#chapter 8 excerpt

[joannasteez]

… an excerpt from chapter 8 of tanks of blood, titled, “muddy coffee”…

no one ever really wins, when the war has too many armies do they? and if all the battles are within him—the work of keeping you undone from him, from his blood and his brain, something like the greatest brass shield and keeping giana's curiosities from lingering too far into a dangerous territory, like the finest double edged sword—housed in his belly so that it tatters him raw, then he becomes the only one to triumph and be defeated yes? right? a win and a loss just the same. 

but bullshit begets bullshit. one dumb thing after another. a snowball of errors that roll into an avalanche.

[thedaselcor]

Arthur ran his fingers softly along the nasty scar on Merlin’s left shoulder, and tried to swallow the guilt and shame. He had done that. One of the very first days he knew Merlin, he’d attacked him with a morningstar for the terrible crime of standing up to him. It seemed like it had to be so much more than a year and a half to go, couldn’t have been so recent, and yet. 

Arthur had never been good with words, but he knew the kisses he was currently dropping along the edges of the scar could never be amends enough. He took a deep breath, then asked, “help me draft a new policy for the knights? About appropriate treatment of the non-noble citizenry of Camelot?”

Merlin turned to face him, eyes full of question and surprise.

“Not now, I mean,” he added, “after some sleep.”

Merlin nodded, and lunged in, and kissed him, as if ‘ help me draft a new policy for the knights’ was the most gallant and romantic thing he’d ever heard.

[white-btterfly]

An excerpt from chapter 8 of Before Your Sun Sets — my jayvik Hanahaki story 🌸

Read chapter 8 now

Read from the beginning

[burnsopale]

Letting go, holding on - excerpt ch 9

Pairing: Percy/Marguerite/Chauvelin Summary: Bath-time! Again! Rating: kissing happens

“She will not watch! This is unheard of! You demned, vulgar-! And you say the French are deviants! What sort of perverted-!”

“I told you he was a proper little maid,” said Sir Percy to his wife, who was laughing silently. Sir Percy sat down on the broad side of the tub and crooked a finger at Chauvelin, who had once more escaped as far back in the water as he could get. “You are being very provoking, little mouse. You know what happens when you provoke me.”

“Ha! You would not dare, not in front of your lady!” Chauvelin said triumphantly.

A moment later, Sir Percy had made a sporting lunge across the tub with his ridiculous reach, and managed despite slippery hands to grab Chauvelin and pull him in, splashing water everywhere.

And then he took Chauvelin’s neck in a firm grip and bent down and kissed him.

Chauvelin would have liked to keep resisting, but as soon as Sir Percy’s lips were on his, his whole body relaxed, turning pliant in surrender.

For weeks Sir Percy had been, as far as Chauvelin knew, the only person in the world who still cared for him. His constant attentions, his persistent affection, and his gentle, intimate care, day by day had worked on Chauvelin’s hatred, which was already confused and baffled by the rescue in Orange, not only of Fleurette but also of himself, unlooked for and undeserved. Chauvelin may not understand the love he was being shown, he may fear its power to change and shame him, and he may still be resisting it in his mind, but his body had learned to eagerly welcome Sir Percy’s familiar and masterful touch.

When the long kiss ended, Chauvelin sank down and leaned his forehead against Sir Percy’s thigh to catch his breath.

“And now he is getting my trousers wet. See? Constant provocations. ‘tis a wonder I get anything done, I say, while this naughty little mouse racks up a bill of kisses.”

“Have you none left over then, Percy?”

The feminine tone, the gentle plea for affection; Chauvelin immediately tried to back away as Marguerite Blakeney sank down on the seat next to her husband, but once again that strong hand was around his neck, holding him in place. And so he stayed with his cheek pressed against Sir Percy’s thigh while above him came the soft sounds of more kisses being bestowed, this time on lips that deserved them. Then Marguerite’s sweet hand was on his cheek again, and he closed his eyes, and since her palm was close to his mouth, he turned his face into it and kissed it in mute submission.

[hislittleraincloud]

The Galpin residence, Tyler’s room, 2:00 A.M. Thursday 

Donovan stared at his sleeping son in his lamplit bedroom. Tyler had been more consoled sleeping with a light on ever since he was six years old and suddenly developed an intense fear of the dark that couldn't be cured by a mere night light. For twelve years the kid’s been adding to my energy bills all because of….

He blinked as he watched Tyler’s shoulder rise and fall in sync with the sound of his deep breathing. The curls on the back of his head were getting darker, more like how his own head hair was darker when he was young (and because Donovan possessed that one mutated copy of the MC1R gene, his beard hairs were always redder than his dark brown scalp hair, which might have accounted for Tyler’s hair having a more coppery tone when he was much younger). But overall, Tyler took after his mother.

“Overall”.

Understatement of the year.

Donovan remembered the photographs of his Hyde. There were more than a few, but it was the one of the back of its head that he was recollecting, the smooth curls having transformed into wiry, steel wool-like patches stretched over a monstrously deformed skull. He then thought of all the people—victims of his son—that had been murdered in the most violent of ways, all most surely aware of what was happening to them given their wounds. 

God, Val. Chunk in her neck…my hands, her eyes, they…n’ Addams…whiter than usual….

It was a creature that took pleasure in its kills, shredding bodies and consuming their parts like endless hot wings at a Superbowl party.

That's what that peacefully sleeping head did. Multiple times.

Donovan raised his gun, his hand steady at first; all he had to do was pull the trigger. Several times if need be. People who live up here go missing all the time. It’s no big deal. This is the humane way. Then the Thorpe kid can be released due to lack of real evidence, case…closed.

He looked through the sights at the perfect spot just at the base of his skull, but it was only then that it occurred to him that his gun going off in the middle of the night might be loud enough to startle people awake. Fuck!  His hands trembled in their aim. He shook his head and took a deep breath, holding steady. Ah, fuck it—I’m the fuckin’ sheriff, I can set bombs off on my property if I fuckin’ want to. 

A sudden queasiness hit. He had already weighed his options; besides saving more people from being ripped apart, there was no way he would want to see his son suffer the same fate as his mother. He would be saving both normies and outcasts alike, especially Addams. He would surely rescind the deal with Larissa and she can come back to school. Surely that's how it would be. 

Surely.

Or would Wednesday’s selective sense of justice prevail? Would she want to know what happened to Tyler? Of course she would. She wants to know everything. She would wonder and then start pestering him about why his Hyde son suddenly disappeared off the face of the Earth. Did you do something, Donovan? What did you do, Donovan? What did you do?

Her terrified, angry imagined hollering at him in his mind made his hands tremble even more, but he only realized it once a salty droplet of sweat trickled over his upper lip. He licked it away, tuned the imagined screaming in his brain into white noise, and began to steady his gun again when Tyler suddenly stirred, rolling a 180° onto his right side to face him. He was awake. He stared at his own covers for what seemed like forever and hadn't even brought his eyes up to Donovan as he stood, caught red-fingered on the trigger and paralyzed.

“You pissed yourself,” he mumbled, his words affected by his cheek pressed against his pillow.

Donovan snapped out of his terror to glance down at his pants; sure enough, the white noise in his head wasn't actually white, it was yellow, and it was a dark area of wetness that bled from a precise spot near his fly down his leg. 

Tyler blinked, his gaze creeping no higher than Donovan’s belt before he shifted under the covers, turning back around to oblige his father’s shot.

“Make it quick,” he sighed, his head tilting forward and his shoulder relaxing for the anticipated relief.

✨

[stillbeatingheart]

Face of the Moon excerpt Chapter 8: Crush

I started a butterfly garden a few years back.  I can do stuff like that now - I have acres that belong to me.  Acres that Rolex had plans for garages and guest houses and fucking tennis courts or whatever else he could use to flaunt his money.  I, however, want a butterfly garden.

I spend my mornings here.  Smelling the salt of the ocean and watching delicate wings flutter.  I like the flowers too, they have their merit.  But it’s the butterflies.  It’s these tiny creatures that can just up and fly away whenever they want to, these weak looking tissue paper thin insects that can fly up to 2,500 miles in migration.  Those wings, those are wings of power and endurance.  

They’re slow to trust me at first.  Who isn’t?  Give me a creature with a brain who is quick to trust and I’ll show you a fool.  Eventually they begin to land on a flower when I hold it in my hand.  

“I could crush you,” I tell one of them this morning. “I could crush you so easily.”

We’ve been here nearly five years now.  We’ve lived a life of fortune.  Sometimes brutal, sometimes harsh.  But never harsher than the life we lived before the fortune.  It’s the brutality that’s taking its toll.  It’s wearing lines into Jacy’s face, and I hate them.  I thought, probably seven years ago now, that I’d watch him age.  I’d watch smile lines fissure, spread and find permanence in the corners of his eyes.  I’d watch laugh lines etch and carve their way around his mouth.  I’d watch all these beautiful tributaries become rivers and I’d revel in it.  Knowing that I caused some of them, probably most of them.  Jacy never laughed the way he did with me, he never did that with anyone else.  

I watch the butterfly as it’s wings open and close.  Lazily now.  And I think I can’t remember the last time I heard Jacy laugh.

Ebook available on B&N

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

Chapter 8, "the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now," of "i never saw it coming, wouldn't have suspected it" is finally out!

~

“I’ll take him to his room,” Ezran told the room. “We don’t need guards. Everyone just- do whatever.”

Ezran led him out the door and down the hall, the look on his face enough to deter any questions.

“Do you want anything?” he asked gently, holding the door open.

Callum shook his head. He would love to have not just had that conversation, but even Ezran couldn’t turn back time.

His brother paused. “Well, I’ll get you some jelly tarts. I can clear my schedule so we can hang out for the day, if you want?”

Callum cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak. It came out raspy and low. “I want to be alone right now. Please.”

“Okay,” Ezran whispered. “Just send for me if you want anything.”

He nodded. He wouldn’t.

~

Read more on Ao3!

[connormoving]

having a midlife crisis atm i think i might start reading [redacted] this is rly scary for me keep me in your thoughts

[kris-mage-fics]

An Unlikely Engagement

A little fic I wrote for Shepherds of Haven based on this Tumblr post.

Someone is surprised to find out the kind and friendly Hero of Haven is engaged to the cold and distant Commander Bronwyn. (There is a very, very light spoiler for Chapter 8. So I'm putting the preview and the Ao3 link under the cut.) Edit: I'm sorry I forgot to thank @emeraldgreaves for posting a meme in the discord server that inspired a small part of this! Thanks for the extra inspiration, Em!

“What can I do for you, Finn?” Commander Kyrahlise Niriviel watched the recruit who sat on the other side of her desk shift in their chair. She could almost taste the nervous energy rolling off of the young Mage who’d requested a meeting. About what she wasn’t sure. Apparently Finn hadn’t been forthcoming with Shery when the meeting was set up. 

They shifted again before taking a deep breath. “So I’ve been having a problem – maybe it’s more of a situation – with my…” An unmistakable sharp knock on the office door interrupted them.

“Do you mind if I take this?” Finn shook their head, though they seemed confused. A lot of recruits were surprised by her personable demeanor. She flashed a smile in thanks then projected her voice towards the door. “Yes?”

Blade opened the door before he silently strode into the room, face cool and impassive. His glance quickly moved past the person seated across from her. When his eyes found hers, warmth seeped into his gaze. His voice was tinted with gentleness when he spoke. “Kyrahlise.” The way he said her name was a hidden message of affection for her alone. It never failed to make her feel comfortable, loved, and safe. “There is a matter I need your assistance with. It’s not urgent, but it’s best if we handle it today. Are you free for lunch? My afternoon is spoken for.”

You can find the rest here on Ao3!

[gwaeddblaidd]

Feed the Wolf Chapter 7: Pride (Excerpt)

Our time together is pleasant. Unencumbered by the worries of the world, we sit and eat and talk at our leisure, simply enjoying each other’s company under the slowly setting sun. The threads of our conversation run deeper than before, returning to so many of the topics we discussed at the Weathervane and over text, diving ever further into each other’s tastes and opinions. Under any other circumstance, this sort of tranquil back and forth would be more than enough for me. I don’t speak to that many people in my day-to-day life, and I can’t deny that my talks with Enid are incredibly refreshing. With other people, I often have a hard time truly listening to them, at least for prolonged periods. It's not that I dislike other people inherently, but my brain just isn’t wired to sit idly by and listen to a wave of miscellaneous information. With Enid though, everything she says cements itself in my memories, every little fact about what she likes and doesn’t like, her favourite pastimes, foods, music – everything. Hearing her talk brings me joy, and seeing her take an interest in what I talk about ignites a passion within me like no other. To say that I’m happy is one hell of an understatement.

Under any other circumstance, these sweet moments would be more than I could ever possibly hope for. But, as it stands, I’m haunted all the while by the knowledge that if I want to get closer to Enid, I need to make the first move. In every quiet dip in the conversation, each and every time we spend a few minutes just watching the world go by in all of its beauty, a part of me is screaming that now is the time. But then all too soon the moment will pass and our conversation will resume – each time as wonderful as before, but robbing me of the opportunity to make that sorely needed confession. In my head, I write out so many ways of saying what I need to say, but never do they feel quite right. Loathe as I am to consider the possibility, maybe spontaneity is needed here.

Something possesses me to speak suddenly. “Look, I don’t know how to say this, but…” I swallow hard, begging the lump in my throat to recede. My heartbeat increases its pace, its rhythm like a drum deep in my ears.  “I like you. Like, I really like you. Shit, why is this so hard…?”

Enid seems surprisingly unfazed by my confession. She places a gentle hand on my arm. “Because it’s important.”

My eyes rise nervously to meet hers. Is that how it works? Do all important things have to be difficult? How is that fair? Who made those rules? Whoever they are, they’re a colossal asshole. Still, those eyes offer a quiet encouragement; a gentle, reassuring offer of support that assuages any lingering doubts I may have still had. As socially inept as I can sometimes be, I already know what Enid’s answer will be. The fear of rejection falls away, leaving me no excuses to hide behind. I just have to ask. Why does that have to be so damn difficult?

“These past couple weeks… I mean, it’s had its ups and downs, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt as calm as I have in my time spent with you. For the first time in years, I feel… happy.”

I need to pause, to give myself a moment to breathe. My breaths aren’t coming naturally to me as I speak right now, each one the result of concerted effort. I clench my hands into fists to suppress the tremor I can feel coming on.

“Maybe it’s too early to be thinking this way and honestly, you deserve better than me, but…” I sigh, a quick expelling of air to lead the words out. “If you would have me, I want to be more than friends. God knows I don’t deserve it, but that’s the truth.”

Enid’s pained expression brings forth a wave of anxiety. Did I somehow misread the situation? Was I wrong? How could I have been so confident that I was right? Me, who’s always second-guessing myself over the most trivial things. She shakes her head, but as she does a bittersweet smile comes to the surface.

“I don’t like it when you talk that way,” she says, a little quietly and not quite as assertively as usual. “You’re always putting yourself down, but…” She considers for a moment. “You don’t see what I see.”

“What do you mean?”

Her smile remains, but changes slightly. It’s almost a nostalgic smile, as if she’s drawing upon a memory. “You’re kind and sweet and caring. You act all tough sometimes, but it’s clear that’s not who you are. You’ve got a gentle soul, and you’re a good person.”

I don’t say anything to that. I can’t. The only things that come to mind are counter-examples to her assertions; ways of disproving all the nice things she’s saying about me. But I don’t want to dismiss her feelings like that. And perhaps even more than that, I want to believe that what she’s saying is true. It’s clear that she believes in her words, but I’m undeserving of such a flattering picture to be painted of me. My eyes leave hers and drop to the ground, unable to contest with her gaze any longer under the barrage of compliments.

“But more than anything,” she continues, “you’re clueless.”

Confused, I look up just in time to see her face close to mine. Her eyes are closed, softly and without any tension. She looks… serene. This close I can see the smallest of blemishes on her skin, all the tiny imperfections that prove she is a real, living person with a life of her own. I can see the hints of freckles on the bridge of her nose, mostly concealed with makeup but showing through just enough to be visible in such close proximity. I can see the parallel lines of slightly raised scar tissue on her cheek and above her left eye; tokens of her battle with Tyler. For a wolf, she healed up well, but those markings are certainly still there if you know to look for them. Her perfume, too, is so much more present up close. Notes of berries are most prominent, accompanied by a subtle undertone of vanilla. I’ve always preferred fruity scents to floral ones, and it would appear that Enid shares this preference. It’s a lovely smell, well picked out and befitting of her character. As she lingers so close to me, the aroma gradually builds up in my nostrils to the point that I can almost taste it. Wait…

Only as my attention turns to my sense of taste do I suddenly realise what’s happening. Her closeness isn’t without reason. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice her lips pressed against my mouth, the kiss so delicately and deliberately planted upon my lips. Her hand has left my arm, now cradling the side of my face and ever-so-gently pulling me in. Her touch feels electric now that I’m aware of it, both her hand and lips like jumper cables pressed against my skin, forming a circuit of agonising ecstasy. I tense up involuntarily, my jaw clenching in response to the unfamiliar experience. Enid notices instantly. Her eyes flash open and she pulls away, not too far but just enough to look into my eyes properly.

“Everything alright?” There’s no judgement, just genuine concern.

“Y-yeah,” I stammer, “I’m just not used to this kind of thing.” I feel my face flush with a searing heat. Thankfully the warm glow of the setting sun will go a long way towards hiding my embarrassment.

“Was that your first kiss?” she asks hesitantly, but amusedly.

“No!” I answer, far too eagerly but not untruthfully. My mind is thrown back to a summer many years ago, before Nevermore, before my father’s betrayal, but I snap myself back to reality before I can get too lost in memories. “No, it’s just been a long time. You caught me off guard, is all…”

---

Title: Feed the Wolf

Fandom: Wednesday

Rating: T

Chapters: 7 of 12

Links: AO3, FF.net

Summary: As the dust settles on the Hyde incident, Nevermore is slowly but surely returning to a calmer, safer state. But for those involved, the scars may take a while longer to fully heal. Gelert Davies, a half-werewolf student, has always kept himself out of trouble as best he could, but a chance encounter will test his resolve and force him to face parts of himself long abandoned.

Tags: Enid Sinclair, Wednesday Addams, Original Character(s), Enid Sinclair/Original Male Character(s), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Wolf Instincts, Loss of Control, Injury Recovery, Self-Hatred, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Courting Rituals, Werewolf Courting, Werewolf Culture, Eventual Romance, Family Issues, POV First Person

Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful day! :)

[yung-notorious]

ALWAYS SOME NEW SHIT, AIN’T NEVER THE USUAL! I FUCK YOU SO GOOD TILL I HAVE YOU DELUSIONAL! - ♡

— your roommates are gone, the apartment is yours, and you're laid up in bed with somethin' dangerous. all you need is him, his hands, and a little time to make the most of it. — feat. satoru gojo

+18 MDI. WARNINGS. baddie!reader x college!gojo, excerpt from never lose my chapter 8, porn with plot, situationship, morning sex, that good 'ol sunday dick, protected sex, dirty talk, body worship, sub/dom undertones, trust & boundaries, slight cum play, squirting, riding, fingering, voice kink, gojo kink(?), edging & milking, overstimulation, gojo’s character may be questionable but his stroke game is A1. notes. word count 5.8K, apart of a larger body of work but can stand alone as a one-shot. you can read the full chapter here: A03 & master post. title: lick me - sexyy red ft. lil baby. divider: fairytopea (tumblr)

You knew Satoru was bullshitting when he said he’d be on the phone for a few more minutes. He’s been chatting away for an extra thirty, and you’ve already gone through your entire Instagram feeds stories and now the Tiktok burnout is starting to set in.

Exhausted from doom scrolling, you chuck your phone somewhere across the bed to snuggle deeper into his embrace, resting your head against his chest. You don’t have a single fucking clue what’s being said anymore with his ear now pressed against the phone, but whatever it is definitely isn't related to earlier’s conversation. You think you catch mention of the school’s football team and the names of people you don’t recognize, but at this point, you’re too out of the loop to care. He’s lucky you actually like being around him, because had this been anyone else you’d probably kick them out telling them to go the fuck home.

What’s even more surprising is that despite being bored out of your mind, chilling with him in bed while he talks on the phone is strangely confronting. You’ve had your share of intimate moments at your young age, but you’ve never simply laid up like this with a guy before. It’s domestic as hell— whatever the girls online call it— but you’re not pushing it away. 

Resting your head on his chest as he rubs your shoulder, you let the rhythm of his voice wrap around you like a warm blanket. There’s this cool boyish charm that comes through as he talks— a side of him you’ve caught glimpses of only a few times when he’s speaking to his friends. He’s more commanding and animated, yet somehow still a relaxed version of himself all together, nearly a polar opposite of how he is with you.

And you know what? That’s exactly how it should be, you’re not the one to be treated like a homie. And even though his friends do annoy the hell out of you when they’re together, seeing him be himself with them is undeniably attractive and lowkey turning you on. 

Shifting over onto your stomach, you tuck an arm behind his neck, hooking a leg around his waist, letting your free hand slowly trail down his body feeling him up. Stopping to rest your hand on the inside of his thigh, you look up, waiting for a reaction. 

When you don’t get one— he’s still chatting away— you decide to take it a step further, slowly creeping your hand up to cup his balls, palming his bulge. 

It only takes a couple good rubs for you to feel his dick harden beneath you. Feeling bold, you wrap a tight fist around his length stroking him through his briefs. All it takes is a couple tight ones for his thighs to widen up and you take that as permission to go further. 

Slipping a hand under his waistband to squeeze his dick, you watch him bite his lip, still ignoring you as he lazily stares up at the ceiling. He can try to act all cool and unbothered all he wants, but you know exactly how to melt his ice.

Taking charge, you rub your thumb carefully around his slit, your acrylic nail getting caught in the fabric of his briefs with each pressing circle. It doesn't take much effort before you’re feeling the wetness of his pre sticking to the pad of your thumb as you. Pausing to collect up what you can to wet his shaft, you grip your hand back around his length giving him more quick strokes.

Feeling more daring, you connect your lips to his neck, slowly peppering soft, wet kisses along his skin as you continue working your hand around his dick and balls. You’re finding some sort of fun in all this really, feeling him up in every which way you please while he lays beside you trying to act like he’s not bricked the hell up. 

You can hear every grunt that gets stuck in his throat and cracking of his toes each time you press against the underside of his tip. It’s kind of funny how you’re unsure who’s more of a slut now: you for daring to do this, or him for letting it happen while he’s on a call. Y’all are both some trouble! 

Just as you’re about to go for a gentle bite on his ear you feel the deep bass of his voice against your lips. 

“Choso— Choso…bro I’ma let you go…I’ll try to be over there later tonight. Alright, I'll talk to you later. Bye.” He ends the call to lean over— your hand still tightly wrapped around his dick— to drop his phone onto the nightside with a loud thud.

Unfortunately for him, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his composure, it’ll be his own body that will betray him every single time. Men, they’re so fucking weak. You probably could rob him with a fleshlight.

Falling back onto the mattress, he turns to give you a look before opening his mouth, and of all the things you expect him to say, it definitely isn’t, “Why’d you interrupt my phone call?”

“Because you talk too much.” You say smart, releasing him to wipe your hand clean on his briefs along the side of his hip. Sitting up on your elbow to rest your cheek in your hand, you hover above his face to stare down at him challengingly, awaiting his response. This could go one or two ways, but you know for sure either way ends with you getting fucked. 

"All I needed was a few minutes.” He murmurs, his hand glides up your chest stopping just below your neck before gently tracing your jawline with his thumb. 

“I gave you that, now I want your attention.” You cock your head. “Did you forget where you were at?”

"You have it— so now what’s up?" He asks, his tone still soft, eyes locked on yours as he tilts your chin up just as your hand slides over to squeeze his thigh.

“You know what I want…” You breathe, inching closer to his bulge. 

“Yeah?” He lets go of your chin, trailing his hand down your chest. “You don’t have to ask me— could have just pulled it out.” Eyes still locked on yours as you slip a hand under his waistband.  

Letting you go, he gives you space to slip under the covers, lifting his hips to help you tug off his briefs. The second they're gone, your hand is around him, leaning over to take him between your lips. You know exactly how he likes it— your mouth and hand wrapped tight around the tip, teasing him with just the right amount of pressure that’ll make his toes curl.

You know you're doing a good job when his hand resting at the back of your neck tightens, turning into a firm grip that keeps you exactly where he wants you. Not wanting to try your luck deep throating him just yet, you brace yourself with a hand on his thigh for balance, but soon find yourself running your hand along the muscle instead, grabbing on wherever please, feeling out their solid weight and smoothness. Even though his dick is the main event— hot, thick, and heavy in your hands each time you pull off to catch your breath— it’s his thighs that have your full attention. Maybe next time you'll leave a trail of bites and hickeys along them, marking him up good just because you can.

“Get in between my legs...” He throws the covers back making room for you. Without a second thought, you crawl between his thighs, and just as you’re about to shift down the bed to lay on your stomach, his voice interrupts.

“Uh-uh, sit up...” He whispers, and despite it being nothing more than a gentle correction, it still finds a way to make your stomach tingle. You can’t even lie, that bossy shit turns you up. Glancing up at him, you slowly prop yourself up on your elbows to part your knees just enough, arching yourself down low, nice and sexy in a way you know he’ll like. 

Bobbing your head up and down his dick, you lose track of every grunt and curse you pull past his lips. The wet, squishy sounds from each tight squeeze, paired with the clacking of your pretty nails around his dick, become a rhythm you get lost in until the growing dampness in your panties pulls you back in. Fuck, you’re going to have to speed this up because you really want to fuck now.

“Sloppy, baby. Make it—” His voice breaks off, caught in his throat as you pull off to throw a nasty wad of spit on his dick, watching as it drips down his length. “There you go…” He murmurs, a grin tugging at his lips. You don’t even need to look up to know he’s smiling. Anything for him, right?

“Gotta get the sides too. All of it. Just how I taught you...” His words make your stomach tighten. Glancing up through your lashes, you latch onto his shaft, tongue tracing long, slow licks along his length. The salty taste of him mixing with the slick of your spit as you pump the head of his dick with a tight fist.

“Sloppier…spit on it some more…get that shit wet for me…” He murmurs, bringing his hands down into your hair to gently pull back to keep out of your face. Taking a moment to lick his pre-cum and drool off your lips, you teasingly slap his dick against your tongue, testing its weight. Spitting down onto him again, you let it drip slow and messy before taking him back into your mouth, your lips wrapping tight around him. As you glance up, you catch him smiling down at you, and you can’t help but sheepishly smile back. You used to hate giving head, but for him— talking to you like this— you’ll keep going till he busts in your mouth twice. 

You swear everytime he looks at you like that, something inside you loosens up. You never thought sex could be like this— fun, messy, and so damn freeing. That it’s not just about getting him off; but letting yourself enjoy it too. 

Remembering the times he’s whispered for you to drop your innocence and open up awakens those butterflies in your stomach. It’s a mystery how in such a short time of knowing him, he’s managed to create a safe space for you to let go and push past the boundaries you once clung to— all without a hint of judgment. 

But no matter how amazing everything feels with him, there’s this nagging thing that won’t leave you alone—a constant reminder of how off this all this really is. No matter how hard you try to push it aside, the truth is starting to feel impossible to shake, and the longer you avoid the elephant in the room, the harder it becomes to hold it all together. It’s doubt that creeps in at the end of every night, makes you wonder if any of this is even real. But fuck it, you don’t have the time to make any sense of it right now. You can talk it out with Tink later, you have to get this nut in. 

"Ahmp!" You bite back a moan, caught off guard as his hand slaps your ass right when he shifts to sit up.

“Come up here…” He says, and without a second thought, you slide your soaked panties off to straddle his lap. Once fully seated, you wrap your hand around his dick, stroking him from behind your back, while your other hand rests against his shoulder for support. You can feel your wetness sticking against him, and it’s taking every ounce of willpower not to be a horny bunny and grind your sloppy wet pussy against his chest.

“You know where that condom at?” The question catches you off guard, making you pause— again, definitely not what you expected to hear. Someone’s full of surprises today, huh?

“Yeah, why?” You give him a confused look.

“It’s early, and I’m still kinda tired…I don’t wanna have to worry about pulling out. It be in the back of my mind when we fuck...” He says, warm hands smoothing along your stomach then up around your ribs.

Okay, cool, good to know at least one of you is trying to be responsible. Condom? Sure. Not a problem!

“I think it’s in here.” You lean over, trying to search in the top drawer of your nightstand without tipping over. “Hold me.” You warn, feeling yourself about to topple over. His hands quickly find your waist steadying you. 

“I got it.” You find it stuck beneath a pile of clutter you've been meaning to sort out.

Handing him the gold foil, you scoot back a bit, giving him space to do his thing. As much as you love the feeling of raw sex, there’s something seriously hot about watching him work a tight fist along his length, struggling to stretch the latex over his girth. And as if that wasn’t enough, the damage your sanity takes from his dick snapping back against his abdomen when he lets go is downright disrespectful. 

“Come on— ready?” He grabs you at your ribs, pulling you forward towards him, your breath hitches at his sudden eagerness. “You don’t need this…” He tugs at your shirt, and the second it’s off he’s grabbing hold of your boobs, squeezing them and sucking on your nipples like a baby. Never too tired to suck titties, huh!?

Taking your hand to guide his dick to your entrance, you carefully sink down onto the tip. Yet, no matter how many times you’ve done this, the feeling of just the head pushing through is one that’ll never get easier even with time. 

It’s harder this time around— his dick— no pun intended. After nearly a week of constant sex, you have no choice but to take him slow, inch by inch, feeling yourself clench around him as you sink down.

“Gimme a second…” You plead, pressing your hand against his chest to keep him from bucking his hips up. On a good day you could take all of him, but with the way he’s bricked up, you’re not trying to bite off more than you can chew. See, this is that early morning dick, It’ll be a lot more than hurtful words flying out of your mouth if he so much as attempts to push you down. 

“Take your time…” He teases, bringing both his hands to rub soothing circles along your jawline, fingers combing through your tresses around your nap. “Too much?”

“It’s enough— you’re not little.” You laugh, bouncing slowly on his length, giving your wetness a chance to moisten the condom as you try to fully take him in. It’s painstakingly slow working your sore pussy down his stiff dick, but guess this is the price you pay for letting him fuck you like a dog all week. 

“My bad…” He chuckles. “Here, come lay on my chest— hmm.” He pulls you into his arms. Slanging one around your back, he scoots the both of you further down the bed gripping a handful of your ass to help guide you down his length.

“It’s too dry…” You come back up, the friction of the condom becoming unbearable as you feel yourself drying up from frustration. This isn’t working.  

“I got you…” He brings two fingers to his mouth to wet them. Pulling out, he uses those same fingers to stroke your pussy, rubbing tight circles on and around your clit. Burying your face in his neck to stifle your moans, you feel yourself grow wetter as he whispers filthy praises in your ear, urging you on. 

“This better?” He lips brush against the shell of your ear. Your thighs quiver with each teasing stroke to your clit, the oversensitivity heightening your arousal. And like a slut you can’t do much but moan against his neck when you feel those same two fingers sink into your heat. Curling deep, giving himself a feel around your velvety walls.

“Mhm…” You nod, slowly rolling your hips down to ride his hand. The exploratory movements of his fingers driving deep, stroking your g-spot. “Right there…fuck…right there…” 

“I got you baby…I got you...” His palm presses against your clit as he drives his fingers even faster making sure to hit that sweet spot over and over, he’s so damn deep he could poke your cervix if he pleased. “…you’re squeezing baby, relax for me…there you go…how that feel, good?”

“Toru…I’ma fucking squirt…” You warn, already feeling yourself start to leak. Shit feels so fucking good he needs to publish a wikiHow on finger stroking pussy.

“Show me— go ‘head baby…you know I got you…” He exhales heavily, his other hand running through your hair to hold you close to him as he bullies your pussy like a pro, digging your coochie out so good, leaving her sorer than when you started. It’s a good soreness though, a sweet discomfort that’s nothing more than a reminder of how throughly he’s fucked you the past week. 

“Fuck— hmmmm!” You grip his hair tight, trying your damn hardest to hold back the moan that’s fighting to erupt from you, but it’s no use because all it takes is one final stroke to your g-spot and you're cumming harder than a bull.

“Oh my god!” You cry out, clenching down on his fingers so tight he has to pull them out. Taking his hands to strum your pussy to keep you squirting, your thighs shake with such a force you have no choice but to cling onto him for dear life. A wave of pleasure hits you so intense your entire body electrifies like static off an old box TV across your chest and shoulders. His fingers are pruney once he lets go, all gooed up and coated with sticky globs of your cum.

Wiping his fingers clean on your thigh, he effortlessly guides your soaked pussy all the way down his dick, and a sweet moan comes up your throat once you’re fully seated. You’re so damn wet you can’t even feel the condom anymore, if it was any darker in here you wouldn’t even be able to tell he had one on.

“Bet that rose can’t do it like me, huh?” He teases, two hands at your waist rocking you forward. “I got you making a mess. Wetting the bed all up...”

“Heh— please shut up…” You laugh, catching your breath. Because of course he’d make a joke eight inches deep in your pussy. No matter how good his dick is it’ll never take away from how corny he can be sometimes.

Regaining your strength, your hands find his shoulders again to steady yourself as you begin a slow pace bouncing on his dick. It starts off a lot sweeter this time, nothing like your usual. No creaking bed or pounding headboard, just the quiet sound of your soft moans and his low grunts filling the room. 

You’re fully lost in the moment when his hips start to move in perfect sync with yours, the delicious drag of his dick massaging your walls coaxes the softest, neediest whimpers past your lips. You’re so in love with his dick, you’re serious when you say you’ll fuck him up if you ever find out he’s sharing, because this shit right here makes no sense. It’s too damn good!

“More…right there…” You whine, needing to feel him deeper. Gripping your ass in response he presses his heels into the mattress, pulling your hips closer towards him to fuck up into you so well you have to put a hand to his chest to hold him back. 

You totally get the need for the condom now— thankful for it even— because with the way he’s fucking you this damn good you don’t think he could push you off quick enough before he’s busting his load. And as bad as you want it, you’d hate to dip into that hundred dollars he gave you to spend half of it on a Plan B. 

“Toru...Toru...Toru.." His name spills from your lips over and over as your brain goes fuzzy, slipping into a dizzy, dick drunken state. He's gripping you up just so right, and every stroke to your g-spot has you coming further undone, scattering every thought in your head until there's nothing left but his voice and touch occupying your mind. 

“You’re so fucking pretty baby…didn’t I say I’d fuck you everyday? Hmm?” His voice rings. 

“Thursday…Friday…Saturday…Sunday…” He murmurs, each day punctuated by a slow, deliberate thrust in sync with the roll of your hips. “You love this dick, don’t you?” He breathes, his hand coming down heavy giving a sharp slap against your ass. 

“I do…” You whine, almost like a declaration, as you pull his hands off your waist to guide them up your chest to cup your boobs, lacing your fingers through his to show him how to squeeze them just right. 

You feel so incredibly fucking sexy bouncing on his dick, riding him like it’s been a while and you miss him. You’re trying your hardest to keep it classy for him, but with one more slap to your ass, you’ll be begging him to take the safety off and hit your pussy raw from the side till it goes numb. You hope he’s loving this shit, because you’re not letting him get up in you for at least a week after this one. Your coochie needs a break!

“I wanna cum…” You whine, searching his face for permission, but he doesn’t hear you, too focused on working his own nut out.  

“I wanna cum…” You whine again, your hands come down to press against his chest to grind your pussy down hard on his dick. You got him buried so deep inside you the weight of your hips are holding down his. 

“You tryna be done already?” His hips still, falling flat as he watches you chase your orgasm all on your own.  

“No. Just don’t move…” You plead, trying to keep him from messing up your rhythm as you hit that sweet spot like a drum. It doesn’t take long for that familiar heat to rise up your body, making your face flush hot and your heart rate pick up. You’re almost there! 

“Don’t move— don't move— I’m close…fuck…ahh” You babble out, toes curling. Almost there, you’re almost there!

“Damn boo…” The pet name rolls off his tongue effortlessly, bringing you into focus, your eyes meeting his right as he wraps a firm hand around your neck holding you in place. You got him pussy drunk acting rough and nasty just how you like it.  “When you start taking dick like this? You showing off for me today?” 

“Mmmm— fuck me after I cum…” You say through a smile, his thumb brushing gently underneath your chin. The look in your eyes clear— you’re trying to get broken off like a Kit-Kat. You want it rough, and you know he’ll deliver. He’s got you. 

“Say that again?” He asks as if he can’t understand a word you’re saying. There’s no denying that your voice turns him on. But it’s cool, you have no problem spelling it out for him. 

“I said I want you to fuck the shit out of me after I c— ahmp!” You yelp, a wave of giddy pleasure washing over you from the sting of his heavy hand landing across your ass again.  

“One more time for me?” He pulls you forward, a devilish look in his eyes waiting for you to soften into submission in his hands. 

“I want you to fuck me so bad.” You whine, voice dripping with so much need. You don't give a fuck how you sound right now, his dick drilling your pussy deep, it’s thick head messaging against your puffy walls. “I wanna feel all of it— oowww— mmmm— Fuck! You feel so fuckin— ahh good!—” You moan out, each and every one of his deep strokes punching the words from out of your chest.   

“You don’t want it.” He taunts, a smirk tugging at his lips daring you to prove him wrong— to show him just how badly you want it— to beg. The sudden shift in dominance sends your heart racing, and you find yourself rocking your hips even faster.

It’s this dynamic that you love the most: how one minute he’s soft and tender, talking you through with the filthiest yet gentlest whispers, and the next, commanding and rude, giving you the space to surrender completely and embrace your submissive side. It’s the perfect balance of give and take, and with him talking in your ear nasty like this, you’re more than willing to give it all up and let him lead. 

“Yes I do— fuck…fuck…” You moan breathlessly, lost in the wave of pleasure taking you under. “Make me cum…” You look down at him with those needy doll eyes, the kind that silently beg for more, even as you roll your hips slow and deliberate like the little minx you are, teasing him just enough that you know will drive him wild. 

Every move is a silent challenge, a tease, a true test of his strength and you’re doing it because you know exactly what he wants, and he’s already right there ready to meet you. His hands find your waist again, gripping you firmly, and that awaiting spark of dominance lights up his eyes as he pulls you in close.

No one but him can bring this side out of you, the one that craves to be taken, to be pushed to the edge. You know he’s been holding back, waiting for you to push him there, and now, you’ve done it. His hand then tightens around your frame, the tension in his body radiating through every inch of him, and that tells you everything you need to know; you’ve got him right where you want him, you can let go. 

“You not gonna run?” He presses, but you know your answer is meaningless. He wouldn’t let you even if you tried. 

“No—” You whine, the sound barely escaping your throat as you bounce, the strain in your knees starting to intensify with each movement as you chase your orgasm. 

“No, what?”  Another good grab to your ass, this time with two hands and enough grip to bounce you on his dick himself, fucking up into with a force that causes you to fall forward, nails digging into his shoulders as you cling onto him. “Tell me baby…go ‘head.”

“Fuck…Gojo— Go— AHMP!” Another heavy slap to your ass before you can catch your breath to repeat it. “I’m not gonna run Gojo— I'm not gonna run—”

“You know I love hearing you say it…” He beathes heavy, one hand now threading through your hair to grip your tresses tight, the other fucking you down his dick. “You gonna cum on this dick? Yeah?”

“Yes! Fuck— Fuck— Gojo! Gojo!” You choke out, orgasm fully taking over each and every one of your senses. 

“Again baby…come on…this your dick right…” He breathes, voice low and hot in your ear, hips bucking up fast as another heavy slap comes down to your ass. “Don't run from it…don’t run from it.”

“Fucckkkk— Oh my godddddd! Keep going! Keep going! Don’t stop! Yes! Yes!” You cry out, your pussy clenching so tightly around him that you can feel the rim of the condom scratching against your entrance. The intensity of your grip threatens to pull it loose as it’s already slipped off some. 

“Mmmmm— there you gooo~“ He coos, sensing you reached your climax seeing the way your jaw goes slack and your grip around him tightens. 

“Fuck me! Fuck me! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” You’re begging like slut now throwing your arms around him to tuck behind his neck. Feeling you lose yourself, you take your fingers to work them up to brush along his undercut, anything to try and keep you grounded.

“Kiss on my neck…yeah…just like that for me— “ He moans, as you press your lips against his skin, licking hungry, wet, and sloppy. “Just like that…”

“Where you want me to nut?” His question meets your ear with urgency, the pace of his thrusts quickening in such a way that you can tell he’s close to cumming.

“Anywhere…I don’t care—” You gasp, words spilling, your body trembling with anticipation. Stupidest fucking question he could ask right now. He can bust it on your tits, ass, pussy, or even your face. You don’t care as long as his hot cum drips off your body, ready for him to scoop up and feed to you like you’re Suki.

“Shit!— Get up! Get up!” He groans, lifting you up just enough to pull off the condom to jerk his dick. 

“Gimme your hand…” He takes yours to grab his length, wrapping his large hand around yours, guiding you as you both help work his nut out. Both of your bodies are hot and sweaty, and his heavy breathing is perfectly in sync with yours. Your thighs coming down from a trembling mess.

“Like that baby….mmmm…you gonna kiss it when you're done?” He hums through a smile, head thrown back in pure bliss. It doesn’t take more than a few tight strokes for you to feel his dick pulsate, his hot cum spills out running down both your knuckles sticking your fingers together. 

“Oowww— it's so much!” You giggle, endorphins still having you feeling like you're on cloud nine as you watch amazed by the amount of cum he’s spilling, feeling a warm milky streak run sticky down the back of your hand. 

“Fuck—” He exhales, chest heaving as he starts to come down from his climax. His arms drop limply to his sides, but you stay right where you’re sitting on his chest, reaching back as you keep working the cum out of his still hard dick. 

You can feel him twitch with every pull as you coax the last drops of cum from him. There’s just something so sexy about the way his breath stutters and his toes crack as they curl with each slow tug…like you’re draining him of every ounce of cum he has left.

“That’s it…baby…that’s it…alright that’s it…stop…” He warns, voice strained and his face balling up, eyes shut tight as he tries to fight back a guttural moan. You feel his abs tense up underneath you, throwing off your balance but you take a hand to his chest— now flushed red and glistening with sweat— to hold him steady, fist tightening around his dick to jerk him quicker. 

“Uh-uh, there’s more, look…lemme get it all out for you.” You tease with a playful laugh, tightening your hold around him. “Just relax, it doesn’t hurt.” You purr, your voice dropping low and sweet. More cum spilling with every pull. 

“Oh my g— Yooooo! Stop! Stop! Stop! Bro! Stop!” He gasps, body jerking involuntarily from not being used to the overstimulation. His hips shake under your grip as if trying to escape, but he’s trapped under the weight you’re pressing down on him.

“Bro!? I’m not your bro!” You scoff with a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief at the fucking nerve to address you by anything other than something ladylike! Goofy ass, now you’re really not letting up. He must have you confused for someone else. 

“I swear to god,  if you make me nut again— Fuck!” He growls, head tipping back as he wraps a tight hand around your wrist trying to stop you.

“Satoru, you don’t scare me— let go!” You mock, your hand steadily working his dick, grip unwavering even as his strength weakens less and less from every stroke.

“What happened to all that shit you were talking, hmm?” You pause, watching him closely. “Bet that hand can’t do it like mine?” 

“I’ma fuck you up after this…I’m so serious…watch.” He breathes out, a shaky laugh breaking through, his grip on your wrist loosens completely as he gives in, letting you milk him for everything he’s got. He’s probably dead serious too, but the way his fine ass is squirming under you is too entertaining to give a damn. And to be honest, that just sounds like a promise for round two and that’s not striking fear in your heart— or pussy. Ain't no fun when the rabbits got the gun now is it? We can go till the fucking bed breaks boo, y’all got all the time in the world today!

“Schhhhhoooowwww— oh my god!” He groans, his plump lips parting with a low, desperate growl. “Alright c’mon, chill! Stop!” 

“Keep lying telling people I snore, and I’ma tell your friends you moan like a bitch." You taunt, leaning closer. Pressing more of your weight down on him, your strokes turn into slow teasing massages around the tip of his dick with your palm. 

“You still mad over that?” His eyes open meeting yours as his hands grip the sheets in an attempt to hold back from cumming. He can try to look intimidating with those blue eyes all he wants, but they aren’t moving you.

“I don’t get mad, I get even.” You bite back with a whole lot of sass, letting his dick go the moment you feel your hand start to cramp up. He jerks slightly, caught off guard by your sudden release. “Told you to stop trying me.”

“Clean yourself up~” You shoot him a look, wiping your cum-sticky hand off his chest as you ease yourself off his body and slide off the bed.

“Fuck you…” You hear him mumble under his breath with a laugh as you search the sheets for your phone, panties, and top before making your way to the bathroom to pee.

“What!?” You give him a look back, the fakest mean scowl you can muster up right now. 

“Nothing— Fuck…” The back of his head hits the pillow again as he exhales deeply. 

"Oh, okay! Like I won’t sit my ass on your chest and kill you. Talk to me nice." You fire back playfully, slipping on your top after giving up on the search for your panties— probably somewhere tangled up in the sheets.

Finding your footing, you cross the room to unplug the diffuser you left on throughout the night. With a gentle click, its light shuts off. You take a moment to gather yourself before stepping out and closing the door firmly behind you, leaving him to figure out what the hell just happened. You too are going to need a few minutes alone to yourself after this one. 

[bevsi]

heartstrings chapter 8 excerpt

[eefaevie]

We Shall Have the World Forever For Our Own by @quitequaintrelle (M, 63.7k, complete)

Starting at Crowley’s jawline, Aziraphale lays a chain of kisses down the column of his neck, ending at the pair of dark red marks the precise shape of Aziraphale’s pursed mouth in the groove above Crowley’s collarbone.

“I do hope you keep these for a good long while,” Aziraphale says as he gently prods the marks with his nose.

Crowley’s breath streams in a drawn-out hiss of pleasure. A plaintive whimper clambers up and out of his mouth as Aziraphale smiles broadly against his throat.

“If you want me… want me to wear a turtleneck more often, you can ask,” Crowley whines. Aziraphale’s tongue has poked out to skirt around the borders of the love bites.

It’s still a delightful novelty—the asking and the answering.

“I do adore your turtlenecks, so handsome…” Aziraphale nudges the neckline of Crowley’s dressing gown aside to bare more skin, marking a path with kisses as he goes. “Though, it might also be great fun to flaunt a bit, see the looks on everyone’s faces at the Christmas market grand opening.”

excerpt from chapter 8, Autumn Rhythm (It Ends as It Started)

happy (MUCH belated) birthday to my darling @quitequaintrelle ! you are hilarious, wonderful, and kind, and I’m so grateful to be your friend! thank you for always being there to think of silly ideas together, going on Real People outings with me, and letting me have the honour of beta reading your amazing fics early 😘 I hope you like it!! ❤️❤️

for more scenes of domestic intimacy and celestial beings Making Problems On Purpose, you should read we shall have the world forever for our own. It’s genuinely excellent 🫶

[lemoncrushh]

FIC RECS MASTERLIST

This is a list of my fic recs. Note, this is NOT all the fics I have ever read (I've been reading since 2015), but rather all the fics I've read on tumblr since I returned in 2023 and started this blog. Unfortunately, some are missing because the writers deleted their writing or their blog. I did take a semi-hiatus at the beginning of 2025, so I've been spending a little time catching up reading series I haven't finished, but once I've done that, I'll be adding more stories here as I read them.

Series

The Con Artist by @gurugirl. Completed series, 7 chapters.

Daddy Issues by @fkinavocado. Completed series, 25 chapters, plus tons of extras and bonus excerpts.

Lupus Noctis by @avocadoguru (joint work between @fkinavocado and @gurugirl). Incomplete series, 12 chapters.

Laceleaf by @be-with-me-so-happily. Incomplete series, 8 chapters with extras.

iFall For Harry by @freedomfireflies. Completed series, 10 chapters, plus a bonus.

Curvy Secret by @swiftmendeshoran. Completed three book series (part 1 - 25 chapters, part 2 - 15 chapters, part 3 - 39 chapters), plus extras.

Cherry Bomb by @heartateasee. Ongoing series, 26 chapters (will be 30 chapters).

Spinnin' Out Waiting For Ya by @swiftmendeshoran. Completed series, 17 chapters.

Wolf Harry by @adorebeaa. A series of 6 parts and 2 blurbs.

Young God by @harrystylesgotmefuckedup. Ongoing series, 9 chapters.

One Shots

Intimacy by @goldengalore

Rumours by @freedomfireflies (two connected one shots)

Jack Shit by @freedomfireflies (three connected one shots)

Recordstore Romance by @fkinavocado (four connected one shots)

Hole in One by @ihearthes

A Wish Come True by @fkinavocado (three connected one shots)

Finally Free by @be-with-me-so-happily

Wet, Drip, Dry by @be-with-me-so-happily

Crush by @gurugirl (part of the Best Friend's Dad series, but can be read as a standalone)

Bite Me by @freedomfireflies

Short Straw by @adorebeaa

The Handyman by @gurugirl (plus a check-in)

Sunkissed by @heartateasee

Driving by @adorebeaa

Lucky's by @heartateasee

Sex Tutor by @gurugirl (two parts)

Punished by @freedomfireflies

Safe by @heartateasee (four parts)

Flower by @finelinefae (two parts)

Leather & Lace by @jarofstyles

Daddy's Pretty Girl by @gurugirl

Meet-Cute by @justlemmeadoreyou

Ruin Me by @lukesaprince

Make Her Regret It by @watchmegetobsessed

The Playboy by @freedomfireflies

Pretty Like Yours by @fkinavocado (two parts)

Ride the Tiger by @1800titz (two parts, with more on Patreon)

Little Flower by @gurugirl

Blindfolded by @heartateasee

Secrets by @heartateasee

Make It Until the Morning by @harrystylesgotmefuckedup

Assistance Needed by @gurugirl

It's a Problem by @adorebeaa (might possibly have a part 2??)

The Babysitter by @gurugirl (two parts)

Truth or Dare by @gurugirl

The Mushroomer by @gurugirl

If I've made any errors here, or if you'd rather me not include your work in my list, please let me know.

Also, based on what I've read, if you think I would enjoy something in particular, feel free to recommend it to me!

Happy reading, and of course, please check out my own writing if you haven't :).

MASTERLIST

[anna-scribbles]

thirteen update 🏚️👻📚🖼️

chapter 8: may

summary:

Time came choppy, with jagged edges. Sometimes Adrien would open his eyes and he’d be at his piano, hands dead on the keys. Sometimes he’d be in front of a camera, bright lights whiting out his vision. Sometimes he’d be at the dining table, alone, a plate of untouched food in front of him. Usually he was alone. Sometimes Nathalie was there.

excerpt:

Nothing was real after that.

Time came choppy, with jagged edges. Sometimes Adrien would open his eyes and he’d be at his piano, hands dead on the keys. Sometimes he’d be in front of a camera, bright lights whiting out his vision. Sometimes he’d be at the dining table, alone, a plate of untouched food in front of him. Usually he was alone.

Sometimes Nathalie was there.

She skirted around his periphery like a silent, efficient sort of shadow. An instruction here, a reminder there. She didn’t touch him anymore, not after that day that the world ended. No one did.

Nathalie was the one who handed Adrien stacks of sleek black clothes to change into during those weeks following the end of the world. She poised him at her right hand while she conducted the press releases and interviews and fielded all the questions directed his way. She triple-checked his hair, lint-rolled his suit jackets, and posed him for the cameras. Nathalie kept him perfect. Just like Maman would’ve wanted.

Sometimes Adrien looked at Nathalie’s face and it was all smoothed over, sealed tight. Sometimes Adrien looked at Nathalie’s face and she was already looking away. He wondered sometimes whether she was hiding something from him. But it was a dull, hollow sort of wondering. He knew. He wasn’t stupid enough anymore to think that anyone in this house actually told him anything.

It didn’t matter anyway. Nothing did.

Once, Adrien opened his eyes to find that he was at the table with breakfast in front of him, and Nathalie was talking.

“Your father,” she was saying, and Adrien’s heart jolted. His ears perked up. The world sharpened into focus. He hadn’t seen Father since…

Since.

Nathalie continued. “…is displeased with your most recent photoshoot. I’d like to…speak with you about it.”

The world dimmed. Behind his eyes, something broke.

Adrien laid his head down on the table.

Nothing.

Mattered.

Nothing.

Mattered.

Nothing—

Nathalie’s voice cut like a knife through the dark.

read on ao3

[coraltinyrose]

FANFIC DATA [15 Minutes to Save Him]

Most of the images I made for the story. Keep scrolling for close-ups and some new sketches.

FANFICTION DATA (4-june-2025) 🕙Title: 15 Minutes to Save Him 🕙Genre: Romance (F/M) 🕙Style: Canon rewrite 🕙Main pairing: Ranma x Akane 🕙Length: +20K words 🕙Ranking: Teen and up 🕙Where to read: ·AO3 - Fanfic with embedded fanart [Read here] ·Tumblr - I will share one fan art or so + a text excerpt for every chapter released. So it works as notifications. ·(Maybe FF.net - Fanfic with text only [account]) Summary: Ranma makes life plans right after the battle in China, but his daydreams crumble when darkness swallows him. Meanwhile, Akane witnesses his decline and is undeterred by his new, closed-off behavior. She'll uncover the root of his change and help him, even if it takes a counterintuitive approach! But will their secret 15-minute deal work? And can she keep taming her hopes of reciprocated love? ------ Progress update (4-June-2025) The fanfic started its release on AO3! See the cover and get further updates in this new tumblr post. Progress update (29-May-2025) New art at end of post. Fanfic edits/beta ongoing. Progress update (18-May-2025) Beta checks are ongoing, which made me start rereading the manga (focusing on specific parts) to improve a particular character's arc. I'm happy I can follow it in Japanese decently well! Level up~ New art added to this post.

Progress update (13-May-2025) -Cover art and some other sketches done -Publishing system decided -Beta reading pending

Progress update (8-May-2025) Drawing art while waiting for beta reading. Cover WIP added at the end of this post~

Progress update (2-May-2025)

The first chapters are as polished as my current skills allow, and they’ve already had some beta reading—kyaa~ (TYSM! @luna12-ranma-akane-otp ). The rest of the fic is also pretty far along, totaling 18k words.

Again, don’t expect regular updates from me, but know that things are happening behind the scenes.

Progress update (27-Apr-2025) The project is progressing nicely, but that means fewer posts as I keep editing the fanfic (not drawing art). Don't worry if you see me post less in the next days/weeks. I added a new sketch at the end of this post's close-ups!

Progress update (24-Apr-2025)

My amazing pro writer friend read the first draft and gave me super useful and sweet feedback. I'm so motivated to improve the story and release it ♡ RELEASE TIMELINE

I have a lot to rewrite and, as this is a for-fun project, there's no set date. But I can say this: I'm the type of creator who finishes projects to keep things consistent, start to end, and then releases them into parts. That lets people savor each installment and perhaps speculate with others on what will happen next.

Yes, I'm evil, not giving it all at once. But at least early readers have security that there is a (hopefully) satisfying ending coming ^^ Then, even if I could start publishing the fanfic once the texts are fully finished, I also want time to do art accompanying the story (like this post's images). So I'm considering whether I...

A) wait to release until I have all texts + images = regular release schedule but longer wait B) just release when I have the text and do images on the go = irregular releases, but we start earlier Probably I'll go with a mix of both, having a buffer of images before the start. Which, in a way, I already have.

What is your preference as a writer or reader?

Publish all at once, "chaos" irregular but release as soon as you have it, monthly, weekly, daily,...

----- *Characters by Takahashi Rumiko