#I didn't want to write about it here

[cheesehambu]

I survived another russian missile attack(again again and again)

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[kamaluhkhan]

anti-curse

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of apollo!reader

summary: whether he knew it or not, percy jackson made the world a better, brighter place — and you intend to protect him, no matter what path the fates leads you down. fuck prophetic dreams. the future wasn't written in stone.

warnings/disclaimers: mentions of typical demigod things (battles, weapons, etc.); this is set during the heroes of olympus series so roughly follows that plot + features the seven demigods; mainly inspired by book!percy (dark hair, sea green eyes) bc that's the one i fell in love w growing up; characters are aged up from the book (reader + percy are meant to be 21-22 y/o) bc i imagine there was more time between prophecies/series....anyways, please enjoy <3

when you first met percy jackson, he almost shot you through the chest with an arrow.

given that apollo is your godly parent, you often found yourself at the archery field, which happened to be one of the first stops on percy’s tour of camp half-blood. after that first mishap, your other half-siblings were, understandably, too scared to let percy try again — frankly chiron seemed a bit hesitant as well — and you could sense that percy felt disheartened. so, you flashed the boy a reassuring smile before giving him a few pointers and a second chance. when he smiled back at you, you felt a fluttering in your stomach that told you percy jackson would be more than a little important in your life.

archery still wasn't percy's strong suit, but your gut feeling turned out to be true. you and percy had dealt with a lot since then — a handful of quests, several prophecies, more than a few near-death experiences, a titan war, and, maybe worst of all, high school. you couldn't imagine getting through any of it without him by your side, and you knew the feeling was mutual.

so, you were entirely anticipating that percy would be hurt by your announcement during dinner. 

“no way that’s happening.” percy laughs, as if he can’t believe you’d suggest something as ridiculous as not having him accompany you on your quest. he remains unfazed, takes a sip of his electric blue coke before gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “come on, sunshine. have something to eat.”

the nickname sends your heart into a frenzy as you sit next to him. you and percy had never been anything other than friends, but sometimes....sometimes you look at his dangerous ocean eyes and wind-swept dark hair and it makes you blush. sometimes you consider the way his laughter fills you with warmth and his smile holds a thousand memories, the way he teases and winks at you and you decide that he makes your world so much brighter. sometimes you remember how sarcastic and thoughtful and loyal and reckless he is, his heart of gold and unpredictability of the sea. and you start to think that maybe possibly you'd fallen in love with your best friend.

that was not the issue at hand, though. you summon your favourite food and drink, but don't particularly feel like having either. percy returns to his conversation with hazel about how the two of you would drive up to montauk after you finally got your license, any time either of you needed to escape your reality, even just for a night. you'd sit on the beach, stargazing and roasting stale marshmallows and wishing to stay there forever. hazel seems to think that sounds like a nice escape, and percy promises that once the eight of you fulfill this prophecy, you'll all go to the beach house together, which makes hazel break out into a grin.

you can't help but smile at percy who loves his friends, who has loved you for so long. that feeling is quickly replaced by a pang in your chest that reminds you what's at stake. from the corner of your eye, you notice annabeth across from you, who looks at you like you’re a puzzle she can’t quite solve. you're trying to hide it, but if anyone can read you better than percy, it's annabeth. she knows something is weighing on your mind. you briefly lock eyes with jason, who you had gone to earlier for help, from the other side of the room, where he sits between piper and frank. 

if you weren’t so distracted, you would have been able to enjoy dinner. the eight of you — all demigods of the current great prophecy — hadn’t been all together in a while, and it was nice to share a meal aboard the argo ii despite the reality of why you’d all been traveling together. leo had equipped the ship with magic plates and cups, and with the lively jokes and stories filling the air, you could almost imagine it was an ordinary summer evening at camp. you could almost forget that tomorrow, you had to go on a quest to rescue apollo and artemis from python, a monster so powerful your father barely defeated him thousands of years ago. you could almost ignore the impending war with gaea and the giants, and the doomed fate of the world if you were to fail. the one thing you could no longer ignore, however, is the gut feeling you have about the fate of the boy sitting next to you if your quest is to unfold the way you had first planned it. 

you clear your throat, an attempt to interrupt the group's conversations. 

“i was serious earlier,” you declare. “you’re not coming with me, percy. jason is.”

the smile percy had on his face fades. his eyes are filled with concern and disbelief, as he glances at you. “i – i don’t understand.”

"percy,” jason jumps in carefully, aware that he’s treading through dangerous waters like you had warned him. “y/n and i were strategizing earlier and it seems to make the most sense, given our powers combined." 

percy shakes his head. “but — but you can’t just make last minute changes. we’ve already got everything set. right, valdez?”

leo shrugs, swallowing a mouthful of chicken before responding. “i don’t know, man. i’m no expert in quests, but it seems like i’m not the one who should be deciding this.” leo looks at you, and you nod gratefully.

you've been on edge since last night, and to calm your nerves you fiddle with the gold chain around your neck. it was a gift from your father: a necklace with a music note charm that can transform into an electric guitar or a bow and quiver. thankfully, you hadn't had to need both at the same time.

“it's up to me. and i want leo and jason to come with me.”

“then i’ll come too,” percy's voice remains calm, but insistant.

“isn’t there that thing about quests usually being done in threes?”

“that is true, piper,” percy agrees. he tilts his head towards you, like he's calling on you to remember. "exceptions have been made, though. like that one time with zoe." that had been years ago, when demigods from camp half-blood and hunters of artemis joined forces. five had been sent out on a quest, but only three came back. you shiver at the thought.

"or my quest through the labyrinth," annabeth recalls.

"but won't that also change our other plans, though?" hazel asks.

"not necessarily," you pipe in, your voice more assertive. "if jason and percy just switch. no harm done."

"we're not interchangeable," percy grumbles.

"hera sure seemed to think so!" leo searches the room for positive responses to his joke, but the most he gets is a half-hearted laugh from frank. "too soon?"

you take a deep breath. "it's not a big deal, really."

"it kind of is," percy counters. "you've never gone on a quest without me."

"you've gone on quests without me," you point out.

"that's...that's different."

"why? because i'm so weak that i need the son of the sea god to protect me at all times?"

you're giving percy the coldest stare you ever have. he hesitates to hold your gaze.

"you know that's not what i meant," he sighs.

"then what did you mean?"

percy looks at you, his eyes and tone softer. “look, sunshine, let's just stick with the plan, alright? we can just —”

“gods, you never listen, do you?" you finally snap. "you're not coming! i don’t want you there, percy!”

percy stares at you, stunned. you look around the table, and everyone looks back at you, wide-eyed. they weren’t used to this side of you, your sudden outburst not fitting in with your usually sunny disposition. 

“well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” leo jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, with less than ideal results.

“you saw something in your dreams, didn’t you?” annabeth realizes. 

her conclusion makes you freeze.

demigod dreams are always significant, carrying vivid images of monsters, messages from friends or enemies. some children of apollo like you had visions of the future — pseudo prophecies that are supposedly set to unfold given the path you’re on. technically, you weren’t supposed to share your visions, something about messing with fate or destiny, but that didn’t mean you had to accept the way things were. 

what you saw in your dreams last night, what might happen to percy, made your blood run cold.

you would defy all the laws of the universe and divine rules if it meant you could protect him. so fuck the path the fates are attempting to lead you down, and fuck prophetic dreams. you refuse to let percy die. no matter how frustrated you’re acting towards him in this moment, you know he would still do the same for you.

you figure that the future isn't written in stone, right?

either way, you're willing to challenge destiny for percy jackson.

without answering annabeth, you get up from the table and take a deep breath, carefully avoiding percy’s gaze. 

“i go with leo and jason, or i go alone.” your voice is steady, fighting the heavy beating of your heart and tears caught in your throat. “either way, i leave in the morning.” you exit the mess hall before anyone — before percy — can protest.

[yuwuta]

yuuta exhibits such previously abandoned, recently adopted dog behavior. incredibly anxious all the time, even though nobody’s out to get him or leave him behind. waits for you to return home or from school or from work excitedly, just to see you when you walk through the door. follows you around senselessly, hovering in your space just for the sake of companionship. initiates affection in prodding ways—starts off next to you, then a hand on your thigh, then deems it safe to lay all the way down, then slowly pushes his head into your lap. gets up whenever you need to get up, and resumes his position as soon as you’re ready. brings you gifts as a sign that he’s thinking of you, and maybe because he likes the affection it brings out in you, maybe because he likes the gentle affirming touches of a hand in his hair or a pinch to his cheek. rests his head on your stomach or his chin on your shoulder when he’s sleepy, stays there, immobile, and will not move unless absolutely necessary. sometimes he gets surprised when he hears you calling for him, there’s a moment of disbelief as he thinks “me? really? you need me?” but it’s very quickly overshadowed by this compulsive need to show up, to please, to do anything for you, which is why he always answers when you call. he doesn’t realize that he has puppygod eyes, especially when he’s excited or confused, but he does and it’s incredible endearing. very reluctant to share your space or attention after a while, considers that to be sacred and he won’t risk being let go or lost again, so as a safety precaution, he keeps himself right by you, waits for you always. 

[tiny-crescent]

ruby

did a little scene rewrite fic for the iconic Misa/Kiyomi dinner scene.

♡

(in which two women who hate each other but don't really hate each other, but can't figure out why, or maybe they know exactly why and don't want to admit it, end up having sex on the floor. is maybe... what it boils down to.)

[djmorn]

The Devil You Share a Room With

A/N: This is a shameless presentation of my weakness for bathing scenarios. Includes water sex and all the sloppy joys that come with it.

Alternative title: Bed Bath & Beyond

Summary: Tav got separated from her group in the chaos of the Shadow-cursed Lands. Pressing forward by her lonesome she comes upon Last Light Inn where she hopes to either reunite with her companions or take shelter for the night in one of the rooms. She finds neither, for the last offered lodging has just been taken up by a gentleman of the infernal persuasion. But Raphael is ever willing to strike a bargain.

Among the inn’s guests Tav found not a trace of her friends. Shame. She would have to continue her search on the morrow or await the party’s arrival at Last Light. The latter was probably the wiser option, so why not use the opportunity to take comfort in the tavern’s warmth and a welcome change to her lonely journey?

She approached the proprietor, standing behind a desk and polishing a cup. To her asking for a room Jaheira shook her head. ‘Sorry, all’s full up. We don’t offer much lodging to begin with. One of the rooms is reserved for Isobel, so she can work her magic over this area in peace, and the other one has just been taken up by a gentleman who also arrived here by his lonesome. The best I can offer is a straw bed in the stables.’

Tav was not relishing the thought of sleeping outside, stable or not. The prospect of making camp without the safety of her allies amidst the fog and shadows did not sit well with her. At her troubled face Jaheira offered another solution: ‘Or you could try and talk with the gentleman I mentioned.’ She regarded her from head to toe. ‘A pretty young thing like you asking all nice, who knows? Maybe he will give it up to you. He certainly seems the type.’

Jaheira had pointed her in the direction of the man in question and Tav approached the secluded corner of the inn, but immediately lost all hope once she saw who it was.

‘And whatever would you need a room in this place for?’ she asked, crossing her arms in confrontation.

Raphael looked up at her, visibly amused. ‘Ah, my favourite future client! How good it is to see you, and to walk into my arms without any of your annoying little friends as well. This must be my lucky day.’

Tav only glared at the devil who sat in front of a game of lanceboard, no one to play with in sight. She was still waiting for him to answer her question.

‘Surely you’d understand,’ he said. ‘I’m in as much need of a place to stay and rest my weary bones as you are.’

‘Then why don’t you just snap your fingers and return to your domain?’

Amusement danced around his eyes and lips. ‘I’m on a holiday.’ At her silent disregard of his little quip he continued: ‘The area is full of rich history and plenty of opportunity. In fact it has put me in good enough a mood to reconsider my claim to a room in this charming and cozy retreat of the unfortunate souls wandering about.’

Raphael gestured towards the chair across from him and Tav took seat.

‘Play with me,’ he said. ‘Beat me at a game of lanceboard – fair and truly, and you shall have the place.’

She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘So we are gambling over a room which you don’t actually need? Can’t I just buy it from you?’

‘Oh, come on now. Where would be the fun in that?’

‘Fine.’

The devil ordered drinks for the both of them and they started playing.

Tav looked over the miniature battlefield, at her figures, and then at Raphael’s. She sighed. ‘Well, I guess there goes my hope for a night spent under a roof… Apart from the one in the stables that is. Congratulations, Raphael.’

‘Ah, fear not, my dear. Not many can say to have come so close in beating a devil at lanceboard and besides, I’ve only got a good thousand years of practice to boot.’

‘Then thank you for the enlightening experience,’ she said and finished her drink. ‘I’ll walk the mile of shame towards the cattle.’

‘Not so hasty, little mouse. Not so hasty. There’s still a consolation price for the brave heroine to be had.’ ‘Which is?’

‘Let’s just say I’m willing to accommodate to the humble condition this estate offers and have an inclination to… share my lodging with you.’

He stretched one of his long legs and lightly brushed hers, seemingly by accident. Tav huffed in astonishment. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘Just think on the warmth I could have offered once you try to make yourself comfortable on the straw besides the livestock.’

She stormed outside.

The night did not go well. As if fate would see fit to see her punished for her dealings with the infernal a bitter cold struck the lands, followed by an unsettling thunderstorm to which Tav awoke constantly, her rest not made easier by the bite of the frost and the animals’ racket at the state of the weather. The wooden roof of the stable did little to shelter her from the pouring rain. Finally she grabbed her equipment and made her way back to the inn. Better to sleep somewhere on the floor than outside in this chaos.

There were quite a few guests who had passed out where they sat. Some still chattered quietly with each other, indulging in their drinks and company, only sparing Tav a quick look, then returning to their business. Raphael was not among them. Maybe he had left for good, coming here for the sole purpose of toying with Tav, never meaning to spend the night here at all.

She went up the stairs, ignoring the room she knew to be Isobel’s and approached the door to the one that belonged to the devil. And if he was there after all? Tav might just have to wing it, like she usually did.

Tentatively she knocked. Nothing. Luck was on her side. Relief spread through her entire body, followed by glee at the prospect of spending the rest of the night in a warm and dry room all to herself. With a huge grin on her face Tav entered the room, but the joy on her face froze in place as she saw what awaited inside.

‘I’m sorry, did you hear me say “Come in”?’ Raphael was lounging inside a lavish bathtub in the middle of the room, the place lit by the fires of a heating stove and a few candles loosely spread about.

‘Um, excuse me, I… I’d hoped you might’ve left already.’ Her mind was telling her to make herself scarce, run and not spare the devil and this godsforsaken room another thought, but she found that she could not quite avert her eyes from the scene before her. Raphael had only ever presented himself to her in the most formal attire and to now see him in this state of undress did… things to her body. Things her mind was powerless against.

‘Hoped I might have left,’ he said. ‘How sad to hear. And here I was thinking you might take me up on my kind offer after all.’ He looked her up and down. ‘You sure look like a nice hot bath could do you some good.’

She wanted to decline, like she did earlier tonight. It would be the wise thing to do. But the steam rising from the tub in contrast to her shivering limbs had the logical part of her brain reduced to a quivering lonely tadpole.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘I accept. I will… um, wait until you’re finished.’

‘Oh, that could take hours, my dear,’ the devil sighed. ‘I do so enjoy a long relaxing bath after a hard day’s work, and with no one about to help me wash… Who knows when this will be over?’ He must be joking. ‘I promise to help you in turn.’

Tav stood staring at a smirking Raphael. When she finally found her voice again the words came out weak: ‘You’re asking me to… join you?’ Raphael trailed his finger through the water. ‘This tub is big enough for the both of us I believe, and the water is o so pleasantly warm. Come on, Tav, and let us both indulge in it.’

Abandoning all sense of self-preservation she started stripping, well aware of the devil’s keen gaze on her. She shivered, not from the cold now, but with excitement. The thought of being so close – naked at that – with Raphael intoxicated her more than the hardest liquor ever could.

When she was done undressing she climbed into the tub. Raphael smiled at her while she adjusted her legs, careful not to make contact with his nether region, but it was near impossible to not brush her legs against his. Tav found she hardly wanted to miss the sensation.

The warmth of the water spread through her, drawing a deep sigh from her lips and whilst she inhaled she took notice of a most wonderful scent: A strong whiff of cherries, pepper, and palmarosa. How much of these pleasant sensations, both the smell and temperature, might be conjured up by the devil present, she wondered.

‘There,’ Raphael said. ‘Much better, don’t you think?’

‘Mhmm,’ Tav mumbled as she slowly let her eyes drift shut.

Suddenly they flew open again. Raphael had started to put a piece of soap to work along her left leg, followed by a gentle trailing of his fingers along the skin with his free hand. He halted at her silent protest. ‘Do you want me to stop?’

Hells no. His touch was bliss. Tav shook her head. ‘Please, do go on, if you will.’

He smiled at her. ‘With pleasure.’ And pleasure he gave.

Despite his infernal origin the caresses he administered were heavenly, drawing soft circles around her inner thigh, and moans from her lips. It was pure rapture to her weary body.

‘Don’t stop, Raphael. Please, more…’

‘Oh, you want more, dearest? Why, you’re in luck, for there is more to come.’ And he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her left knee, then moving to the right, and kissing it in turn. How could she ever think to refuse him? The rain outside went on, and now it seemed to Tav like a blessing, for it had sent her here.

Raphael kept on working his washing and gentle strokes on her right leg, his hand on her inner thigh moving ever further and further… Was he–? Two of his long elegant fingers had found their way between her folds, and Tav’s arm shot out to hold onto his. The devil stopped his magic once more and looked at her with his deep brown eyes. ‘More?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Tav said, nodding.

Raphael started working his fingers inside her once more, and her now aching cunt welcomed them, drawing them nearer and nearer towards her innermost core. She still held onto his arm and Raphael inched closer, putting his other hand atop her knee, the piece of soap now all but forgotten, drifting in the water. He put his mouth over hers and kissed her deeply, hungrily devouring her moans while paying further attention to her clit, adding attentive strokes with his thumb. She could feel his throbbing cock brush against her quivering leg and Tav sneaked her free arm around his neck, burying her hand in his soft curls, and scratching his scalp with her nails while drawing him closer. All she wanted right now was have him be close to her.

Her oncoming orgasm was noticeably rising within her and she moaned Raphael’s name in thanks. But then he stopped.

The devil removed his fingers from her, drawing back to once again lean against his side of the tub. A few hairs were out of place but other than that he looked as immaculate as always. She herself must seem a mess. ‘Why did you stop?’ How dare he leave her in such frustration?

‘I think it’s time you start earning your stay. Don’t you agree?’ She would swipe that damnable smirk from his lips, leave him as much a moaning mess as he did her. Oh, she would do so much more than earn her stay. That her thoughts made her seem no more than a common harlot no longer held any power over her.

Tav moved forward, Raphael handing her the piece of soap and spreading his legs to make room for her. She started working on his chest, letting it glide over the fluff of hair on his body, her other hand paying attention to his side, softly caressing him, briefly wondering if the devil would prefer a firmer touch. A pleased sigh from him told her that her ministrations were just right. While her movements wandered over his stomach towards his bellybutton and below she leaned in to him, planting kisses on his neck and Adam’s apple, trailing them along his jaw and chin as she listened to the sweet sounds coming from him.

As she approached his nether region she changed course though, swiping the soap gently along his right calf, then the left, moving closer and closer just as he had done.

‘Such a tease,’ Raphael said in between moans. ‘I think we’ve both had enough washing now.’ He grabbed her by the flanks and drew her into his lap. Tav smiled, there was no place she’d rather be right now.

He adjusted her position, the tip of his hard cock brushing along her folds. Looking into his eyes there was desire and Tav knew hers reflected the same nature, but she also found hesitation, a silent plea for permission, and so she herself started lowering down, taking him fully, letting Raphael know just how much she wanted this. They moaned their pleasure in unison.

Holding onto his shoulders she rode him, water splashing about, hitting the floor around the tub. Tav didn’t care. It didn’t matter if they made a mess of the room, all she knew was that Raphael was still moaning beneath her, enjoying her movement on his cock, his hands guiding her, his hip arching upwards to find more friction, and that was her entire world right now.

She leaned forward to find his lips again, an action made harder by their mutual rutting. Noses brushed against each other and their kiss was as sloppy as it was passionate.

Raphael started pounding into her, both of them close in reaching their climax. Still finding enough strength in her Tav brushed her fingers over his flush cheek. ‘Oh, sweet Raphael. Tell me, have I earned my stay, fair and truly?’

The affirmation was given in groaning, his cock still hitting her walls in all the right places, and in a wuthering wave of water splashing all around them, Tav and Raphael moaning each others’ names in zealous praising, they both finally found their release.

The pair stayed like that in silence for a minute or two, the only sound in the room their exasperated breathing and the crackling of the fire in the corner. Tav noticed that it had stopped raining.

She laid her head on Raphael’s heaving chest, trailing a finger along his arm now resting on the edge of the tub. There was barely any water left to fully cover their bodies.

Finally they found it in them to move, Raphael gently guiding her out of the bathtub, for the floor around it was drenched in water that had been in the way of their pleasure. The devil snapped his fingers and all was gone along with the tub itself. Tav wrinkled her brow, she should have known that such an expensive looking and enormous piece of furniture was not a part of the inn’s equipment.

Raphael led her towards the bed, throwing the covers over them both and drawing her closer. Tav gladly accepted the invitation.

Before she drifted off to sleep, curled atop the devil she shared a room with, she heard Raphael whispering into her ear: ‘You know, once you reach Baldur’s Gate… I’m afraid there will be plenty of inns and taverns with more than enough rooms to choose from.’

Once again she leaned upwards to plant a kiss upon his lips. ‘I’ll make sure to find yours,’ she said.

In her dream Tav lost a thousand games of lanceboard, and welcomed each and every one of them.

[xxprincess1x]

Izzy when Ed is signing the Act of Grace document:

"Think about what you're doing, Ed. Do you really want to lick the King's boots?"

Meanwhile Izzy literally earlier that week:

Plotting with the English Navy (essentially the sea police) to get Stede killed just so he can have Ed handed over to him, in exchange for his services to the King.

I'm sorry to break it to you Iggy, but isn't that also licking the King's boots? But for an entirely selfish reason that disregards the feelings of the person you're supposedly doing it for?

[thatnununguy]

Summer heat got me DEAD!!! MELTED just like a PUDDLE...

[shady-tavern]

The Tailors on Baker Street

Warning for implied/referenced domestic abuse and murder. Please take care of yourselves, this is possibly a bit darker than my usual fare.

***

There was a tailoring shop at the end of Baker Street, a small but rather popular store, run by a married couple. They were ever polite and friendly, sharing gossip with mischievous winks and listening to the trouble of their customers. 

Their wares were of good quality and it was said they could fix every dress and coat, no matter the rip. Whatever one needed, they had it and they were said to finish orders swiftly and as desired. Their fine stitches and detailed embroidery were the envy of many.

There was another rumor about them, shared in soft whispers and away from prying ears. When you had fled to your friend, terrified, helpless and bruised, admitting you couldn't take it any longer, she had told you there was a solution to your problems.

Go to the tailors at the end of Baker Street and present them with a daisy, your friend had told you, briefly dipping into her yard to pluck one, shoving the small flower into your shaking hands. Give it to them, they'll know what to do.

And here you were, in front of a modest, well taken care of storefront. A carriage bustled past behind you and you fiddled with the daisy, doing your best not to wear it down with your gut-wrenching anxiety.

It took more courage than should be necessary to set foot into the store, your heart pounding hard enough you felt it beat in your throat. There were some customers, looking over ribbons and fabric, before examining shirts, breaches and skirts, along with coats and dresses on hangers. They barely paid you any mind, too focused on their tasks.

You nearly squished the poor flower in your grip as you lingered by the door, fighting the urge to leave before someone spotted you.

"Welcome and good day, how may I help you?" a woman's pleasant voice made you flinch in surprise and you turned to the lady who had approached you. She was beautiful and well dressed, if simply, for work. Her dark hair was neatly pinned up and pretty earrings reflected the light. 

She wore a brooch, made of three daisies and her eyes held a strange, golden shimmer. You quickly chalked that up to the light falling in through the window. Some people simply had unique eyes, after all, but these held you captive for just a moment despite your body nearly shivering with stress.

"Um." You gestured with your hands, mouth dry and heart pounding. Her gaze fell to the slightly worn looking daisy.

"Oh, how silly of me," she said, stepping back and gesturing for you to walk ahead of her. "You're here to pick up a custom order, aren't you? Forgive me for forgetting, it has been such a busy day."

You wobbled a small, unsure nod and scurried ahead, head kept down. The woman led you to the back of the store, where real custom orders were waiting on a rack, all finished and well made. The space was clean and neat and had two worktables below the windows, one abandoned with a half finished blouse lying neatly on top.

A tall man looked up from the second table, pausing in sewing a silver button onto a dark blue coat. "Has there been an issue with an order, Milly?" he asked, mild and pleasant, voice the nice kind of slightly-deep. He was handsome, his beard and hair neat and well groomed. He was just as well, if simply, dressed as the woman and he, too, wore a brooch made of three daisies.

His gaze fell to the by now somewhat mangled flower in your hands and he hummed in understanding, setting the coat aside. You felt your shoulders hitch up a bit at his undivided attention.

"Please, take a seat," the woman said, gesturing to an empty stool. "We'll be right with you."

As you nervously perched, rather than sat, you saw her set out a sign and close the door to the backroom.

"How can we help you?" the man asked, calm and steady, his hands folded in his lap. 

His face was kind, but there was a glint in his eyes, something as cool and sharp as the scissors lying near his elbow. You noticed a strangely golden shimmer in his eyes as well, but you were too anxious and worried to wonder about that.

"We would love to know who recommended us," the woman added and while she smiled, pretty and charming, she too had eyes of sharp, cold steel. "We love to see our business grow in the right direction, after all."

You glanced between them, wetting your lips. "My friend, Jane Martin, said I should come here." 

Should you leave? Sure, you were terrified to go back home, but could they really help? Would they even believe you? Was it right to get strangers involved, maybe even hurt? 

Lots of people were in your position, stuck with people who mistreated them. Just last week they had fished a dead woman out of the river, face and neck bruised.

At your words, subtle tension eased out of their faces and their eyes lost the sharp coldness. "Miss Martin is a very valued customer," the woman said with a smile that truly looked pleasant now, not just pretty. Something about it made your shoulders relax a little. "Forgive our caution, I am Milly and this is my husband Julius, what brings you to us?"

"You seem a bit haggard," Julius added, a soothing tone to his voice that unexpectedly helped you take a calming breath. "I'll go and make us all a cup of tea."

Milly took a seat by the free table, most likely hers, arranging her skirts in an elegant motion. Their manners were as prim and proper as those of the upper class, though their fingers were callused and you noticed a small scar on Julius' wrist as he prepared tea.

"Take your time," Milly said, voice gentle and patient and you felt your throat tighten all of a sudden, tears blurring your vision. "Speak with us whenever you're ready."

"What about your store?" you asked, an unwanted rough quality to your voice that gave away your emotional state.

"No need to worry." Julius offered you a reassuring smile.

You had no idea how they did it, but their presences felt...pleasant. You usually didn't trust strangers, but looking at them, you found the tight grip around your heart and stomach easing. They did not look at you with pity, and instead their calming steadiness felt reassuring.

Even the guilt and shame felt muted as a gentle floral scent filled the air, sunshine casting everything in soft warmth. Under other circumstances you might have left again, not wanting to bother these kind, unexpectedly pleasant people.

But the fear that had driven you out of your house still sat in your gut like a block of poisoned ice. Once again you wished you had found the courage to back out of the marriage after you had accepted the proposal in front of your family. 

Your parents however had been all-too happy that you had married into a rich family and they did not want to hear anything bad about your spouse. They especially had cut you off mid-sentence when you had suggested going public. They would not want to risk the wrath of a richer family upon themselves.

Your father had suggested that it was your fault that your spouse was...unpleasant. That you weren't sweet enough, kind enough, accommodating enough. That you didn't listen enough, that you talked back too much. You hadn't spoken with your parents since.

You had gone to the police exactly once and you knew better than to do that again. Your spouse was a valued member of higher society after all and had made sure you understood how far their influence reached.

"Here you go," Julius said, handing you the cup of tea, his fingers carefully not brushing yours, and sitting down. "Speak freely, we will believe you."

You met their gazes and they were so steady and earnest you felt breath flow into your lungs properly for the first time in days. You believed that they would believe you. It settled something within you, your withered courage taking root and growing enough to help you speak.

Haltingly you told them the story, clinging to the delicate porcelain cup Julius had handed you. You couldn't bring yourself to take a sip, but the floral fragrance and the heat warming your cold fingers helped.

"Are you safe at the moment?" Julius asked after you finished your story.

"I'm staying with my friend." For now. For as long as she could hide you at her place without your spouse causing trouble.

"If you ever find yourself unsure where to go, come to us," Milly said, gaze serious. "No matter the time. One of us will let you in and you will be safe here."

You inclined your head, hoping you were never forced to take them up on their offer. It was strange, however, that you believed that, too. A part of you, more instinct than rational thought, already felt safer. It shouldn't be possible, not when you knew how powerful your spouse was. That simple tailors couldn’t stand a chance against someone who could crush them in so many ways.

And yet...it felt like fear had no place here. Banished from this room by sunshine and the presence of these two, who had eyes tinged in gold. Who looked at you with so much truth nothing could have shaken it apart. You realized that your fingers had stopped shaking, that your skin no longer felt cold.

There was a thread of calm that had settled within you while you had spoken, easing your heart and soul.

"There is but one thing we need of you," Julius said, drawing your attention. "Would you mind leaving the key to your home with us? You can retrieve it again at the end of the week, at which point you can return home."

"Oh, of course." You pulled the key out of your pocket, handing it over. "What are you going to do?"

Milly's smile could have been reassuring and compassionate at first glance, but all it reminded you of was a razor sharp blade held against an unprotected throat. Not your throat, you still felt that sense of safety, but more like a weapon waiting to drink the blood of its enemy. "We'll take care of things, don't you worry."

You should keep asking. You should ask what they were going to do. If you were a good person, like the priest preached you were supposed to be, you would ask for the key back and request they forget your visit. You should return home, obedient and quiet and accept the place you had been given. The hand fate had dealt you.

But your mouth felt glued shut and the courage rooted within you stubbornly grew a tiny bloom of hope. Fuck fate. Fuck God if this was what He considered just and right. You deserved better, you deserved to live without fear and pain. You handed over the cup when Julius held out his hand for it.

"Let me show you out," Milly said and you found yourself secretly glad to not immediately lose her company. "There is a carriage that will take you back to your friend." When you tried to protest, she silenced you with a sweet, genuine smile. "Let us look after you as long as you're here."

While Julius cleaned up the cups, Milly accompanied you to the front step of the shop and waved over a waiting carriage. "Make sure she gets home safe, Leopold," she said, offering her hand to help you into the carriage. 

"Stay safe," she murmured at last and for just a moment, you swore the gold gleam in her eyes was brighter than ever. You nodded and she closed the door, her gaze holding yours until the carriage lurching into motion. Even then you looked back at her and saw her watching you leave until you rounded the corner.

You gripped the thoroughly mangled daisy tightly and closed your eyes. You didn't dare pray, worried that god might notice and put a stop to things. But deep down, you hoped you would be free soon, no matter how it happened.

*.*.*

You returned to the shop at the end of the week, feeling exhausted and frayed, like an old, worn piece of fabric. Your friend had done her best to distract you and keep you busy, but it hadn't helped against the tension that wouldn't leave you.

It was early when you showed up and Milly had only just opened the store, since both had just finished setting up the last of their wares.

"Ah, good day, my dear," Milly said with unexpected warmth, stepping toward you as though you were truly welcome company. 

You were surprised to see how happy and languid she appeared to be. Her husband moved with the same deep relaxation when he bowed his head respectfully to you, offering a charming smile. 

Strangely enough, they reminded you of well fed cats enjoying a spot of golden sunlight. An air of effortless confidence surrounded them, a quiet strand of power that wove into the sense of safety that lingered all around them.

"I'm not too early?" you asked, your nervously wringing hands claming. Whatever they had done, it had made them very and deeply happy.

Milly's smile morphed into a grin and the gold in her eyes was brighter than ever before. She seemed so radiant you couldn't look away. She was easily the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. "No, of course not. Are you ready to head back home?"

You didn't mention that the house of your spouse had never felt like home. The last time you would have called a place that, you had been a child of eight and had stayed with your aunt and grandmother during the summer months. After the falling-out your father had with his side of the family, you hadn't seen them again.

"I am," you answered anyway. You couldn't continue to live at your friend's place. Even if she didn't mind, she was currently seeing a particularly sweet gentleman and once they became serious about each other, you'd swiftly overstay your welcome.

Julius stepped forward, all fluid grace and pulled your key from his pocket. His eyes too seemed brighter than ever, making your eyes linger on his face. He really was so very handsome.

"All is well," he said, quiet and certain, when handing over the key, his fingertips ever so carefully brushing yours.

"Alright." Your voice was soft and you glanced between them. "Thank you. Do I owe you anything?"

"No, not at all, this was our pleasure," Milly answered, voice as sweet as honey and her smile felt like it was meant just for you. "Anything else we can do for you?"

"No, um, but really, thank you." You gave them a clumsy, heartfelt bow and they elegantly curtseyed back, an amused mischievousness to their smiles. "I'll get out of your hair now."

"Our hair hardly minds," Julius answered. "Please, feel free to come back whenever you like."

"We'll be glad to help in whatever way we can, or just to chat," Milly added, leaning against her husband, both of them looking right at home with each other and within their store. "Be sure to speak to Leopold if you like, he'll take you home."

You couldn't help but smile back a bit and after a last dip of your head, you stepped back outside. An elderly woman bustled past you with her grandson, grandly telling him to pick whatever he liked best for his wedding.

You took a deep breath, so deep it almost ached in your lungs and you clutched the key tight. Was...was it over? Just like that? All your worries and fears could cease to be? Rubbing a hand over your face, you approached Leopold, who was softly talking with the horses, massaging their foreheads.

The young man, just barely out of boyhood, was happy to bring you home, helping you into the carriage and whistling as he started driving. You clung tightly to the key, nerves making your stomach squirm and your heart was beating harder, the closer you came to home. 

And yet, fear didn't claw its way up your throat. You believed the tailors that it was done and dealt with. You...trusted them, as inexplicable as that might be. It was as if a small bit of safety had stayed with you after your visit to their store and it accompanied you even now.

At last, Leopold stopped and you took a deep breath before leaving the carriage. "Thank you," you said, tipping him some money and his face lit up.

"Have a nice day," he said with a cheerful bow of his head, then drove on.

The house looked just like you remembered it, flowers blooming and nothing was out of place. Swallowing and taking another deep breath, you walked up the path to the front door. You unlocked the door, cautiously peeking inside.

Nothing. The house smelled like fresh air and the maid must've been by yesterday, for new flowers filled the vase on a side-table. Stepping past the threshold, you carefully walked onward, your steps sounding too loud in the silent house.

You found your spouse sitting in the study, breathing calmly and not reacting to your presence. The sharp stab of bitter disappointment quickly faded to startled realization. Empty eyes stared ahead unseen, no emotion visible on your spouse's face.

"Um..." You managed to say after a long moment, but it brought you no reaction.

Your mind rebelled, hurrying towards the excuse of drugs and poison and other mixtures, but deep down you knew your spouse was gone. The thing that sat there was an empty shell, no soul remaining, and you had no idea what to do.

In the end, after puttering around nervously for a few minutes, you ended up sending for the family doctor. The older man who showed up usually came for you, making sure you'd heal fine. 

"Oh my, this does not look good," he muttered the moment he spotted your spouse, hurrying onward. "When did you notice something was wrong?"

"I was visiting a friend for a few days," you said and his gaze was knowing when he glanced at you. "I, um, came back this morning and noticed how quiet it was. I was glad at first, but when I went in here to check..." You gestured at the limp, unresponsive body.

The doctor hummed in understanding, already reaching out to find the issue. It didn't take long before they sent for a carriage to bring your partner to the hospital. You were allowed to come along and nurses hurriedly wheeled your spouse away the moment you arrived.

You sat and waited, time passing both too fast and too slow. At last, a doctor approached you, quiet and apologetic. It seemed your partner had suffered an aneurysm and there was nothing they could do. Your spouse would be dead soon.

The tears that rose sharply were seen as tears of grief, instead of the soul-deep relief that swept through you. The staff was very kind, comforting you and letting you sit with your spouse, who didn't even make it through the night. Finally, you were free.

Afterwards you went home, standing in the large, rich house and you realized that it all belonged to you now. The money of your spouse belonged to you. But most of all, you were finally, finally free.

You broke down crying, helpless laughter mixing into the tears and the gasping. Afterwards you took a carriage to your friend's place, forgetting the late hour. You didn't want to stay in that house any longer than you had to. Your friend was startled when she opened bleary eyed, then grimly happy when you told her the news.

"They solve problems like that," she said after holding you in her arms. "The tailors. No one asks how they do it or what exactly they do and we don't rat them out either. I'm so glad they helped."

You fell asleep in her arms and when you woke, the sun shining through the window made you smile. Your heart felt like a newly uncaged bird, almost too afraid to fly and taste that freedom fully.

Hope bloomed like a meadow of wild flowers and you breathed through a new wave of tears. Your future had turned from a grim, dark end into something bright and open. It was all yours, yours to finally do with as you pleased.

The house was soon sold, the art within donated, along with a portion of the money. You fended off your parents, who swept in to try and weasel out money and power for themselves. They deserved nothing after marrying you off to someone they suspected would mistreat you and then left you in the jaws of a metaphorical wolf.

The air was growing cold by the time everything was taken care of and you had moved into a new place, your friend supporting you all the way. 

You only rarely suffered from nightmares these days and you slowly unearthed all the pieces of you that you had buried. The pieces your spouse had not liked, had despised. There was damage done, undoubtedly, and some days it felt like too much, but you had so many reasons to keep going. To keep moving forward.

There were people, however, who did deserve a piece of your newfound fortune. Leaves were crunching beneath your shoes as you approached the store at the end of Baker Street, this time not afraid. No, you were anything but afraid.

Julius was taking care of some customers as you stepped inside, a pleasant scent greeting you. A smile was on your face and you breathed in that steadfast safety that lingered with both tailors present. It eased your heart as it had the last two times and this time you couldn't help but sink into it fully, shoulders relaxing.

Milly approached you after ringing up a lady at the counter, smiling in warm welcome. "How lovely to see you again," she said and there was a brief, hard glint in her eyes. "I hope all went well?"

"Yes." You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small box. "I know you said no gratitude was necessarry, but I still wish to give you this. I, um, picked it myself."

She looked charmed and chuckled softly. "How could I ever refuse such a sweet gesture?"

Her fingertips were warm as they brushed yours ever so gently, while she accepted the box. Your hands tingled and you only realized you had leaned slightly towards her, when you caught yourself.

She held your gaze a moment longer, before glancing down and curiously opening it. A happy smile broke out across her face and her gaze grew warm and soft and this time you could admit to yourself that there was nothing normal about the golden shimmer brightening in her eyes.

"You are truly beautiful, inside and out," she murmured, closing the box again and your breath caught a little at her words. "Thank you, for this sweet gift."

You couldn't help but smile back shyly. Julius joined you in this moment, a satisfied customer leaving with a happy spring in their step. "Oh? Did my lovely wife get something wonderful?"

"Indeed." She grinned up cheekily. "And I am not going to share."

"There, um, there is no need." You pulled another box from your other pocket and Julius' eye brightened, that golden shimmer growing. "If you'd like?"

"I would love anything you'll gift me," Julius said, voice dipping a bit to something private, just for you. 

He accepted the box, his fingertips brushing yours softly as well, warm and slightly calloused. You curled your hands in, as though you could somehow hold both their touch close this way. Your face started to ache a bit with how much you were smiling now.

Julius opened his box, eyes widening slightly, before he looked up, his smile sweet and charmed. "This is wonderful, thank you."

"I hope you like it, both of you. And that I chose well." You resisted the urge to rock a little on your feet, something your spouse had always hated. You paused. Well, now you had to do it, even if it was just to spite the dark memories in your mind. "You gave me back more than I can put into words."

"Seeing a smile on your face is reward enough," Julius said and for a moment you swore he was about to reach out, before catching himself. "Happiness is a lovely look on you."

"I am happy." And you were. For the first time in far too long, you were happy again.

Ever since you had gotten rid of that house, ever since you had gotten your life back, no matter the struggle and darkness that liked to creep through your mind like seeping tar, happiness and light found you. 

It wriggled in through the cracks, surprised you on calm, sunshine mornings and came in the shape of your new, soft little cat. Every time you ate something sweet that had been forbidden before, every time you picked up a book your spouse would have taken away, it felt like you were stitching yourself back together. Crooked maybe, and never like you were before, but...this was already so much more than you had dared to hope for half a year ago.

"We could take a break," Milly offered, gesturing at the currently empty store. "Would you like to join us for tea, darling?"

The question held a tinge of promise and you found you wanted to reach for it. You found you were ready for what might be offered. "I would love to, thank you."

Milly smiled and went to close the store for the afternoon, while Julius guided you to the backroom, his hand a warm, light and most of all, welcome weight at your back.

You didn't care what they were, if they were human or not. You didn't care what they did to people like your spouse. Not when being in their presence made you feel as though you were wrapped in a blanket spun out of gentle, warm sunshine.

*.*.*

Part Two!

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[palettesofrenaissance]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 (𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞)

"On your knees."

His taunting grin falters, lessens, a flicker of realization crosses his face seeing that she's serious. He squeezes the edge of his desk he's leaned against behind him, clears his throat and raises his chin in defiance.

His pants are still open—from when he'd instructed for them to be undone when she'd already been pulling his dick out; and from when she'd squeezed him hard, causing him to shudder before beginning to pant as she worked him in an unforgivingly tight grip. He had to bite his lip and bite his words as she took over, completely ignoring his previous air of dominace and pumping him like a torturous punishment.

Between his choked breathes then, he knew that she knew he liked it.

Now, his dick bobs after her command; dark curls rest at its base, leading to the little trail up to his naval.

She glares. He swallows, a momentary struggle of fighting for dominance or giving in plays across his face before he nods once and submits, lowering to his knees before her.

From this angle, his heart speeds up and he resists the urge to reach for her. Instead, he softly glares at her as if annoyed.

She runs a hand through his hair. "Good boy," she praises—she teases—and is surprised to spot the glimmer of a plea beside the bewilderment in his eyes and spots his dick jumping at that: He likes this.

Slowly, her hand slides down to craddle his cheek at the same time a knee raises to his shoulder. Wide eyes that boarderline confusion and excitement glance from her thigh to her face.

"I want you to please me."

A shuddery exhales leaves him. His dick jumps again, and stiffens further. With only a half-hearted glare, he adjusts her leg as she balances with a hand on the desk beside them and he pulls up her skirt and pulls aside the bridge of her panties. She isn't wearing pantyhose tonight.

He's trembling the slightest bit as he watches her moisture create a thin line connecting the panties to her warm lips. The panties are slid down her luscious legs to the floor in front of him where she steps out of only one hole. His breaths, hot and shallow and rapid, hit her thigh he does an impatient and quite improper attempt to skim kisses up her thigh.

He burries his face inside her greedily, with groans to match and a tight hold on her ass to keep her there. Her free hand dives into his hair near instantly, her grip tightening as he eats her out selfishly, sloppily, mouth wide and tongue darting, licking, lapping at anything and everything that's her.

Gone is that previous, smug, dominant hat he wore and is instead indulging in a role previously much submerged and hidden.

While pleasing her, his nose presses against her swollen clit and she cries out suddenly, making her grip painfully tight on his hair but he only groans gutterly and pulls her impossibly closer by her ass. Unabashed, he moans against her, the vibrations causing her breath to catch and for her to keen.

There's going to be sore, finger-shaped bruises by the early morning, she knows. He bumps her clit again with his nose, realizes, then does it again purposely, shaking his head for good measure, wanting to pull all types of noises from her—noises he's never heard her make before, noises he hopes she's never made for anyone else. She sounds wonderful, like music and fueling his own lust.

When she's bitten her bottom lip and is humming comfortably, he breaks apart only for a moment to insert a finger into his mouth, wetting it, before sliding the long digit inside her gripping cunt. The instinctual flutter of muscles and the high-pitched gasp of pleasure she elicits fuels his ego and his decision to insert a second finger. And then a third.

He groans about her tightness and ease due to her wetness.

She's whimpering now—a sound he's always imagined to hear from her—and had a death grip on the desk in an attempt to control herself and not aggressively hump his face to orgasm. She's stubborn and doesn't allow herself the self-fullfilling like that often; he notices she's holding back so, while still tapping against her sensitive spot within her gripping, slippery pussy, he rapidly flicks his tongue across her clit, trying to get her there anyway. Harshly presses his tongue against her clit. Sucks it while gazing up at her, almost daring her.

He longs to touch himself, to squeeze his cock and pump out the load that's nearing the brim just from her and this alone, but he doesn't. Instead, his cock stands between his legs, leaking shamefully, suffering, and almost harder than he can stand. Her hand in his hair maneuvers his head to pull back. He flicks his tongue at her clit, laps at her labia, then pushes against her hand to return sucking her off. Every now and then he humps the air pitifully.

High-pitched and lust-filled, she sighs, "Yes! Just like—oh, god! More! Keep on... More!"

Of course, he obeys.

She still stiffles her noises by biting her lip, by pressing her palm to her mouth, by throwing her head back and swallowing her own moans, turning them into breathless sighs and whines.

He laps and flicks and sucks while her hand pulls at his hair unforgivingly—

He longs to have her hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing just as tightly—

His eyes flutter at the pain that mixes with his pleasure. His cock is painfully hard, his one hand is soaked in her juices, his other is sunken into plush of her ass, gripping like it's a lifeline. All he can hear and all he can feel and think of and smell is her, her, her.

But just as he's getting completely lost, just as he's thrusting his hips into the air in a pathetic chase for relief, she pulls away. His mouth is forced to disconnect, creating a loud suction. And he's panting—they both are—and he's glistening from his spit and her slick from his nose down his chin, and he looks disheveled overall, with a dazed glaze to his eyes and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Please," he begs, which she never thought he'd do; it both surprises her and pleases her.

His shirt is rumpled, his hair in disarray, and his pants are still undone. A puddle of precum rests on the floor beneath his exposed, achingly hard cock, the proof of his pent-up frustrations.

Running on autopilot now, his hips thrust into the air once more before a hand of his begins working his cock urgently.

Reaching out for her with his other hand, he repeats, desperate, "Please."

But she backs away out of reach and his hand falls pathetically, him still in that submissive haze.

After wiping her mouth, adjusting her panties, skirt, and outfit, she breaths weakly, "That's it."

He's confused. And so close.

"That was..." She clears her throat, forcing her composure despite her body prickling with arousal heat and her pussy screaming for her to stay. "I'm leaving. I have to go. Have a... Goo—good night."

On unsteady legs and in uncomfortable wetness, she leaves him—still on the floor, still staring after her.

- - - -

it is 6am -_-

[generalsmemories]

every time i see someone shit on the xianzhou story quest on twitter i die a little bit inside.

[tricoufamily]

visiting the hometown

(want everyone to know this edit came to me in a dream and i changed the lore just to do it)

[heretodefyfate]

Aero traded their coolass jacket for...whatever this is i made them wearing

[mattodore]

found out while putting together matthias's oc page that his name has the exact same etymology and meaning as theo's name...

i’m sure this is information matthias is very normal about…

[theflyingfeeling]

two sweaty, horny dudes ✅

sauna ✅

no plot ✅

enjoy 💦

(or: Olli/Allu get it on at the band's sauna evening for no reason whatsover other than simply wanting each other so goddamn much)

~*~

Don't bother, Joonas, let's leave the IT club to nerd about whatever in peace.

Niko's teasing words had barely stopped echoing in the sauna when Olli's lips were already on Aleksi's shoulder, his tongue peeking out to lick a droplet of sweat above his collarbone. The boldness made Aleksi inhale sharply before nudging Olli away, although there was nothing in the world he wanted more than Olli's mouth on his skin.

"Don't," he whispered. "Not here..." Olli looked up at him from under hooded eyelids and the long lashes that framed his darkened eyes, and suddenly Aleksi could no longer remember why he was denying Olli anything at all. That was why he made no effort to stop Olli when he leaned further in to take a mouthful of Aleksi's skin just below his earlobe in his mouth; in fact, Aleksi tilted his head to give Olli more room to do so and hoped the tinted glass door of the sauna would veil their...carnal activities.

By the time they heard the showers being turned off and the door to the changing room closing, Aleksi was already half-hard from Olli's hot, wet kisses and his fingers digging into Aleksi's inner thigh. By the time the last noises of laughter and friendly banter died out in the next room, Olli was already lying down on the top bench of the sauna, back arching and low moans filling the small room as Aleksi mouthed his stomach with hungry, sloppy kisses landing all around his navel and along the happy trail to savour the salty taste as much as to worship the sweet softness of his belly. By the time Aleksi finally touched the tip of Olli's pulsing cock with his tongue, Olli was but a squirming mess under his touch, all but begging Aleksi to take him in his mouth.

The long, lingering licks Aleksi left on Olli's cock drove Olli crazy – Aleksi knew this from the way Olli's groans adopted a more needy undertone – but he had no intention to fulfil Olli's wordless pleas before he'd have the man tremble for it.

"Ale, I need to cum so bad," Olli panted, grinding his erection against Aleksi's lips that were now leaving light kisses along Olli's hardness. A lone drop of precum appeared at the tip, which Aleksi is quick to kiss away.

"Ale, please," Olli was practically whining now, "please let me cum in your mouth.

"Are you close?" Aleksi asked, although he knew the answer when he took Olli in his hand and felt it twitch in his fingers, and when he saw how Olli's abdomen contracted from the touch, and when he heard the litany of swear words leaving Olli's mouth.

"So fucking close I'm gonna cum on your face if you're not gonna take me in your mouth soon."

There was no doubt Aleksi wouldn't have loved that either, and he almost told Olli so; nevertheless, he guided Olli's cock in between his waiting lips. Hollowing his cheeks, he began sucking in rhythm with Olli's groans, making sure to let his lips graze against the sensitive tip before swallowing down again until his septum ring was nearly touching Olli's pubes. He felt Olli throbbing against his tongue, twitching in between his lips, thrusting towards the ceiling under his hands that rested on Olli's hip bones, and with every lust-filled movement Aleksi felt as if there were two, fatally horny wolves inside him: one that was determined to keep Aleksi bobbing his head up and down to help Olli reach his peak sooner rather than later, and one that was curious to see how long Aleksi could keep Olli on the edge before they'd both lose their minds.

Eventually his motive to please Olli outplayed any other, more selfish desire he might have had and he tightened his lips around Olli's cock. Olli buckled his lips uncontrollably when Aleksi added a hand to the base of his hard-on to massage it, to feel Olli's arousal under his fingertips, to revel in every twitch and throb that inspired Aleksi's own aching cock that stood neglected between his thighs. He was desperate to touch himself – he was only human, after all – but as it turned out, his hands had far more important tasks to tend to: while the other was busy gripping Olli's cock, the other had sneaked up to Olli's chest to bury his fingers in the bush of chest hair which Aleksi so loved; which Olli so loved to leave peeking from the collar of his shirt just to drive Aleksi crazy; which Aleksi couldn't wait to cover in his white semen again, like he had done just the other night on the couch of his studio.

Nearly lost in the memory of frotting himself on Olli's chest, Aleksi was almost caught off guard by Olli starting to shoot his load in his mouth. At the height of his orgasm, Olli's slurred words are a mix of fuck and Ale and don't stop, and Aleksi keeps on working his tongue and lips until every last drop of cum has been swallowed, until the only noises left in the sauna are Olli's heavy breathing and the quiet cracking of the fire.

Seeing Olli's naked body in front of him, all spent and relaxed and beautiful, Aleksi could no longer ignore his own bodily needs. He sat back against the wooden panelling behind him and finally took himself in his hand, but he only had time to give himself a few, much-awaited strokes before Olli's fingers were replacing his own and a pair of lips were crashed against his. As if desperate to taste himself off Aleksi's tongue, Olli kissed him hungrily while pumping Aleksi's erection with vigorous, experienced flicks of his wrists, which had no business making Aleksi as close to his climax as it did. Yet, he found his lips mirroring the hasty movements of Olli's, grinding his erection into Olli's fist the best he could from his tight position in between Olli and the wall, and even letting Olli help Aleksi's knee up against his own chest, pushing him further against the wall as Olli's other hand teased around his hole.

Without warning, Olli slid one of his fingers in, and with even less warning, Aleksi came hard with his bottom lip tightly in between Olli's teeth so that his cry of pleasure was muffled somewhere inside Olli's hot mouth. When Aleksi at last regained the little that was left of his senses, the fire in the sauna stove had already died out; the fire in Olli's eyes, however, drilling into his from up close as he milked the last of Aleksi's cum, only seemed to flare up.

~*~

They made out under the shower, somehow leisurely and with great urgency at the same time. Olli was wet and smooth and hot under Aleksi's palms, his every curve and bone and muscle adding fuel to the already blazing flame that was scorching Aleksi's chest and groin, even without Olli's hand stroking his cock anew.

When Aleksi came again, spilling his load on Olli's fingers and stomach, his knees trembled under him from the strength of his second orgasm that evening, nearly making him fall at Olli's feet.

He wanted to ask Olli if he would catch him if he did; if he'd crumble under the weight of it all, would Olli be there to pick him up again?

Somehow the words never left his mouth.

(Perhaps Aleksi was afraid to hear the answer.)

Instead, he got on his knees again.

[mylittleredgirl]

i got sick with A Germ amid the work intensive last week and it kicked all the symptoms up again. i'm supposed to go on vacation on tuesday. i'm too dizzy to drive. i can't even watch tv. my dad spent unrefundable money on my trip and this is my one chance to go and i already cancelled traveling to see my friends last month because i couldn't tough out the side effects of the new meds -- but all that suffering was worth it because the meds finally started working last week! i was getting better!!! for like four days i was almost myself!!! and blah blah blah resist the temptation to catastrophize i know i know just 🌸 focus on those little wins 🌸 and 🌈 this too shall pass 🌈 and don't be dramatic, but i feel like i'm wasting my entire life one day at a time.