. “We can’t— I’m. Fuck.”

You fall in love with your best friend’s dad along the coast of Hurghada.

A trip you take over the summer months, highlighting the obelisk of an incoming senior year at university, dangling in the misty limbo between semi-childhood and something closer to his own footing. Meddle in the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes when he grins in your direction from under the callused awning of his palm against his brows.

You’re twenty-one, and he’s older. 

The kind of older that’s trussed to the unbudgeable anchor, something that festers under your footing— rooted in an issue that isn’t plaited with the seedy, broken thing inside of you. Something that makes him untouchable, throes in the noose of a friendship you plucked up mid-semester from study sessions at the crack of dawn and overpriced, cardboard coffee cups bought on campus. 

It’s perilous footing— tiptoeing along the crumbling bridge of what this was, what it’s become, and dry rot crackles in the flame that swallows the comfort (irreturnable) of pretending that he doesn’t make your guts itch. That you don’t wallow in the gazes he spares you, that you don’t cherish the nights you spend awake with him in the kitchen when the sky is still everdark, carving a world out of a dyad in the dead of night over murmurs across the peninsula. The shockwave of his eyes on you, his soft, sleepy voice (husky, rumbling), blistering under your skin, whitehot like thunderbolts rippling across the aether. You always pretended that you didn’t go back to your best friend’s hometown, every break off, to soak in the deluge of your derelict obsession, and now—

You face the revelation that you’re in love with him along the coast of Hurghada— cataclysmic, uneasy in the way that this puppy crush has metastasized. Grown staunch, irreversibly loyal, searching for him in every man that looks your way at a bar, miles out of his radius. Trailing across the cobble in a burnt orange alleyway off the nook of bars, latched onto the rigid muscle of his arm, the way your best friend is, on the other side. Only for you, it’s different. So different, for you, it’s—

Sloppy steps, head pasted to the sinew there, eyes half-mast. You tip your chin up and stare—

You realize then, but it starts long before. Starts as an ache in your gums to gnaw in the first time you meet him. Swells in the seal of your bubble when you catch glimpses, collect them, like trinkets— shirtless in the kitchen over the stove when you emerge in the morning, climbing out of the jacuzzi while you’re sprawled on the sunbed, the first time he taught you the geometrics of pool, strategy in the aim, on the table in the garage. So respectful. Abiding, untouchy, daughter’s best friend ingrained like crime-tape scratched into his bones, off limits, to the forerun of every action. 

You fall in love with him somewhere in the gully between Hurghada and peanut butter pancakes, and now—

Now—

Now your stomach is churning, because his hands are cupped around your forearms— brassbound, aborting— pressed to his pecs, and his head is turned to the side like he can’t look at you. Like he doesn’t want to face the origin of the taste on his teeth.

Stupid—

Stupid. Finding debauched bait in vinyls and hard liquor, sleep shorts short enough for his eyes to crawl, wander, loose enough for his fingers to slip under, and now…

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[schluttandco]

𝖶𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖥𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗂˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Highschool!Schlatt x Reader ༉‧₊˚. PREVIEW

Hey! I wrote this twenty chapter fic like 6 months ago and now I'm reworking it⋆.ೃ࿔*:･I am like totally new to Tumblr and this concept genuinely keeps me up at night.

Reader and Schlatt are both eighteen, eventual smut, angst always.

The schools star baseball player and virgin Schlatt can't help but befriend the grunge girl with no friends who has a bit of a reputation.

Schlatt was leant back in his gaming chair, fingers lazily moving over the controller of his Playstation as he focused on the game of Call of Duty in front of him. A great use of his allowance. The noise of something banging against his window drew him out of his technology driven haze, pausing the game to throw open his curtains. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of you, clinging to the trellis that ran the length of his house, a grin painted on your face as you motion for him to open the window.

"Hey there..." You say, with an air of faux casualness. "You come here often?" Schlatt shakes his head at the sight, yout chipped black nails clinging to the wood like an insane person, giving him a stupid grin that made the skin of his palms sweat.

"Ha ha, very funny doll..." He says, with a small huff of laughter. "You're going to break a bone or somethin'." Your face peels into a smirk at that, rolling your eyes at him.

"Wanna go get drunk?" You ask, gesturing to the vodka bottle poking out of the top of your denim shorts. He lets out a small groan, which turns into a nod.

"When don't I wanna get drunk?"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

After scaling the trellis with practised ease, the two of you fall into step with each other. The evening air is cold as you make your way to the small wooden area at the edge of Schlatt's neighbourhood. You settle in the slightly dingy den, which you built in freshman year. It's not much: just a few big sticks tied together with rope, but it was secluded and a good place to get drunk away from the eyes of parents or kids from the neighbourhood.

"You stole the vodka, didn't you?" Schlatt asks, slightly amused as you sit cross legged opposite each other.

"Obviously." You reply with a small smirk, twisting off the cap, taking a swig and then passing him the bottle. "How'd it go after the game?" Schlatt considers the question, taking a sip from the bottle with a small wince.

"Same as every other game, I guess..." He shrugs, passing the bottle back to you.

"Get with Kelsey?" You say, wiggling your eyebrows, taking another sip and sticking out your tongue in disgust. "I overheard her talking about you." He rolls his eyes at that, shaking his head as he lets his back rest against the sticks of the den.

"Nah... she was all over me after the game but I..." He trails off, unable to meet your gaze properly, his fingers playing with the dirt below him. "I ditched her. I guess."

"Still a virgin then?" You grin, passing him the bottle as you place your satchel bag onto the ground in front of you, pulling out a tube containing a joint, taking a moment to fish out the lighter from the bottom.

"Says the one that keeps sleeping with half the seniors in the school." Schlatt bites back, his eyes studying your fingers as they pop open the tube, pulling out the joint and placing it in between your lips. He's mesmerised  by the sight, able to watch over the top of the vodka bottle as the alcohol scorches the back of his throat.

"You calling me a slut, Johnathan Schlatt?" You say with mock offence, lighting the end of the joint. You take a hit, then you pass it to him, watching as he places the vodka bottle haphazardly in between your legs.

"Well..." He hums, taking the joint from in between your fingers. "I'm not wrong, am I?"

"So you are pissed at me for sleeping with Ben then." You say, watching him closely as he exhales a small cloud of smoke.

"I don't care what you do with who doll." Liar.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Chapter One comes tomorrow! Idec if nobody likes this fic, I simply just need to pour out my inner feelings- lmao.

[peachy-writings]

PARADOX [Preview] Viktor x Reader AU

Full one shot here (~_^)

Summary: Reader receives the shock of their life when Viktor essentially materializes into their world, forever altering their version of reality as he tries to get back to his own.

Content Tags: Gender neutral reader with They/Them pronouns (no use of Y/N), Kinda follows S2 Pt. 2 canon, Angsty, Strangers to Friends?

Sulfur.

That tang has always sprinkled pockets of air in the Undercity, to the extent that those dwelling within barely take notice anymore. Therefore, when you do, it takes you by surprise. You glance around the room, troubled. Had the ventilation system halted? Or worse—had Piltover’s best decided to poison your already polluted oxygen with sewage, or something similarly offensive? And then a sharp, metallic singe punches you square in the nose. So sudden that your eyes squash shut, overwhelmed.

After taking a moment to reorient, you are shocked by the sight of a man scorched onto the coarse floorboards of your shabby homestead. Like a meteor had cannoned through the building, but a cursory glance upward reveals no such destruction.

Even more curious is the man’s appearance; he is a sinewy splat, draped in a white robe, crumpled on his side and perfectly pristine. Despite the edges of his garment and the surrounding space having been kissed with char. Mahogany tresses cover most of his pale face, shifting over sharp peaks as he stirs to consciousness. All the while, you are struck statuesque with bewilderment and a whisper of utter captivation.

How?

Who?

Why?

The stranger groans, a hand coming up to soothe his head that must be pounding from such a sudden entrance. Amber eyes blink open slowly into a squint. Confusion, then some kind of realization has his eyes widening when they meet your own. Your expression must match his as the two of you scrutinize one another, a pregnant pause scribbling the walls of your mind with even more questions that you cannot fathom one single answer to.

“Tell me…” He breaks the silence with an accent that tells you he is a Zaunite, in spite of such an odd appearance for this origin. “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” you reply softly, cautiously. And then your walls come up, as though your subconscious punches an internal panic button. No matter how otherworldly this materialization has been, this is still a stranger. “You better explain whatever the hell this is before I manually eject you from my home.”

A nimble hand reaches for the nearest weapon: a knife you’d left out on the counter to be washed. In his direct line of sight, you hold the flat of the blade against your thigh, posed to get rid of any threat quickly and efficiently.

“There is no need for that.” He says your name. Your real, given name. You almost don’t react since it’s been eons since the last time you’ve heard it said aloud. That hand at your side clenches the hilt of the blade—Not in anger, but petrification. “You don’t seem to know me in this timeline. I promise I am not here to hurt you, but to ask for your help. You are the only person I can trust.”

“How do you know my name, and what do you mean by in this timeline?” You take a step backward, bumping into the counter and jolting when the rough surface meets your clammy skin.

“I will answer all of your questions, but first,” he clears his throat. “May I have some water?”

Viktor nation, please let me know what you think! I’m still working on the full one shot and should have it out by the end of next week.

[kingdomcomicscenter-blog]

[dragaliareferencearchive]

Flowers Resplendent on the Sun-Scorched Sojourn - Genshin Impact (1/2)

[feyhunter78]

HOTD Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen:

OC fics: Poisoned Tears and Scorched Tongues Series ⇾ Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, read the rest of the chapters here!! Look of Love 💕 Reader Inserts: But Darling (I'd Still Die For You) The Prince and His Musician 💕 Tourney Injuries and a Proposal Study Sessions You Know Other Men??🔥 💕 Fantasies and Restraint🔥 Spy!Aemond Headcanons The Despair of a Dragon's Wife💕 Liquid Lust🔥 Sub!Aemond🔥 Y/N's Birthday🔥 The Prince's Chambers🔥 Think I'm Gonna Call it Off ⇾ Cregan Stark X Reader X Aemond When the Night Turns From Dragon Shores🔥 Multichapter: The Scar on Your Palm (and the One on Mine)💕 Pt 2💕 The Innocent's Folly Masterlist (Finished!) The Trial of Tributes Masterlist (Finished/find on AO3)

Helaena and Jacaerys:

Moonflowers Series💕 ⇾ Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, read the rest here! Soulmate AU ⇾ Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7 (Finished!)

Jacaerys Velaryon:

Reader Inserts:

The Servant who would be Queen 💕

Aegon II Targaryen:

Hold My Heart (Between Your Teeth) ⇾ Masterlist (on hiatus)

Reader Inserts:

Perils of Kindness and Lust🔥 Pt 2🔥 The Maester's Assistant 💕 Angel in the Marketplace 🔥💕 A Maid's Obsession 🔥

Multi Characters:

Apprentice!reader ⇾ Masterlist Bowling with the Modern!Targs HC Arcade Games with the Modern!Targ boys HC Sex Pollen with the Targ Boys🔥 Turn of the Tide, Call of the Sea ⇾ Masterlist (on hiatus)

Long Fics:

Targaryen Inc, Modern Au💕 ⇾ Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, read the other chapters here!!!

The Dowager Queen ⇾ Preview, series masterlist💕 Orange Blossoms (Alicent x Criston) Ch 2, Ch 3 (find more on my AO3) Vervain and Wolfsbane - Vamp AU ⇾ Ch 1, Ch 2 (find more on my AO3)

[genshin-impact-updates]

"Flowers Resplendent on the Sun-Scorched Sojourn" Version 5.0 Events Preview - Phase I

Hello, Traveler~ Version 5.0 is coming! Let's take a look at what kind of events will be in this new Version update~

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Focus On Me Pt. Two - Chan + Felix

(this is a membership exclusive + a preview 👀 you can read the whole dirty story here)

pairing: roommates! Chan + Felix x fem! reader

summary: weeks have gone by since Chan accidentally filmed you and Felix. He hasn't watched the tape or even talked to Felix about it. Until one night, the two of you invite Chan out for drinks and drunken confessions.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, threesome, oral(m.rec), overstimulation, cum swallowing, slight dacryphilia

“Get a few drinks in you and you’re an open book.” Felix teased, his smile dipping down into his glass as he took another swig of his beer.

Chan smiled softly. His ears were already burning at the tips as he glanced across the table at you. The image of Felix slamming away inside of you was still scorched into the folds of his brain.

Pervert. Pervert. Pervert.

Chan scolded himself again and again as he watched the two of you laugh and make light, easy conversation. His eyes followed your hand as you pushed back a strand of Felix's hair. There was something so intimate in sharing a meal with the two of you. Like he was a part of this secret club. There were only three members in this club and Chan had recorded two of them fucking. Why hadn’t he deleted the tape? It’s not like he had watched it over and over or anything. He hadn’t even touched that video camera since that night. He mindlessly ran his thumb over the glass bottle of his beer, still picturing that perfect arch in your back just as Felix had slid his-

“You okay, Chan?” you said, your voice temporarily breaking through his pornographic thoughts.

“Yeah! Yeah… I’m good.”

Felix smirked and leaned his chest over the table towards Chan. “You seem distracted. Got anything on your mind?”

Chan’s eyes shot up to Felix. It was the way Felix had said mind. Like he knew something. Chan could feel his heart starting to pound like a drum in his chest. Did he know something?

Too many drinks later and the three of you find yourselves on the living room couch deciding on a movie to watch. You comfortably positioned yourself between Chan and Felix. The warmth of both of their bodies enveloped you perfectly as you sunk deeper into the couch cushions. You lazily turned your head towards Chan, a mischievous smile creeping at the corners of your mouth.

“It’s okay, you know.” You whispered.

Chan pulled his attention from the television and looked down at you. “What’s okay?” he asked.

You lifted yourself off the couch a bit and leaned into Chan’s ear. Your lips lightly brushed against his earlobe as you spoke. “We know. We know you watched us.”

[livinginshambles]

Preview: How much are we worth? | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was just a bet trope - you're not sure what hurt more, being a bet, or how little they bet on you.

Masterlist

_____________

In hindsight, you should've known.

"Have you maybe considered giving up on her?" Remus' question caught James off guard when he returned to the marauders at the Gryffindor table after another failed attempt and rejection by Lily.

"Not until she's given me a chance at least," James responded, eyes trained on Lily's retreating figure. "Besides, this chasing game is sort of our thing now."

The marauders nodded sceptically.

"Not particularly the dynamic I'd want to have with the person I fancy," Peter whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. James shot him a look as if Peter had just committed the greatest betrayal of the century.

Sirius snorted out loud. "Dynamic, my ass, yeah." He threw a piece of bread across the table in James' direction.

"He's stuck with Lily now because if he decides to chase some other poor girl and inevitably get rejected, it'll prove that James Potter just can't get some," he added, wearing a shit eating grin on his face.

James pulled a face at Sirius. "Oh please, I can get girls. It's just that contrary to you, I actually show commitment to only one," he huffed.

Sirius shrugged. "You say that, but you've never even had a girlfriend. Been pining over Evans since first year. Besides, commitment or being stuck," he weighed his hands in the air. "Same same."

James rolled his eyes and got up. When he turned around, he crashed into someone who had been standing behind him, tripping her, and he sent her crashing into the Ravenclaw table behind him.

The Ravenclaw sitting at that table ducked out of the way. She stuck her hands out to brace herself and loudly hissed when her hand ended up in someone's scalding soup.

"Godric, I am so sorry," James scrambled to offer her a napkin. She snatched it out of his hands and dried her hands. James saw that they were scorching red, and more apologies stumbled out of his mouth.

"Let me help you get to madam Pomfrey," he offered, concern lacing his tone. He reached his hand out to her, and she jerked away.

"Fuck off Potter, I'd rather take a bloody bath in boiling water than go anywhere with you." She spat, and left, hand pressed against her chest, covered by the napkin.

The commotion had everyone turn their heads at him, and despite usually being a fan of being at the centre of attention, he embarrassedly sat down again.

"Guess really no girl wants to go anywhere with you, Prongs," Sirius snickered. James offered him a sour look.

"This was just because I literally burned her hand, Pads. Any other time, she would totally go out with me." James boasted, but guilt and concern for the girl who he didn't know, lingered in his mind.

"Right, you wanna bet?"

"The usual?"

"The usual."

They sealed the deal with a nod. Peter and Remus shared a look, but they knew that was no use trying to tell them to stop it already. Remus thought back to the scowl on the girl's face and prayed that she would stay headstrong and reject James.

After all, Sirius and James were from wealthy families, so money has never actually played a role during these bets. It's just the principle of it that counts and is the reason why they only ever bet one galleon. It meant someone would get hurt.

Full fic