#ah. i think this will be forever a wip

[zhuzhee]

vast boys!!

[cruisingheightswithdragons]

Got around to drawing my Spore creature that I’ve had since I was a kid, recreating it in my latest run!

Their patagium lets the glide short distances (usually between trees), and their large tail fin helps steer them in the air. The fin on their prehensile tail also has stronger membrane with grasping capabilities, acting as a hand.

Upon becoming a space-faring species, they rely heavily on alliances with other nations, usually in the form of spice collection jobs. They also specialize in purple spice in the trade.

[datura-tea]

i guess, i guess, i guess this is the end...

[tekkenenjoyerblue]

I’m cooked 💀

[blood-grove]

unnatural bleeding

merfolk au!

previous <- part 5 -> WIP

parings: gaz x reader

chars: gaz, price , soap , ghost

tws: blood, injuries, violence, past abuse, language, slow burn.

a/n: hehehhehehe finally new update :3 got rid of the rude reader tw cuz reader is gonna be annoyed at the world at best angry at worst plus i dont think ive been writing them rudely so also forgive me if the writing pov changes weirdly idk i have a hard time staying focused and consistent ill try better

tags; @chickennn-soupp @cassiecasluciluce @sans-chara @lethargicluv  @kaoyamamegami

What the hell was this place.

It seems all they did was stare at you and when you would clearly get sick of the mumbles and looks you'd splash them and they'd fucking laugh.

They were weird and the Gaz guy was weirder.

You found later his name was actually Kyle and he meant to clarify earlier.

But you found the silly nickname funny.

But this wasn't fun.

Being propped up on a large mat next to the side of the pool the leather felt uncomfortable under you, You also felt way too exposed as a few humans looked over your stitches and wrappings.

It felt weird there hands weren't rough but no one besides a few have touched you like this they were talking about something you'd care less to pay attention too.

As they examined you, Gaz kept trying to pull your attention away from the other humans.

Oh?

Was he jealous?.

Humans are so fickle it's funny.

-

Christ.

Even working with merfolk in the past Gaz still never got used to the bigger ones like you.

Scarface as you've been suitably nicknamed for the moment been alright and cooperative so far no biting or thrashing.

He'd likely guess the wounds were causing you to be so irritable they didn't look good when they first arrived problem had a couple of parasites on them along with other infections that are still being treated.

Price was observing the whole check up process.

You didn't speak much at least not to any of the other staff.

There were a few problems though.

Firstly they found you solo but there was still likely you belonged to a pod but which is the question.

Secondly, they couldn't keep you in the medical pool forever you were wild to some extent it would be cruel to keep you from you family.

Thirdly during your surgery, they'd found a piece of metal that didn't look important it was kept to be looked over in case it helped discover why you were in such a state, Price already guessed territorial fighting but you clearly (no offense) couldn't pick your battles.

Some of these scars and bites could have been lethal.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as you shifted clicking in annoyance he was quick to reach over for another fish from the bucket nearby by offering it up in an attempt to distract you.

"Are all humans this pokey?"

"No Scarface we just..need to make sure your healing okay..Then we can release you."

Kyle huffed as he gave you an honest smile ignoring the glare and grumble he received in return, You still took the fish though idly crunching on it.

They eventually finished the examination without much fuss except for you not so subtly tripping the newest volunteer who honestly should have been starting off with a much smaller mer than you.

But you start off somewhere.

Speaking of which it's about lunch time for them now and his break time, Kyle oversaw you getting back into the pool without much struggle before he left your area visiting by Price to mention he was going on his break before grabbing his lunch and heading to the docks.

He'd usually not have to wait long before they'd show but it'd seemed they were late.

It wasn't long till a familiar face popped up flashing teeth and all.

"Hey, Soap!" Kyle grinned as he looked to see the shark mer propping up his elbows onto the dock.

"Ghost comin'..?"

"Ah in a bit he's still getting his bearings.."

Now he was confused the last time he'd seen the pair and given them there updated shots and tags they'd been great.

The pair were unusual a Shark and Orca together seemed unheard of but yet just a few years ago now when Kyle had fallen overboard during an solo observation trip Ghost saved him from drowning.

Both of them were odd in a good way, Simon having been outcasted by his pod but he doesn't like to talk about it.

He had lots of scars all telling of countless battles of either for his territory or from just fights.

As for Soap, Sharks were solitary regardless but Soap had his own set of scars from fights some he shouldn't have tried starting.

"Bearings? What happended?.."

"Another fuckin' Orca smaller not as experienced grabbed me a few days back, Si really fucked em' up till the bastard clocked him on the head with there tail-"

Wait.

"Jesus , Where is he? I can get a team out and-"

"Ah ye know how he feels about humans..Plus he seemed to be swimming straight.."

"But Soap , He could have a concussion or maybe a facture-"

Soap sighed as he glanced back to the water before back at Kyle.

"Look..You can try convincing em'"

Soap frowned as Simon finally surfaced propping himself up onto the dock as well the wood creaking slightly under the weight of just Simons upper half.

"Ghost"

"Kyle."

Kyle huffed as he didnt even need to say anything as he went up to him giving him a look before he huffed grumbling quietly adjusting himself better so that Kyle could assess him.

Taking his time looking over the newer injuries they had healed well enough fishing out his little hand held flash light from his keychain in his pocket he checked Ghost's eyes.

After a bit of checking Kyle felt satisfied ignoring Ghost annoyed clicks.

"Mm..Now Soap you said it was another Orca right..? Did it come back?"

"Nah..Fucker swam off after bashing Ghost head..Pretty sure I could smell em' bleeding though for a bit till they got too far."

Right this was looking to be way too convenient and fitting to not match up with good ol' Scarface's condition.

"Mm..Alright..Anyway I brought some-"

"Treats?!" Before Kyle could even move his lunchbox away Soap had snatched it and Kyle let out a exasperated sigh not even fighting for it risk of being pulled into the water.

"Jesus Soap my lunch is still in there be careful- And dont eat the plastic!"

[obsessedwhyyes]

WIP Wednesday Thursday! (Close Enough)

Ahh, thank you @roguishcat for the tag! God, I don't think I've ever actually posted one of these on the correct day. Ah, well!

In the meantime, here's something a teensy bit different. An Astarion x Male!OC fic? In which the OC is an incredibly large, hulking beefcake of a man that just needs to let go every once in a while? Yep - that big mountain of a man is getting out-topped through the power of finesse and eloquence.

This is a snippet from Bending Steel, my first ever attempt at writing M/M! I've had this in my notes forever, but I'm only now actually working on the damn thing, haha.

No Pressure Tags: @davenswitcher @preciouslittlebhaalbae @inkymoonbunny @bloodsuckingfiends @chaoticbardlady99 @bardic-inspo @nerdallwritey

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday

Happy Wednesday! Have some more of FDB's POV! They're finally out of the tree, FDB is still carrying an injured and exhausted DFS on his back, and he is currently trying to convince DFS (who is fighting to stay conscious) to let himself rest. (You can find all previous excerpts here.)

**

Fang Duobing smiled. At last, something he could do. “Alright, a-Fei. Home it is.”

For a moment, a-Fei relaxed even more against him. 

Then a-Fei stilled, all his muscles spasmed and clenched, and he jerked his head off Fang Duobing with a pained grunt, looking all around them.

“What’s wrong?” Fang Duobing asked, suddenly terrified. “Another qi deviation? An attacker? Do you need me to put you down? Or Yangzhouman?”

The ensuing silence seemed to last forever, although it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.  

“Home,” a-Fei said, his voice so wrecked it sounded like his throat had been sliced to ribbons. “To the left.” He swallowed audibly and tried again. “Around the hill.” 

Fang Duobing wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream, cry, shake a-Fei, or hold him tightly and never let go more. “It’s alright. We’ll find the way. I promise. Just rest. Try to sleep.”

Even as a-Fei shook his head, he was slumping forward. “Not yet,” he muttered. “Not here.” 

What was wrong with here? It was just a forest—

Oh. Fang Duobing winced. A-Fei had been unconscious in a forest after being cured of Wuxin Huai when Jiao Liqiao had kidnapped him the first time. 

“A-Fei,” Fang Duobing paused, trying to figure out what might convince him. “There are no enemies here. No danger. You can stop fighting now.”

A-Fei’s hair brushed against Fang Duobing’s shoulder as he shook his head again.“—’s always danger,” he mumbled. His head fell forward and landed on Fang Duobing’s neck again. He tried and failed to lift it again, then made a sound that was far too close to a whimper. 

Fang Duobing tried to breathe through the sudden, visceral need to travel to the past and make everyone who had ever hurt a-Fei and made safety a foreign concept wish they had never been born. “If we run into any danger, I’ll protect you, alright?”

A-Fei huffed a wet attempt at a laugh into his hair and his head twitched like he was trying and failing to shake it. “–’s my job, brat.”

Fang Duobing’s heart clenched as hundreds of proclamations tried to burst out from behind his closed lips: that a-Fei was in no shape to protect anyone at the moment, that protecting each other was all of their jobs and did a-Fei really think that his protection was all he had to offer? He was a person, not a dao! That a-Fei deserved to be protected, that a-Fei was protected now, and would continue to be as long as he, Fang Duobing, drew breath, and that no one would ever be able to harm him again. 

He swallowed them all back and tried to find an approach less liable to end in disaster. “It’s my job, too, a-Fei,” he said at last. “We can take turns, just like we’ve taken turns looking after Xiaohua’er. You already protected me, by helping with my qinggong. So now it’s my turn for a bit, alright?” He held his breath, hoping his words would convince a-Fei to stop fighting the pull of exhaustion, would let a-Fei’s clenched, shaking muscles lay down their tension. 

Nothing changed, although judging by the way a-Fei’s face rustled in his hair, a-Fei had rolled his eyes and raised a skeptical eyebrow, despite the pain and energy expenditure.

Well, there was one thing he hadn’t yet tried. And since a-Fei had thought that praising his qinggong was akin to rewarding Huli Jing’s new tricks with treats, then turn-about was fair play. Now, what precisely had a-Fei said? Ah, yes. “A-Fei?” He waited for a tired hum in response. “You did well, too. Good job. So rest, now, alright? As a reward.” 

A short pause. Then a-Fei’s faint, barely-there huff of amusement tickled the skin on the back of his neck. “–t’s not a new trick,” he said, so quietly Fang Duobing had to strain to hear it.

Fang Duobing smiled sadly and shook his head. Trust a-Fei to find a way to praise his own skills while barely conscious. And simultaneously to refuse to celebrate or rest. “I know. You always do well. You’ve had to. But you’re not alone anymore: you have us. And I know I’m not Xiaohua’er, and you don’t trust me like you trust him. But I promise, I will bring you to him and I won’t let anything get in the way. You’re safe, a-Fei. You can let go now, ok?”

There was a long pause. So long Fang Duobing wondered if he’d actually already lost consciousness.

A-Fei’s finger twitched, then gave Fang Duobing’s collarbone one last, faint tap.

Then a-Fei slumped against his back like a sack of rice. 

Fang Duobing closed his eyes, took a slow, deep breath, letting the crisp scent of the forest sink into his lungs and ground him until he felt less like he was about to cry or shake apart.

Huli Jing whined loudly, then nosed at Fang Duobing’s leg.

“I know,” Fang Duobing said. He swallowed, hiked a-Fei up higher on his back, and took a deep breath. “Lead us home, girl.”

Huli Jing took off, to the left, and around the hill.

Fang Duobing raced after her.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crushed 11

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: Yo, things are getting intense at work.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

You leave a message for your landlord after several failed calls. You come out defeated and hesitant. Your apartment is your comfort, it's your safe space, but it's been breached and you're displaced here. As kind as Jonathan is, that can't last forever. He is your boss after all and you need your job.

The scent of cinnamon draws you to the kitchen, along with the subtle movement clinks and tinking inside. You lean on the doorframe as you watch Jonathan's back, the thin string of an apron tied around his waist and a thicker band along his neck. He hums as he pushes down the plunger of a glass coffee press.

"Uh, hi," you eke out and his long fingers nearly take off the lid of the press. He chuckles and steadies it, shifting to look at you, "er, morning."

"Morning, barely," he muses as he glances at the digital number glowing on the stove, "I've got some scones in and I think we could pair it well with some porridge, if you're fond of it. Or perhaps, yogurt and some fresh fruit. A touch of granola…"

"Yeah, uh, you didn't have to do all this," you rub the back of your neck, "I left my landlord a message. I should head out and figure out a locksmith–"

"Ah, yes, I forgot," he extends a finger, "I've taken care of all that. My own lessor had some recommendations and I was able to arrange the repair. The keys should be delivered shortly–"

"Oh," you blink and chew your lip. He's so helpful. Too helpful. Or maybe you're ungrateful. "Again, thanks, I… I owe you. For a lot it seems."

"I hope it wasn't too much," he says as he checks his watch and grabs the oven mitt, "I only thought to ease the burden–"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You have everything figured out and I'm just helpless," you throw your hands up and cover your face, immediately scalded by your own temper. Why did you say that? "I'm sorry. I'm just so stressed, I can't think. I just want everything to be normal and…" you suck in air, pressing the heels of your hands to your forehead as you rant, "and I'm not this kind of person. I'm the sort to…" you inhale again, dizzy as it stings in your chest, "I just… I just…"

You bend over, clutching your head as you feel like folding. You're startled as Jonathan's hand clasp around your arm and he pulls you up, gently guiding you to sit on the short foot stool beside the counter. He gets to his knees and grips your shoulders, holding you straight as your head lolls. You don't know what's going on, it's like you've lost control of your body.

"Fawn, breathe. Yes? Let's count, one - in," he exhales, "two - out," his thumbs caress you through your shirt, "in… out. Three, four…"

You focus and close your eyes. Are you really having a meltdown in your boss's home? You count in your head, then outloud, measuring you breaths until your heart peters out.

"There we go," he slowly releases you, putting his hands on his knees as he stands with a low grunt, "if the caffeine is too much, I can squeeze some orange juice–"

"I'm fine," you reach up and pull yourself to the feet with the edge of the counter, "really, you've done enough."

"I've done what any decent person would," he shrugs as he opens a cupboard, "you are obviously dealing with a full plate, but I can't help but feel I don't know the half of it."

"What do you mean?"

"Car break's down and you get a visit from a home intruder. A string of bad luck, certainly, and it would have anyone addled, but… there seems a bit more than that. Something that's been bothering you a while," he pours two mugs of coffee, "it isn't my place to delve into your personal life, but I will say, I would help if I could. If you asked."

You shudder. You don't know what to say. The plucking in your chest wants you to tell him everything but that tick in your head says it's none of his concern. You've crossed enough lines. 

He doesn't need to pick up after your stupid feelings. You made the dumb decision to crush on your neighbour, to welcome him in, to fawn over him like an unloved wife. Now you just have to deal with.

Hopefully, the new lock is just the beginning of shutting Colin out of your life.

"Really, it's just the car and the door. I'm sure you've got enough going on with the audit, huh," your voice shakes, betraying you.

"Ah, yes, standard," he places a cup before you, just on the corner of the counter, "I've done it before. Nothing out of the usual," he hooks his finger through the handle of his own mug, "well, one special thing; I don't mind the people." 

He smiles as he lifts his coffee and you feel the world brighten just a lt.

No. No. Not that feeling. Not that flutter. Didn't Colin teach you better? Oh boy. You're not thinking straight, you're tired, you haven't had your coffee, you're crazy!

You pick up your cup and blow out a chestful of air. Get your head on straight. One man at a time. No, one thing at a time.

💗

“You know, I don’t mind if you’d rather stay another night,” Jonathan keeps one hand on the steering wheel, his other arm slack against the armrest, “I can understand if you don’t feel safe–”

“No, I’m good. I just want to get back on track. Everything feels so… disorderly.”

“I know what you mean. Even if I tend to live a nomadic life. Some people thrive on being settled, others not so much,” he muses, “have you heard about your car? Do I need to keep Pine’s luxury taxi in service?”

“Taxi? Oh, I’m so sorry. No. I uh, I can take the bus. And I can spot you some gas money–”

“I’m joking, darling,” he assures with a ripple of his fingers, “I don’t mind. It’s nice to have someone else for the morning ride. I find waking up alone a bit sombre… in a strange city. I’m a far way from home.”

“Uh, yeah, I can’t imagine…”

“I recall you mentioned you’ve never visited England. Pity. You should think about it one day. If you need a personal tour guide…”

“Mmm, yeah, maybe someday. Probably not anytime soon,” you mull and turn your gaze out the window.

“Of course,” he agrees, “I shouldn’t complain so much, traveling for work can really be a privilege. I know at least, it has afforded me the luxury of meeting many good people.”

“Yeah,” you say absently as your vision blurs and your mind drifts.

“...sisters? You said you have some a few towns over?”

You shake yourself from your trance. Your head clears as you straighten in your seat.

“Yeah, my one sister is pregnant, another’s getting married, the other two… well, they’re younger, they’re still growing up,” you say, “don’t really see them much.”

“Lots going on. So there’s going to be a wedding?” He prompts, stopping at a light.

“Hm?”

“Your sister?”

“Er, yes, yeah, actually, I still haven’t got the invitation,” you chuckle nervously, “I’m sure it’s in the mail.”

“And are you a bridesmaid?”

“I… she didn’t say anything,” you utter. You hadn’t even thought of that.

“Well, I’m sure she has a lot to plan, in due time,” he cranks the wheel and pulls a U-turn to come parallel to the curb in front of your building, “you are delivered. Nice and safe.”

“Thanks again,” you grab your bag from your feet and hit the button on your seatbelt. “I really… I owe you.”

“You don’t,” he assures, “all I ask is that you text me. Let me know you’re safe and behind locked doors.”

“Huh, yeah, I can do that,” you almost sigh in relief.

It’s weird. You dread being alone but you long for it. Your solace has always been by yourself. You just have to keep Colin out and you’re hoping that Ally will already have him distracted. You think back to the day before and how eager she was to get him to herself. Yeah, he doesn’t care that much about you. That’s what started this all.

“Well, I’ll see you at work.”

“See you at work,” he returns, his tone as lacklustre as you ever heard it.

You get out, a tug of guilt at the nape of your neck. You feel like you should say something else but you don’t know what. You let the door close softly as you step onto the pavement. You head up the walk, not looking back, too embarrassed to.

You let yourself into the building and pull out the new key from the locksmith. It’s shiny and silver with a yellow thread strung through the eyehole. You ease the front door closed behind you and listen to the building. It’s quiet, mostly.

You climb the stairs one by one and peek down the hall before you come up completely onto the second floor. There’s no one there and your door is as it should be. Locked tight and on the hinges.

You make your way down towards it, carefully to keep your keys from jingling. Your bag falls down your elbow as you wiggle the lock, the new key not catching right away. A click and slow grind jars you and as you look over, you nearly scream.

Colin appears from behind Ally’s door. Shirtless, in his usual grey sweats, looking casually sinister as he places a hand on the door frame. He snickers as he steps out. You turn back and fumble to twist the handle.

As the door opens, he’s on you. He closes you in as he catches the handle and pulls the door shut. You whimper and turn to face him, cowering as he sneers at you. You press yourself to the wood as he crowds you.

“Think you can run away with that pretty boy?” He taunts, “think I wouldn’t be waiting?”

“Colin, I– I’m sorry–” you gulp and look over, “Ally…”

“She’s off on another work trip. Kinda like you, huh? Hanging out with her boss off the clock. You must’ve had a lot of fun.”

“Look, whatever I did, it’s… there’s been a misunderstanding, alright? We’re friends. We were… I’m sorry I misinterpreted–”

“Honey, you are so stupid. I’m not done with you.”

“Please–” you beg.

“Get this. You were the perfect girl. You cooked, you did my laundry, you let me use your Netflix, that’s what every guy wants but you’re just not fuckable,” he scoffs, “well, my perspective changed on that. You know,” he leans in further and lowers his voice. “I didn’t picture myself balls deep until I saw you shaking in fear.”

“Get away,” you croak and push against his chest, “I’ll scream.”

A subtle click mutes his response as he opens his mouth but clenches his teeth. He tilts his head and listens. You hear the deep grumble of your downstairs neighbour, Curtis? You can’t remember, you never see him. He waits and pokes his tongue into his cheek.

“You fucking scream and I’ll remember. I’ll make sure when I fuck you that it splits you in half. So be a nice girl, like you always are, and let me in.”

“Please,” you reach to grip the key, trying to free it from the lock. You could jab him with it, get him off of you for long enough to get inside.

“If you wanna pretend I’m that preppy fuck, I don’t m–”

He jerks and nearly headbutts you as he bounces off the doorframe beside you. He cradles his face as he grunts and you gape at Jonathan as he squares his shoulders and steps up. How?

“You will back away,” Jonathan warns, “go back to your pathetic apartment and stay there.”

“Ah, not this douche–” Colin slips his hand down his cheek, revealing the split in the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, this douche,” Jonathan confirms, “I smelled it on you. I knew you were nothing but a weasel.”

“Whatever. She’s been begging me for it,” Colin spits, “you know, she sits there and pouts, watches me from across the hall, listens to me through the wall as I fuck girls hotter than she’ll ever be, wishing it was her–”

Jonathan moves so quickly, it leaves you stunned. The crack of his fist against Colin’s face makes you yipe and you quiver as you catch your voice in your hands. You keep flush to the door as your eyes wet.

“I do not like violence,” Jonathan says as he rubs his knuckles, “but I am not unfamiliar with it.”

“Fucker!” Colin bends over, drops of his blood landing on the floor.

“If you persist, I’m afraid I must as well.”

“Urgh,” Colin stands straight and spits onto the hardwood, “just wait…” he looks past Jonathan, “he can’t be here all the time.”

He turns and stomps away, keeping his hand on his jaw as he snorts and coughs. You stare after him, shaking in humiliation. It all happened so fast.

Jonathan waits until Colin’s door slams before he turns to you. He puts his hand on your shoulder and you flinch, “why didn’t you tell me it was him?”

You shake your head and stick your lip out.

“I should’ve guessed,” he tuts, “twisted man. Absolutely repuls–”

“How did you get in here?”

“A man let me in. Downstairs. Um, beard, very blue eyes,” he explains.

“Why?”

He gives half a smile, “ah, you left this in the front seat,” he holds up your lip balm, “I was trying to return it.”

“Oh,” you glance past him, frowning at Colin’s door.

“Darling, I know you are growing tired of me but I simply cannot leave you alone.”

“Yeah,” you nod numbly and turn to the door, jerking the key to the side, “I don’t wanna be alone.”

[umbracirrus]

WIP Wednesday-!! 💛

I'm not sure if I've ever shared any of this scene for the currently in progress chapter of The Perfect Storm on a Wednesday before, but I'm sharing it today anyway because I've done a little work on it!! I know I've definitely shared pieces of it on discord though 😅

Tagging @hircines-hunter, @skyrim-forever, @thequeenofthewinter, @bostoniangirl21 and anyone who wants to share a WIP 💕

-----------

“Dragonborn, just the woman I was hoping to see,” Proventus remarked as he caught sight of her making her way past the two longtables which surrounded the central hearth. “The Jarl was hoping to take a minute or two of your time, but has had to step away from Dragonsreach for a moment.”

“Oh... What for? Should I just wait here?”

“Ah, no. He said that if he hadn’t returned by the time which you did to ask if you could wait for him on the porch. He shouldn’t be long. He also didn’t tell me why he wished to speak with you.”

Her eyebrow raised. “Lydia wasn’t with him, was she?”

Proventus stared at her with confusion before shaking his head. “No. Your housecarl hasn’t been in Dragonsreach today.”

Though she was still suspicious, she nodded and began to make her way up to the porch. It was deserted, beyond there being a guard stood by the doorway. She made her way over to the balcony, and closed her eyes as she felt the cold wind against her face.

When she heard the doors open, she waited for a moment before turning around as Balgruuf made his way over to her. She gave him a slight smile when he was close enough.

“So... Proventus said that you wanted to meet me here?” she asked, stepping away from the balcony and closing the distance between them. “How come?”

“I wanted to ask you something. It seemed to be something you didn’t like to talk about with people nearby, so I thought to ask it here.”

Oh, she knew what this was about...

“This morning... Why didn’t you say that it was your-“

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t like making it a big deal. Lydia seems to think the opposite though...” She let out a sigh. “She seems to think that the Dragonborn should have a big birthday party... I just wanted what I’ve always had, a quiet day without any fuss. I’ve just been hiding away in places that I felt were quiet enough for me.” She then let out a sigh. “It’s silly, I know-“

“I don’t find it silly at all...” Balgruuf then took a deep breath. “May you oblige me with just one thing though?”

Elyse’s brow furrowed. She was beginning to suspect that this was one of her housecarl’s machinations, and that she had somehow managed to rope Balgruuf into it. “... I’m not going anywh-“

“I’ve got you a gift. Please...”

It was only then that she noticed that this whole time, he had been holding onto a box. She blinked for a moment, glancing between it and him, before giving him a puzzled look. “Wh... Why?”

“Elyse. You’ve had a lot happen over recent months. The least you deserve, for your birthday no less, is something nice.”

When she realised that he wasn’t going to allow her to not accept the gift, she slowly took hold of the box and pursed her lips together as she untied the ribbon which was around it. She then opened the box, and her eyes widened. It almost fell onto the floor as her hands shook. “Those are...”

[biscuityskies]

I was tagged (a long time ago) by @dontbelasagnax and (more recently but still forever ago) @anxiousotters for the last line challenge. I’ve been trying to pull a section that would be suitable but I think this is actually fine and I’ve just been staring at this for too long so here u go - this once more from the Trillium wip (which I’m trying DESPERATELY to make into a longfic while also staying afloat at work so if ur concerned about why ur not hearing anything from me lately this is why 💀)

“So you think it was the Force, sir?”

Kenobi cocks his head to one side, a pensive look on his face - not too dissimilar from a grimace. “I can’t say with certainty that it wasn’t.” He sets his datapad down and clasps his hands, appearing deep in thought when he next speaks. “In truth, we as Jedi know very little of the capabilities of the Force - and more importantly, we don’t know what we don’t know. What we do know is that life forms with a high enough midichlorian count can engage with it in ways that would… perhaps seem unnatural to life forms who do not have such a count.”

“Like jumping from several hundred feet up without a care in the world.”

“More like jumping and knowing we’ll be caught. Why not jump? It’s certainly more trusty than a jetpack; never faulty, always present, and unless you are cut off from it, it’s the background hum of all living things making themselves known.”

Cody scrunches his nose. He couldn’t possibly imagine listening to every single living thing around him - especially because the way Kenobi is talking about it, that includes the freaking plants and animals, too. “That sounds… noisy, sir.”

“It might seem like it, but it’s become more of a comfort that feels like part of you is missing if it disappears. When you’ve grown up listening to music, silence is deafening.” Kenobi sighs, “I’m sorry, there was a point to this.”

“The hole in the ship,” Cody supplies.

“Ah! Yes. There’s nothing to suggest that the Force can’t make… I don’t know, portals, in that way - especially if it’s trying to tell us something. All I can say for certain is that the Force moves in mysterious ways.” He fixes his eyes on Cody’s, and it feels like his gaze penetrates deep into Cody’s soul, like he’s reading his inmost thoughts. “When the Force speaks, we must do our best to listen.”

Nine thousand words into continuous plot which doesn’t include the four thousand words of other scenes I’ve written - and I haven’t even touched the outline that I actually made for this story so 🤪 longfic-adjacent dreams seem to be within my grasp!! Still very far off yet but present nonetheless

No pressure tags to the regional sapphics 4 codywan - @anxiousotters and @ferretrade raise rise up! Also anyone else who has something to share, consider urself tagged <3

[detta-pica]

Mei Mei, Juju Corp’s CFO, strolls in, followed closely by her ever-present personal assistant, Ui Ui, who is an actual child and therefore definitely an illegal hire. Probably he’s not an official employee at all. When Satoru first saw him and Mei interact, he decided it would be healthiest to mind his own business, though he did leave an anonymous tip with social services. Nanami, the COO, is right behind her, steps brisk, annoyance carved deeply into the lines of his face. Immediately, Satoru knows that Nanami knows that something is not right. It’s in the way Nanami pauses in the door, takes in Satoru’s closed laptop and noodle-like sprawl on the couch, and loosens his tie with the gravitas of someone preparing for their own execution. Satoru decides not to prolong his suffering. “I quit.” “Absolutely not,” Nanami says immediately. “You can’t stop me.” “We can sue you,” Mei informs him pleasantly, “if you mean what I think you mean, which is that you want to leave right now and never come back to this office.” Satoru grins. “That’s exactly right. I could file an anonymous report on my own negligence and get myself fired, if that’s what you prefer.” Nanami pulls out his phone and dials. “We need time to find a suitable replacement, you selfish--ah, Ieiri-san. I need you to talk Gojo down from quitting his job on the spot.” Satoru takes the phone when it’s thrust at him. “Shoko! I’m quitting!” “Congrats! And hey, I actually meant to call you anyway. Your great-uncle, the one who ran away from home and settled on a farm here, died last night. Do you know if anyone will be sad or can I handle it through the Gojo legal team?” “Huh. No, no one will be… Wait, there’s a farm?” Shoko exhales in that tell-tale way that means she’s smoking, even though she swore up and down that she’d quit the last time they talked. “It’s in terrible condition. Finding a buyer will take forever, I bet.” “I want it.” “You what?” “Shoko, I’m gonna live on that farm.” He can see it in his mind’s eye. A quaint little house with a porch swing, rustic decor, and a little fireplace to make it extra cosy in winter. There’s probably a barn. Maybe a chicken coop? He could get a cat, the kind that will roam on its own and leave dead rodents on his doormat. “Gojo, wait.” Shoko sounds distressed. “You know that--” He ends the call and beams at Mei and Nanami. “I just got great news. My great-uncle is dead!”

Listen. I've wanted to write a stsg Stardew Valley AU since before the March patch, but I got distracted with other things. I'm still distracted. This thing is nowhere near done, and it's not coming soon, but I didn't have anything better for WIP Wednesday.

(Current fic timeline is something like:

witch AU, with 5 stories to go in the series

a dark fairytale thing for Halloween

vampire AU sequel

Stardew Valley AU

fantasy AU no. 1

fantasy AU no. 2

The order could change. We'll see.)

[shina913]

On Tilt, Part 6 | KNJ

On Tilt, Part 6

Definition: a poker term for a state of mental or emotional confusion or frustration in which a player adopts a suboptimal strategy, usually resulting in the player becoming overly aggressive.

On Tilt Masterlist

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: idol!AU; strangers-to-FWB-to-lovers; toxic relationship; angst; fluff; smut

Warnings: cussing; dirty talk; neck kisses; heavy petting; nipple play; clit play; body worship; oral (mutual); protected sex; switch!Namjoon; switch!reader

Word count: 5.6K+ words

Summary: You’ve said time and time again that you wouldn’t lose yourself to him. You were in control now. You were going to make better choices. For a minute there, you were able to keep up with it. It wasn’t ‘til Namjoon’s extended break that you found yourself falling into old habits. Will you ever learn to quit Kim Namjoon?

A/N: It's been a long time! If you're still following along, thank you for being patient! I hope to write more frequently. I haven't been inspired to finish much of my wips but I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! I've missed these two.

"I don't know... I think the second half of it seems..." Namjoon sighs, trying to think of an adjective. "Lame?"

"I don't think so," Jon, his co-producer, disagrees.

“Are you sure? I feel like we should add more to it. My vocals sound kind of flat.”

Namjoon, despite having 1,001 tasks to complete before his album release, had also agreed to do a feature verse on a track for one of his industry friends. He sits in one corner of the room, his gaze fixed on the large screen displaying multiple layers of squiggly waves that represent the various instrumental and vocal tracks he’s recorded.

Jon has worked with him long enough to know when he’s actually giving notes or just being nitpicky.

“Your vocals are fine,” he says reassuringly. “Your verse is perfect–it really fits the song!”

Namjoon sighs heavily, still feeling some apprehension. His phone buzzes and he glances at it to read a text message. “Ah, good. He’s on his way. Maybe he can give me some input on this. He’s got a great ear for these kind of things.”

“Ouch, bro,” Jon feigns offense as he cleans up the track layers some more.

Namjoon turns apologetic immediately. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that we’ve been at this for a few weeks and I just want to get a different perspective?”

A minute later, the door to his studio opens, and in comes Yoongi.

"Hey, you got here fast!" Namjoon greets Yoongi. Yoongi nods in acknowledgment. "I was already on this floor when you texted, so I thought I'd swing by before my next appointment. What's up?"

Namjoon motions for Jon to play the track for Yoongi. He observes his teammate and frequent co-producer tilt his head to the side and close his eyes. He always does this when he wants to analyze the track by ear.

Once the track ends, Namjoon anticipates his comments.

“Can you try it without the cymbals in the bridge and drop the echo off the doubling track?”

Jon nods, clicks on a few functions, and plays the song according to Yoongi's notes. Hearing the track with the new modifications, Yoongi and Namjoon make eye contact. They both nod their heads enthusiastically to the beat. No other words are exchanged, but the smiles on their faces and the subsequent high-five provide enough reassurance.

******

“Thanks for the input, hyung. I appreciate it.” Namjoon walks Yoongi out of his studio.

“It’s nothing! We’re still a team even though we’re all off doing our own stuff at the moment.”

Namjoon silently agrees, then raises a hand to rub his eyes while trying to suppress a yawn. They pause for a moment, standing in front of each other in the quiet hallway.

“Tired?”

"I've accepted my fate of being tired forever," Namjoon laughs wryly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know why I assumed that completing my album would bring me some relief and relaxation.”

"Ah, it'll pass." To a stranger, his deadpan tone might sound insincere, but Namjoon knows that he means it in a consoling manner. "Are you excited about your launch party?”

“Yeah, I am. And I’m taking YN with me!” There was a sense of pride and comfort in the way he said it.

Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot upward. “Are you?”

“You think it’s a bad idea?”

Yoongi shakes his head and smiles. “Not in the least bit. Have you told PD-nim?”

Namjoon nods. “He was cool with it. She’ll be there as my guest but we agreed that her presence there isn’t an ‘announcement’ or anything like that. Still, I’m confident that we’ll be safe since she and I will be interacting out in the open instead of sneaking around.”

It was simple logic. Photos weren’t worth much to tabloids if they were professionally taken with the subject’s consent.

Yoongi laughs at the rationale but he can’t deny that his friend makes a good point. “I’m glad you’ve got something worked out. And she’s okay with all that?”

Namjoon’s head tilts slightly and his shoulders shrug. “Apprehensive at first but I let her know that the front office was supportive so that helped convince her and made her feel safe about going.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows rose and his lips twitch upon hearing his last comment but he caught himself and managed to force a smile. “Good. That’s…good. I’m really glad to hear that.” It wasn’t fair to project his personal grievances with management toward his friend.

Realizing his misstep, his excitement is replaced with a pang of guilt. “Shit, I’m sorry, hyung,” he grimaces. “I didn’t mean to come off insensitive, especially after what happened to–”

Yoongi cuts him off. “Nah, don’t feel guilty about it. I’m happy that you’re happy. I’m glad that you have someone who supports you and that you’ve found ways to compromise.” His sober expression makes Namjoon’s face falter.

It hasn’t been long since Yoongi and his partner split up. It was a few weeks before the hiatus announcement but by then, they’d had enough and decided to move onto separate ways.

“I’m really sorry that you couldn’t figure out a middle ground between the label and–”

Yoongi waves his hand in mid-air to stop Namjoon from bringing up something that is still fresh in his mind. There was a time and place to be vulnerable but this moment wasn’t it. “S’okay. We tried…for a long time…” He sighs and finishes with a shrug, effectively dropping the subject.

“Anyway, speaking of PD-nim, what did you think of last week’s contract meeting?” Yoongi asks to shift the focus away from him. “Have you thought about what you wanted to do for the next year?”

Namjoon exhales and confidently answers, “Yep. I’m taking the option for the longer hiatus.”

A few weeks ago, the label held a meeting with all team members, offering different paths for their careers. They could either continue pursuing solo activities or 'take a break' by having a more flexible schedule and the option to choose the projects they want to participate in.

“Wow. Really? Even with all of the offers to collaborate?” Yoongi bulges his eyes out at his friend knowingly.

Two years ago, Namjoon would have been tripping over his feet if he ever got a call from his idols for a dream collaboration. Now that the group has hit record-breaking fame in the world stage, each member’s time was in high demand.

“I did that one song last summer with my idol and crossed that off my bucket list. I don’t need to be greedy by entertaining every request,” he laughs. “It’s also an opportunity for me to take a break and find a new sound.”

Although Namjoon's new album has not been released yet, Yoongi does not argue because he understands that as an artist, one needs to constantly evolve. As soon as you finish one project, you should already be in the midst of planning the next one.

“That’s fair,” Yoongi concedes. “Was this decision influenced by a certain someone?”

“Yes and no,” Namjoon admits. “She’s a factor but it's my own decision. It’s what’s best for me…for us. I owe it to her.”

“Is she collecting a debt?”

Namjoon laughs. “No, no. She didn’t say that. In fact, I haven’t told her that we had that meeting. All I know is that I made a commitment to her and I plan on sticking to it. Walk the walk, you know?”

“I guess it’s good that she didn’t talk you into it. The last thing you want is to make hasty, emotional decisions then regret them later.”

“Hyung, I swear I’m not being hasty or emotional about this.”

“Alright,” Yoongi relents. “Just saying, I’d hate for you to feel regret or resentment if things don’t pan out.”

The truth was, Namjoon had that thought buried in the far corner of his mind, but he wouldn't let it deter him. He believed that fate brought the two of you back together and he was determined to do everything he could to make the best out of this second chance. Things will work out this time.

They have to.

You're in a rush to send out two more emails before the holiday weekend. These emails are crucial for sealing the deals for two of your clients. One has received interest from a film production company that wants to buy the rights to their novel and turn it into a movie. The other client is preparing for wider distribution after self-publishing the first edition of their book.

Your phone starts to buzz after you send off one email.

“Hey, I just got here. Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?” Namjoon walks through your front door then pockets his keys, which include a copy of your house keys. It was a huge step for you and your relationship.

He was bringing food from the restaurant that you two were supposed to have dinner at. But after a client call ran long and a few other last-minute tasks piled up, you asked if you could reschedule. Instead, he was insistent and completely fine with the idea of spending the night in.

“I’m sure. I drove so I have to bring my car home anyway.”

“But you could leave it at the garage and I can have my manager pick it up tomorrow.”

You laugh at his offer. He just really wanted you home. “Why don’t you let the man enjoy a decent weekend off, for once?”

“Alright,” he relents. “I’ll be here waiting. I’ve got wine chilling in the fridge and pasta and chicken, just like you asked.”

You acknowledge all the effort he’s putting in. He’s been sleep-deprived the entire week but he was still determined to spend time with you. Still, you take the opportunity to tease him. “You know that kind of behavior will get you laid.”

“Look, I don’t really care if anything happens tonight,” he says simply. “I only wanted to bring dinner and be with you.”

“Mm-hm,” you hum in amusement. “What kind of pasta did you get?” You ask him as a test.

He answers with your favorite. It’s been so long and yet he still knew. “That’s it! I’m getting on my knees as soon as I walk through the door!”

A low laugh escapes him. “Not if I get you on your back first.”

His response makes you want to log off this second and rush home to him. 

Unfortunately, even if you leave the office, you still need to continue working from home. However, you would rather put 100% of your focus on him. So, you decide to stay until you finish everything.

Two hours later, you walk through the door. The room is dark and quiet, with the only light coming from the television. Namjoon is snoring in the living room.

He stirs when you brush his hair back to kiss his forehead from behind the couch.

"Hi," he says, his lips curving into a languid smile as he blinks his eyes open.

"Sorry, I'm late."

"It's cool." He stretches his arms and sits up. "Have you eaten?"

"No. Have you?" You ask him.

He shakes his head as well. "I'll heat up the food in the oven—"

"No, let’s go to bed so you can go back to sleep," you suggest. It's been a long day and fatigue is setting in. However, Namjoon gets up from the couch, shakes his head adamantly, and laughs. "You know that I know that there's no way you'll have a good night's sleep while hungry."

Just before you protest, your stomach growls, betraying you. He knows you well enough. With a snort, he takes your hand and guides you to the kitchen.

*******

After dinner and a quick shower for you, you get a second wind and decide to watch some late-night TV. It was a weekend, and Namjoon didn't have to be at the office until late the next evening.

He gazes at the week-old gardenia arrangement that he brought over when you first moved in and wonders aloud, "I'll never understand why you keep holding onto these until they're completely dead. Just throw them away and I'll get you fresh flowers!"

"I like them when they’re in this in-between stage of brown and white. They have a stronger scent and I love it," you explain.

"Yeah, but the aesthetic is—" He clicks his teeth in distaste.

"Forget about the aesthetic! I think it smells romantic," you say confidently.

At first, he furrows his brows at your strange remark. But instead of arguing, he’s endeared. He shakes his head and chuckles, returning his attention to the TV.

You and Namjoon are on the couch, watching old reruns of a show that you've seen many times before. Despite the outdated punchlines, you still find them funny years later. You're sitting sideways while your legs, covered by a throw blanket, rest comfortably on his lap. Instead of watching the show with him, your gaze is fixed on his profile. At the sound of a joke you both had heard before, he still lets out a guffaw, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement as if hearing it for the very first time. His laughter makes your heart swell so much that it feels as if you could float away.

At that moment, as his laughs subside and the scent of wilted gardenias fills the room, you utter, "I love you." You can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

He slowly turns his head to face you, his eyes searching yours. After a few beats that feel like an eternity, he says, "Say that again."

Suddenly feeling shy, you giggle like a schoolgirl and attempt to hide under your blanket, but he pulls it off, revealing your flushed cheeks.

"Please say it again," he says, grinning and patiently waiting.

You take a deep breath, savoring the moment. You purse your lips for a few seconds, then smile back at him. "I love you," you say softly, but with conviction.

He throws his head back dramatically, clutching his chest as if he's been shot, before collapsing onto the bed with a theatrical flourish.

Giggling at his antics, you playfully shove his side and tell him, "Stop being so dramatic!"

"I'm not being dramatic! I'm in love," he declares with a sigh.

You’re mildly irritated by his response. “You know, if you’re just going to joke about this—”

Just as you turn serious, he does the same. “I would never joke. Not when it comes to you.”

This was a huge step for both of you and it was the first time you’d actually said the words to each other. Years ago, he used to say that labels and verbal declarations of feelings were ‘superficial’. Anybody can say ‘I love you’ but never really grasp the full weight of it. He was all about ‘showing’ not ‘telling.’

The old you thought that made a lot of sense. It sounded logical. And because you were actually in love with him then, you believed it.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "I want you to know that this is still scary for me. This isn’t like when we were sleeping around at the dorms or hotels. The stakes are higher now."

He turns his body toward you. He cradles your legs with one arm and circles the other around your waist to pull you closer.

“I really fucked things up by not telling you how I felt and ignoring your needs. I was selfish and a coward.”

You shake your head gently at how he was placing all the blame on himself. “We were young and had a lot of growing up to do. Both of us needed that time apart.”

He looks at you with a mix of regret and determination in his eyes. "I recognize that now," he says softly. "And I want to do better and be better for you. Things will be different this time."

His words fill you with hope, and you feel your heart fill with warmth as you realize that he is committed to making things work between you.

The thought of it also turns you on wildly. You lean in and press your lips to his. “Take me to bed,” you whisper.

He pulls back slightly and stares into your eyes. “I’m not saying these things just to get it in,” he chuckles. “Like I said, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want—”

“I know,” you interrupt gently before your lips curve into a smile. “Let me worry about what I want. And what I want, is for us to go to bed.”

Nodding, he switches the TV off and you both walk upstairs into your bedroom.

******

You walk into the room, with him following closely behind. As you turn to face him, he stops in his tracks, cautiously anticipating your next move.

You reach up and cup his face in your hands. He closes his eyes, reveling in your touch. Tilting your chin up, he meets halfway, and seals his mouth to yours. The kiss starts soft and sweet, but quickly builds up to a fever pitch.

Desire surges through you, and he matches your fervor. His fingers grip the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. He groans against your lips, making those low, sexy sounds that you turn you on. Your hands explore his chest, feeling every inch of him. Just as you're about to lose control, he breaks the kiss.

He spins you around, your back pressed against him, caging you while his hand roams all around your front.  You threw your head back in a low moan as he nipped at your neck, grinding his hard cock between your ass cheeks.

He wraps his arms around you and nuzzles your neck. His heavy breaths send shivers down your spine.

“How did I get so lucky?” he whispers as his teeth graze your earlobe.

"I wouldn't call it luck," you murmur breathlessly, shifting your head to give him better access to your throat. "...More like a well-deserved outcome," you finish. He runs his nose down the slope of your neck, and you feel him smile against it.

"I'm really trying to control myself," he sighs. "But I'd be lying if I said I haven't spent a lot of time fantasizing about how this evening would go."

You release a pained groan, squirming as he lazily sucks on your neck. "Tell me," you say.

He pauses his ministrations, giving you a chance to break away and turn to face him.

“Tell me about your fantasies,” you say to him.

Namjoon teasingly swipes his tongue between his lips and leans forward. “I can tell you and show you.”

In anticipation, your chest rises as you inhale sharply and bite your lower lip. It was all the consent he needed.

"First of all, you're wearing too many clothes," he smirks.

You reach for the hem of your sleep shirt, intending to pull it off, but he stops you. He gently wags his finger and tuts. "In my fantasy, I do all the work."

You release the material and relinquish control to him. Wrapping his arms around you, he repeats your earlier action and pulls your shirt up. You lift your arms above your head, allowing him to easily slip it off you. As he leans in, you anticipate a kiss, but he surprises you by tossing you over his shoulder.

He walks across the room, and his hand reaches down to tug on your panties, pulling them below the curve of your ass. You yelp as he spanks you hard enough to sting.

He sits you down on the mattress and crouches in front of you. As he pulls your panties past your bare feet, he asks, “Are you good, baby?”

“Yeah.” You smile and touch his cheek. The moment of tenderness makes your heartbeat stutter as if he wasn’t just about to ravish you seconds later.

He nods and flashes a dimple before he picks up where he left off.

He plants a soft kiss on your inner thigh. “Are you ready for me?”

You arch an eyebrow at him in response. “The better question is, are you ready for me?”

You let out another squeal when Namjoon jerks your hips to the very edge of the bed with your legs on either side of him, exposing your center to his gaze.

“You’re going to be sorry you said that.”

You pushed at his shoulder, challenging him. “Teach me a lesson, then.”

He presses your thighs wide with gentle hands, his thumb stroking over your clit, pleasure pulsing through you.

He lowers his voice to a dangerously low tone. “You know, I’m trying to set the pace here but you’re no help.” He gets some revenge when he pulls his shirt over his head.

“You know I can take it,” you say as evenly as possible while trying not to drool over the sight of his bare chest.

“I know you can,” he murmurs. “But I want this to last a while.” Your stomach tightens when he lowers his head. As soon as his tongue licks through your folds, you grasp desperately at the sheets beneath you and fall back onto the mattress. He parts you with his fingers, teasing your sensitive flesh while you keen and writhe in pleasure.

“I’ve imagined this so many different ways,” he purred, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your hips buck but he holds you firmly down.

“On my bed.” He sucks. “In my studio.” And licks.

“In the back room of the restaurant that I took you to on our first date after we had the no-sex conversation.”

“God. Namjoon,” You moan pathetically, dizzy at the sight of him savoring you.

“I imagine pinning you down,” he went on roughly, “Giving it to you all night…your nipples swollen from me sucking on them. The room filled with all those sexy sounds you do…when I make you cum over and over…” He gives your clit one long suction.

You whimper, biting your lip as he flutters his tongue. He has one of your legs hooked over his bare shoulder. The heat from his skin burns the flesh behind your knee.

“Yes, I want all that,” Your hands roam over your breasts, pinching at your aching nipples for relief.

He grins mischievously. “I know.” He continues to suck on your bundle of nerves, teasing you relentlessly as your climax builds up further. With his lips still wrapped around your clit, he slides two fingers into your soaked opening, curling them upward to massage your inner walls.

You gasp sharply at the assault when he pumps into you. Hips moving of their own volition, grinding into his greedy mouth.

You climax with a breathless cry, your legs shaking with the rush of release after months of pent-up tension between you.

You were still coming down from your high when his body loomed over you. He shoves his bottoms down just enough to free his cock.

You watch as he carefully slips a condom down his length. Wanting to feel him in your hands, you attempt to reach for it, but he catches you by your wrist. He brings your hand to his lips and kisses the inside before pinning your hands above your head.

His eyes studies your face, his lips still glistening from your orgasm, his chest heaving. You blink up at him in wonder and ask yourself, 'how did you get so lucky'?

“I love you,” he pants.

“I love you,” you reply before he slides his length between your folds. He pushes in, parting the slick opening.

He buries his face in your throat with a groan, then surges inside you. He gasps your name, slowly grinding his hips against you, trying to get deeper.

His hips work in a steady rhythm. The feel of him inside you, stretching you, drives you crazy. You shift and wrap your legs around him for leverage and meet his thrusts.

His lips brushed against your temple. “Fuck, you feel so good. I don’t think I can last much longer…but I…I want to—“

He sounded apologetic, but he didn’t need to. Your throat tightens. “I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere. Don’t stop!”

He pulls out, lifts your ass, then thrusts deeply.  You moan helplessly, your cunt squeezing him greedily. “Fuck yes…” you hiss. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

He strokes into you and you writhe under him, your thighs grasping his hips. Digging his knees in, he gives you what you begged for and fucks relentlessly into you. His cock plunges deeply, over and over, breathing naughty fantasies into your ear and pushing you closer to another climax.

Your core tenses and your clit throbs with every slam of his hips against yours. He pounds into you, every muscle in his body flexing.

“I’m gonna cum so hard for you,” he strains, sweat sliding down his temple.

The promise of him filling you sets you off, and before you know it, you come undone for him again, your pussy spasming furiously. The obscene sounds of hot, sweaty fucking fills your bedroom while he chases his own climax.

He slows down his movements deliberately, and with one final stroke, you feel him spurting inside of you. Rough sounds of satisfaction rumble from his chest and resonate against your sweat-slicked skin.

He lies there for a moment, his heartbeat gradually slowing to a steady rhythm. When he lifts his head, his fingers run through your hair.

Namjoon cradles your face in his hands and kisses you. “Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for? You did all the work,” you laugh.

His slow smile showed pure satisfaction. “I’m only grateful for the privilege.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Stop,” you giggle. “You’re just saying that because you’re horny.”

“Nah, I’m love-drunk,” he grins lazily before planting another kiss on your lips. You’re so endeared…as if you couldn’t love him anymore.

He flops on the bed beside you, and you rest a hand on his chest, patting it softly. "By the way, top-tier fantasy," you remark.

Turning to face you, his smile widens and he mischievously squints at you. “Oh, you thought that was it?” He laughs. “We haven’t even gotten through the half of it!”

The thought of being the recipient of Namjoon’s insatiable desire for you sends a flutter of excitement through your body.

******

You are jolted awake by a dream you had. In it, you were falling into a bottomless pit.

Your heart races as you quickly turn your head to the other side of the bed, where Namjoon is sleeping soundly.

You’d been at each other for at least two hours before both of you passed out from exhaustion and fell asleep.

You carefully slide out of bed, trying not to wake him, and make your way to the bathroom.

When you reenter the bedroom, the scene before you takes your breath away. Namjoon is sprawled across your bed, with one arm tossed over his head and the other draped across his chest. When you were shopping for a mattress, it seemed excessive to get one so huge. However, now that you see his feet resting comfortably on the bed instead of dangling off it, it doesn't seem like such a bad investment after all.

God, he was breathtaking. When he was onstage, he exuded an unstoppable force, trained to be the object of many people’s fantasies. And yet, you were the only one who could bring him to his knees.

He shifts as you climb onto the bed. He blinks up at you.

“Hey, come here.” He sounds drowsy, but you find it incredibly sexy.

“I love you,” you say as you lower yourself into his outstretched arms. His warm skin is perfect for snuggling. Seeing him like this makes you want to be close to him, but in a different way.

He kisses you deeply, but you pull away just in time to regain control. “I'm not done with you,” he warns. Despite already going three rounds (that you can recall), he shamelessly craves more. Admittedly, so do you.

You gently place your pointer finger on his lips and shake your head. "It's my turn."

He raises an eyebrow in curiosity.

“We spent all night living out your fantasies but didn’t even get to mine. Not fair–that’s not how this relationship is supposed to work,” you pout.

“I’m sorry,” he says sweetly, brushing your cheek with his finger. “What do you want, my love?”

You wrap your legs around his thigh and rub against it, letting him feel that you are already wet for him. The friction makes you moan, as does the promise of being naughty.

You kiss him, press your body against him. “Two things.”

His finger grazes your forehead. “Anything.”

“One, I want to taste you,” you whisper then glance downward at his crotch.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, already into it. “And the second thing?”

This is when you try to hold back your excitement. “You have to be very, very still.”

He’s suddenly puzzled. “Huh?”

“I want you to keep your hands to yourself while I work on you,” you state.

He groans in frustration. “You know that’s impossible–”

“Just trust me!”

Eventually, he acquiesces. “Alright. How do you want me?”

You purse your lips and motion for him to sit up against the headboard, and he obliges. You lift his arms and direct him to hold onto the gaps in the frame.

Next, you grab hold of his boxers' waistband and he lifts his hips to assist you. As you pull them past his feet, you ask, "Are you good, baby?"

“Yes,” he answers with a gentle smirk.

You spread his thighs apart, but before you position yourself between them, you lean forward to give him a kiss. He instinctively embraces you, with one hand pushing into your hair and the other resting on the small of your back, urging you to come closer.

Clearing your throat, you flick your eyes to his hands, giving him a warning look. He smiles, suddenly remembering one of your stipulations, and lets his hands fall to his sides.

You press a light kiss to his lips before moving your mouth across his cheek, down to his throat. Your tongue darts out to lick his golden skin before latching on, causing him to let out a pained growl. You graze him with your teeth, leaving a mark. Rough sounds of pleasure vibrate against your lips.

Pulling back, you admire the bright red bruise you left and giggle triumphantly at your handiwork. “Mine.”

"Yours," he vows with hooded eyes.

"Good answer." Pleased, you continue to move lower, finding and teasing his nipples. You lick over them, around them, then blow. Namjoon hisses and growls at the shot of cool air against his sensitized skin. He resists the temptation to roll you onto your back and pin you to the mattress, but instead, he grips the headboard tighter, his knuckles turning white.

As you make your way down his torso, you feel his entire body tighten with anticipation. When your tongue rims his belly button, his hips jerk up.

If he only knew just how excited you were to see him in this state. You want to reward him for having this much obedience and self-control.

With your hands on his inner thighs, you urge him to spread open wider, giving you room to settle comfortably. Dipping your head, your lips part, and you give his cock a precursory lick.

“Fuuucking…hell…” he growls.

It sends another wave of arousal through you. Wrapping your lips around him, you give him back what he gave you last night. Using only your mouth, you worship him, sucking gently and caressing him with your tongue.

He mutters a mix of curses and praises, feeling both lost and dizzy with pleasure.

You pause for a moment and tease him. “You like that?”

He sits up on his elbows, and looks at you wryly. “No, I hate every second it!”

You laugh then wrap your lips around his tip and hum.

“Aaaahh…fuck me. What the fuck,” he groans at the vibration. You see his eyes roll to the back of his head. “Deeper, please,” he begs.

Since he asked so nicely, you oblige and take him in completely until the tip reaches the back of your throat.

He cries out, his back arching as if he wants to pull away, but you hold onto him with your lips and hands, cupping and massaging, encouraging him to reach the peak of pleasure.

“Fuck…fuck…” he chokes out, fighting every urge to wrap his hand around your nape to control the pace. He knows you’re enjoying this too much and the thought of it sends him into a frenzy. His thighs ached with strain, muscles hardening by the force it took to restrain himself.

You feel his balls tighten and you know he’s close. Hollowing your cheeks, you bob your head at an even pace, swirling your tongue around his length simultaneously.

“Ahh, baby, I’m gonna cum…fuck…”

In the same moment that you pull off, he grunts and spurts right at your chest. You sit up and lean back on your heels, pumping him with your fist to prolong and intensify the sensation. You can feel the contractions against your fingertips, pulsing from his flesh as he lets out a drawn-out groan.

When his body calms down, you release him and move to lay by his side.

After a few beats, he croaks out, "Am I allowed to touch you now?"

With a playful giggle, you give him permission. Finally, his heavy arm shifts, blindly searching to pull you closer. You snuggle into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat gradually steadying against yours as he plants a kiss on the top of your head. Both of you collapse in a tired, satisfied heap, but you loved it.

And you loved him.

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Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @roaminginthenights @serendididy @majamarantha @mrskiminami @joonschocochip @yoongukie-ff @midnightagust

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Happy wipw and also happy tsc release week !! ♡ may I request some mafia front restaurant? (*'ω`*ʃƪ)

WIP Wednesday (4/10) | Mafia Front Restaurant AU (Part 132)

“What was the verdict? Am I allowed to stay?” Andrew asks when Neil comes back out. He gestures to the kitchen. “Now that you’ve discussed with the council, I mean.”

Neil makes a face, “I wouldn’t call Jean and me a council.”

“Ah, but you’re forgetting your third member.” Andrew says, wagging a finger. When Neil opens his mouth, Andrew holds up his hand. “Don’t bother. You can’t lie him away this time.”

“I can’t?”

“No. I’m afraid Kevin is a bit too loud to ignore.” Andrew admits. Hearing Kevin's voice again, even from another room, did something to Andrew’s stomach that he’s trying his best to ignore.

“God, tell me about it,” Neil grumbles, rolling his eyes. Andrew raises a brow at that, but Neil just shakes his head. “I asked and Jean is making bœuf bourguignon today.”

“Bœuf bourguignon, huh? I thought this was supposed to be an Italian place.” Andrew says, thinking of the spaghetti he was served during his first two visits despite the French name on the sign.

Neil bites his lip. “New management.”

“So soon?”

“Yes. What do you think about the menu for today?”

“Huh. I’ve never had it before. What is it exactly?”

“Uh. Stew, I think.” Neil guesses with a shrug. “I’m not really sure. Whatever it is, it takes forever apparently. It won’t be ready until dinner time. So if you don’t want to stay—”

“No, I don’t mind. I have nowhere else to be. And I like pancakes. So jot me down a pile of those, would you?” 

Neil’s mouth pops open. “How did you—”

“I just told you. I heard Kevin say, ‘You’re making pancakes?!’ like an excitable toddler.” Andrew says, pitching his voice higher in a bad imitation. Neil lets out a breath.

“Okay. I’ll tell Jean you’re staying. And I’ll get us something to drink while I’m back there.”

“Us? You’re going to join me?”

“If that’s alright,” Neil says, looking about as sheepish as the nephew of a mob boss can.

Andrew nods after a second. “It is.”

[guardevoir]

Fiber arts update!

hooooookay. Been a while.

Weaving first: finished another scarf

the tension was so fucked - so unbelievably fucked - that it's a miracle I got a scarf out of this. I think I accidentally wound the warp on tilted or something, and then ended up having to tension individual strings in many creative and interesting ways.

That aside, it's not washed yet, but it turned out mostly okayish in the end. The yarn did have some very unfortunate color changes - there's a whole row of really abrupt orange stripes in there that look weird with all the long fades - but that wasn't on me, so whatever. It's a scarf, it's nice and colorful, and I like the size of it.

Then, spinning: 200 goddamn grams (just over 7 ounces) of 4-ply incredibly blue Merino.

It is hard to overstate how violently blue this stuff is. Unfortunately, the fiber was also somewhat meh - had some odd little lumps and the occasional bit of vm, and I would've loved to do more prep on it, but spinning from the fold limited my options somewhat. But ah well, it is what it is.

The little middle bit of yarn is also cable-plied because I ran out of two singles and essentially went "fuck it, why not". I didn't want to mess around with too many center-pull balls or spend forever rewinding it.

Still needs to be washed, too, but yeah - that's a HUGE chunk of stuff I can check off my to-do list.

Next up is the same amount of 4-ply grey merino, which I might cable-ply in its entirety tbh, but I'm not sure yet.

Also, I've officially been spinning for a year, as of like three weeks ago! So, happy fiber arts anniversary to me I guess.

/edit: oh yeah, bonus WIP photo of the big hank of blue stuff on a bobbin because it looks really neat and satisfying

[purdledooturt]

WIP xDay

SO. @larvasmoon tagged me for WIP Wednesday but I lost track of the days - I'm so sorry!

Anyway, the last WIP I dug up for this turned into a full fic, so I had to find something else to post (we love suffering from success) - please enjoy this excerpt from the Dadstarion fic I'm working on in between other things ❤

Remember That I Love You

His daughter stood on a step stool in front of their mirror, making faces at her own reflection. Astarion, crouched low and armed with sewing pins, looked up to find her scrunching her nose while trying to lift her eyebrows. He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Darling, do be careful or your face will get stuck like that.”

“Would you still love me, Papa?” she asked, and her face broke into a toothy grin as she turned to face him. Gods – with a smile that wide (missing front tooth and all) she looked very much like her mother, who was elsewhere pottering in the house.

The sudden movement made the cloth slip past his fingers. He tutted gently and without any malice, making a note to himself that, all things considered, she’d been unusually patient and still for this alteration session. She apologised, the words coming out almost as a reflex instead of a genuine apology before he turned her towards the mirror once more to continue rolling and pinning a new hem to her new skirt.

“Well?” she prodded again, careful to only turn her head towards him this time.

“My love, there is nothing you can do that will make Papa love you less,” he answered, truthfully and honestly. He loved his daughter unconditionally, and he did not think it initially possible until he had held her in his arms for the first time. “You know, you looked like a prune when you were born but I still loved you then,” he grinned at her, recalling the memory of her birth like it was only yesterday. Every detail came to mind with ease, her arrival to the world a bright flash of light in the timeline of his life. For someone who had been beaten into believing that you would only be valued for what you could give, Astarion found that he loved his wrinkly little child before she could offer him anything at all. “Mama and Papa will always love you.”

She hummed, and it was obvious the seriousness of his declaration went unnoticed. “Even if my face got stuck like… this?” She made another comical face, crossing her eyes and pouting. She looked nothing short of adorable. How could he, with all his sins, have made something so pure? He gave her nose a light tap, amused as her eyes followed the tip of his finger. The action made her break into giggles, which was a sound he wished he could bottle and hold to his heart forever.

“I suppose even then,” he sighed theatrically.

She began swaying side to side, as she put her hands out for him to hold. She was an affectionate child, and he’d found his personal bubble had grown and accounted for the shape of his daughter in it. The alterations were momentarily forgotten, as her skirt swayed side to side, half too long and half just right. “Even if… I don’t eat my vegetables?”

Cheeky thing. “Sure – but we would still give you a talking to, I think.”

“What?” she asked, and she nearly tipped herself off the step stool if not for his hands holding hers. “Papa, if you loved me you wouldn’t give me a talking to.”

Ah, yes – this deviousness could only have been his contribution to the development of their only child. “My sunshine, that’s not how it works,” he replies, “Nice try.”

The prompt came from Cinnamontails's discord (the prompt was provided by myself, and then taken by myself, like a greedy gremlin). As usual, I'm here to promote our little community - please come and join us!

I'm tagging @larvasmoon back, like a cheeky chook. I'd also like to tag @riskpig and @vyjuarts. And also, @bludazey (my love, because I have missed you), and @cinnamontails-ff (because I'm trying to coax more of that Rolan fic out of you, if it wasn't already obvious).

Fingers crossed I'll have something new soon (wink).

[desomniis]

to ask for your hand (I just pray that its mine) | Chapter 2 excerpt

WIP | 2/5 | 12,099 words | Accidental Marriage in Vegas AU | Fluff | Angst | Drama

‼️WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD‼️

As Carlos slid into the seat next to him, Charles shouted over the music, "You're cheating!" Eyes wide with feigned anger.

Carlos blinked in genuine surprise. “What?! How am I cheating?!” Always the honest Virgo, never been one to play dirty—at least, not that Charles was aware of.

“You already got your kiss today,” Charles said, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

A smug grin spread across Carlos' face. "Well, I deserve more!" he declared, boldly capturing Charles' face between his hands and smashing their lips together.

“Oi! Stop this,” Pierre told them off, his tone askance. “I haven’t spin the bottle yet and you are kissing already? This is not fair eh?”

The crowd supported him. Charles, with a mix of reluctance and amusement, gently pushed Carlos back, rolling his eyes. “Alright, just spin it, Pierre.”

“Good, everybody wants to have their turn, eh? You don’t just skip,” Pierre said, pointing an accusatory bottle of tequila at him before setting it on the table

Before the bottle could stop spinning, Carlos suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him away from their table. They stumbled along the way, the world spinning around them. Carlos took him to a secluded corner of the floor, next to an empty small round table.

“Cahlos, what are you doing?”

“Say my name again,” Carlos demanded, placing his drink on the table, resting both his hands on Charles hips.

Charles chuckled. “What?”

“Again,” he pressed, his blown-out eyes meandering from Charles’ lips to his eyes. He was totally out of it.

"Caaah-looos," Charles drew out his name.

“I like how you say it,” he said, lips quirking up into a satisfied smirk.

Charles raised an eyebrow. “I always say it like that. Why are you telling me now?”

"Because now when I hear you call me, I remember this," he pointed at a reddish-purple mark just visible beneath the collar of his white shirt.

Charles snickered. He did do that. Although he expected Carlos to hide it more, not wanting anyone to see it. “Ah. It’s getting worse,” he said, leaning in for a closer look.

“And who’s fault? huh?” Carlos grinned, pushing Charles against the wall, caging him in.

Charles’ face, chest, neck, his whole body suddenly felt warm—no, hot. “What the hell, Carlos,” he said, a hand against Carlos' chest, their faces inches apart.

Carlos' eyes bore into him. "Kiss me,” he whispered, immediately softening his demand with a, “please.”

Should he? He’s drunk. Really drunk. It didn’t feel right. But those sinful lips and his expectant eyes, how could he resist those?

Putain.

It started with a gentle peck: one on the cheek, two on the lips. Then Carlos took it further, as he always did, softly tugging at the hair at the back of his head, his tongue effortlessly sliding into his mouth as if it belonged there. It made Charles' head spin, how easily Carlos opened him up. And as if that wasn't enough, Carlos yanked his hair, exposing his neck, running his tongue along the usual trail.

“Carlos," he moaned as Carlos' scorching tongue slithered from the bottom of his Adam's apple to the spot under his ear, savouring every inch of his skin and leaving him breathless. Carlos then tugged his head to the other side and planted delicate kisses along his neck, whispering sweet nothings.

On his collarbone, he muttered, "Charles, sei così bellissimo, you are so beautiful," he whispered.

On his neck, Carlos whispered, "Podría perderme en tus ojos para siempre, I could get lost in your eyes forever."

On his jaw, Carlos admitted, “I’m glad I kissed you,”

On his lips, Carlos confessed, "Your laugh makes my chest ache."

Charles pulled back, concerned. “What? Why?” he asked.

“Because it makes me too happy,” he explained with an idiotic smile.

Charles barked out a laugh. “You are very drunk Carlos. I don’t think you know what you are saying.”

“It’s true,” he said, going back to where he left off.

Fuck. Carlos felt good. Too good. If he doesn’t stop he was going to get—

Charles nudged him away. “We should go back,” he said.

“What’s wrong?” Carlos asked, eyes concerned.

“Nothing. I just want—they might be looking for us.”

“I don’t want to go back,” Carlos groaned. “I just want to be with you here.” He went in for another kiss but Charles flinched back as he felt his crotch touch his. Well, shit. Now he knew.

Read the whole chapter here. Ask me questions!