#So it's up to you my dear readers

[it-happened-one-fic]

Mambo - Prove It To You - Strictly NRC Dancing

Author's Notes: First Sebek fic (woo!) I actually really adore Sebek in a weird sort of way, but writing him was certainly a new experience! Especially since I was writing the Mambo.... Writing dancing is getting easier and easier though. Makes me realize how far into this series I've gotten. The dance in this fic was Heavily inspired by Heidi and Benji’s Mambo to “Black mambo” by Angel and the Mambokats on So You Think You Can Dance Season 2 Episode 18. Just like the rest of this AU/series the reader is female for this fic. I hope you enjoy!

If you would like to read more this AU/series, the fics can be found here: Strictly NRC Dancing AU Master-List.

Type: Dance AU/ female reader/ fluff/ can probably be taken as flirtatious

Word Count: 1058

“Stop! Stop! Did you learn nothing from your lessons, pup?” I cringed in sympathy as Crewel proceeded to lay into Sebek yet again.

“This is a sultry, flirtatious dance. You need lots of hip action, and-”

“BUT IT MAKES NO SENSE!” This time I covered my ears and prayed for this particular exam to be over just a little bit faster.

 Sebek was beyond frustrated at this point, and it was, to a degree, understandable. He knew the foot motions and the mechanics of the mambo. But the general emotion of the dance was beyond him.

Crewel eyed the first year with no small amount of annoyance as Sebek continued on his tirade, not helping his situation at all by having interrupted our professor. “The dances of the Valley of Thorns have no such need for such… Frippery! Why does thi-”

“The mambo is not a dance of the Valley of Thorns, though, is it?” There was a certain venom to Crewel’s words that came from a man who had long lost patience with his current student as he all but prowled towards us.

“The mambo IS the dance you are being graded on in approximately 40 minutes, though! Now, I suggest you watch me and the Prefect go through your choreography one more time and pay attention!”

As I stepped quickly around the room with Crewel, letting the man spin me at high speeds before pausing for brief periods of sashaying place with our foreheads pressed together that featured considerable amounts of eye contact, I couldn’t help but feel kind of bad for the young man who watched us closely. Not to say that I wasn’t frustrated myself, but… To a degree, I understood Sebek’s struggles.

 The mambo was a fun dance that was both sensual and flirty. Two things that tended to clash with Sebek of the twenty-something missives that must be written before he was willing to sit with a person’s width between him and the object of his affections.

The fact that he’d received the mambo, of all dances, for his class was beyond unlucky. In fact, it was practically unfair.

Judging from what I’d seen of his dancing thus far during our practice, Sebek wasn’t actually a bad dancer. He just wasn’t a flirty one, which was, unfortunately for him, necessary for this dance.

The proof of his skills was the choreography that Crewel had put together for us. Our performance dance was beyond difficult and required almost perfect partner synergy. And Sebek was doing admirably…. He just wasn’t terribly well-suited for Latin dancing.

“There. You see? All you need to do is add the right emotion to your dance, and you will be ready. Now, again, from the top.” With only those instructions, Crewel stepped away. Leaving me waiting for Sebek, who approached with renewed vigor.

And yet, the very second he took my hand, I knew there was no way this was going to be correct. The proper steps would be there, but none of the attitude would be. 

So I leaned forward, causing Sebek’s eyebrows to lift questioningly, as my brain was already working hard to figure out exactly what I could say to get him to do what he needed to.

I did feel a tiny bit guilty as I smiled at him oh-so-sweetly, “Why don’t you ask Silver for some help after we finish up here? There will be some time between then and our performance, so he should be able to give you some pointers.”

Annnnd Boom. 

The immediate shock and irritation that appeared in Sebek’s strange-looking eyes told me exactly what I needed to know. He’d taken the bait. 

Bait, that I had not wanted to have to use, especially since I didn’t actually know if Silver would be any better at the mambo than Sebek. 

But, with any luck, this would get Sebek through this class. Hopefully with a passing grade.

“YOU THINK SILVER CAN DO BETTER THAN I?!” I flinched at his overly loud voice, and, as if he realized how deafening he’d just been, his voice was quieter as he continued, “I’ll have you know that I was the best dancer in my class back at the Valley of Thorns. While Master Lilia may have taught Silver well, I doubt that Silver would be anywhere near my level of prowess.”

My eyes darted over to where Crewel stood with raised eyebrows; mercifully, he wasn’t interjecting. Perhaps he was willing to leave this up to me.

“I just thought since you seem unable to get the right emotion for the dance that Silver might-”

“I’LL SHOW YOU HUMAN!” In an almost uncharacteristic move, Sebek’s voice lowered till he was almost whispering as he dipped his head down to mine. A challenge shined in his eyes as he continued, “I do not need him to show me how to dance, and I’ll prove it to you right here and now.”

I would have to apologize to both Silver and Sebek after this was all said and done. But right now, all that mattered was getting this awkward teenage boy through this dance and past this class.

 For the sake of both him and my eardrums.

So I made the final push, stretching up with a slight smirk on my lips as I allowed my expression to reflect his challenge right back at him, “Then I suggest you do just that, Sebek. Because I honestly don’t think you can.”

Despite our close proximity, the usually easily scandalized young man outright smirked down at me, not backing away in the slightest, “Have it your way, human.”

Still tired, but now rather amused, Crewel called out, “If you two are quite ready…?”

My eyes stayed on Sebek, who refused to back down even as he stepped backward, keeping his eyes on mine as he held my hand up in between the two of us. 

I grinned despite myself as I called out in response to our instructor and kept my eyes on the young man in front of me who was holding my hand as if there were nothing there, “More than ready!”

“I certainly hope you are, human.” Sebek’s gloating tone hadn’t lessened in the slightest, even as the upbeat and almost raucous beat started up from where Crewel had hit play on the radio, “Let’s dance.”

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[yutaan]

Papercraft Ed! I had the sketch for this one finished a while ago, but for whatever reason didn’t feel quite happy with it. Eventually I tried flipping it to face the opposite way - meaning his automail arm was now facing the viewer and could be shown via rips in his clothes and gloves - and then BAM, I liked how it looked after all! Sometimes it’s the simplest things that make all the difference.

[ch3rie-pop]

Whelp, this is the last batch of drawings gang

SAVOR IT PLZ

Who am I kidding this is like a bite sized chicken nugget with sweet and sour sauce *wheeze*

[pfhwrittes]

retail hell au again because why not. so imagine with me that 141 fellas find you after a miserable customer has made you cry.

warnings: reader!character is experiencing the aftermath of a panic attack/distressing emotions when she’s approached by the boys, nothing explicitly stated but she’s feeling a bit vulnerable.

fem!reader and the use of gendered pet names (hen, love) and use of the word cunt as an insult to describe a customer.

also apologies, i’m english and my grasp on scottish slang/scots has mostly been informed by the wonderful show Still Game which is distinctly glaswegian in flavour and various scottish twitter posts.

so you’re hiding out in the smoking area (lmao smoking area, okay let’s be honest it’s where a bucket filled with sand has been dumped near an ex-display bench about idk 20 feet from the customer entrance) because you just need 5 fucking minutes to compose yourself…

gaz is actually coming back from his lunch break and spots you hunched up on the bench in a way that looks truly uncomfortable. he carefully sits next to you and offers a soft smile when you look over at him. “bad customer?” he’s gentle when he asks and doesn’t make a fuss when you make a truly gross sniffling noise and wipe at your eyes. “want a hug?” you shake your head no and hunch in tighter on yourself. “want a milkshake?” you shrug and he passes over a strawberry milkshake. surprisingly he doesn’t say anything and let’s you drink in peace. you like gaz, he’s always friendly and warm when you interact briefly on the shop floor. he always seems to know what to say or do to get the best out of you and everyone else around him. eventually you check your phone and see it’s been 10 minutes since you left the customer service desk with tears in your eyes and lump burning your throat. embarrassment and residual anxiety washes through you when you recall how you’d all but fled to the safety of the smoker’s bench despite not smoking yourself. gaz catches your shudder when you check the time and knocks his shoulder into yours gently. “don’t worry, i’ll let price know you need a few more minutes, alright?” gaz gets up and heads inside the building, you know he’ll speak to price so you unfurl a little bit and chew on the straw of your milkshake.

soap and simon find you next. soap’s chattering away about the most recent delivery as they both approach your bench. simon stops dead a respectable three feet away but soap throws himself onto the bench bumping his knee into yours “what’s the matter wi’ you then, hen? you’ve a face like a smacked arse”. you shift away from soap, usually you don’t mind his directness but it’s just rubbing you the wrong way right now. you’re still feeling raw and a bit sick from finishing gaz’s milkshake and lingering anxiety. “fucks sake johnny, leave ‘er alone.” simon grumbles and fishes a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. “how? am just askin’ what’s the matter!” soap’s hands swat the air near your face and you shuffle further along the bench to avoid being hit in the nose in his agitation. “johnny.” simon snaps and soap huffs and folds his arms across his chest. it’s quiet amongst the three of you while simon taps out a cigarette and pats down his pockets looking for a lighter. soap shoots a wink at you and starts playing with a lighter that apparently has just appeared from thin air. “give me my lighter back johnny.” “gies a cigarette an’ i’ll trade it.” “no.” “c’mon simon! wan little cigarette.” “fuck off.” “awright then you miserable bastard.” you shake your head at their bickering and hold out your hand. soap pouts but drops it into your open palm. you lob the lighter in a poor underhand throw to simon who plucks it out of the air easily and nods in appreciation. “aw c’mon hen, that’s no’ playin’ fair!” soap whines and knocks his knee into yours “i thought i was your favourite.” “favourite pain in the arse.” is simon’s dry response around the lit cigarette and you crack a wobbly smile. “there she is! didn’t i tell you si?” soap’s grin is blinding “i knew we could cheer her up!” your wobbly smile starts to resemble more of its usual cheer when you catch simon’s eye roll directed at soap. you open your mouth maybe to defend soap or maybe to provoke him, you haven’t quite decided, when a pointed throat clearing catches your trio’s attention. your smile drops off your face and the anxiety that had started to quiet down in the face of johnny’s cheerfulness rises again in your belly because price is aiming a stern look towards the three of you from only six feet away.

price gently sits next to you on the bench when you’re certain simon and johnny are back inside. johnny squawking about the injustice of having his break cut short and simon calling him an idiot in response as they both disappear through the doors. you open your mouth to apologise for skiving off and offer any reason or explanation that will help your case but your teeth click shut when price holds out a palm to forestall your inevitable word vomit. “i don’t want to hear it, love.” price’s tone isn’t unkind, he’s just shooting straight with you, it’s something you quite admire about him really. “that customer was a cunt quite frankly and i’m proud of you for handling her the way you did.” the praise creates a small glow in your chest and burns away the last of your dread. “but, a word of advice, as the duty manager for today?” price offers a small encouraging smile so you nod. “you’re not paid enough to put up with that shit, so don’t.” you grimace and blow out a breath, you want to argue, maybe even defend yourself and explain that it’s fine really that’s just how retail is. price chuckles “no love, listen. you aren’t paid enough, but i am. so next time it happens, send ‘em my way alright?” price offers another smile when you nod in agreement before pushing himself off the bench. “now, c’mon. i’ve got stock that needs counting down the plumbing aisle and you can give me a hand. no more talking to muppets on the customer service desk today.” you follow price back into the store feeling much better than you did twenty five minutes ago.

the rest of your shift passes by easily enough and you make a mental note to buy gaz a milkshake as a thank you when he shoots you a friendly smile as you pass him on your way out the store on your lunch.

[codacheetah]

Heart to heart ❤️

[lunarharp]

when an obsessed orufrey person plays ace attorney for the first time in a while

[stobinesque]

Hi! 36 for platonic stobin? Ty! -@steddierthings

hello, this broke me 🥲 prompt: things you said but didn’t mean | rating: T (for language) wc: 616 | cw: hurt/comfort, arguments & misunderstandings

Robin storms inside, door slamming behind her. “God, you can be such an idiot sometimes!” The second the words are out she wants to yank them back. “Fuck.”

Steve’s face is frozen like a wax figurine. He’s never looked at her like that. He’s not looking at her. No, that’s not right. He’s not looking at her. It’s some plastic version of him, wearing Steve’s face like a mask. He huffs out a hollow laugh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I’m— I’m aware, Robin.”

“Fuck. No. Steve, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I just—”

“You just finally got sick of me?” His voice is only barely quavering, and he waves a dismissive hand, as though to brush away objections she hasn’t even made yet. “No, that’s fine, I get it. No one sticks around, you know?”

“Steve.”

“You don’t have to keep stringing me along like, like some kind of lapdog, you know? I don’t need your pity, Robin.”

Her face is wet, her feet blocks of concrete, and there’s a knife lodged in her chest. “Is that what you think? You think I pity you?”

The mask flickers, and that’s all the fuel she needs to launch herself across the space she carved between them to jab a finger into his chest. “You think I threw myself against a door with you, you think I walked into battle with you, y-you think I came out to you, because I pity you? Do you think that little of me? Do you think that little of yourself?”

Steve’s eyes are round as saucers and he has both hands wrapped around her forearm. “No— no, Robs, I— ” His voice cracks around a sob and suddenly he’s collapsing into her arms.

Robin startles back with the shock, but not enough to lose him. Her arms tighten around him hesitantly.

She doesn’t know what to do. She’s seen Steve in every state imaginable. But she’s never seen him break—not like this. Not because of her.

She drops down to her knees, pulling him with her, and he burrows himself deeper in her embrace. “I love you, Steve.” She whispers it into his ear, tears streaming down her face. “You’re my best friend. More than, you’re— there isn’t a word for what you are to me, okay? You’re the most important person in my life, and nothing you say, or-or do, or fuck up is ever going to change that, you hear me? You…” she laughs, reaching up to wipe some of the tears from her face. “God, in spite of all of the fucking horror that came with it: you make my life better. You make me happy. And I’m sorry if I’ve ever done anything to make you doubt that.”

“’M sorry too,” Steve mumbles against her chest. He pulls back just enough to look up into her face. “And you haven’t, okay? Don’t put that on yourself, it’s… You were right. I don’t… I’m still not used to it. People wanting all of me.” Steve shakes his head. “I have a hard enough time understanding why Henderson keeps me around. But you? I’ve never met anyone better, and I spend every day wondering what I did to deserve you, and terrified of when I’ll ruin it.”

Robin sandwiches Steve’s face between her hands and makes him look at her, even though the intense stare makes her want to flinch. “You don’t have to do anything to deserve my love, okay? You already have it, and you always will.” She closes her eyes and leans up to press a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Fen. For forever.”

“Love you too, Birdie.”

send me a pairing and a prompt!

[grishaverse-chaos]

hmmm something about dominik haunting the narrative in king of scars. everything nikolai does is at least a little bit for him. he learns about the life of average ravkan people by meeting dominik's family. he starts gaining influence in politics just so he can improve dominik's life. and then he promises dominik that he won't let ravka break him.

that promise fucking haunts him. it follows him wherever he goes. it's the driving force behind everything he does, every step he takes to heal the centuries-old wounds in ravka. it's what drives him to do better, be better.

dominik is always there, in the back of his mind: this country gets you in the end. always pushing him to do more, because he couldn't save dominik and so he has to save ravka (for dominik) (because he promised) (because he loved him)

[ailani-reillata]

Today marks Ailani Réillata’s second creation anniversary—also known as her Ailaniversary. As of today, I’ve been sharing Ailani with all of you for two whole years. 

This creative milestone feels completely surreal. I never believed that anyone would listen to my stories for two minutes, much less two years.

Back when I started posting about Ailani in January of 2022, I was in such a weird place mentally and emotionally. I was feeling pretty lost and lonely, and I had nowhere to channel these feelings, and I had nowhere to express myself. Though I still struggle with these feelings often, I cannot overstate how much this creative project and your support of it has lessened these feelings and given me support and encouragement to lean on.

With everyone’s interest, support, asks, comments, likes, kudos, kindness, and love, I found the strength to channel my emotions and complexity into a story that I needed to tell and one I needed to hear. I felt brave enough to start this massive project because of the support and enthusiasm I was shown. I’ve never felt worthy of hobbies or creativity or anything, so to see my pursuits be supported so wholly just changed my world. I’ve never had anyone care about my stories before, you all became the firsts.

So I started posting about Ailani, a character who’s existed in my head for years but never had the opportunity to become a fully-fledged story. I turned this concept into a massive project that helped me explore my emotions and identity and grow as a creative and as a person. By expressing myself, my identity, my culture, my history, my heritage and my feelings through this metaphorical lens, I had something to turn to when things got hard. I was able to have a creative project that comforted me and represented me.

And through it all, I also received support and encouragement about my creativity from all of you. This project really uplifts me when I’m down, and all of you help with that, too.

I cannot express how meaningful this creative journey has been for me. I’m so thankful for everyone’s patience and support, it’s really allowed me to explore and enjoy this journey, and I’m so grateful for all of you. You’ve all comforted me in dark moments, and I’m so honored to be here with you, sharing stories and creativity and kindness. Thank you for listening to me, I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.

Thank you for giving me two wonderful years, and despite the hardships and the struggles, for one of the first times in my life, I genuinely can’t wait to see what the next year brings. Even when it hurts and even when it’s hard. Thank you for letting me express myself, and thank you for letting me have fun.

Aloha,

Ivy 

[cockroachesunite]

Captain Crozier and his Second

[sugoi-writes]

"Oh, I'll take more than just your money..." - Alastor whispered into your ear, followed by a deep chortle as his tongue slithered across the gash he left in the cartilage of your ear. - ☄️❤️ (I fully intend on sending more than just this later. I'm currently unable to type it out ATM, but I didn't wanna lose this little brain worm eeeeeeaaaHHH-!)

I'M GONNA (S)CREAM

@hazelfoureyes YOU BEAUTIFUL HUMAN, THEY GOT ME TOO!!!

☄️❤️Anon, buddy, PAL--

(I am SO lucky I am off for the next two days. I am READY for horny inbox torment!!!)

[heraldeez]

Straight Laced (Tugging Loose)

Viktor x Reader | 1.7K | NSFW

Warnings/Tags: semi-public fondling, teasing, oral, Viktor in a custom corset, and the cruelty of chocolate covered strawberries

The romantic holiday finds you and Viktor out at a restaurant – a rarity for two workaholics – dressed up in finery – also a rarity, for two oil-covered lab rats.

Truly a momentous occasion. And you are insistent on perverting it.

A/N: Okay, so I missed Valentine’s. By a lot. But that’s okay because time is a suggestion, and rules are fake. :^)

And hey! It’s still February! For another whole hour!

Anyway, thanks to @linky-dinks for the corset idea, I really needed someone to point my brain in a direction. And always, thanks @valaruakars for reassuring me that - as stated - time is fake and simping is eternal.

Enjoy! :]

---

Viktor's fork clatters briefly before his hand smacks down to silence it, eyes wide.

Your right shoe sits innocent and abandoned beneath the table, socked foot resting instead against the inner seam of Viktor's thigh. Tracing - back, forth, back - just shy of where might truly get you in trouble.

"Are you alright?" you ask.

Casual as can be, butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. It's fun on occasion, to keep him on his toes. It doesn't help that he's so cute like this, incredulous and aroused despite it.

"What, exactly, are you doing?" Viktor asks under his breath.

"Enjoying my meal." You circle your fork above your plate, lips starting to wobble with the need to laugh, Viktor trying to keep it together despite the flush rapidly overtaking him, right up to the tips of his ears. "You really choose the best places when I can get you out and about, you know?"

You might be referring to the food – or perhaps the fact that this place has low hanging table cloths, perfect for disguising the way your toes slide, delicate and gracefully, up to the beginnings of firmness that's growing between Viktor's legs.

His fist tightens around his fork, drawing in a shaky breath, eyes fluttering closed.

Your voice drops low, leaving pretense behind. "What do you think, Viktor?"

Your foot slides up in alignment, arch curved against the stiff line of his erection, the barest amount of pressure applied to get him right where you want him.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

There's a sharp, predatory edge to his gaze as Viktor slowly drags his eyes open, sizing you up in a way that makes your heart skip a beat and your hips want to squirm in anticipation.

"I think," he rasps, leaning closer over the table, "that you should know better than to tease."

That look? That look indicates you'll be sore long before morning comes.

You scan the surrounding tables briefly, all these people still engrossed in their own conversations, their own little pictures of perfect romance.

The grin you can't quite hold back finally breaks out fully, and you lean over the table, closer than is perhaps polite to your fellow diners.

More polite than the way you flex the ball of your foot against the straining head of Viktor's cock beneath the table, though.

"How can I help myself, when you're so pretty like this?"

You hadn't thought it possible for him to get redder.

Viktor sets his jaw and asks for the check.

You slip your shoe back on, smiling primly across the table.

---

The walk home was short, and the distance to the bedroom even shorter.

Viktor's hips are a pleasant weight atop your chest, legs folded politely to tuck his knees under your arms. He’s placed himself at the perfect distance, just out of reach of your needy mouth, knees sinking into the sheets to keep you right where you are.

Quietly, he reaches for his shirt buttons, slowly thumbing them through each button hole, revealing himself for you.

Only it isn't his usual brace tucked beneath.

"What do you think? Is it pretty?" Viktor's voice takes on a smug upturn on your previous descriptor for him, but you can't even think of a response.

The corset is objectively gorgeous, gold threaded embroidery swirling across rich burgundy panels. It's custom – has to be, with how it fits over his spine for proper support, and you're blown away.

It's perfect. Makes him look deified and glowy, sharp lines from head to toe, decadently adorned in the middle.

"Yes," you sigh, hands raising to trace your thumbs over the threadwork, little starbursts scattered down to where corset meets belt. A belt he’s resting his hands on, and you hope, soon to be undone. “When did you –?”

"A few months back. I wouldn't normally go for something so gaudy -"

Gaudy is the last word you'd use to describe the low toned, immaculately embroidered corset panels, rich and dark against his skin in the candle light

" - but Jayce is always saying that I ought to enjoy the fruits of our labor more."

Viktor glances down at you with eyes lidded in satisfaction, lashes almost kissing the tops of his cheeks, a veil on molten amber.

"Are you enjoying it?"

It's barely more than a whisper, low dulcet coaxing just barely able to be heard, for your ears alone to covet even in an empty room. A question that didn’t even need asked.

Of course you’re enjoying it.

“Yes,” you sigh, word gusting out with only half its strength as your eyes rove over him, drawn back again and again to his still fastened belt.

Viktor thumbs at your bottom lip. “Open.”

Your lips drop open eagerly, treating him to the sight of your waiting tongue, plush pink and slick, just waiting for him to tease open with his fingers, or better yet –

And there it is. The distinctive clinking of metal on metal, Viktor’s capable hands threading the leather of his belt free, unzipping.

You keep your eyes politely on his, even through the thrum of anticipation in your ears.

You’re not sure you’ve ever heard a more beautiful sound, already on the brink of squirming for him. Surely you hadn’t teased him this long? A few moments at the end of dinner didn’t deserve this much restraint, did it?

His thumb slips free from where it had been resting on your chin, holding you open – even though you’d have eagerly sat there drooling for him all day, if he’d asked. You really didn’t have any shame left, when it came to him.

You can’t hold eye contact as you hear the slick sound of his thumb rubbing through the pre gathering at the tip of his cock, and Viktor tuts.

“You’ve been rather impatient tonight. Couldn’t even last through dinner.”

You do your best to look contrite, but it’s hard when faced with the pretty, flushed length of his cock, right before your eyes and yet just out of reach.

Your smile is crooked, struggling to not look like the cat that got the cream when it’s so obvious that he’s about to give you exactly what you’ve been goading him for all evening. “Let me make it up to you?”

Viktor follows your meaningful gaze to the engorged head of his cock, humming thoughtfully.

“You need your mouth filled that badly, miláčku?”

You’re perfectly prepared for him to guide himself to your lips, to smear them with the slick beginnings of come, and take his pleasure. To split your mouth wide around his girth, push in deep, remind you what it means to misbehave. To come down your throat, just like you’ve been itching for since you’d set up the dinner reservation.

Instead, Viktor holds up a strawberry.

The tuft of green atop it is unmistakable, even though the majority of the fruit is coating in a rich layer of shiny chocolate.

Viktor smiles down at you, patient and bemused, as he sets the fruit on your tongue, urging you to bite it off.

“Is it good?” he asks, knowing full well you’ll have to chew.

You swallow hastily, peering up at him, uncertain of this game. “You should try one.”

Viktor hums thoughtfully, eyes leaving you – bereft – to peer at the velvety box sitting on the nightstand. Thin fingers pluck another strawberry out, this one with an even darker layer of chocolate, but drizzled in white icing.

You’d like to be drizzled in white, too.

“Viktor,” you whine, fingers creeping over the soft fabric of his slacks towards the hard swell of his cock, pads just barely tickling against the coarse scrub of pubic hair –

“Hands back where I put them. You know better.”

A heavily put-upon sigh, but your hands drop back to the pillows cradling your head, palms up. Stuck waiting.

You let him feed you the strawberry, pouty around the juicy give of sugar-sweet fruit.

Viktor thumbs the droplet of juice that gathers at the corner of your mouth, threatening to spill down your cheek stickily into your hair. "Did you enjoy watching me squirm, drahý?"

You chew your strawberry, petulant, in lieu of answering.

But your jaw forgets to move as Viktor’s hand comes down to cup his cock, giving a slow, loose stroke. Just for show. The slick bead welling up at the tip is more tempting than any decadent fruit, your mouth watering around the acidic mush of strawberry still sitting on your tongue.

His voice is hardly a whisper, low and teasing. “I know I’m certainly enjoying the sight of you squirming now.”

Your breath comes out shaky, swallowing and yet somehow feeling a bit dry in the throat.

Viktor plucks up another strawberry and brings it to his own lips, leaving you fixated on the crisp noise of the fruit splitting between his teeth, calling to mind more lasciviously slick noises.

Juice swells up and drips over the curve of his bottom lip, and his soft tongue peeks out to lap it up, sliding in a way that pulls a little moan from the depths of your lungs.

You flush as Viktor grins down at you.

“All you have to do is ask politely,” he prods.

“Please? Vik?”

He raises a brow and reaches for a strawberry.

“Let me suck your cock, Viktor, stop teasing –”

He’s laughing at your eagerness, and you have to fight not to pout again.

“Let me suck your cock, Viktor, please,” Viktor corrects. Never has a strawberry looked like such a threat as it does now, sitting in his hand like denial made physical.

You swallow heavily, peering at the head of his cock, the confident hand resting at its base. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and you look back up at him with the most pleading, needy eyes you can muster. “Please fuck my throat, Viktor?”

It’s Viktor’s turn to feel breathless, shuddering exhale as his eyes go dark. Exactly what you’d hoped to achieve, intensifying the reward like that.

The moment of stillness seems to crawl along your skin, waiting –

And he pops the strawberry into his own mouth, leaning forward to bump the head of his cock to your lips.

You open for him eagerly, salt on sweet, and moan as Viktor pushes deep into exactly where he belongs.

[just-french-me-up]

hey hi i'm buzzing with the need for dreamling fic recs if you would be so kind as to point me in your favorite direction pls pls pls

Oh friend, you asked and I shall ✨ deliver ✨

DREAMLING FIC RECS 🌻✨

of my misery make thy use by @qqueenofhades (Explicit - WIP - 129k so far - In Universe, but with some tweaks, Rescue fic) Dream is Roderick Burgess' prisoner, in all his silent, sullen, naked glory, and has given up on the thought of anyone ever helping him out of there. Even Hob Gadling. Especially Hob Gadling. In fact, he's quite sure the man never wants to speak to him ever again, regardless of his current predicament. A bummer, really, because he also happens to be married to him. (Listen that fic has slain me EVERY WHICH WAY, it has EVERYTHING, it will take you PLACES (literally), it's rewarding as fuck, has OCs to die for, just... just read it, ignore the WIP status, what's there is absolutely chef's kiss)

the unknown and static strange by @qqueenofhades (yes, again, listen, if i loved you less i might be able to talk about it more bla bla bla) (Mature - WIP - 69K so far (nice) - Dubious AU status, Memento mets Academia, Modern day with a twist) Professor Robert Gadling, under cut rocking, weird dreams having, and trauma suffering, discovers a strange piece of undocumented art that seems to follow him everywhere he goes. The Regis Somnorum won't leave him alone, and as he tries to follow that thread, a whole mysterious tapestry unfolds, putting everything he knows, or thought he knew, into question. (This fic is a fucking delight, it's just KEEPS feeding you "oh shit" moments and suspense and revelations and the pacing just keeps you on the edge of your SEAT. Again, IGNORE the WIP status I BEG OF YOU, read it, devour it)

This Rough Magic by @avelera (Mature - WIP - 36k so far - Rescue fic with a twist) Hob Gadling never fancied himself a mage or a warlock, but dabbled enough in the occult to pick up a few tricks over the years, all in the hope to communicate with his Stranger. A stranger, he later discovers, who is trapped under Roderick The Fucking Magus Burgess's manor. Now, he may not be the best magic wielder there is.... but Burgess doesn't know that, does he? (There are some VERY clever things in this fic, everyone is written to a T, I love a fic where my loathing of Burgess can burn from the brightest flame and at the same time have him not like a cartoon villain but a full human being! Can't wait to see where that goes!)

if you just let me (have you, love you) by Lost_Elf (Explicit - 25k - Human AU - Adult Film Actors AU (I see you tumblr, restricting words these days, I see you) Both very prominent in their own niches of the Internet, Dom-BDSM-oriented Dream and Vanilla-centered Hob cross paths and plan what could be (or so their managers hope) the collab of the century. And they might learn a thing or two along the way. (Listen, I read this on a whim, I wasn't too into Human AUs at the time, I was up for some smut that day, and this fic is a LOT more wholesome than the subject lets on and really gripped me! Lots of very nice details in there! And also, you know.... smut)

by the minute by @issylra (Explicit - 11K - Human AU, Sex Phone Operator Dream) Dream has a bet with Desire : he has to manage a phone sex line for some time. He's not thrilled by it. Callers are... unimaginative and unoriginal, to say the least. Except one. He has a very nice voice. He's funny. And he sounds just about as lost as he is, in life. (The tags make it sound super raunchy but it's more about developping attraction through someone's voice and getting to know someone through the phone and falling in love and.... it's just lovely, it's very sweet, it's like a little blanket with a warm cup of tea, really)

Now I KNOW this is not what you EXPLICITELY asked for but.... dare I suggest..... something with an OC thrown in the mix? Cause that's just adding a fun player to the game, with added stakes, really!

as heart for heart, for loving me by @kittttycakes (hello darling) (Explicit - WIP but soon to be finished - 151k so far - Canon compliant - OT3 if there ever was one - How to polyamory, a guide for Dream of the Endless, a primordial being who needs to use his goddamn words) When Dream finds Hob at the New Inn, he's ready to open up a little. Be a friend. Be a little more than that, though he can't quite articulate it. The only issue with that is that Hob has a girlfriend. A live-in girlfriend. A very much serious girlfriend. Dream tries his darnest to hate her, and finds he can't quite bring himself to. (It's soft, it's lovely, it has angst, it has smut, it has fluff for days, it has developping relationships GALORE (plural) and it's just a nice read to switch up your rotation, cause the potential for situations is tripled now!)

[slavhew]

Title: Shizuo Vs. Valentine

Rating: M

Pairings: Shizuo Heiwajima & Izaya Orihara

Summary: Valentine's day is a trying time for many, not least of all one Shizuo Heiwajima. Little does he know, it's about to get much worse.

Wrote a little thing for Valentine's day! It's silly and exists mostly to put these two in Situations, and also has a partner piece by @hallucxnating accompanying it in the end notes!

Happy reading, and happy (late) Valentine's everyone. Love comes in many forms ~

[coquelicoq]

I hugged the two children while looking around at my companions. [...] Shin Yoosung asked me, "Grandmother? Is Grandmother Sookyung okay?" "I think she should be fine. It is entering the final stages." Relief passed through the party member's faces at my words. Only one face was different. "Hey, why is Dokja hyung's mother your grandmother?" "Ahjussi's mother is my grandmother." "Dokja hyung isn't your father." I quickly patted them on the back. "Now now, don't fight. You can both call her grandmother." "Really? Can I?" "Yes." I watched the red-faced Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung and tried to say something else, but quickly closed my mouth. To these children, what had happened in the past three years? What did these children hear, see and talk about as they passed through dozens of scenarios without me? "…Hyung?" I stroked Lee Gilyoung's head for a long time and Lee Gilyoung looked up at me helplessly. Shin Yoosung, who was staring at the scene, grabbed my hand and placed it on her head. (Chapter 343)

they love you they love you they love you

[multishipperbish]

and if i were to write a LOTF fanfic inspired by Peter Pan (the story by l.m. barrie) and also partially Lost Boy (by Christina Henry) what then. huh chat