#a lil bite of a fic!

[sun-snatcher]

Your take of Círdan being an old man who enjoys pestering people is my absolute fave bc yeah if I was the oldest elf alive I'd be a little shit half the time too for funzies

( credits to the lovely @peregrintook for this beautiful gifset ! )

✵ — WATER-DAMAGED!

summ.  Elrond arrives at Círdan’s workshop. He finds his heart instead. or:  The Herald and the Artisan fall in love. pairing.  elrond peredhel / f!reader  w.count.  1.2k (a lil baby!) a/n.  set in s2e1, friends-to-lovers kinda , fluff galore , mutual pining , Círdan being a thirdwheel (but highkey enjoying it because he’s a little shit like that)

       YOU’RE QUICK TO attempt to bundle Elrond up like a child when he’d arrived. 

Frantic, almost, at the sight of Lindon’s renowned Herald— drenched to the bone, head-to-toe, and dripping river water from his mess of curls, leaving puddles and a wet track wherever he went on the stone of the workshop.

“He’s not here yet,” is what you’d said, when he’d urged you for Master Círdan. The shipwright had gone off to appraise proper timber for the frames of the vessels prepared for Valinor, now that High King Gil-Galad has decreed preparations to set sail. 

“But he should return by nightfall, latest. So will you please sit down, Elr—”

“I cannot,” he overrides, wholly unconvincing through the chatter of his teeth. “You’ll be at risk if I stay.”

You blink. “…From who?”

“I—”

In the distance, a horse whinnies. 

Elrond tenses instantly.

“…Are you— hiding?” you realise, as he springs to his feet to make headway for the sidedoors. “Elrond, wait!”

“Thank you, truly, for your kindness, but I cannot allow the King’s Guard—”

“That was just Silef,” you say incredulously, muscling the door back shut and stubbornly standing in his way. “My mare, remember? From the stables just uphill?” 

A pause. 

He listens with pricked ears: gates of a stable door squeaking; hooves clopping from paddock ground onto pasture grass; the sound of grain and feed being chewed on, after a moment's pass. A notable absence of marching Elven armour and feet stamping its way downhill towards him. 

Just Silef. You’re right. He’d been paranoid. 

“Á quildessë, Elrond,” comes your quiet voice, gentler now as you chase to meet his anxious gaze. “I will make sure no one comes into this workshop, unless it’s Master Círdan himself,” you assure, resting your hands on his forearms. “Just please, sit down. You’re shaking.” 

…He is. He hadn’t even realised. 

It might have been adrenaline, or the bite of the cold from wind and water— but he’s trembling, nonetheless, like a leaf. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, much, much later, when you’d stoked the coals of the workshop hearth to life, and set him upon a wooden seat beside it.

From the open foyer of the atelier, the sea-reflected hues of the setting sun does little to hide the tentative worry in your features. Your voice is as gentle as the lap of tidewater. “There’s nothing to apologise for.”

“I shouldn’t have… barged in.” 

I shouldn’t have involved you in the first place, and put you at risk for treason for harboring a dissenter.

The firelight paints your face in soft, flickering licks of ochre as you tenderly dry off the dampness in his hair, the water trickling down his face. “You were afraid,” you reason generously.

(You don’t tell him that he looks adorably… pitiful. With eyes like that of a kicked puppy, almost. Even worse that he looks half-drowned.)

Elrond doesn’t argue. You’ve always been a kind friend to him. So, so kind. Ever-ready and steadfast to extend an olive branch, impervious to tactlessness, or even offence, from the sheer tenacity of your patience. Elrond has always admired you for it. Elrond has always—

Liked you. Cared. Loved.

(Too much to allow himself to let you get caught in this tangle he’s been forced into.)

He lays a hand over yours, and you pause mid-wipe of a droplet down his lined jaw. His eyes are shut briefly, as if falling into the comfort of your touch— candid indulgence. It makes your heart stutter.

That you’re allowed a quiet moment to admire him this close, so much so you can see the rings of sundering blue in his eyes; or to touch him this affectionately, so much so you could feel the very change of temperature on his skin— 

You think you’ve been blessed with a handsome vision by the Valar themselves.

“You must be curious,” he says, voice a low murmur. His palm swallows yours entirely. His fingers are warm by now. (You shouldn’t notice such details— but you do. You’re an artisan, after all. Or perhaps hopeless romantic is a better suited term?) “But this is beyond even me.”

He slides your hand down, much to your dismay, and uncurls the pouch he’s been clutching onto since he arrived. Now that it’s infront of you, there’s a pull to it you can’t quite understand.

You reach, almost too keenly— 

—but you close his fingers around it instead.

If Elrond had shown any surprise, you didn’t notice. 

“Must be why you’ve sought out Master Círdan,” you muse, looking up at him. “If it’s beyond you, it’s most certainly beyond me, a mere shipwright’s apprentice.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Elrond adds quickly, realising how he must have come across. 

“I know,” you laugh, before he can take off into a tangent. (It’s bright and musical to Elrond’s ears— thinks if he could drown in its sound, he would have done so willingly.) “You forget I know you.”

Not entirely, he doesn’t say. You don’t know how much my heart sings to be near you. How much your presence— or the very thought of you, even— have always brought comfort to me. 

You don’t know how much I’ve been resisting the urge to kiss you since you first sat me down by the fire.

He feels a little smile coming, the kind he couldn’t help, that would light his whole face whenever he cast his gaze on you. “You do, don’t you?” he whispers, voice sinking into something almost— nostalgic, at the sudden unravelling of old memories shared with you throughout the age.

“Well, when it comes to Kingdom politicians…” you shrug teasingly. “As much as I’m allowed to be privy to.”

He barely laughs, too busy looking at you with rapt, reverent attention. It curls a timidness in your heart. “You are allowed all of me. Always.”

Something takes wing in your chest. Butterflies, maybe. Doves taking flight in your ribcage. 

As are you, to me.

At least, that's what you would’ve said, had your ears not caught the distant clop of hooves headed downwind towards the river edge. “Master Círdan is here,” you say instead, diverted. You recognise the huff of his steed anywhere.

You watch Elrond perk up and tune into the approach: the rustle of saddle and stirrups, the shuffle of robes and footsteps. When the doors squeak open and shut, the Kingdom’s shipwright finds the Kingdom’s herald standing in the heart of his own workshop.

“Elrond,” he says, by way of greeting. There’s naught a hint of surprise in his voice— Círdan had felt a call louder than the sea long before he’d arrived, and now he can understand it’s carried in the herald’s charge. “Have you come to seek a certain apprentice of mine?” he asks, regardless.

It’s playful. Knowing.

“He seeks you, Master Círdan,” you answer politely, rounding from the corner where you’d grabbed your spare pelerine cloak to pass to Elrond. “Here, to keep warm.”

“Thank you.”

You bow your head to them both. “I shall be at the lighthouse just across.”

Your fingertips brush against Elrond’s hand as you leave. It tarries; merely a millisecond— enough, however, for Círdan’s keen eyes to catch— before he watches you depart through the sidedoors to give them the privacy they needed. 

Elrond's hand flexes reflexively. Longingly.

A beat passes.

“…Are you sure it is still me you seek?” Círdan muses, brows shot to his hairline.

The tips of Elrond’s ears burn. 

[starry-bi-sky]

The first time disciple Shen Yuan/Shen Qingqiu meets Liu Qingge, it is during a Bai Zhan peak raid. And what ends up happening is that Shen Qingqiu gets kicked in the jaw with such force he feels his teeth clack together unpleasantly. And frustrated with his situation, the system, and quite frankly a ton of other little things that have been building up over the course of the last few weeks, he feels something snap in the back of his mind like that of a rubber band after being stretched too far.

What ends up happening is that Shen Qingqiu turns and locks onto the very first figure he can see that is dressed in grey-and-white like a homing missile, and then with the force of a twin-tailed mountain tiger, lunges towards said figure with an equally menacing snarl.

He ends up taking the Bai Zhan peak disciple by utter surprise, and they both collide into the ground in a tangle of angry yelling and limbs. What ends up happening is that Liu Qingge gets the subsequent wind knocked out of him and pinned into the dirt by a Qing Jing peak disciple who is filled with the might and fury of a scholar having their peaceful afternoon interrupted and a once-grown-man re-experiencing puberty.

It is with that might and fury that Liu Qingge meets the wild, frenzied eyes of Shen Qingqiu, with his lips pulled back into a truly ferocious scowl. Shen Qingqiu hisses out, with such force it makes his voice rasp, as if he might as well sink his teeth into Liu Qingge's throat and rip it out; "Get the fuck off my mountain."

Liu Qingge is so shocked by -- well, quite a many things, but most importantly the fact that he has been pinned, and the way the sun is bouncing off this boy's face, -- that his brain needs five seconds to reboot. It's five seconds too long, because by the time he registers what just happened, Shen Yuan has clambered off him and disappeared. Gone and thrown himself into the closest dust cloud scuffling in order to unleash the rest of his fury on the other Bai Zhan Peak kids.

Qing Jing Peak experiences an unfortunate uptick in Bai Zhan disciple visits -- specifically of the Liu Qingge variety. Specifically Liu Qingge, actually. Who very much wants to find the boy that managed to get one over on him and demand a rematch. (Or maybe kiss him.)

[faewoozi]

--- insomnia ft! woozi x reader ( 18+ )

summary: you need to pull an all-nighter for a contest in order to win a brand new car. your neighbor jihoon is the king of insomniacs and vows to do whatever it takes to keep you awake.

♡ pairing: neighbor! jihoon x fem! reader

♡ genre: smut ( the plot is razor thin lol )

♡ rating: 18+

♡ word count: 4.5k or so

♡ this work feats: oral ( giving & receiving ), unprotected sex, cream pie, rough sex, slight distracted sex, mild biting, mild edging, please if you need me to tag anything else let me know.

"we've got everything set up. now remember the rules. a picture has to be uploaded of your face within two minutes of whenever we message you and a video message has to be sent when we send the notification. the contest resumes now from 7pm until 7am the next morning. we've already verified that you've been awake since ten this morning. only the person you put down on the list is allowed to come over -- and so there's no cheating we've set up a little camera outside as well. other than that let the contest begin!"

the producer hung up from the video call and you found yourself staring at the array of sugary snacks and coffee drinks on the table in front of you. this was going to be difficult. you were a in bed by nine type. sleep meant more to you than most things, usually because of the grueling twelve hour shifts you worked. tiredness had already begun weighing on you and the contest had only really been going half the day which didn't bode well. now you had finally entered the home stretch but it would mean nothing if you failed. for two weeks

you'd been forced to rideshare to work and you hated it. you hadn't been on time since because of it, which left you pretty desperate for a new car. the old one had finally decided to quit and the pennies you'd gotten for it were hardly enough to pay the rent. in your desperation you signed up for this contest a friend sent over in jest. because internet contest could not be trusted. at worst you'd fail and would return to saving towards a new vehicle. or it'd be a scam that led you to waste your time. at best you'd win a new car and have a cool story to tell.

what did you have to lose? the contest had been going all week. you breezed through almost all the challenges given to you unaware until today that they had been drawn up specifically to wear you out. this was the ultimate test -- after many a game of marathons and treasure hunts exhaustion had set in. now you had to fight through all that to the finish line and luckily you weren't required to do it alone. you were allowed one other person who might be able to assist with keeping you awake. to avoid liabilities the producers said. and after thinking about it a few days there was really only one candidate for the job. you definitely weren't calling in family or best friends in on this. they'd make you fail just because it was funny.

jihoon, your neighbor was an expert insomniac. you were pretty sure what little sleep he did get happened in ten minute intervals. there had never been a time where the sound of the car door closing hadn't made him appear unless he wasn't home. it was like a pavlovian response. a car door would close and look there's jihoon in the window waving. it happened when you left for work in the morning. when you came home from a late night out. it even happened that one time you went to urgent care at like four am. like clockwork there he'd be, saying hi or offering to come over and hang out. the urgent care incident actually resulted in him driving you there because he couldn't sleep anyway. so naturally what better partner to have for the contest than someone who didn't seem to need sleep?

jihoon promised once he got home around eleven he'd head straight to your place and help you through the whole thing. you informed him that he'd need to bring whatever tricks he had up his sleeve because you were exhausted and he swore he had the best remedy for keeping you focused and alert. he didn't elaborate and a part of you felt extremely nervous. what if he wanted you to do something insane? ice baths had come up in conversation with him once. it was too late to ponder on bad decision making and vague promises though because you had to check in with the producers. pajama shorts were thrown on. emergency alarms were set. and as required you sent the message and performed the video call. first few hours down.

11pm.

“you can’t be serious!” jihoon stood in the entrance of your place staring at you utterly confused and slightly amused in a t-shirt and shorts.

“about what? i just got here.” he questioned, smoothing his hair back and brushing past you into the kitchen.

“you said you had dozens of ways to keep me awake! yet you show up empty handed. did you forget?” you were doing your absolute best to remain calm, he was doing you a favor after all. arguing was a sure fire way to have him turn around and say screw it. but you needed this car and he didn’t have so much as a backpack on him.

“one — there are no rules that say i can’t go back home to get what i need. i do live right next door. two — who says i don’t have everything i need right here?” he gestured vaguely to himself and with hands full of at least five different things from the fridge he made himself comfortable on the couch. you trailed after him even more confused because what in the world did that mean? he was making zero sense. 

“ohhh-kayyyy are you planning on sitting on my head or something because i’m pretty sure i’ll actually pass out. which is the opposite of what we want.”

this prompted him to smile, his head falling back against a couch cushion as he made himself comfortable. he propped his legs up and set his phone against them. "just tell me when you're getting tired. i've got a plan."

classic jihoon vagueness. great. you took a seat next to him, face twisted in thought as you considered having him help you now or later. you would choose now. only because you wanted to see if putting stock in him would be worth it. or if you needed desperately to chug as much caffeine as possible without sending yourself into cardiac arrest. then you'd know how to play the rest of the night. if he was going to be no help it was better to know now. "fine. I'm feeling tired now. right now." you said, shit eating grin in place. jihoon glanced at you and nodded setting his phone to the side. if he was annoyed he didn’t show. in fact he looked almost…eager but once he caught you looking he schooled his face back to being as neutral and nonchalant as it normally was.

"alright. come here." jihoon gestured for you to come sit next to him on the couch with an authoritative crook of his finger. you did as instructed and he eased himself down onto the floor to your confusion. popping up on his knees. without warning he took hold of your left leg throwing it over his shoulder and his free hand came to grip your right thigh. "you seem awake now. are you focused? alert?" he asked with laughter in his voice, no doubt because you were in absolute shock. frozen in place just letting him maneuver your leg over his shoulder as if this was a casual thing you two did everyday. this was NOT a part of the plan. jihoon was attractive -- this could not be denied -- but he always seemed…unattainable. you were friends and neighbors sure, and there had been that one time you both came ridiculously close to sleeping together but jihoon lived a busy life. after that night it didn't seem likely to happen it again. things had only resulted in a make out session. after that there just never seemed to be enough time. and jihoon seemed as if maybe he lost interest but it was always incredibly difficult to tell. jihoon liked holding all his cards close to the chest. it was hard to tell what he was thinking sometimes and that couldn't ring more true than right in this moment. because no one could’ve predicted this. "you're not answering me." he chastised in a sing sing voice.

he flashed a smile, and then let his teeth scrape along the length of your thigh. he did this for several moments testing the feel of it in different areas until he found a spot he liked. his tongue slid across the area in one languid stroke. then his teeth sunk into your skin and you could feel his tongue swirl around where he'd just bitten you sucking on the spot gently to soothe the pain. you should probably tell him to stop. there was a brief attempt to stifle a moan on your end because that would be embarrassing right? but jihoon pulled back -- his gaze was more intense than you'd ever seen it before. "how am I supposed to know you're awake if I can't hear you?" his mouth moved to a different spot on your thigh and his teeth were out again, ready to mark somewhere different. 

"wait!" you said in a panic attempting to wrest back control of the situation. jihoon paused, eyebrows raised in question. "what are you doing?" you demanded lamely, because you had no idea what else to say. this was beyond the scope of how you imagined the night would go.

"keeping you awake." jihoon answered. "do you not want me to?" that was a loaded question if there ever was one. on the one hand, in the light of day thinking back on this would undoubtedly have you either cringing or horny. it's not that you didn't want him to. just -- your brain zeroed out. what reason was there to stop this? considering it almost happened once before. clearly this was his way of saying the attraction hadn't faded. but there was saying it, and then there was this.

jihoon let out a small sigh, he seemed slightly impatient -- he slid from beneath your leg and resumed his position on the couch with a shrug when you didn't answer right away. "let me know If you get tired again."

12am.

your eyes felt heavy. you took a sip from the coffee mug in your hand. you put way too much creamer in it, mainly because you'd been distracted. a little hickey had begun to form on your thigh where jihoon left his mark. you couldn't stop glancing at it. you couldn't stop thinking about the feel of his teeth on your skin. he seemed relatively unbothered by the whole affair. falling right back to normal like he sucked on thighs at random whenever. he sent you funny videos. took pictures with you to send to his friends. made you listen to a song he wrote and ordered food when his snack pile ran out. you spent that entire time in search of some sign that you weren't losing your mind. worst of all was that he wasn't letting the idea of helping you go. every once in awhile he'd glance up at you and ask. "tired?" to which you'd promptly blurt out you were fine.

you were not fine. you were tired. and the coffee wasn't helping. being on high alert was draining you faster than anything else at this point. you needed to relax. so your neighbor and friend decided the best way to help you was immediately to get a little sexual. was that so bad? it was working! you were certainly wide awake. it also helped that said friend and neighbor was attractive. he smelled good. and even that brief encounter with his mouth promised he had a skillset you would thoroughly enjoy if you let him continue. if this happened and then nothing else ever happened again that would be okay right? it would be devastating and mildly mortifying. but good decisions are not made at 12:32 am. it didn't have to be awkward. you wouldn’t have to move and never show your face again. of course not. if nothing else jihoon was respectful. he didn’t push. he didn’t prod. he asked a simple question every now and again and you just needed to give a simple answer. yes. or no.

“tired?” as if reading your mind, jihoon was staring at you.

slowly you nodded your head. “yeah. I think I am. can you help?”

“of course.” for a moment nothing happened. jihoon just stared, you could see the gears turning in his head as he looked you over. his gaze drifted slowly across your bare thighs, lingered between your legs, up your stomach, across your chest and on your neck. this was not a gentle stare. this was a smouldering inspection. a predator picking where to begin the hunt. this was dangerous, but the door had been opened and you were much too curious to close it now. how far was he willing to take this? how far would you allow it to go? his staring had finally caught up to your face and it seemed he had made a decision. he stood crossing over to where you sat in an armchair — much too nervous to join him on the couch after the thigh hickey — and the his finger was under your chin. he tilted your head up as he crouched down slightly his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

he watched you through half-closed eyes as his lips caressed yours. you responded with total submission—mouth open, body limp, fingers digging into his scalp in a sad attempt to control yourself.  he was going to drive you crazy. the taste of his mouth, his scent, his warm body against yours, the barely perceptible sound of longing he made in the back of his throat. his tongue brushed your lip. your body tensed as if you’d been struck by lightning. he withdrew his tongue, coaxing it into your mouth with gentle strokes. you eagerly followed, caressing his lips with the tip of your tongue, and then touched your tongue with his. when his tongue tentatively caressed yours in return, your eyes drifted closed. after several moments, he pulled away and gazed at you in the low light coming from overhead.

“tired?” his voice held a heat and he seemed to be physically keeping himself from diving right back onto your mouth, not that you wouldn’t welcome it.

“no. i’m awake.” you answered. he nodded taking your hand, he kissed the inside of your wrist gently. he flicked his tongue against the inside of your wrist suggestively while looking up at you. your fingers curled involuntarily and your nipples hardened beneath your thin t-shirt. seemingly satisfied with that response, jihoon stood to his feet and returned back to the couch.

“let me know when you’re feeling tired again.”

1am.

okay. this was kind of wild. the plan was working. you'd successfully checked in dozen of times and so far so good. you definitely weren’t tired. how could you be? somehow jihoon had set every nerve in your body on fire and if he didn’t put said fire out you would explode. or at the very least jump him as if things weren’t already deranged enough. but he had put you under some spell. because you had spent the last hour obsessing over the way he kissed you. it had been tender, and hot, and deeply sensual. the awkwardness no longer revolved around the fact that he was completely okay with kissing you in a variety of places apparently; no, now the awkwardness came because even though you certainly weren’t tired at all you were going to pretend otherwise. you brought your hand to your mouth pretending to stifle a yawn as you and jihoon stared at some horrific movie on the tv. he shifted from where he’d been leaning against the arm of the couch.

“you seem tired.” he stated looking you over as if to visually confirm this assessment. you couldn’t brag about your acting skills but damn it you were going to do your best. you let your body slump some like it was too heavy to hold up and pretended to yawn once again.

“mm, i guess so. can you help?” you were peeking at him in earnest, all innocence and desperation. whatever he saw was enough to have him scooting closer to you, and you certainly weren’t going to let him see how happy that made you. instead you stiffened, that was real — because he had just pushed your legs apart and settled himself in between them. 

heat trailed up the side of your neck as he leaned in. a gentle suction just under your ear drew a shudder from your body. you gave yourself over to the feel of his mouth against your skin and the warm strength of his hard body on top of yours. the backs of his fingers brushed over the bare skin just beneath your navel. your body tensed with need. his fingers slid beneath the waistband of your panties, teasing curls of hair as he sought your clit. swollen. how had he gotten you so worked up so quickly? his fingers stroked you with the speed, pressure, and rhythm required to bring you to orgasm in seconds. that was a skill you hadn't expected. he moved swift, not hesitating for a moment as he rubbed at the sensitive bud while still kissing and sucking at your neck.

you moaned as your body convulsed with release. you’d  never climaxed so quickly in your life. you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, to seek his mouth with yours while reaching for him. your hand finding the warm skin of his arm. he sat back on his haunches and pulled his shirt off over his head. somewhere in the background of your breathing you heard your phone. you should probably respond, there was a car to think about after all. but then again his hand was suddenly cupping your breast through your shirt. and the car was the last thing on your mind.

you smiled and your hand slid between both your bodies, cupping his erection through his pants. oh yes, well endowed indeed. your entire body throbbed. jihoon caught your hand to prevent you from stroking him, but didn’t move it away.

“i’m supposed to be keeping you awake.” he said, attempting to resume what he was doing.

“this is keeping me awake. i’m not tired at all.” you stated before catching yourself. jihoon raised an eyebrow at you.

“well if you’re not tired then maybe…”

“if we stop, the moment i win this car i will use it to run you over.” you threatened clearly unhappy with the idea of pausing things here. you scrambled backwards grabbing your phone and took a moment to send the reply and performed the requisite video call with only seconds to spare all the while still holding jihoon's cock in hand as if letting it go might give him the idea to end things here. once you set your phone down, he gently pried your hand free. still shirtless, he rose to his feet. he was walking backwards right to your bedroom with full expectation for you to follow.

“where are you going?”

“to the bed. i’m tired now. i think you were planning on a way to keep me up.” he said in a teasing voice and you were on your feet in moments. jihoon had impressed you with his skill set. you were prepared to return the favor.

2am.

he was waiting on the edge of the bed. waiting to see what you would do. you wasted no time dropping to your knees as you unfastened his belt buckle and untied the drawstring on his shorts before freeing his cock from the confines of his boxers. at the sight of his thick erection, your pussy twitched with longing. you couldn’t wait to taste him, to run your tongue along the rim of the enlarged head. you tore your gaze from his cock to look at him. his face had gone slightly red. he was breathing heavy in anticipation. his hand came up gently settling on the top of your head. he carded his fingers tenderly through your hair. no pressure -- he could wait.

you kissed the tip, sucking one side gently, and then moved away to peel his shorts and boxers off in one sweep. you paused, glancing up at jihoon uncertainly. he had propped a pillow against the headboard and leaned back, spreading his legs, trusting you with his most sensitive areas without hesitation.

“what’s wrong?” jihoon asked gently stroking your arm as you climbed up onto the bed. “it’s okay if you don’t want to…”

but you did want to. you ran your hands up the insides of his thighs and spread his legs further apart. you cupped his balls in one hand, finding them full and tight, the skin cool to the touch. jihoon gasped. gently you raked your fingernails over his scrotum, and then lowered your head to draw the loose skin into your mouth, sucking and licking his flesh until his entire body tensed. you nipped the wrinkled skin with your teeth. jihoon jerked.

“shit.” the word came out half a moan and half a hiss.

when his body relaxed again, you lifted your head and took his cock in your mouth, sucking him deep into your throat. you swallowed. jihoon groaned. you sucked hard as you pulled back, and rubbed the rim of the head with your tongue before drawing away completely. jihoon grunted in protest when he fell free of your mouth. you blew a breath of cool air over the moistened tip. he sucked a breath through his teeth. you hummed in satisfaction, and then lowered your head to suck on the skin of his scrotum again.

you released his flesh from your mouth and touched his cock with your fingertips. it jumped in response.

“please,” he begged. “suck me. god. please.” you lowered your head further, tonguing the crease of skin between his balls once more in answer before moving to take his cock in your mouth.

you cupped his balls in one hand, massaging gently as you drew his cock in and out of your mouth, applying the most suction at its head as you let it fall from your lips, and then you’d take it within again. by the hitch in his breathing, you could tell he was close. you wanted him to come in your mouth. wanted to taste him. swallow him. make his body spasm with release. you drew back and bobbed your head up and down rapidly as you sucked. your lips bumped over the sensitive rim faster and faster. one hand held the base of his cock firmly so you could concentrate on your technique, the other continued to massage his balls gently. his groans of pleasure encouraged you to suck harder, move faster. his hand on your head was gentle but keeping you in place. the order was clear. do. not. stop.

you knew he was holding back a bit, selfishly trying to prolong his pleasure. you didn’t mind. you loved a challenge. you wriggled your tongue against the underside of his cock as you sucked him deep. when he was buried deep in your throat again, you hummed softly and hollowed out your cheeks increasing in tempo again. that was all it took. he grabbed your hair as his hips bucked off the mattress and he bathed the back of your throat with his cum.

you smiled, sucking him and swallowing his offering until he stopped spurting. when his body went limp, you released his cock from your mouth and collapsed beside him, breathing hard to catch your breath.

“you seem awake now. focused. alert.” you teased, throwing his earlier words back at him. but jihoon wasn’t laughing. something dark had come over his face and he rolled over pulling you towards him. you let out a surprised yelp as he hovered over you pinning you in place. he stripped you of your shirt and shorts, pressing you down flat on your back. he stroked your nipple with his fingertips, drawing it to a hardened bud. he lowered his head, flicked the taunt tip with his tongue and then sucked it into his mouth. he sucked hard, stroking the underside of your nipple and breast with his tongue.

you let out a soft gasp. he repeated the treatment again. his mouth left a trail of wet kisses along the underside of your breast as he alternated between them. his tongue trailed across your ribs to the center of your stomach, and then down to your navel. he dipped his tongue into your bellybutton rhythmically, causing a flood of heat between your thighs. you throbbed with need, craving that thrusting rhythm within. you found yourself biting your lip so none of that came up and out in the frenzy of pleasure jihoon was doling out.

he wrapped a hand around each leg, just above your knees and spread your legs wide. his hair brushed the insides of your thighs as he lowered his head. he sucked your clit into his mouth and stroked it with the tip of his tongue. so his hands. his mouth. both weapons. clearly a man of many talents. jihoon licked and sucked without hesitation seemingly enjoying himself as his hand spread across your stomach holding you firmly in place. your pussy throbbed in protest of its neglect. you wanted him inside you so bad. his big, beautiful cock pounding you fast and hard. you couldn’t take any more. you had to have him.

fisting a handful of his hair, you directed his head away from between your legs. he glanced up slightly perturbed and answered a question you hadn’t even asked. “not yet. i’m not done.” his head dipped back down and you couldn’t stand it. now it was your turn to beg.

“please jihoon. fuck me, right now.” that caught his attention he pulled himself back and you could see the shift in attention to you, had given him a chance to recover. his erection sat bouncing firmly between his legs and you swallowed wondering if he’d give you what you wanted.

“no.” a simple answer, and he said it with such a smug look that you considered kneeing him in the face on principle. but that was a bratty response one that you were certain could lead to interesting results but not right now. “five minutes.” he murmured lowering his head between your legs once more. he drew his tongue along the inside of your labia, flicked it across your anus and then trailed it back up the other side.

he sucked your clit back into his mouth and your hips bucked involuntarily. while he sucked you and stroked you with his tongue, his fingers traced the rim of your opening, never dipping inside, just teasing you to the point of tears. he kept you at the brink of orgasm. whenever your breath would hitch as you approached release, he’d pause in his torment until you settled down again.

when it felt like your bones were melting in on themselves and you were no longer yourself, he relented. he slid two fingers inside you and you couldn’t help but cry out, your back arching. he curled his fingers and pressed up inside you, slowly withdrawing until you screamed with release. he rubbed and hooked his fingers against that wall of pleasure inside until your legs trembled and your thighs clamped together over his hand. after a moment of marveling you slowly found yourself relaxing your legs from around his hand. his head popped up, chin resting on your thigh and he was grinning.

“good. you’re awake.” he teased. “i’m not done.”

3am.

he climbed back up the bed and settled his narrow hips between your thighs. he rocked his hips forward, probing for your opening without using his hands for guidance. when he found you, he slid into you slowly, holding your shoulders as he burrowed deeper and deeper. his strokes were slow and deep. slow and deep. slow and deep. stretching you wide, withdrawing. he more than filled you. his quiet gasps in your ear sent your lust spiraling out of control. your hands moved to his ass, digging into his flesh as you bucked your hips against him. his gasps grew shaky and punctuated. his strokes faster and harder. and harder. and harder. the headboard rattled.

he dragged you sideways across the bed, turning you partially on your side, so that he straddled one of your legs. he wrapped your other leg around his waist.

“jihoon,” you gasped at the change in stimulation. you liked that too. he thrust into you, biting his lip as he pounded against you. soon his hard thrusts pushed you beyond the edge of the bed. you caught yourself with your hand to keep from tumbling to the floor.

“shit,” he growled, and pulled you back up onto the bed. “i can’t seem to get deep enough. I want… I need…” he gasped and ground his hips as he pushed you. his fingers dug into your hips and held you steady, seeking to possess you fully.

 “i’ll try.” you pushed him onto his back and sighed in frustration when he slid out of you. you hurried to straddle his hips and sank down on his thick cock, taking him as deep as he would go, stretched to your limits. your head tilted back in ecstasy. his hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you down, urging your body to take more of him.

“deeper,” he groaned. you bounced against him, taking him a centimeter at a time until, at last, you had accepted all of him.

“fuck. now i’m yours.”  he whispered, looking up at you through heavy eyelids. his fingers traced paths up and down your spine, making you shudder. you rode him in earnest. lifting your hips and grinding downward, gyrating to stimulate your clit against his pubic bone, you used him for your pleasure, practically ignoring his needs. an orgasm rippled through you and you cried out, but didn’t stop. again. you wanted to come again with him inside you. you took him faster, rotating slightly with each downward stroke. you weren’t sure when you started chanting his name.

“jihoon...” after your second orgasm? his hips rose off the bed to meet your strokes. he bit his lip, his head tossed back. watching his expression was almost better than the waves of pleasure coursing through your own body.

“fuck, fuck,” he shouted, and grabbed you firmly by the hips to stop your gyrating thrusts. “stop, stop. give me a minute.”

“no.” it was your turn not to listen. but jihoon went to the gym. you did  too…sometimes…wait when did you go last? he had the upper hand, completely bringing you to a stop.

“fuck. not yet. not yet.” he pulled you off him and tossed you onto your back in the center of the bed. “shit, shit, i’m going to fucking lose it.” was he about to come? he rolled on top of you and slid inside you again. his eyes drifted closed. his back arched, rubbing your belly against his. the fingers of his left hand tapped rhythmically against your shoulder. his strokes were different this time, a three-quarter time beat, if you weren’t mistaken, and he was humming under his breath.

“jihoon what are you —“ you asked. but he didn’t answer. something had shifted in him. you closed your eyes and concentrated on the perfect rhythm of his deep strokes. the riff he was humming in your ear was outstanding. you’d never heard anything like it before, and it suddenly dawned on you what he was doing. “are you writing music?”

he glanced down at you. his mouth seeking purchase on yours. he kissed you until you were forced to pull away for a breath. the entire time he was humming the melody, and suddenly the humming stilled like he’d reached the end of the song, or his inspiration. he leaned forward to squeeze your breasts and pinch your nipples as he deserted his music-writing tempo for quick shallow strokes. his moans grew louder and louder as he gave himself over to pleasure. with one final deep thrust, he cried out, your name tumbling from his lips. he grasped your hips and held you still, grinding deeply until his spasms calmed.

he pulled out and collapsed on the bed beside you, eyes closed, breathing hard.

“what time is it?” you asked certain that the time that took up had certainly disqualified you. worth it, but still you felt a little bummed.

“i owe you a car.” jihoon said casually rolling over to kiss you reverently. he shifted slightly and threw an arm across you pulling you flush against him. two minutes later you realized he had fallen asleep.

later he’d tell you it was the best sleep he’s had in years.

[tittysuckersworld]

@ph4ntomv1k arts ya! finally have reblogs again!!! this was inspired by their lovely fic here and yee! enjoyy

(EDIT I USED THE WRONG PICTOR-)

hate instagram anyways- heres girlies in full<3<3

[marsontherocks]

Had a very nice and wonderful dream that Quincey was a veterinarian, and that Jack owned a really small parakeet, and of course Arthur has his dogs.

In the dream Jack was getting his bird checked cause he was acting weird. Bird was fine btw so don't worry.

Really love how I've been so obsessed with Dracula that I'm starting to dream of fic ideas

[leztit]

Hollow like a killer should be

3.2k, fluff

Following their fall from the cliff, Hannibal revels in their reunion and settles into a new kind of peace. Will can't figure out how to relax.

AO3 Link

[the-cookie-of-doom]

The alpha greets Kinn with Kim at his side, a possessive hand on the back of his neck forcing Kim to keep his head bowed. He gnashes his teeth against the radiating command of submit, submit, submit. He refuses to look at his brother, even when he hears Kinn’s sharp inhale. 

Oh, Kim is certain he makes quite a shocking sight. His alpha has been kind enough to allow him pants for this meeting, a pair of filthy days-old sweats that still stink of his heat. The rest of his body is left bare. Every last mark on his body—the bruises sucked and beaten into his flesh, the scratches raked into his skin—is on display. And the crowning jewel—the still-healing bite in Kim’s neck, too high to even think of hiding it, barely scabbed over and flushed an angry red. 

“Kim—” 

The alpha digs his claws into Kim’s nape and he snarls, jerking in the unforgiving grip. He’s half-feral with fury and doesn’t care at all about the sticky warmth now dripping down his spine. 

“Thank you for the gift,” the alpha says smoothly, dragging Kim into his side. He fights it, digging his own claws into his palms. He will not submit. “Not as docile as an omega should be, but it was a pleasure to break him in nonetheless.” 

Kinn, forever wearing his heart on his sleeve, stands there struck dumb. Kim wants to yell at him, to demand he do something, say something, anything other than stand there, his silence an admission of his weakness. But Kim, trembling beneath the force of fury and fear and that fucking command, pulsing through their bond, can’t force the words to come. 

“I believe we have business to discuss,” Kinn finally manages, a small relief, even if his voice is tight with barely restrained horror and hatred. 

“Yes. Let’s find somewhere more comfortable. Come along, darling.”

As if Kim has a choice. He’s led by neck as the alpha turns on his heel and begins walking down the hall. Is it a deliberate choice to pass the room where Kim was forced to spend his heat, the thick, cloying scent of it still wafting out as they pass? It must be. Kim feels the charge in the air, Kinn’s hackles rising. 

Kinn wants to kill him. The alpha that has taken what does not belong to him. He wants to protect his pack. Kim wants to tell him it’s too late for that. Years too late. Their father ensured a long time ago that there was nothing left to protect Kim from, no torment he’s been spared. Nothing he hasn’t learned to endure, just as he will continue to endure this. 

Kim catches Kinn’s eyes only long enough to shake his head. Slowly, so that his brother will understand. 

What’s done is done, he wills his brother to understand. Kim has already sacrificed himself to his brother’s cause. If Kinn ruins it all now in the name of hollow vengeance—it will have all been for nothing. The violation, the mutilation, a bite mark in his flesh that will scar into an unbreakable bond, forever tying him to this thing that is less than a man. Kim needs his sacrifice to be worth it. 

This alpha will get what’s coming to him someday. Kim will make sure of it. But when that day comes, it will be his hand that delivers the killing blow. It’s the least of what he’s owed.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

this is a tiny pet peeve but i think its kinda odd that people seem to like. forget, or maybe just neglect to take into account, that yellow, for whatever reason (whether he's an alt universe john or a fresh piece of this universe's KIY that kayne went and ripped off) has ALSO been trapped in the dark world prior to being with arthur and has exactly as many Feelings about it. this is a very load bearing character trait imo

[ddodol]

https://www.tumblr.com/ddodol/762510342363512832/kinktober-%C2%B2%E2%81%B0%C2%B2%E2%81%B4-riize?source=share

week 3? halloween party at taro's house? which lucky couple is gonna get caught? 👀

if they manage to reach taro's party in time (most of them didn't, sorry taro)

i wanted to mix in a halloween element in there somewhere lmaoo these are just themes and maybe them dressing up for the party tbh (temp play, body worship, cum inflation/creampie, aphrodisiacs, asphyxiation, biting/marking, uniform in their age order)

[lilac-hecox]

apologizes if you've already written smth like this but I am absolutely in love with Ian's teeth(/especially those fangs 😵‍💫) and was wondering if you could write a bit of an Ianthony thing where he gets to put them to good use 👀

Ian/Anthony -Fangs

--

Ian’s teeth dig into the soft skin of Anthony’s neck.

“Fuck,” Anthony breathes. He’s mostly clothed, laying on his back in his own bed, Ian on top of him. Only his shirt is gone, and Ian’s still fully dressed, and really, all they have done is kiss and now Ian’s sucking and nipping at his neck, but even this little bit of action is enough to have Anthony rock hard. He should worry about Ian biting where his tattoos are, but he can’t be too concerned because Ian would never go too far -without asking- and would never hurt him – unless Anthony wanted him to- so he sinks into the feeling of Ian’s teeth pressing into his skin, making a fire scorch inside of Anthony.

Ian trails his mouth lower, grazing his teeth over Anthony’s collarbone, then traveling lower still, to his pecs and Ian bites hard on Anthony’s left pec, earning a hiss from the older man.

“You’re unusually aggressive,” Anthony says breathlessly.

Ian looks up, quirks an eyebrow and licks over his reddened lips, “Want me to stop?”

“Fuck no,” Anthony breathes.

Ian laughs, “When I saw you in that lace shirt today. God, it should have looked so stupid on you but it didn’t. It looked so fucking hot. You looked so fucking hot. It was so hard to focus. I wanted to bend you over the table right then and there.”

“Fuck,” Anthony moans, letting his hips rock upwards to meet Ian’s ass.

Ian bites him again, “Wanted to trail my tongue over your body through the lace and fucking devour you, Anthony.”

He licks over Anthony’s left nipple, then bites down, hard enough to make Anthony see stars and a surge of electric pleasure shoot straight to his dick. Anthony grabs Ian’s hips. Ian groans and grinds his ass down against Anthony’s hard on, smiling in this filthy way.

The way he smiles, the little tilt of his mouth shows off Ian’s cute little pointed canines, the ones that always look like fangs, the ones that leave perfect marks on Anthony’s tattooed skin. Then Ian moves to Anthony’s right pec, and he bites at Anthony’s skin, tugging with his teeth, sucking hard to absolutely leave a mark on Anthony’s chest, something deep and purple that will look right at home among the black mass of artistic chaos that decorates his skin.

If he could, Anthony would tattoo those marks, the bruises Ian’s mouth leaves behind, a permanent badge of honor he would be happy to carry, like a scar, like surviving something you once thought would kill you.

Ian sucks at Anthony’s right nipple too, watching it stiffen before he drags his teeth over it, making Anthony shiver, making his cock twitch in his pants.

“I need you,” Anthony says, squeezing at Ian’s hips, “Ian please.”

Ian hums and keeps sucking, swirling his tongue over Anthony’s nipple and repeating the process all over again. Anthony’s senses feel heightened to the extreme, he feels so hard, so on edge. God, how was Ian’s mouth and teeth working him up this much?

Ian scoots back so he’s straddling Anthony’s knees, and he easily undoes the button and zipper of Anthony’s pants, dipping a hand inside and freeing Anthony’s cock.

“Yesss,” Anthony groans.

“Ah, ah, don’t celebrate so fast,” Ian says, a mischievous twinkle to his eye that Anthony knows all too well, “I’m not going to touch your dick, you are, for me.”

“What?” Anthony asks, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I want to see you jerk off for me. I want you to make yourself come for me while I bruise your pretty body.”

“Holy shit, Ian.”

Ian leans in and presses a damp kiss to the tip of Anthony’s cock. Anthony moans and tries to thrust into Ian’s mouth, but then he’s pulling back and pulling away.

“Get yourself off for me, baby.”

Anthony curls a hand around the base of his dick, stroking himself from base to tip, circling around the head in the way that makes him shiver. He thumbs across his own slit the way Ian always does, as if it is some mimicry, something to make him feel like it is Ian touching him.

As Anthony strokes himself Ian rolls off Anthony’s body, kneeling next to him instead. He kisses Anthony’s taut stomach, drags his tongue over the lean muscle, traces the soft fuzz of Anthony’s happy trail that leads to his crotch.

Ian completely bypasses Anthony’s crotch where Anthony is stroking himself, working himself off with quick strokes. Instead, he goes lower to Anthony’s thighs and digs his teeth into Anthony’s tender and pale thigh.

“Shit,” Anthony grunts.

Ian hums and repeats the motion, biting in the same place, a fraction harder. Anthony fucks into his own fist and moans. He wants so badly to fast forward time, to see the bruises that will bloom across his skin like dark flowers, patterned by Ian’s mouth.

Anthony uses his free hand to sink into Ian’s hair and he tugs just a little, which only makes Ian bite down harder on his skin. Anthony’s cock twitches in his grip and he rolls his hips upwards to fuck his hand. There is pre-come slick on the head of his dick, and it slides over his curled fingers making everything that much slicker, that much more pleasurable.

“You love my teeth digging into your skin?” Ian asks, his breath both warm and cool over the dampness of his skin. Ian kisses where he has bitten, where Anthony’s skin is red and angry, soothing the patch of his skin. “You like me biting you until you bruise?”

Anthony speeds up, panting openly as he touches himself and focuses on all the points where he can feel that lingering pain from Ian’s bites across his body like a private map that only he and Ian can read.

He’s pathetically close, but being with Ian has made them both feel like teenagers again and Anthony finds himself able to get hard again and again over the course of a night each time they are together, like Ian ignites a fire in him and even if he comes now he’ll still be able to have fun by trading places with Ian, by pinning him to the mattress and teasing him with his mouth, his hands, his body until Ian is a whimpering mess under him.

The thought spurs him on and he groans, so on edge. Ian has moved to his other thigh, biting a twin bruise on the right side to match the left.

“I’m close,” Anthony warns.

Ian’s eyes meet Anthony’s even as he sucks hard, digs his teeth in, makes Anthony groan and whine embarrassingly loud. Ian’s warm eyes, his mouth full of Anthony’s skin, it does Anthony in. He tosses his head back and comes so hard over his own fingers, Ian biting him through it.

Anthony slumps against the bed, boneless, panting, his hand covered in his own come. Ian slides up next to him and catches Anthony’s wrist, draws Anthony’s hand to his mouth. Anthony watches with slitted eyes as Ian sucks each one of Anthony’s fingers into his mouth, his tongue dancing around his sticky skin, collecting his come. He feels the graze of Ian’s teeth even on his fingertips and Anthony shivers.

“I can’t wait to hold you down and finger you until you fucking cry,” Anthony says.

Ian moans around Anthony’s fingers and releases them, licking his lips.

“Fuck, yes, lets do that. Finger me until you get hard again and then you can fuck me.”

Anthony smirks and pulls Ian in by the collar of his shirt to kiss him.

“On your belly,” Anthony says.

Ian nods and scrambles to follow his orders as Anthony laughs.

[entomolog-t]

GtWAC Day 15: Lore Drop!

Slowly catching up with GtWAC💕 Time to drop some/lore tidbits on my main stories!

Bite Me: Vampires are excellent mimics and have a much more diverse vocal range than humans. This will come into play in upcoming chapters 👀

The Shadow We Cast: Sadly, I can't drop too much lore here without massive spoilers, so I'll settle for some minor Mark lore/history (though this is a minor spoiler). Mark's move to his new home was spurred by a significant mental health issue at his previous work position. At the current point in the story he is working from home.

INSTAЯ: Similarly to TSWC, I can't drop anything super fun without spoiling, though I do have some fun tidbits!

Bram is able to climb walls due to his limbs acting similarly to spiders and taking advantage of Van der Waals forces

Bram has some particularly strange emoting reactions we haven't yet seen in lieu of blushing/attraction, shock/fear/fight or flight. I'm going to keep them a lil vague as I'm still hoping they come off as somewhat of a surprise but heres a treat for you nerds - one has something to do with luciferase, the other while directly mentioned as being butterfly-like is actually very much modeled after a particular trait of male moths.

Bram is able to see a wider colour spectrum (UV spectrum

Bram's mouth is repeatedly described as horrific - and for good reason. While it is described as spider-like it is an amalgamation of both insectoid, arachnoid and mammalian anatomy. He does very much still have teeth and a tongue.

A lot of Bram's vocalizations are modeled after cicadas and Katydids!

Finding Strength: Tamius' tattoos are culturally significant in his area with the borrower communities. Tattoos are added for numerous reasons-family history, tragedy, significant life events, etc... a lot of these tattoos rely heavily on symbols (Family members may be represented by particular objects, animals etc...). Placement is also significant- for example the left arm has "logic/lessons" - important things to remember, things deemed useful etc.

In general the closer to the body the more important, though context can change that. Many borrowers have adopted a similar take to humans with ring fingers being significant, some even adopting promises to be placed on the pinky (though this is not common place).

Due to this, older borrowers and those with high achievements (or eventful lives) tend to be much more tattoo'd. Those without tattoos are seen as having something to hide/untrustworthy.

Bonus: This may be a bit hard to follow but if this makes sense you may be able to catch onto some twists in the futures. The logic of each of my stories are interchangeable. While it doesn't mean they are all necessarily occurring in the same universe, they all would theoretically operate by the same rules.

[maingh0st]

❤️ 🦋 and 📗 for the ask game!!!

hi!!! from this ask game! gonna go in reverse order:

📗 Do you want to write something outside of fanfiction? If so, what about?

my full-time job is writing! but fic allows me a creative, non-work outlet during my free time. I do have a few original fictional novel ideas in varying stages of planning/drafting, but I’ve been focusing on fic for the last year or so because it gives me a sandbox to practice & sharpen specific skills. I don’t have a grand dream of becoming a published author, but if I ever managed to polish a novel to the point of being really proud of it, maybe I’d seek out a lit agent

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

obviously I really enjoy the Ghost/Taryn fics I’m working on right now, but honestly, I think the most fun I’ve ever had writing fic was when I took a stab at Zoya’s POV in head on my heart (tell me we’re worlds apart). she just has this very biting, almost morose internal voice that was a nice change of pace for me

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

oh nooooo this is hard!! “favorite” can mean so many different things. I’m going to cheat a little bit & give a few answers

from a thematic standpoint, I’m proud of the following exchange from head on my heart (tell me we’re worlds apart) for what it represents in the overall story:

Weariness weighed on her. "A thorn wood is only ever a thorn wood, Nikolai." His lips against her collarbones were nearly a kiss. "That's precisely what I'm saying, Zoya."

it might not make sense out of context, but the skills I was focusing on in that fic were character voice + theme through a framing device, and I feel that ^ exchange near the end of the fic really captures what I was trying to do

from a purely prose/atmosphere standpoint:

Winter wanes. Life stirs deep in the belly of the earth and spring arrives quietly, a visitor padding through a snowfall. With spring comes the fest of Imbolc—the time of melting snow, blooming blackthorns, and ewes gone to milk. [this whole passage, actually, but I'm already stretching the prompt's "one line" limit haha] [from ch 4 of mniwyd]

on a character level:

Taryn stored up her worst memories of Locke the same way she stored up her best memories of Madoc. [from ch 8 of mniwyd]

&

His father had been a good, honest human, but in the absence of another parent, Elfhame became his mother—and he's been sitting at her feet for far longer. When he thinks of the years stretching before him, the long fae life he is promised so long as no enemy cuts him down, he fears what he might become in her custody.   [from ch 5 of mniwyd]

[outer-andromeda]

Also I need to ask but

Someone mentioned Lawrence on Alex's signing livestream while some of us were talking about Will Wood in the chat

And I gotta know

Which one of you was it—

[bitepilled]

I just wantned to say recently I looked at Medpoc lore like 3 weeks ago for the first time and then reflected on your art and suddenly, you giving Medpoc mommy issues (homoerotic) by pairing them with characters with maternal traits is actually MORBIDLY canon in a kind of sad and deep way and I don't know where on the coincidental to intentional scale this lies anymore

OH YEAH I AM 100% BEING INTENTIONAL ABOUT THIS THANKS FOR BEING THE FIRST(?) ONE TO NOTICE???

(it started as a coincidence, elaboration in tags)

[enbysiriusblack]

so far in the devil wears an angel's face, we have had remus pov, we have had james pov, we have had dorcas pov... guess who's time it is now???? marlene mckinnon.

lil extract from the next chapter:

Why would Sirius befriend two human vampire hunters? Because they’re an idiot, Marlene decided. Sirius Back was the stupidest, suicidal, reckless, dumbass that did not think about their best friend’s feelings and uncontrollable bloodlust. 

They turned her. They were responsible for the fact Marlene wanted to, no needed to, bite into the humans' necks. It was utterly irrelevant that she had asked them to turn her, because they could have refused and she wouldn’t now be sitting here, using every last shred of her self restraint to stop from lunging at Sirius’ new boyfriend. They should be thanking her really. And yet, instead, Sirius was unreasonably glaring at her. Glaring at her! They shouldn’t be glaring at her! And the fact they think a simple glare from the unscariest vampire ever would refrain her. The only reason she isn’t trying to bite them has nothing to do with Sirius’ 'oh so terrifying' glare, and everything to do with the fact that their hunter boyfriend is packed full of weapons ready to kill her and he’s wearing a jacket that she can’t get her teeth through. 

She had to admit he’s smart. Much smarter than James; not a weapon on him and his entire collarbone is on display. As if he wants her to bite him. But she won’t. Lily and Regulus would probably kill her... and they’re a lot scarier than Sirius. 

The prick.

[bawnjourno]

it’s like they always say, at least i have a week off in october