#am i doing promo or writing fic?

[staceymcgillicuddy]

Hit my stride on Kinkmeme 3 today, because I finally figured out an angle beyond "fuck?" And also, making Eddie miserable for fun and orgasms is my hobby these days. Seriously, though, Chrissy is meaner and scarier as a dom than he could ever hope to be (that, and she loves him and wants to braid his hair).

Also got the first ~1200 words edited on Kinkmeme 1 which I hope to post a week from today.

[starwarned]

Inhale

my little entry for @aftg-420-fest !! <3

andreil, 1k words, rated T

summary:

“Want any?” Andrew asks, but he’s not holding out the joint anymore. The next inhale that Andrew takes, he holds for only a few seconds before releasing, the smoke brushing past Neil’s cheek. Neil blinks at the sudden onslaught and he catches on to what Andrew is offering.

read it on ao3 or literally right here!

Inhale

A soft flick of metal striking makes Neil look up.

For a split, panicked second, the sound reminds Neil of a cigarette lighter and the passenger seat of a police car. Before that old terror can take hold, Neil’s gaze catches on Andrew’s face.

His pulse steadies.

Andrew flicks the lighter again and takes a slow drag from the joint he has tucked gently between two fingers on his left hand. Neil’s brain gets stuck on Andrew’s familiar fingers for longer than strictly necessary, but he manages to pry his attention back to Andrew’s eyes.

Judging by the look Andrew is giving him — something unsurprised and almost smug — Neil was obvious in his distraction.

“Staring,” Andrew says, and then takes another, smaller hit, inhaling deeply before releasing the smoke into the air above Neil’s head.

They’re on the roof, and the sun is setting, and Neil likes this so much. He tucks his hands behind his back, officially bidding goodbye to his textbook that’s open on the ground in front of him. He and Andrew have been occasionally coming up here on weekends for hours at a time, now that it’s warm enough to do so. Andrew was a bit smarter for the long term with his pants and orange hoodie, but Neil is perfectly content in running shorts and a long sleeve. He’s sitting in an easy stretch on the blanket that Andrew had brought up with them, his foot a few inches away from Andrew’s.

He pokes Andrew with his socked toes.

“Know what year the War of 1812 was yet?” Andrew asks in retaliation.

Neil doesn’t answer but shuts his textbook, shoves it off to the side, and then scoots in closer.

Andrew holds out the joint in offering, but Neil doesn’t take it. He has smoked with Andrew a few times since Andrew and Aaron picked it up, and doesn’t mind it when they do with more regularity, but he hasn’t really gotten the hang of it yet.

When Neil scoots in even closer, Andrew tucks his legs in so he’s cross-legged between Neil’s outstretched legs. Neil tucks one up and Andrew’s hand immediately goes to his knee, softly running his fingers over Neil’s skin, tracing the shape of his kneecap.

“Want any?” Andrew asks, but he’s not holding out the joint anymore. The next inhale that Andrew takes, he holds for only a few seconds before releasing, the smoke brushing past Neil’s cheek. Neil blinks at the sudden onslaught and he catches on to what Andrew is offering.

He shrugs, and then eyes Andrew’s mouth, where he’s already drawing the joint back to his lips. Andrew wraps his mouth around the filter, and then inhales, his cheeks bowing in with the movement, and Neil doesn’t bother to hide his staring again.

“Andrew,” Neil says.

Lifting his hand from Neil’s knee, Andrew tucks it under Neil’s chin, and draws him close. He squeezes just enough that Neil’s mouth falls open slightly.

His mouth barely an inch away from Neil’s now, Andrew exhales the smoke. Neil doesn’t have to move. He just inhales, sucking in softly, and letting his eyes shut at the feeling of the smoke entering his lungs. It’s easier this way, and Neil hums softly as he lets out the breath.

“More?” Andrew asks, and his voice is low and soft. Neil tries not to get turned on by it. (He fails supremely.)

“Yes,” he says, and Andrew takes another hit, adjusting his hand so he can slide two fingers under Neil’s chin, and pull him in again. This time, Andrew’s lips brush against Neil’s as he exhales and Neil has to focus in order to inhale properly.

Neil has to turn away to exhale and Andrew drops a kiss against the shell of Neil’s ear. Neil turns back to him, and they’re barely a breath apart.

Then Andrew’s mouth is on his, a whispered, “Yes or no?” tucked against his lips. Neil’s responding “Yes” is muffled, but clearly received.

The effect of the weed isn’t immediate, but Andrew’s mouth is, and insistently so. Andrew kisses Neil with an intensity that never fails to absolutely floor him.

They kiss with fervor that only slows slightly as the weed kicks in. It’s barely a buzz in Neil’s skin, just weighing him down, settling his brain a bit. He bites down on Andrew’s lip and then sucks on it, grinning when Andrew inhales sharply. When Neil pulls back just a bit, he finds Andrew’s stare and stifles a smile at how high he looks already — mouth soft, eyes hooded, gaze easy.

“Done?” Andrew asks, holding up the joint, which has long gone out, but could be relit if Neil wanted it. He doesn’t, so he shakes his head. The joint gets dropped unceremoniously on top of Neil’s textbook.

Wind whips across the rooftop, sudden and stinging cold. Neil’s exposed legs get the brunt of it and he shivers, but the gust is short-lived. With the sun this low to the horizon, it is colder than when they first retired to the roof. Neil scoots in closer to Andrew, and Andrew completes the move by gripping Neil around the waist and tugging him up into his lap. Neil wraps his legs lazily around Andrew’s hips.

“Andrew,” he murmurs, face pressed into his hair.

Andrew doesn’t say anything and sets his mouth against Neil’s neck, leaving a kiss there and then tilting his head to run his nose along the same spot.

“Andrew,” Neil says again, and it’s a sigh this time. Barely there, whipped away in the next harsh breeze.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“Stop being so comfortable,” Neil mumbles.

Not rising to the comment, Andrew tucks his face fully into Neil’s neck and rests more of his weight on him.

It’s not Neil’s fault that he falls asleep a little bit. It’s not his fault that he never feels safer than he does in Andrew’s hold.

Andrew doesn’t call him on it. He just holds him. Neil trusts Andrew to take his weight, to hold him there.

Neil trusts Andrew to wake him up if he’s going to smoke more.

[letters-to-rosie]

fanfiction on ao3

Powder and Ekko have been orbiting around each other for years. When their courses shift and they collide, Ekko makes a deal: revolutionary vision for information on Silco’s operations. Powder may be no politician, but she has her mind, some unlikely friends, and a score to settle. If only it weren’t complicated by her falling in love—and into bed—with her former worst nightmare.

real review left by @xsuicunex2 haha thanks to them for letting me use their words! 🤍

[hecoxthirst]

Thank you so much @punk-gremlin for the tag. For those who don't know how this works, you post the first and last lines of your ten most recent fics (if you have that many fics) 1. Can I guess who kissed me? Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla (Smosh) "Courtney was the one to bring up the idea for the first time." and "This is the happiest he’s ever been."

2. Alone doesn't suit you Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla (Smosh) "Ian has been stressing about today since Anthony agreed to meet." and "Anthony nods and places a kiss to Ian’s temple." 3. Sharing bed like little kids Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla (Smosh) "Sharing a bed with an older version of Anthony feels so odd." and "He wouldn’t want to belong to anyone else." 4. Ivy and forget-me-nots Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla (Smosh) "Everyone in the world is born with a little bud drawn on their inner wrist." and "Without having to think about it too much, he just does the most natural thing he could do. He kisses his soulmate." 5. Careful what you wish for Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla (Smosh) "Anthony gradually wakes up." and "Turns out he can get adult Anthony flustered too, after all." 6. No thoughts, head full (of cum) Eddie Clayton/Charlie Ross (Ghostmates) "Charlie is quietly focusing on his work, doing some line art on his new tablet." and "He... has a feeling he’s going to be thinking about this experience for a long time." 7. Good girl Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla (Smosh) "Ian feels like he’s perfected the fifties housewife look at this point." and "He leans in and connects their lips." 8. Oh let me use you baby, I love you Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla (Smosh) "Anthony’s on his bed, hand in his pants, trying to picture touching his girlfriend." and "Whatever is going to happen, he knows they’ll get through it together." 9. A part of me that will never be mine Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla (Smosh) "There’s something familiar about this scene." and "So then, why does he desperately wish he could wake up?" 10. What if you closed your eyes Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla (Smosh) "It’s a quiet afternoon, Ian sits on his couch listening to Anthony recount what was going through his mind when they shot the Who Slapped Me video." and "To have Anthony like this, the way he has him now? He’d endure all that and more." I don't know how many people I'm supposed to tag, or who to tag for the matter. I don't know who in this fandom has already done this, but I assume everyone 'cos everyone is just tagging each other lol So I'm gonna throw in a bunch of my friends from my older fandoms! @zeldahime @prewar-james @khazadspoon @feral-teeth @blondeforyou @commander-kiranerys If any of you have already done this or have no interest in doing this feel free to ignore <333 ily guys

[weolucbasu]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Joker Out (Band) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Nace Jordan/Jan Peteh Characters: Jan Peteh, Nace Jordan, Bojan Cvjetićanin, Kris Guštin, Jure Maček, Martin Jurkovič (Joker Out) Additional Tags: alternative universe, Joker Out don't exist in this universe, Inspired by a few interviews, and our lord and saviour - Igor the cat, Math Student Jan, Veterinarian Nace, Flirting, Awkward Flirting, Crushes, Awkward Crush, Tags May Change, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, First Dates, First Kiss, Kissing, Public Display of Affection, Mentions of Ex-Partners Series: Part 5 of 💜 jan/nace fics 💜 Summary:

He hadn’t had to take Igor to the ER in years, the last time his mom probably had to drive him, as he was too young, but he distinctly remembered an old woman treating Igor then. That was not the case now at all. This time the vet was a young (and very good-looking) man, probably no older than his late 20s, possibly freshly graduated. He was wearing that white coat doctors usually wear, but his sleeves were slightly rolled up and Jan could see some tattoos, but those weren’t even the best part about him. He was wearing glasses and was probably the hottest glasses-wearing man Jan had seen in recent history. His hair was short at the sides and longer on top, almost covering his eyes a bit, and so fluffy and brown and-

[rileys-basement]

Silly little treat for myself, here’s my favorite WATT fic I’ve written to this day out of like, 20+ that float around in my head constantly :) There’s just something about a We Are The Tigers Time Travel Fix-It AU that sparks joy I have to say

Summary: Without any warning, Farrah is thrown back from the night she got stabbed in Riley’s bathroom to… Two hours before then. She has no idea how and why she’s traveled back in time, but she’s going to try her absolute best to stay alive this time. Plus, she’s not alone in this endeavor, and she and her accomplice are going to commit time crimes and try to throw one of their friends into prison for murders that haven’t actually happened yet. It’s a lot harder than it sounds.

[fallloverfic]

Also to clear some things up in the notes, specifically about Ao3:

Authors on Ao3 do not get notified if you subscribe to their work. We do not get notified if you leave a bookmark, even if it's public. If it's public, we can see a bookmark if we check the bookmarks, but a lot of people don't do that, or at least don't do it regularly. If it's private, we can't see it at all.

What authors can see (outside comments, kudos, and public bookmarks) is their statistics page, which lists, among other stuff that isn't relevant, total # of bookmarks on individual works (which includes total private bookmarks as a combined # total with public ones, but no names or links), total author subscriptions, and subscriptions for individual works. The only time we can see who did what is when we check comments actually on the fic, check kudos, or we check the public bookmarks. That's it. Who is making up that total subscription # count and total bookmark # count (which again, includes the # of private bookmarks, but not who made them), is a mystery. And we can't see total bookmarks and subscriptions for series. The only thing we see for that is public bookmarks.

If an author allows people to add their work to a collection (just a regular collection, not a bookmark collection), or to ask to add the work to a collection, an author will get notified of that. Collections are not bookmarks. And authors will not get notified of bookmark collections. We can see those by checking the public bookmarks, if the bookmark collection is public, but we do not get notifications about it. And if they're private, again, we don't see them all, other than presumably they are included in the total # of bookmarks on the stats page for individual works.

Also authors have to manually check their stats page. Most of us try not to do that daily because it can drive you insane (I know plenty of us check all the time though, and keep track of it offline, mostly to track trends). And if you've got a lot of fics... that's a lot of stats to keep track of. What I do see every day, though, which is very easy to read, is my daily kudos email, and within 15-30 minutes of posting, an email that someone has left me a comment.

(This is mostly a PSA to people who are upset authors don't know they've subscribed, and who leave nice comments solely in their bookmarks; even if it's a public bookmark, it's pretty likely the author will never see it, or at least not see it for a very long time, because a lot of people check those only rarely or don't check at all, versus comments and kudos, which are sent out as emails).

(Also just a personal one; if you've ever reblogged fanart, maybe consider doing the same for fanfiction, too? I see some wonderful people liking fanfiction promo posts, but seldom do I see people reblogging/otherwise sharing them)

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[endless-ineffabilities]

I will never say that I am in love (18+)

{ alternate title: you are the love of my life }

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

When the one-eyed prince falls, the realisation comes to him in the scent of flowers. In his nephew's laughter. In his dreams.

themes/warnings : just pure sweetness, our emotionally constipated and repressed Aemond Targaryen, he thinks some *impure* thoughts in this one (how dare he!!!), he does NOT want to even think about falling in love (what a stupid distraction, he is not weak, you all should know) - also, he is DOWN BAD for the reader.

all my other works

a/n : this is the first fic I'm writing completely in the male lead's, in this case Aemond's perspective. Complete train-of-thought type of storytelling. (also, this is not in my scheduled works, the idea came to me after watching the new promo clips for s2... never in a million eons did I ever think I would hear Ewan Mitchell utter the word "cheugy" but oh well) - Enjoy! 🖤

{ I. flowers ▪︎ II. innocence ▪︎ III. dreams }

I.

Aemond decides that he finds pleasure in your scent.

The thought comes to him as he strolls through the halls of the Red Keep. Not a strong one, not a revelation by any means. A mere inkling of something he favours.

It is innocent. It is nothing.

He had spied some flowers peeking from just beneath a window. Roses, peonies, or some other, he did not bother to truly look. He glanced them out of the corner of his eye.

And he thought of you.

You smell something rather akin to those flowers - blooming and enticing and sweet.

A simple observation, rising to him now from his memory.

That is all.

Your scent reminds him of springtime in the gardens. You are pleasant, there is no doubt, but that very sweetness can only be construed as sickly if divulged in for far too long, too often.

Besides, his icy disposition does not really take well to flowers in the spring. They are more like to whittle under his boot, and shrivel from the coldness in his gaze.

You are not for him. No.

Flowers. Sweet things. The gentleness in your voice when you call him 'my prince'. Aemond scoffs at himself as he walks on.

It is no transgression to be distracted. It is a natural thing.

You are a distraction, and Aemond decides to think of you no more.

II.

Aemond comes to Helaena's chambers to visit with his niece and nephews. It is only by coincidence that you are almost always there too.

"Prince Aemond." Your voice resembles a song in greeting him. "Queen Helaena has just left to speak with Lady Alicent, but she should return shortly."

"Hmm." You are not a lady-in-waiting to Helaena, but more of a companion, a friend. Yet you do not mind looking after Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor when their mother is indisposed.

This is where Aemond finds you, most mornings. Were it anyone else, he might have sent them away, so that he can spend time alone with the children.

But he lets you stay, because, of course, Helaena would prefer it so. She dotes on you so dearly, Aemond has noticed.

In these instances, he lets you stay only because it is what Helaena would want. Why else?

He settles on an upholstered stool and beckons to the children. They eagerly waddle their way over to their beloved uncle.

You watch the interaction with a smile, as you always do. With your legs curled underneath you, comfortably seated on the floor a few feet in front of him.

Aemond used to pay you no mind, but increasingly it has been nagging at him that you are observing, taking him in.

It is inane to be self-conscious; there is no reason to be. He is the Prince - being perceived has been a constant all his life.

He is the Prince, and you are merely a lady companion.

But when you say things like, "They are very fortunate to have you as their uncle, my prince," it makes him feel a sense of pride. Like it is some accomplishment to be complimented by you.

He knows this. He knows he is a good uncle.

Perhaps it is just that. Vanity.

You pointing it out has nothing to do with anything.

Jaehaerys crosses the many strides it takes for him to reach you again, and he pulls at your hand.

"Come," he giggles.

"Where, sweet boy?"

"Come, come here, come here," he mumbles mostly to himself, grunting when you are unmoving and his three-year old form is unable to magically transport you as he wishes.

"Okay," you laugh once, getting on your feet with your body bent to his level, and you let him pull you to where he wants.

Which is... right next to his dearest uncle Aemond.

"There." Jaehaerys claps his hands in glee, as you curl up on the floor beside Aemond's outstretched legs.

"He has a sense of humour, that one," you grin, looking up at Aemond.

Aemond sees your expression up close and you look okay. Comely. Fine. You are not bad-looking, by any means.

You are the most beautiful lady in the court.

You are fine, just fine.

Aemond would not mind seeing your face everyday; he already sees it every night in his dreams.

And it is just fine.

"Is something the matter, my prince?"

Call him that. Do it again. Or better yet, replace prince with his name. Call him 'my Aemond'.

Aemond desires nothing more than to hear it.

Because... because he is vain. Nothing more than that. It would take a high degree of devotion for someone to utter the words 'my Aemond' to him. And who would not want to be at the end of such idolatry.

Perceive him. Worship him. Consume him.

You already consume him.

Aemond stands abruptly, and you scramble to follow suit.

"Aem... Aemond," you stammer. "I mean, forgive me... my prince, what is wrong?"

Aemond looks down. Your delicate hand is gripping his arm, the sleeve of his tunic doing nothing to mask the heat of your skin.

He is of dragon, he is of fire.

But your touch burns.

The clacking of wooden toy horses ring in the background, the children lost in their imagination.

"Nothing," Aemond clears his throat, and folds his arms behind him so your hand falls. "I am alright. I must go."

The smell of sweetness lingers in his nostrils. Your sweetness. He is growing weak.

He steps away, "I bid you farewell, my lady."

"My prince."

Call him Aemond. Call him by his name, title be damned. By the gods, call him yours.

Aemond nearly rushes out of the chambers, his gait sure and his footsteps heavy.

Tonight, in his dreams, he will finally release his foolish desires and that will be the end of it.

Behind his eyes, he will touch you and taste you and watch you crumble underneath him.

And he will be your Aemond.

That will be the climax of this passing fantasy.

III.*

Aemond has stripped down to his undergarments, supine above the silk sheets of his bed. He runs a hand over his face, and he sees you.

All the better for it, he supposes, that he gets rid of it now before it ruins him further.

It is a memory, from only one moon ago, but he sees it clear as day.

You had let your hair down that day, and it flowed freely, following the gentle breeze. Nestled in what Aemond found out to be your favourite spot in the gardens, needle and thread in your dainty fingers, you tell him that you are embroidering a veil for your dear mother.

You request for him to sit with you, and Aemond obeys.

Pleasantries are exchanged, about the weather, your duties, his training. All the while Aemond watches the contour of your lips, how it stretches back to reveal your smile when he says something that could not be the farthest from amusing, but you find it amusing anyway.

He stares you down questioningly.

You blush then, turning your focus back to your work, "Apologies, but I... I admire the way you speak, my prince. As if every word is deliberate, carefully chosen. You are intelligent, and you care what you say."

"Hmm," he said then, but now...

In his mind, he lets you know just what he wants, "Have you ever been bedded, my lady?"

You look at him in shock, of course you do. Those rosy lips part, and Aemond wonders whether your lips below possess the same shade.

In his grand chambers, Aemond lets his hand drift down, down from the planes of his stomach, to his hardened cock. He licks his lips, and imagines the softness of your own. He strokes the leaking tip with his thumb. The picture continues.

"Do you not ever wonder about the deed?" Aemond asks.

"M-my prince...I do not... I - "

"You must," he sneers. "You must, as I do, and when I do, it is you who floods my very thoughts, and consumes my very being."

"I do not know what to say."

"Say you want to kiss me."

His grip tightens, drawing down and up his cock, covering it with the milky white that has leaked from his tip. He is pained, teeth pressing down on his lower lip. He imagines your hands on him, your dress undone as you watch him come undone.

"We mustn't," you look down in shame. Your legs clench together to keep in the warmth.

"Come here, my sweetness," he leads you to sit atop him, and your work clatters to the ground.

You try to look away, try to hide just how much he is affecting you.

"Kiss me," Aemond pleads.

You comply. He slips his tongue past your lips.

Faster, wetter, he gets harder and it is unbearable. His hands are not enough, he wishes to plunge his aching member right into your soaking folds. Wishes to watch beads of his sweat fall on to you as he pounds you without mercy, his cock squelching deep inside your cunny until it is sore. If only you will ache as he does. Come as he comes.

Aemond lifts you up and the two of you end up stumbling down on the grass. He does not relent. His fingers make quick work of the strings and ribbons holding you together. Your breasts come free and he latches his mouth on one, his tongue swirling against the nipple.

"Oh Aemond!" you moan, and it is a scandal. It is everything unholy. It is every dirty thought nestled in his mind.

Soon he has you bare, your skin practically glowing under daylight. You are perfect, and you are his.

"Take me," you say, practically begging. "I want you to fill me with your cock. Fill me with your seed, my dragon prince. Please."

"My sweetness," Aemond reveals himself to you, undoing his breeches and slipping out of his tunic. How could he resist?

"Do you want me?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I want you, my prince," you affirm, squirming under him, you hips bucking up with desire, hopelessly attempting to rub your cunny against his skin.

"My Aemond," he corrects you. "Say it."

"I want you," you say, "my Aemond."

Aemond rubs his cock faster and faster, the thick green veins in his hand and arms straining angrily under his skin. He feels you, he sees you in his mind so clear. You are his, and he is your Aemond.

He plunges his cock inside you, and you are left mewling and writhing as he quickens his assault.

He groans loudly. The lewd squelching of his cock turning sloppy, hasty, mindless. A few more strokes and he comes all over himself, hot white streaks decorating his torso. His silver hair in disarray on the pillows, like a broken halo. Beads of sweat falling from his temple. His mouth parted as he whispers your name.

He gives himself a few more tugs, emptying out. You would do him so much better. Touch him so well.

In his mind, he still sees it. Fragments of his memory bleeding through his fantasies. He does not know anymore what is real and what is not.

He cleans himself up with warm cloth afterward, feeling shame at his actions.

This is enough. Now he has released you from his being. The desire he holds so closely to his chest must have dissipated along with the lewd act he just committed.

"My Aemond," you whisper from behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

Enough. No more of such useless musings.

"I love you, Aemond."

I love you too.

🌸🌸🌸

* In III, reality is fully italicized, and his memories + fantasies are typed as normal.

this was meant to have more sections ( IV to VII )... maybe I'll come around to it eventually.

Let me know what you think of this sort of writing from Aemond's perspective!

To be tagged in Aemond or Daemon fics, comment on this post !

[lesbians4armand]

Do you have any DM fic recs? I feel like there has been so much fic posted since the finale and I can't keep up.

OKAY dear nonnie I am so so sorry for making you wait so long for a response, I am notoriously terrible at replying to asks. I kept meaning to and then forgetting, but we are here now 🙂‍↕️

Here are some of my favourite Devil’s Minions fics!!

• I'm the Devil's Minion And He Grants My Every Wish

(Series by OracleOfTheSea, gorgeous writing and take on past and present DM in these three fics, I love this one)

• bodice ripper

(by nonfatalinfection, explicit, body horror, true freak DM sex, really enjoyed this one personally but might not be for everyone, so check tags!)

• i’m a man (and you deny it)

(INCREDIBLE work by mercuryhatter, who is on tumblr @armandposting, brilliant exploration on armand’s story and present feelings on Venice, set post-canon as he explains to Daniel who Amadeo really was, mature)

• At Least Death Means I’ll Never Be Afraid of Dying Again

(by MitchieSawyer, mature. I don’t tend to include AUs in recs but this one caught me so hard, it was truly amazing. Modern, Human AU that deals with the heartbreak and difficulties of terminal illness and death, keep tissues on hand for this one.)

• i’m a mess, but i’m the mess you wanted

(by real_enough, explicit. another human au, but one I found myself really enjoying, very sweet)

• red tint my world, keep me safe from my trouble and pain

(by rockwetman, explicit. armand watches rocky horror, once in 1975 and once in 2022. this fic speaks to my rhps loving heart, can’t recommend it enough)

• honey and pineapple

(by duri, explicit. AMAZING fic where daniel and rashid-mand get it on, one of my faves and my favourite genre)

• a haunting just for company

(by valkyrisms, explicit, post-s2 with armand just. living in daniel’s house. very fun, but unfinished as of now)

• two broken souls

(series by serafina20, explicit, post-s2 devils minion. a huge favourite)

• Lie Back And Let Me Unlock You

(by Thunder_Puss, explicit. human au but they’re possibly even more freaks than they are in canon, set in the early 2000s, armand is a cannibal, and daniel is his willing(?) victim. unfinished as of now but updates regularly)

• Dirty Thoughts

(by Yielded Desire, explicit. Daniel is super horny for Rashid and Louis and Armand project images of their coupling into his head to get him off. very fun indeed)

Finally, a little bit of shameless self-promo, by ao3 is ultraviolet_glow, where you can find many of own my DM ideas

[littlesistersti-backupandspam]

other account:

sti speaks tag

Reblog for sample size (if you want to)

[neurotic-escapades]

have I spent several nights designing RayK/Fraser book covers to vent my obsession with them YES

are they full of imperfections YEESS

do I need to post them to finally stop going over them OH YEAH and I just want to share them because they make me happy.

the color choices are based solely on the materials I have on hand since I am going to attempt to bind them all eventually to have them on my shelves (personal use only, no profit)

you might notice the distinct theme of purely @cesperanza fics because I am obsessed with their writing. I think I've read almost all their due south works by now. Go and read or reread their work and show some love. I am so late to this fandom but it is so alive and the content analysis is on another level.

(1) Eight Sessions using lineart by awesome schadenfreude523 on deviantart

(2) being a big fan of the fanart above this is my first ever attempt at lineart of my own (digital art is something I have never done before if we don't count MyPaint, and it is midblowingly overwhelming. I tried tracing a reference promo photograph. I think I am proud of how Diefenbaker came out but geez Ray is so hard to put into lines!)

(3) just Canva shenanigans but the fic link

(4) the design is heavily inspired by vaulteditions' vintage anatomy book designs. They are just so neat and satisfying. I found the picture of sled dogs on pinterest and can't find the original author so if you recognize it let me know.

(5) This one uses promo picture I subjected to heavy Canva abuse. I have actually finished binding it yesterday. Enduring Distance by speranza. It is my absolute fave, a fandom staple, if you haven't read it, it is sooooo goood. The binding was a pain, the galaxy brain when I finally figured out how to make it work with my joycricut, bookcloth and iron-on... unbelievable. Bookbinding is still something I am trying to get a hang of and it is testing my patience big time (I barely have any to begin with btw). The spine is misalinged, the page margins uneven but otherwise I am pretty happy about it.

So that's it. My first ever due south fandom post (sending love to everyone that keeps the fandom alive, I love each and every one of you even though from a distance thus far) and first fanbinding post *big breath aaaaand post*

[lady-belz]

A Hard Day at the Office

⟶ pairing: Jin x Female Reader

⟶ word count: 6k+ 18+ // mdni

⟶ genre: angst, smut, fluff, coworkers to lovers au

⟶ content: officeworker!jin, hobi is a sneaky bestie, reader's inner voice is a ho and her name is IVY (aka "Inner Voice"), IVY does a lot of internal monologuing

⟶ warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, groping, unprotected sex (don't do it kids!), nipple play, oral (f. receiving), markings (hickeys & other bruising), a bit of dirty talk, fingering, teasing, multiple orgasms…

↬ a/n: this is based on Jin's promo photos from 'HAPPY'. The girls in our BTS discord group asked (i.e. begged) me to write Jinfic based on those pics, especially the one where he's on the floor laying on a chair and SMIRKING! And thank you to my gal, Nightshade for giving Inner Voice a name. IVY may make an appearance again in a future fic.

You were slightly confused as to why you were being called to your CEO’s office in the middle of the day. As far as you were aware, you hadn’t done anything worthy of being fired or getting demoted as the office manager.

You knocked on the solid oak door and was bade to enter. You stepped inside, schooling your features so you didn’t look as nervous as you felt.

”You wanted to see me, sir?” you asked politely.

”Yes, please sit, Y/n.”

”Am I in trouble, sir?” you asked as you sat before his desk. He looked at you in surprise for a moment before he burst out laughing.

”Absolutely not. You’re one of my best managers in this company. Firing you would be like cutting off my left leg and I’m right handed.” he chuckled. You breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at the same time. “I called you in here because we have a new employee I need you to train.”

”Oh! I’m guessing they’re taking Geena’s spot?”

Geena, who had been your assistant, had recently gotten married and decided she wanted to be a stay-at-home wife. There hadn’t been the time to fill her position as it was one of the more busy seasons for the advertising firm.

”They are, or rather, he is.” He pointed to a spot over your shoulder and you turned in your seat to look. All the air was knocked from your body as you got a good look at the man standing there. You vaguely heard your boss introduce him.

Kim Seokjin… who would become your greatest weakness in the coming months.

But you did the job you were paid to do and trained him. He was a fast learner.

Kim Seokjin, quiet, shy and introverted, but also a very hard worker.

He grabbed your notice the moment you met him. Tasked with training him to be as good if not better than Geena was no hardship. But he made you so flustered and nervous, it was hard not to act foolish in front of him.

The January Coffee Incident comes to mind. The absolute worst day in the world that you chose to wear an all white suit to work.

You had been walking and going over some things with one of the project technicians when he came into the office. He looked absolutely gorgeous in a navy blue sweater, black framed glasses and white pants. He saw you and gave you a warm smile in greeting.

You tripped over your own two feet, crashed into a nearby desk and knocked your iced coffee all over yourself, soaking you from neck to groin to the point where everything became practically see-through.

And he witnessed the whole thing.

The ice made your nipples hard and you were unaware that his eyes had given you a very slow once over.

You couldn’t really avoid him after that day since he had the desk directly across the aisle from yours.

He was friendly to everybody, would go out of his way to help anyone in need. Including you, even though you felt like the world’s biggest klutz whenever you were around him.

The January Coffee Incident again comes to mind. You never wore a white suit to work ever again.

Sad to say – you developed a really huge crush on him.

Your best friend, Hoseok liked to tease you about it every chance he got. He kept encouraging you to talk to Seokjin but you refused, not wanting to make a fool of yourself any more than you already had. You had yet to even have a full personal conversation with him. You still felt like an awkward monkey whenever he was near, stealing glances when you thought he wasn't looking.

It was better for you to admire from a distance, much to Hoseok's annoyance.

You forgot how devious your best friend could be.

Seokjin had been working in your department for nearly a year now.

You noticed he had some quirky habits that made him even more attractive in your eyes.

He listened to cassette tapes on a Walkman™ of all things while he worked. Something that became obsolete back in the early 2000's. The one time you walked by his desk, you could hear the faint sounds of The Beach Boys “Surfin' USA” coming from the tiny speakers. It made you chuckle.

He also liked to flip his pen around his fingers. You watched him do this for nearly 5 minutes straight once, mesmerized by how flexible his fingers were.

Your cheeks warmed when you thought about other ways his fingers might be flexible.

During a meeting, you were tagged by your boss to work together on part of a project due at the end of the month. Surprised, you glanced at Seokjin to see him quickly look away from you, his cheeks tinted a light pink. You wondered at that.

It was a late Friday evening and you were both staying after hours to work. It had been relatively silent for the most part between the two of you but you were starting to get hungry.

You picked up your phone. “I'm going to order some dinner. Would you like anything? My treat.” You asked him, nervous about speaking to him in the first place. He'd had his music over his ears, but not loud enough to where he couldn't hear you if you spoke to him. He glanced up at you, his eyes bright behind the glasses he wore.

“Um... yeah, sure.” he replied. His voice... you'd nearly forgotten how deep it was. Usually it was pitched high when he started to sing along with his music. It made your insides feel weak.

He walked across to your desk to get a peek of the menu on your phone, hovering over your shoulder.

You could cheerfully die.

He smelled amazing! Sandalwood and vanilla were starting to become your two favorite smells.

It took everything you had in you not to turn your head and bury your nose into his neck to imprint that smell on your brain.

His arm came around your shoulder while his hand covered yours as you were holding your phone so he could use his other hand to scroll the menu and make his selections.

Was it too late to order a funeral casket?

Red alert! Red alert! Engine is overheating! Get the tech crews on it STAT!

Selections made, he turned his head to look at you. Your eyes were immediately drawn to his plush lips.

You forgot how to breathe.

Mayday! Mayday! We are going down! All hands abandon ship!

“Thanks.” he murmured. You yanked your gaze away from his lips. Something was lodged in your throat. You couldn't speak if your life depended on it. You may have said something like “You're welcome.” but you're not exactly sure if you vocalized it correctly.

Did he smirk at you as he walked back to his desk?

You might have been seeing things because this shy, introverted man did NOT just smirk at you like he knew some great secret.

You put your phone down, grabbing your bottle of water to clear the obstruction in your throat (there wasn't one, but your mouth was drier than the Sahara in winter).

And you were wet... panties-soaking wet if you were honest with yourself.

Get a grip, you horny bitch!

You wanted to listen to that voice, but it was difficult since it had been more than a year since your last serious relationship.

Oh you tried random hook ups, but they just weren't satisfying.

It was quiet once again as you went back to your individual work, your heart rate returning to a normal level after he was sufficiently some distance from you.

Your dinners arrived less than an hour later and you set everything up at the meeting table that was in the corner. They didn't give you napkins so you headed for the break room to get a few.

When you returned to the office, he was nowhere to be seen.

You called out his name, hearing a reply from somewhere around his desk.

Frowning, you went around the desk to see him laying on the floor, using his chair as a pillow.

He had removed his glasses and undid two buttons on his shirt and sweater.

And the look he was leveling you with...

Unconsciously your eyes slowly roamed his body from head to toe.

You tried not to squeeze your thighs together. Tried to gather your scattered thoughts, but in that moment, there was only one word you could think of in this situation.

Fuck!

“W-Why are you on the floor?”

Yay! Words! And spoken correctly! Good job!

“I've been hunched over my desk most of the evening. Stretching out my back muscles.” he replied, a small smirk on his face.

Dammit, he IS smirking!

“...oh.”

I mean, what was there to say to that?

“Want to try it?” he asked.

“In this get-up?” You waved your hand over the plum-colored suit jacket and skirt combo you had chosen to wear that day. “Don't think so.”

You started to walk to the corner table when his hand snaked out and wrapped around your bare ankle before you even stepped a foot away.

Your body jolted like lightning had struck you and you bit your lip hard to keep a moan from being released into the air. You nearly ripped the napkins you were holding in two pieces.

Should have worn pants today! Your inner voice cackled.

You slowly turned your head to look at him. That infernal smirk was still on his lips.

“You sure you don't want to lie down here with me? Might do you some good.”

“I'm hungry.” was your immediate response. His eyes glinted and his smirk seemed to get bigger. “For food! I want my food!” You stammered loudly, cheeks warming with embarrassment. His shoulders shook as he chuckled. You looked down at his hand (Why are his fingers so soft?) still around your ankle.

“Oh... sorry.” he stated, slowly releasing you. He wasn't sorry at all.

Did this fucker run his hand over my calf? Your inner voice was having a serious meltdown. Honestly, you were too, but you were going to ignore it.

You moved to the table where your dinner's sat, ignoring the sound of him getting to his feet behind you. You could feel his eyes on you like the sun on your back on a hot day. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was making you hot and bothered (even though he probably already had an idea).

You need to get laid, sister! Your inner voice taunted. You wanted to punch that voice in the throat.

“Drink?” he murmured against your ear, sandalwood and vanilla permeating your senses once again. You clenched the plastic fork in your hand, nearly breaking it. You moved away from him, trying to be subtle about it, but you knew he was watching.

Where the hell has this cocky sonofabitch been for the last year?

“Yes, please.” You finally answered him. You got a breather from his overwhelming presence as he headed toward the vending machine at the other end of the office.

What was happening right now?

How did someone so unassuming hold such power over you and so quickly?

“Has to be the glasses...” You muttered.

He returned with the drinks, placing one in front of you. You noticed it was your favorite and it set you wondering how he knew.

Turning back into the gentleman you knew him to be (and wasn't that just deceiving?), he pulled your chair out for you before taking the seat right next to you.

Fuck me!

You decided to try and ignore him, browsing your social media on your phone while you ate. But you were so consciously aware of him on a level you've never felt before.

Somehow you managed to choke down your dinner, even though you tasted none of it.

Gathering your waste, you headed to the trash bin to dispose of it. You turned to head back to your desk and nearly ran face first into his chest. You jumped back in surprise.

Fuck, when did he move so quickly and why didn't I hear him?

“Um... we've got work to finish.” You stated. Surprisingly, he stepped aside and let you pass, but not before he drew his hand across your hip as you did.

You felt that touch through your entire body, making your woman parts throb with want.

You sat back at your desk as he went to his, but you couldn't concentrate very well. After about 2 hours and with a frustrated sigh, you put everything away, saving what you had been working on from your computer. It was 11 in the evening. He glanced up from his own work to stare at you.

“It's late. I'm tired. I'm going to head home and continue this on Monday.” You stated, getting to your feet and grabbing your coat. He jumped to his feet as well.

“I'll walk you out.”

“No, you stay and finish. I'll see you Monday.”

“It's alright. I don't mind. And I’m starting to go cross-eyed staring at my screen.” he insisted, slipping on his coat and his glasses as he shut down his computer.

You wanted to groan in frustration. He was making it very difficult for you not to tackle him to the floor.

You thought you'd be okay... until you got into the elevator.

Stuck in a box, smelling sandalwood and vanilla for 10 floors. Great.

It was snowing when you finally made it out of the building and you took a deep breath of the winter air to clear your sinuses.

“May I drive you home? I don't think you're going to get a cab or Uber this late.” he asked.

Bitch, don't you dare say no! This is your chance! your inner voice yelled.

You wanted to say no, not give in to that temptation. But you saw the earnest look on his face, the boyish grin that was anything but innocent (little did you know!). You took out your phone and saw that no cabs, Ubers or buses were running and wanted to groan in annoyance.

“Yeah, thank you.” you finally sighed, defeated. You tried to ignore the smile on his face at your capitulation as he lead the way to his car.

And of course his car smelled like sandalwood and vanilla…

Kill me now! You yelled out in your head. Your inner voice was suspiciously silent, but you felt they were smirking at you.

After giving him directions, it was a quiet ride to your home, a small two story on the outskirts of town you had inherited from your grandparents when they passed away. You tried not to stare at his hands as they manipulated the steering wheel. You don't know when you had become so obsessed with his fingers. You got lost in a fantasy of him running those fingers over your naked body and bit back a whimper, turning away in embarrassment as he took a quick glance at you.

You missed the smirk on his face that time.

The headlights of his car illuminated against the front of your home as he pulled into your driveway. He killed the engine as you removed your seatbelt, hand on the door ready to step out.

”Um, thanks for the ride, Seokjin.” you managed to say.

”You’re welcome. And please, call me Jin. I prefer it.”

”Jin.” you nodded. You were both silent for a moment, neither knowing what to say. You finally took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping out of the car. You carefully made your way to the front door, mentally reminding yourself to shovel and salt the driveway and sidewalk in the morning. You could feel eyes watching you and you waited until you got your door unlocked and opened before you turned to look. He gave you a wave, which you returned before he started his car to leave…

Or, at least he tried to start the car.

It made a whirring sound as if it wanted to start and you watched as the headlights dimmed before going out all together, the engine slowly dying.

You knew that sound.

He had a dead battery.

You watched as his head dropped to his steering wheel and you honestly felt bad for him. You went back down, knocking on his driver’s side window. He opened the door.

”You may as well come inside. You’re not going to get a mechanic out here this late.” you offered.

”I don’t want to impose.” he sighed.

”You can’t sleep in your car, Jin. It’s snowing and it’s supposed to drop below zero tonight. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.” you replied.

”Thanks, I appreciate it. And I’m sorry about this.” You backed away as he climbed from the car, pocketing the keys as he locked it.

”Not your fault. Stop apologizing.” you returned, leading the way into the house.

You locked the door after you were both inside, turning on the lamp next to the couch to get some light in the room. It was slightly chilled in the air and you went to the thermostat to turn up the heat.

”You have a beautiful home.” He spoke behind you. You glanced over your shoulder to see him removing his jacket and shoes as he looked around at your holiday decorations.

”Thank you, it belonged to my grandparents.” you replied. “Um… would you like a hot chocolate or tea. Coffee?” You wondered, removing your suit jacket to leave you in a beige silk tank and your skirt. You turned to place the jacket over the back of the chair, missing his slow perusal of your body from head to toe and licking his lips in want.

”No coffee. I won’t be able to sleep.” he replied, pulling his eyes back to your face when you turned to look at him. The look of innocence on his handsome face should have had alarm bells ringing in your head, but you were tired and foggy-brained.

”Hot chocolate?” you asked.

”Please.” he nodded. You turned and headed for the kitchen, turning the light on over the stove before grabbing two mugs from the cabinet. You placed the kettle on the stove, turning the temperature up high before turning to get a couple of hot cocoa packets.

When you turned back to the counter, he was standing before you. You jumped back in surprise.

”You have got to stop sneaking up on me!” you burst out without thinking.

That damn smirk made its reappearance.

”Do I make you nervous?” He wondered, stepping closer. You stepped back, shaking your head.

”N-No.”

”Seems like I do.” He replied, taking another step. You backed up another and felt yourself hit the counter.

”Y-You don’t make me nervous at all.” You stammered, staring at him with wide eyes.

He stepped into your personal bubble, placing his hands on the counter behind you and trapping you with his body.

Oh shit! He’s got you now, girlfriend! Your inner voice cheered.

“You wouldn't be lying to me would you?” he asked, voice deepening.

Oh he hit you with The Voice! Give up already! Your inner voice cackled.

“N-No.” You whispered.

You could only watch, frozen in place as he freed a hand from the counter to brush across your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. You wanted to melt into the floor. His eyes pinned yours and your breath wheezed from you.

“Jin.” you whispered, your voice husky with want.

“I have a confession to make.” he murmured, running his fingers along the skin of your neck and down your arm. Goosebumps broke out over your entire body and you could feel your nipples harden. You bit your lip, hiding another moan.

“W-What?”

“I've been fascinated with you since the first day I met you.” he admitted, taking your hand in his. “The more I was around you, the more that feeling grew – Coffee Incident, notwithstanding.” he chuckled, making my cheeks warm.

Oh my god, he saw that whole mess!

“Huh?” You were dumbfounded and it brought you just a bit out of the haze of lust you'd been in.

His cheeks tinted pink as he nodded. “I wanted to ask you out on a date so many times. But I always became tongue-tied whenever I was within 5 feet of you.”

“...oh.”

He just keeps reducing you to one-word sentences. This is great! Your inner voice was having the time of her life right now.

You took a deep breath, and decided to take a chance.

“So what was all that? At the office?”

“A friend told me to just go for it. The worst that could happen is you'd slap me and tell me to leave you alone. Or I'd get lucky.”

Ignoring his lucky comment (because you already knew he was going to get very lucky), a sudden suspicion flew through your mind.

“Would this friend happen to go by the name Hoseok?” you asked. His face lit up and a genuine smile graced his lips, making him even more attractive and your heart threatened to jump from your chest into his hands.

“You know him?”

“Unfortunately.” you grumbled. “My ex-best friend.”

“Don't be too hard on him. He was coming from a good place.”

“Right.” you snorted, looking away. You felt your hand raised and plush lips pressed a kiss to your knuckles (they felt like pillows!), making your head snap up in surprise. He was staring directly at you.

“Would it be safe to assume you feel the same about me? Or am I reading this wrong?” he asked softly.

You swallowed hard, slowly shaking your head no after a silent moment.

“I noticed you as well.” you admitted.

Still holding your hand, he stepped closer. You felt so small next to his larger frame and you had the sudden urge to press your cheek against his chest and listen to his heart beat. But the heat in his gaze kept you rooted in place.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” he murmured, his eyes ducking to your lips and back to your eyes. The saliva dried up in your throat at his confession and your lady parts woke up and started cheering. You could water a garden with the moisture that was gathered between your thighs in that moment.

“That would be... a really bad idea...” you whispered, denying yourself what you've wanted most of the year.

You idiot! Take what the man is offering! Your inner voice screamed.

“Why?” he wondered. The kettle went off, startling you both and you ducked around him to take it off the burner, but also to breathe and cool down for a moment.

But it was not to be.

A large hand wrapped around your bicep, yanking you around. Shocked, you were poised to tell him off when his lips covered yours, surprising a gasp from your lips.

Oh my god! He's kissing you! Yesssssssssss!!!!!! Get it girlfriend!

You could practically hear your inner voice celebrating with a parade.

You'd laugh, but your brain was slowly become mush under his slowly deepening kiss.

You were drowning.

And you loved it.

A whimper stole from your lips as his tongue penetrated the seam, darting inside to map every part of your mouth he could reach, his arms going around your waist to pull you closer.

You wanted to melt.

You wanted to die.

You wanted him to strip you naked and have his way with you.

You nasty ho! That inner voice chuckled.

You moaned into the kiss as his hands moved down your body, cupping your ass cheeks and squeezing like he was checking melons at the grocery store. You made an embarrassing sound that vibrated throughout your entire body as he backed you into a wall, your arms going up and around his shoulders.

The cool surface failed to put out the raging inferno going on inside your body and your hands went to his sweater, fumbling with the buttons. He pulled away, not even bothering with the rest of the buttons on either his sweater or shirt, gripping the back firmly and pulling them completely off, losing his glasses somewhere in the process.

You could only stare as his upper torso was bared to your hungry eyes.

He was hiding all that muscle beneath those sweaters? What the fuck?

You agreed with your inner voice. The man wasn't Hercules by any means but there was some definite muscle tone. You had the sudden urge to bite him.

“I won't stop you if that's something you want to do.” he chuckled.

“Oh shit! I said that out loud, didn't I?” you laughed, embarrassed. He caged you against the wall with his body and stared down at you with a piercing gaze. You didn't know what to do with your hands, he was so close. He remedied that problem by taking them and resting them on his bare hips.

Is that... is that a V-Line????????? You could actually feel your inner voice go into orgasmic shock as your fingers lightly grazed the lines of his hips. He took a shuddering breath as he finally had your hands on his skin.

“Incidentally... I've dreamed about biting your thighs.” he murmured, ducking to place teasing kisses along your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck!” you whisper-gasped, the thought of his head between your thighs your ultimate erotic fantasy. He smiled against your neck as you swore.

You were just absolutely wrecked by this man... and you hadn't even slept with him yet.

“What do you want? Whatever it is, I'll give it to you.” he whispered into your ear. You shuddered, your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as his breath ghosted across your skin.

Do it... you know you want to! Your inner voice was back to cheering you on and you decided to finally listen to it. You probably would never have another opportunity.

You gently pushed him away from you. He gave you a quizzical look as you took his hand. You turned and headed for the stairs, missing the large grin on his face.

At some point it had started to snow outside and you hadn't bothered with closing the curtains in your bedroom. The moonlight streaming through the windows along with the snowfall created an ethereal romantic effect.

Releasing his hand, you turned toward him, just as he wrapped an arm around you and yanked you against his body, his lips already covering yours in a kiss so passionate, you thought your clothes would melt right off.

His hands zeroed in on the zipper of your skirt, the material pooling around your ankles as it was released from the confines of your body. You both moaned as his hands squeezed the bare skin of your ass, barely covered by your underwear, a purple thong you had, on a whim, decided to wear to work that day.

His fingers, the same ones you'd had daily (and nightly) fantasies about, dipped down between the cleft of your cheeks, instantly discovering how much you wanted him. You were drenched!

His cock, half hard most of the evening, went instant hard, pressing against your thigh to introduce itself.

The moan you let out could have counted as your most embarrassing if it wasn't for the fact he made the same exact sound.

Still holding you, his fingers still causing insane amounts of pleasure inside of you, he turned and walked backward until you both fell onto your bed. Your legs were spread on either side of his hips and he took advantage of the position, dipping deeper inside of you, making lewd squelching sounds as he thrust them in and out.

Clutching his shoulders, you rode out your pleasure on his fingers, begging him not to stop (he had no intentions of doing so until you were a moaning mess on top of him). He leaned up to nip at the skin of your neck, the pleasure spiking through you.

With a cry of his name, you came, soaking his fingers and hand in your essence, most of it dripping down your thighs and soaking into his pants. He moaned at the feel of it.

And he was not done with you.

Distracted by the pleasure still running through your limbs, he rolled you onto your back, your legs hanging off the edge of the bed. He pulled off your ruined underwear, falling to his knees between your legs and pulling the jellied limbs over his shoulders.

Before you could ask what he was doing, he was kissing and biting your thighs, his greatest desire.

You moaned lewdly as he traveled along your skin.

And then it happened, your ultimate dream and fantasy rolled into one.

You felt his tongue along your still swollen folds and your whole body arched up off the bed, a loud cry falling from your lips.

He wanted to smirk, but his mouth was busy. You were like a sweet ambrosia to him and he didn't want to stop tasting.

Your fingers slid into his hair, gripping tightly and the pleasure/pain of it made him groan against you. Your cries of pleasure made him hornier than ever. He had to be inside you and soon or he was going to combust.

You were completely wrecked. Something you thought was only a dream, now a reality. Your body didn't feel like your own anymore as he did his best to overwhelm you with pleasure.

He devoured you like a man starved. You could feel that band deep your stomach becoming tighter and tighter, your thighs beginning to shake.

His tongue went deep, touching ever part of you he could reach as he fumbled with his pants to free himself from the tight confines. He was harder than he'd ever been in his life and it was for you.

“J-Jin!” you stammered his name, that band in your stomach finally snapping as you received your second orgasm in less than an hour. He drank you in like he'd been in the desert and gotten his first drink.

You yanked on his hair after a few moments, oversensitive as he finally pulled away. You were breathing hard, body covered in a sheen of sweat as he moved up your body to kiss you. His face was wet and you could taste yourself on his tongue. You still had your tank top on. He helped you take it off, along with your bra, tossing both items somewhere in the room as his mouth surrounded a nipple, sucking and biting your skin.

You moaned beneath him, wrapping your legs around his hips to keep him close.

“I want you so much.” he whispered against your damp skin, pressing his hardness close to your still throbbing core.

“Please.” you begged him.

“C-Can I?” he moaned, rubbing himself against you. You nodded your head. “Thank you!” he moaned, not wasting another second. He needed to be inside you like he needed air to breath.

You both cried out in shock as he slid in easily. He was long and thick, more than what you were used to and he felt like heaven and hell rolled into one. He was touching every internal part of you and you clenched tightly around him. He groaned, pressing his face into your neck as his thrust started off slow and deep.

“Fuck!” you babbled, gripping his arms.

“You feel so good!” he moaned. “Better than I dreamed.”

“Jin! Oh my god!” you cried out as he went deep.

He turned his head and started licking and biting the skin of your neck, marking you as his, wanting to imprint himself into your very soul. He kept his thrusts slow, deep and steady, wanting to make this last for as long as possible.

Minutes turned into hours and you were both a debauched mess. Bodies covered in a sheen of sweat, hair plastered to your foreheads, your body and soul on fire with the desire coursing through your veins.

The man had the stamina of a bull. You lost track of how many times he made you cum. You were oversensitive, swollen but happier than you'd ever been in your life.

“Jin... please...” you moaned, exhausted.

“One more... please, one more...” he groaned, gripping your thighs. He sat up, digging his knees into the bed as he started to jackhammer himself inside of you. You cried out in absolute pleasure, clutching your arms across your breasts.

“Oh... oh my god!” you moaned loudly, feeling that band of pleasure tighten within you one more time. He bent you in half, going the deepest he'd ever been the entire night and the band snapped. Your whole body went into pleasurable shock as you came. You might have blacked out for a few moments, the pleasure was so intense.

When you were aware of your body again, Jin was laying beside you, staring at you in concern. As your eyes focused on him, he gave you a sheepish smile.

“There you are.” he whispered. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?” you wondered, your voice husky.

“I got a bit carried away.” he murmured, ears turning red in embarrassment. You giggled, turning your tired body toward him to brush a lock of hair from his forehead.

“Am I complaining?” you smiled. He was entranced by your smile and he couldn't help but lean in to kiss you. You moaned softly as he slowly pulled away.

“I could kiss you forever.” he whispered, brushing his nose against the skin of your cheek.

“I-Is that something you want?” you wondered. He paused in his kisses, drawing back to stare down at you.

“So many times I wanted to ask you out on a date. I was and still am stunned by your beauty, always getting tongue-tied and nervous. I felt like the high school nerd having a crush on the captain of the cheerleading squad if I'm being honest.” he chuckled, the sound teasing along your nerve endings.

“So... what's stopping you now?” you wondered, staring at him. His jaw dropped open in surprise before his face morphed into a smile that could light a darkened room.

“Ms. Y/n... would you do me the honor of going out on a date... with me?” he whispered.

“I would love to.” you returned. “But... on one condition...”

“Anything.” he agreed.

“Be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widened in shock and you giggled.

“What?”

“I think we've gone beyond first dates, Mr. Kim.” you giggled, waving your hand along both your naked bodies. He laughed loudly, pressing his face into your shoulder.

And there was another thing that you were endeared by – his laugh. It was the most unique laugh you'd ever heard in your life, almost sounding like wipers on a windshield.

“The company doesn't frown on its employees in relationships?” he wondered sometime later after we had cleaned up. It was going on 6 in the morning and the sun was starting to peek over the horizon.

You were both again in the kitchen. He was dressed in his pants and his shirt, neither fully buttoned so you had perfect glimpses of his bare chest and stomach. You were dressed in only a t-shirt.

You both were sharing making breakfast duties, deciding to make pancakes, eggs and bacon.

“I'll tell you a secret.” you smiled as you poured batter into the warm pan. He glanced at you attentively. “The wife of the company president used to be his secretary.”

He stared at you, eyes wide.

“I didn't know that!”

“Mhm. They've been happily married for nearly 30 years. She still works for him too, now as his assistant.”

“So, you're saying we're okay.”

“We're okay, Jinnie.” you giggled. He stared at you, ears and cheeks red. “What?”

“You called me 'Jinnie'.” he grinned.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I won't do it again if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No!” he exclaimed. “I-I like it.” he grinned, looking away. You couldn't help yourself, you leaned over and kissed his cheek, making him blush even harder.

You were hooked.

And if he conveniently forgot to call a mechanic for his car that weekend... neither of you cared.

You couldn't have sandblasted the smile from Hoseok's face if you tried when he found out what you'd spent your weekend doing and with whom.

He (Hobi) cried like a baby when you asked him to be your Best Person at your wedding 2 years later... ~The End~

[nerrissadevampyre]

Basically the aesthetic of my Chapelwaite fanfic (left The World in Time, right the World Out of Time - might seem a bit opposite of what the vibes might give to some ppl but if you read my fic then it makes perfect sense i think but honestly i can never quite capture what the vibe is for each and every reader, there's 118 of them now!!!!)

[dilemmaontwolegs]

i know u have a gazillion requests but what if we spice up that Carlos fic? if you decide to do a pt 3. maybe Carlos is once again is frustrated because of the penalty after a good quali and has sex with Rebecca cuz he can't find the model. a lil angst

It’s no secret, I’m in an angsty kinda writing mood at the moment 😅 I also forgot who was meant to be the toxic one...and now it's both of them.

Lady in Red (3) || CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, cheating, manipulation WC: 1.5k

One || Two || Three || Four

You had been called away to work just before qualifying finished. You and half a dozen other models were asked to stand behind the top three drivers and wave feather fans for the cameras while an Elvis impersonator pumped out his signature dance moves. 

From your position you could see the frustration on Carlos’ face. He had qualified second fastest yet he was going to have to start from 12th on the grid. You weren’t the only person in the area upset by the 10 place penalty and the Ferrari supporters were making their opinion known as they chanted for Carlos.

“Alright, sweethearts, we need you over at the Bellagio for some promo shots and then you’re free for the night,” one of the headset-clad organisers said to the group you were with before checking her watch. “Or should I say morning.”

The drive back from the Bellagio to the paddock seemed to take hours with the road closures and checkpoints, but finally you made it back. Knowing Carlos would be waiting somewhere for you, you scanned each floor to find him before heading straight to the top.

“Fuck, mi amor, this is what I need,” Carlos moaned. 

You froze at the sordid scene you had walked in on. Neither one saw you in the doorway of the darkened room, their backs to you as Carlos bent Rebecca over the desk and pounded into her. He curled her hair around his fist and pulled back so to expose the pleasure painted on her face. 

You didn’t even notice you were crying until a droplet fell from your cheek to land on your breast, the feather girl outfit he enjoyed on full display. You suddenly hated how exposed you felt in the ridiculous costume. It was almost as ridiculous as you - for thinking a man like him could change. 

“Take it, cariña, take it,” he stammered as you recognised the pinch of his brow. He was close. He was close to finishing and you were more than done with seeing it. 

You were conscious of your footsteps as you retreated from the room and descended downstairs. You just needed to make it to your dressing room so you could get your stuff and go. 

“Hey,” Charlotte called out as she caught your arm and pulled you to a stop with a friendly smile. “Carlos was looking for you earlier. Did you find him?”

“Yeah, I did,” you whispered, quickly wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Don’t bother drafting up the breakup post.”

Her smile dimmed as confusion replaced it. “What breakup post?”

“Huh,” you laughed humorlessly as you shook your head at your stupidity. “The one Carlos clearly didn’t talk to you about. God, I am a fucking idiot.”

You left the track, heading straight back to your hotel room and before you even reached the room you saw Carlos’ name come up on your phone. You sent him straight to voicemail, again and again.

You barely slept as you thought about how humiliated you felt. You wanted to get him back but you weren’t innocent yourself. You knew your career would be over if you outed the relationship you had with Carlos, even if it made you feel better momentarily. No, you weren’t going to bloody your hands for him, there was already a stain on your soul for what you had knowingly done.

You were a survivor and you were smarter than your recent actions showed. You knew things about Carlos that he had been foolish enough to share in the unburdened state that came after sharing his bed. You were going to use it to your advantage and do what you did best, be the envy of every man.

You had turned your phone off when you arrived at the paddock for the race but it was going to be impossible to ignore Carlos when you were assigned to the Ferrari team. 

“Stacy, swap with me?” you begged as she waited for Charles to escort him to the grid. “Pleeeease.”

“Whatever, French boys aren’t my thing anyway,” she said with a grin before heading next door to Carlos’ side. 

“I’m not French,” Charles corrected as he stepped out of his room. “I’m Monégasque.”

“Today, you’re pole,” you said with a grin as you offered your elbow out to him. “Ready to go?”

You didn’t glance in Carlos’ direction as you accompanied Charles out onto the grid. You didn’t even have to fake enjoying the company as you found the Monégasque had a good sense of humour and made you laugh the entire way. 

From the slamming of Carlos’ car door you knew you were getting to him. Carlos’ fear was losing to his team mate and he was sick of always being compared to Charles Leclerc. 

Carefully angling the feather fan to hide your faces from the jealous driver, you leant in and wished Charles good luck for the race. To the fans, you were clearly talking, but to Carlos? He would always think the worst.

Charles was high with adrenaline when he arrived at the Bellagio after coming second place. It wasn’t the win he was obviously hoping for but you could see how happy he was with the result. 

“So, you like Charles now, huh?” Stacy whispered as she stood as you did, a fake smile on your faces as you lined the interview stage. 

You cast her a quick side glance and winked. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I know why you wanted to swap, Carlos acts like a fucking baby. He practically trashed his garage after Charlotte spoke to him about something. God, I wish I could have heard what that conversation was about.”

“Hmm, me too,” you said with a sick sense of delight as the interviews wrapped up. “Oh, finally, almost time to party.”

“You must be happy, proving Carlos wrong,” you teased Charles as you escorted him back to the Rolls Royce he arrived in. 

His steps faltered and he slowed his walk as his other podium finishers drifted further ahead. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s been telling everyone how much better a driver he is compared to you,” you stated with a shrug. It was an exaggeration, you had overheard him complaining to his father in the garage. “But you showed him.”

“A better driver?” Charles scoffed. “He is full of shit.”

He seemed to be in deep contemplation as he walked silently, until he reached the car and turned to you. “You should come to the after party.”

Carlos had already added you to the invite list but you smiled and batted your lashes as Charles. “Are you asking me?”

He blushed and laughed at himself as he nodded. “Would you like to come to the after party with me?”

“You don’t have a girlfriend do you?”

“No,” he laughed warmly. “I wouldn’t be asking to take you if I did.”

“Then I would love to go with you.” You gave him your room number that was conveniently in the same hotel as him, since both Ferrari drivers stayed in the same one. 

You already had the perfect dress waiting in your room and as you stood in front of the mirror you had to admit you looked stunning. The red dress was tailored to your body and the plunging neckline was risque and exactly what you envisioned it to be. You couldn’t wait to see Carlos’ face when you walked into the party on his teammate's arm.

“Hey,” you greeted as you opened the door after the knock, but it wasn’t who you expected to see on the other side. “Carlos, what are you doing here?”

His jaw fell slack, lips parting, as his eyes trailed down your body. “Mios dios, hermosa.”

You held your hand out, planting it on his chest as he stepped forward to kiss you. “Woah there, buddy, not happening.”

“Why not? Why have you been ignoring me?” he asked with genuine confusion.

“I saw you fucking Rebecca last night after Qualifying.”

He looked a little sheepish as he scratched the back of his heated neck. “I couldn’t find you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better when you call her ‘mi amor’ too?”

“I didn’t mean it, I-I was thinking about you,” his eyes widened as his voice went up a pitch. “I swear.”

You nodded sympathetically as you rubbed his arm. “Of course, like you were thinking about me when you didn’t have that chat with Charlotte. Yeah, I know you didn't, so just go back to your girlfriend.”

“But I want you,” he pouted as he bowed his head and looked up with big brown puppy dog eyes.

“But I don’t want you. Not anymore.” You gave him a push and he ceded the space in your doorway as the  elevator across the hall opened and Charles stepped out looking good in a pair of jeans and a fitted shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow. “Hey handsome,” you greeted him with a smile as you grabbed a black clutch with your phone and money. “Perfect timing.”

“You are breathtaking,” he said after a few blinks to recover from the sight of you. He smiled as he brushed past Carlos to kiss your cheek, ignoring the Spaniard completely. “Ready to go, chérie?”

You took his hand and sent a dark smile in Carlos’ direction as you passed by. “See you around, red man.”

Click here for part four.

[nikethestatue]

Do you want to know a secret?

Writers forget what they wrote. All the time. Particularly those who write big books with lots of moving parts.

Take it from someone who's been writing since I was 9. I had a huge explosion of writing energy in my late teens going into my early 20s. I sometimes wrote for 12 hrs straight.

I remember almost nothing about what I was writing. Granted, it's been a long time now, but even more recent things, even the fics that I wrote in the past 3-4 years, I don't remember half of them. I'll get my AO3 notifications for kudos--and it would say 'a guest left kudos on The Braid', or 'a guest left kudos on After the Rain'. And I genuinely don't remember anything about the Braid, other than that Azriel braided Elain's hair in it. That's it.

Now, why am I saying this?

SJM doesn't remember. I can guarantee it. She doesn't. Between having 2 kids, multiple moves, shooting up in popularity, a show, Covid, and 2 huge CC books --all since 2021/ACOSF, I can absolutely guarantee that SJM has NO IDEA what she wrote in regards to Azriel raising his brow at Gwyn. She doesn't remember any of the interactions between him and Gwyn. She doesn't remember any smirks.

What she remembers are general ideas. Which are about....Nesta. She remembers Nesta, she remembers Azriel and Rhys. She knows what story she wanted to tell for 8 years now. And it's the lore and the adventures and it's...Elain. Yes, Elain. She knew back then that she was going to write Elain. She sold rights to an Elain book. And she knows, sorta, what the book will be about. Sure, it changed and grew and there's been organic movement based on what she wrote in CC and even ACOSF, but I again, can guarantee, that SJM hardly remembers, if at all, what she wrote in the Azriel bonus chapter. What she remembers is that Gwyn is supposed to be a Lightsinger.

She knows EXACTLY who the next MCs are, and it's Elain. No, she didn't magically switch to Gwyn. No she didn't magically decide to rewrite half of her series for Gwyn. No. Like all writers, she has a reason for Gwyn. And it will probably come into play. But believe me, if she was going the Gwynriel route, or the Elucien route, she would have been dropping big fat hints in the books about that.

Oh but she switched Tamlin and Rhysand. Are you kidding me? Rhysand was literally guiding the 2nd half of ACOTAR. Tamlin was gone.

Everything that she hinted at in ACOSF was about Elriel. The big fat hint was the smelly Elucien bond and then, in the bonus, the erotic interlude.

That's what she is going to write about. That's the OG plan. All the discourse about 'what if the Cauldron was wrong' in ACOSF, in the promos for HOFAS--that's what she is going to write about. Because that's the OG plan. THAT'S WHAT SHE REMEMBERS. Gwynriel has absolutely nothing to do with the Cauldron being wrong, and SJM never intended to center anything around Gwyn. It's crystal clear.

So people can highlight things and choose single lines from books that are 5-8 years old, but SJM...wont remember those. We can argue and argue and argue but it doesn't matter. The course has been set a long time ago and she has the story in her head. And Gwyn isn't captaining that ship.

[agoldenblackbird]

i'm gonna be a ranty bitch for a minute.

tbh i'm turned off even reading new buddie fic despite being a multishipper and have unfollowed a bunch of buddie accounts because i'm sick of the smug attitudes. one ask that i am otherwise not going to publish or respond to ended with 'sorry you don't understand media literacy bestie :)' fuck off. listen INFANT, i have been writing fanfic and original fic AND watching, reading and analyzing queer media since before you were born, i understand how character and story development works, and i know the difference between 'storyline i personally disliked' and 'bad writing.' this was BOTH, and it also was marketed to us as 'carefully crafted bi rep' and 'queer love story that is not about a bunch of pain and conflict FOR ONCE' so we have every right to be upset at the bait-and-switch.

the fact that i'm seeing the same exact posts - 'bt bones buddie CANON' that i saw three seasons ago after the bucktaylor breakup, or every time they thought buck and taylor MIGHT break up - says something. the fact that so many fans seem genuinely convinced (STILL!) that buddie is inevitable because there have been so many 'signs,' and then they rattle off a convoluted theory that would make the most hardcore taylor swift stan say 'wow, that's a bit of a reach,' honestly weirded me out a little when i first joined the 911 fandom. i have never been in a fandom where so many fans are insistent that their ship will be - not might be or could be, but WILL be - canon. i am skeptical both from past experience with other shows mishandling queer storylines or ship-baiting, and tim minnear's proven track record with this one of not really knowing what to do with buck's LI's. but i didn't want to yuck anybody's yum, so i let them have their theories and squee in peace, and unfollowed or blocked certain tags if i was seeing too much of it and getting annoyed. it's too out there for me, but i'm glad they're having fun!

yet they can't give us the same courtesy. they deride us as delusional for thinking that a canon pairing that was presented to us both in promo and the show itself as different and important (eg the bobby approval convo and 'buck getting off the hamster wheel') might last, and we're stupid to have ever liked tommy or lou or be disappointed at how the breakup was written, and if we point out the biphobia it's just sour grapes.

the bucktommy breakup is not the first time 911 has started out strong with an interesting storyline and fumbled it in the 4th quarter either because the writers got bored or in the name of needless drama/a 'gotcha' sudden twist. amir & bobby, eddie's fight club arc, the sperm donor SL, hen vs councilwoman ortiz, whatever the hell is going on with harry, the whole mess with shannon/kim, just to name a few. and especially the past couple of seasons, for me since 6b, the pacing has been off. they seem to have too much happening at once and many of the storylines don't have enough room to breathe to be narratively satisfying, or they get resolved in ways that feel lackluster.

if the toxic buddie stans who have been attacking lou on sm and sending death threats (wtf!) actually get what they want, which i admit is possible, but it's certainly not guaranteed….i don't know why they think the writers won't fumble that just as badly. it's not going to happen precisely the way they want it to because it is impossible to please everybody, that's what fanfic is for. but at this point i have zero faith that it would even be well done at all, and zero trust in the writers not to just sabotage or regress a character for funsies, and that's an excellent reason to stop watching the show. in most of my other fandoms i regard canon as a jumping-off point or a blurry outline at best, and i can have just as much fun in the 911 sandbox without any further input from canon at all, once i'm less angry.