#wipsnip

[eldritchmochi]

wip wednesday!!! ive been sitting on this dialogue for like FOUR MONTHS, carrying my notes for it across several files, so im very glad to have this scene finally fucking written

from COPING SKILLS, as per usual. hopefully will have this section done and posted innnn a week and a half???

-

It's—perfect. It's perfectly perfect, exactly the way Essek would wish to spend a lazy Da'leysen even if the thought that he could had never occurred to him.

It's better when Caleb buries himself deep into Essek, holding there as he catches his breath before melting over top of Essek. Essek thinks maybe Caleb—but no, Caleb sighs, "I simply cannot keep up with you."

"You're doing spectacular," Essek tells him. "I can barely keep up too."

Caleb laughs and shifts and Essek thinks for a moment that he intends to get off him so he relaxes the hold he has on Caleb's shoulders. Instead, Caleb settles, comfortably pinning Essek with his full weight. The feel of him on Essek makes Essek's cock twitch, begging for attention after so long ignored.

"I'm too old to marathon like this. What made us think this was a good idea?"

It's Essek's turn to laugh, the sound sliding into a moan muffled against Caleb's neck when Caleb's cock twitches in him in turn.

"Because I'm a fucking idiot," Essek tells him. "We are not doing this again, don't let me even if I really want to." He pauses, noting for the first time the extent of his bone-weary exhaustion, and sniffs before adding, "I will require two-to-five business days' notice before any and all extra curricular activities going forward. We will have a schedule if only so I don't fuck myself into oblivion."

The feel of Caleb laughing so much while still so deep and so hard within Essek is—good, beyond good, absolutely incredible. Essek rides it out, biting his lip at the feel of Caleb's laughter within him, holding tight to Caleb's shoulders.

"Is that a promise or a threat?" Caleb asks through his laughter.

Essek considers his response, prefacing it with a small, haughty noise, simply saying, "Yes," and Caleb is overcome with a fresh wave of laughter.

Essek hides his soppy smile against the curve of Caleb's neck, so very pleased to have made this man, this beautiful, wonderful man, laugh so hard, and in the middle of sex too. It is, again, not something he would have wanted to have, but now that he has it, he holds it dear.

Adeen would never have allowed himself such fun, and Essek finds himself better off for it.

Caleb pulls back, grinning as he says, "Ja, well, I suppose I will ensure I file the appropriate forms going forward." He can barely get the sentence out before he's laughing again, forehead against Essek's.

"You'd better," Essek says, tipping his chin up to kiss Caleb's smiling lips. Caleb kisses him back readily, over and over, each one broken by the grins that infect both of them.

[baconandpie1]

WIPSnips - replace

From another (unpublished) WIP of mine - where all Castiel wants to do is help Dean.

Well... good intentions are not always enough.

[inventingreality]

Poetry expands the senses and keeps them in prime condition. It keeps you aware of your nose, your eye, your ear, your tongue, your hand. – Ray Bradbury

[missyourflight]

ty @boxboxlewis for the wipsnip tag ✂️❤️ lil bit of space persuasion 🪩

“Did they give you a real big ship?”

“It’s not too bad, I can’t complain.”

Daniel remembers saying, It’s barely even flying, a boat this size, it’s just – parking. The two of them lying shoulder to shoulder on the flat roof of the outpost, Max turning towards him as he said, There are other things to fly.

It had been love, at least for Daniel, the dumb, dogtags-stupid kind of love; it whirled him up like a dust storm for a few months and ended with his bunkmate saying, “Woah, Danny –” as he trashed his quarters, his comcel bouncing off the wall and shattering, everything smashed to pieces.

And now, he feels –

He shakes his head.

“Captain,” he repeats, the rank still strange in his mouth. “You never listened to a word I said, did you?” If it sounds bitter Max doesn’t seem to notice.

“Ah, it was like background noise, you know,” he says, his smile almost hopeful. And it’s worse, somehow, Max trying to joke, his attempt at ease stinging more than if he’d done the decent thing, the fucking normal thing, and blanked Daniel, just shaken his hand and pretended like Daniel never asked him to run away, never humiliated himself in front of his entire crew and threw away his career for no reason.

“You used to say the ships in the fleet weren’t fast enough for you,” Max goes on. “So everything worked out.”

“Guess so,” Daniel says. This is the life he’d always wanted, in a lot of ways. If you’d told him five years ago he’d be racing here, that he’d have this life, he’d barely have been able to imagine it. Five years ago he couldn’t imagine past Max.

Did you miss me, he doesn’t ask.

Someone bumps them from behind: she spills her drink down Max’s sleeve, insists on patting him dry, Hello sailor. Daniel sees his chance to run.

“Enjoy the show, Captain,” he says, leaving on the expectant part of Max’s mouth, whatever he had been about to say lost in the swelling noise of the bar.

In the lift he lets his head thunk against the mirror. What the fuck.

[oknowkiss]

fic post: draco malfoy’s substitute murder service

PAIRING(S): DRARRY, MINOR HARRY/CHARLIE RATING: E WORDCOUNT: 10.5K

READ ON AO3 HERE!

TAGS: Harry POV, Curse Breaker Harry Potter, Knockturn 30 Under 30 Draco Malfoy, Neither of them are very good at their jobs tbh, Both of them are worse at Emotions, They’re great at being horny though, Frotting, Mutual Masturbation, Oops! All Feelings, there’s a lot of monsters, it’s technically a Christmas fic, I saw Harry kissing Santa Claus

WARNINGS: Light Gore (Monster-related, brief mentions of blood and organs), Light Angst, Kinda Sorta Emotional Infidelity (more details in A/N), Open/Ambiguous Ending

SUMMARY: When Harry joins the Curse Breakers shortly after his twenty-fifth birthday, he’s surprised to find himself assigned to the Department of Creatures, Cryptids, and Associated Calamities.

OR: the one where Draco goes goblin mode, and Harry has a thing for monsters.

hello hello! it’s here! my christmas fic! on december 31, which is actually christmas day six so it’s fine. this is for @mintawasalreadytaken who typo’d “baba yaga accidental kiss” in a comment on the july tree and i was like “well, we can’t let that slide.” so i wrote 10k about it. let this be a warning to the rest of you. 

thank you to @sorrybutblog who has, as usual, shined all my rough spots. any remaining mistakes are my fault for sneaking back into the file to fuck around after she put me to bed.

this is the first fic i’ve written since june that hasn’t been for a fest of some kind, and as such i went a little off the self-indulgent deep end. this one is a little dark, a little wacky, a whole lot of sticky, with some Totally Normal Reactions to Kissing thrown in for good measure. i hope you enjoy! 

(special paging in @geesenoises @teacup-tai​ @nv-md @roseharpermaxwell @reliand @epitomereally @makeitp1nk @battleravyn who read the wipsnip here and asked to see more. the more has landed)

[dovesndecay]

Today is a writing day, so have a #wipsnip #wiplines #amwriting #urbanfantasy

[aconitemare]

wipsnips

Tagged by @paperempires which was very thoughtful as it reminded me im not dead yET i’m not coping w my senior year of college well enough to have hobbies

And I’ll tag @perissologist and @jellzu and @skalidra and @salmonellagogo if none of you writers have been tagged yet?? (and want to be??)...and ofc anyone else who wants to join in!! <3

Entitled: [jaydick] Before That, And Colder

But Dick is very much watching, he realizes; Jason looks cast in smooth stone, his eyebrows taut and his lips pressed. Dick thinks of the time when he was fifteen and Bruce took him to the Accademia Gallery in Florence. They had seen David there, Dick tottering backwards and craning his neck to take in the stern countenance. And Bruce was right, it was beautiful, although he hadn’t at the time shared Bruce’s level of awe. Dick had said, rather blandly, something about the statue’s strength.

He looks strong. Bruce had narrowed his eyes as if he was considering Dick’s comment. Really? Bruce had said. I see vulnerability.

Jason’s sudden enormity nearly eclipses the night in its entirety, blotting out potential sharpshooters and wannabe Jokers.

Entitled: HOLD ME DADDY

He thinks the rain wakes him up. There’s gravel beneath him; he can feel it scraping across his back. He must be on some rooftop. He expects Catalina to be there with him, on top of him, pressing him into the cement. There’s the ambient city noise — cars whirring, people talking — but it’s all far away. Up here, everything has stopped. Dick raises a hand to his head and it comes away with blood. Catalina smoothes her hands down his chest and disappears with the sound of his parents as they hit the floor.

He can’t breathe through his nose, but when he opens his mouth, everything tastes burnt. He clambers onto his feet and his vision blurs for a moment, so he stands still until the world rights itself. The remains of a building surround him: some wood, mostly ash. And then he knows he’s not on a rooftop anymore, but on the ground with 1013 Parkthorne Avenue in pieces around him. A few feet from his boots is a partly melted face. He tries to match it to the people in his home, to the girl who had left environmental fliers tucked beneath his door or the guy who had spotted him a dollar for coffee.

Entitled: Talia has a conversation with Dick lmaooooo

They’re in what Talia calls “the drawing room.” It’s not half as Victorian as Dick had expected, although calling it modern would be a mistake. There’s an emerald green chaise and a few other chair-type objects Dick doesn’t know the name of, all arranged before an oppressively large fireplace with a wrap-around mantle.

Dick whistles when he enters the room. “Add a couple of gargoyles and you’d be recreating my childhood bedroom, Ms. Al Ghul.”

Talia, still standing by the door, explains, “Bruce and I have similarly elegant tastes.”

Dick eyes the heavy, black curtains hanging over the windows. “Sure,” he says, tone somewhere between polite and sarcastic. This is a place where natural light goes to die.

Talia folds her hands in front of her and Dick carefully avoids lingering on the rings across her fingers. “Staff should be here with tea soon, if that’s alright,” she offers. Then, after apparently a moment’s consideration, “I am very grateful that you have accepted my invitation for lunch.”

Dick forces a smile he isn’t sure is kind or not. “What’s family for?”

“In my experience or yours?” Talia replies.

Entitled: Rory/Paris

Rory clasps her hands together. “Turn around?” she requests.

Paris obliges, straightening her jacket as she faces Rory. Rory envisions Jamie opening the door and seeing her. She wonders how Paris will look to him, if he’ll think she’s pretty, if he’ll not know quite what to make of her standing like this — in smooth satin, with lavender eyelids.

“Well?” Paris prods.

Rory works her jaw. “Perfect.”

Paris’ brown eyes are imploring, almost puppyish. “Promise?” she asks, like Rory might be lying. Like it’s important she’s not.

“Swear.”

“Thanks,” says Paris gratefully. Then her puppy eyes sober. “Now get in the closet,” she orders.

Rory’s heart freezes in her chest. “What?”

Entitled: divorced men's guide to staying the hell away from girls way too cool for you

“Fantastic,” Axton deadpans.

“Ooh, very growly,” Ellie remarks. “Is that your natural voice? Or do you talk like that on purpose?”

Axton blinks and shakes his head in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Ellie coaxes, “don’t be trying to front with me, cowboy. I may not seem it, cooped up in my garage all day with poor Loggins, but I’ve met my fair share of people. Everyone is always acting like they’re someone, and the second thing they do is talk different.”

“And the first thing?”

Ellie smiles openly, as if she’s just glad to be asked, to have the conversation continued. “Get a new look,” she answers. Axton’s mind flashes again to Mad Moxxi, strapped into a corset with a top hat over her cartoonishly red cheeks, always speaking just low enough that you have to work to hear her over the blaring jukebox.

[eldritchmochi]

iiits wip wednesday and while i haven't written anything in A BIT i also haven't posted a wip in a bit so like, here ya go. its not smutty???? (wild)

an excerpt from the next chapter of my epic length shadowgast bdsm au COPING SKILLS

--

He can just hear his washer start as he steps back out into his living room. Between his sheets and his casual clothing, she'll be around most of the afternoon tending to his laundry, but she doesn't need to run three loads. He startles her again when he knocks on the door frame of his laundry room, his afghan trailing to the floor from his hand.

"Room for one more?" he asks, gesturing with the blanket.

"Only if you promise to not give me any more heart attacks today, Essek bey," she replies, voice firm despite her smile. She takes the blanket he offers and packs it in with the rest of his bedding, then drops the lid to the machine with a clang.

Essek steps out of her way, his back towards his front door, and gestures with his cane. She shuffles past, dusting her hands off as she returns to her caddy of supplies.

"You do not get to hover either, Essek bey," she adds. "You know I do good work."

"I do indeed," he tells her, and he's not hovering, he just—

Has mommy issues, and Mihra has done much for his private little household over the last fifteen-odd years she's been in his employ. They don't often engage face to face anymore, but he's still fond of her, and he's still—out of sorts from the day before, in need of care and attention that Caleb isn't around to give.

He can let her work though, even if he misses the warmth of his afghan when he sits back on his horrible couch. He doesn't fidget either, prestidigitating his sticky mug clean before slurping at his coffee. It's—cold, which he should have expected, and it only manages to make Essek miss Caleb more.

He has entirely too many tasks to complete and no where near enough brainpower to complete them. He's—antsy with Mihra puttering around his condo with him, too aware of her presence, too aware of the signs of his weekend activities. She won't gossip, probably, but—Light, there is a condom in his bed side bin. Essek doesn't regret Caleb, absolutely not, but he does regret everything else leading up to this, to him being—perceived as anything but Shadowhand Thelyss.

And it's only bound to be worse as the gala approaches.

Mihra hums as she sprays down his bathroom with cleaner, sharp fake citrus that stings Essek's nose. He—starts by retrieving his phone, reviewing his notifications by rote memory until he, at last, reaches the newest messages from Caleb. It's simple, two texts not even a minute apart, sent shortly after seven this morning.

Caleb Good morning, Schatz.

Caleb I shall miss you today. Rest well.

Essek's heart races, enamoured with such a simple thing. His reply takes no thought to write, and he sends it without so much as a cursory review.

Essek I've missed you since you left last night.

As expected, he doesn't get an immediate reply. He's still disappointed and… perhaps he should tell Caleb how affected he still is. It's not subdrop; he doesn't get that far, especially not considering the amount of care Caleb had given him through out their day. It's more that he—

He's simply wildly in love with the man, and that's worse.

[eldritchmochi]

wip wednesday!!! completely fukken forgot it was wednesday in my Fugue State waiting for doctor call (: but!! i still managed to write like 2k in the past 24 hours so i do definitely have something to show off kermit voice yaaaaay

as always, from my epic length shadowgast bdsm au COPING SKILLS that i will hopefully have an update for sunday :>

--

Essek laughs and half struggles under Caleb's weight, attempting to turn to kiss him, to press closer, to burrow against his chest and never leave, but Caleb is bigger, stronger, wrapping an arm under Essek's chest to pull him bodily against his own. He's still hard, his cock pinned against the cleft of Essek's ass. The feel of it combined with the force Caleb used on him makes Essek gasp, his mind blank as Caleb's hand traces down his torso.

"Do you want to try for six?" Caleb asks, hand flat against Essek's belly, just below his navel. Essek's cock jumps at the idea and he quickly moans an affirmative. His breath catches as Caleb hand trails over his mons pubis and then his hip, back between their bodies so Caleb can take hold of his own cock.

Essek holds his breath, tempering his hope but he gets exactly what he wants anyway. Caleb finds Essek's hole with the head of his cock again, impaling him with another smooth stroke.

He moans and Caleb moans with him, saying, "You are so very hungry for my cock, aren't you?" and when Essek moans again, loud and honest despite the way his face burns, Caleb thrusts into him, hand on his hip, and murmurs into his ear, "Famished."

His hand moves lower, taking hold of Essek's cock. He tucks his other arm under Essek's head, curled around him with fingers just in his hair, and Essek takes the opportunity to hide his face in the crook of Caleb's elbow at the first slow stroke of Caleb's hand. Caleb doesn't thrust into him again but just the heft of him filling Essek is plenty, deep and hard and lovely.

Caleb strokes him a few times, slow and firm, pulling Essek back onto his cock each time, keeping him from moving far. He kisses Essek's shoulder too, and the nape of his neck, soft, wondrous touches as he takes his time pleasuring Essek until Essek can take it no longer.

"Don't tease," he asks, demands, voice tight as his orgasm creeps up on him. He does not think he could bear coming close to the edge again without a final push to tip him over.

"You are welcome to take what you'd like, Schatz," Caleb tells him, a tease in and of itself. Essek groans, shuddering with pleasure when Caleb's cock throbs within him. He can feel Caleb's smirk against his shoulder, his hand slowing on Essek's cock, fingers relaxing around him.

Essek reaches down to squeeze Caleb tight around him again, holding onto Caleb as he tilts his hips forward, into their combined fist, then back onto Caleb's waiting cock. Caleb moans, fingers combing Essek's hair away from his brow, soft affection to counter the his cruel request.

But Essek is close enough that it's not unmanageable. His hand slides up to Caleb's wrist, holding onto him there for a moment as Essek rocks his hips. He fucks himself back onto Caleb then forward into Caleb's waiting hand a few times before his hand comes down to brace against the couch. His other hand he uses to support his elbow, bent in an awkward scaffolding to try and last long enough to get off.

And he moans, pleasure and frustration rolled into one repeating sound, not quite loud but open, ignoring the urge to muffle himself. It seems to be exactly what Caleb wants, teeth joining the soft lips against Essek's bruised neck.

"Famished," Caleb repeats, hand twisting around the head of Essek's cock as Essek impales himself on Caleb's. "Have you ever needed anything so badly?"

Essek laughs, a breath of amusement quickly followed by a groan. He says, "Of course not."

"Just me, ja?" Caleb asks, and the possession in his voice makes Essek whimper, "Just you."

Caleb bites down on Essek's shoulder again, teeth sinking into bruise, and his hips snap forward to meet Essek half way. Essek squeaks, his hands flying up to cover his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. He's there, just on the edge, close enough he can almost taste it.

[baconandpie1]

(Not) Looking For An Alpha

[baconandpie1]

(Not) Looking For An Alpha

Posting as part of the daily WIPSnips over on Bluesky

[baconandpie1]

(Not) Looking For An Alpha

Another quote from my WIP, as part of WIPSnips over on Bluesky.

[eldritchmochi]

i love fearne i should write more fearne

--

"They're very nice, aren't they?" she repeats, skimming her fingers along rows of slender vials, perfumed oils and other such things. Orym is lost for a moment, looking up at her, still silent when she looks down at him, winking as she adds, "To you."

Orym flushes and looks away, thinking of Ashton between his legs, soft, wet mouth on him, their lashes clumped and wet and their delight more than apparent.

"He is."

"Good. These two please."

Orym looks back just in time to watch Fearne pass over two vials before pulling her purse out from her bossom. She counts out the appropriate copper and pays. One hand she sets on the display, the other pushing her purse back between her breasts, a vapid smile pointed at the vendor as she adjusts her bodice. With him so distracted, she palms a third vial, pinning it to her wrist with two fingers. She takes the two she had bought with gracious thank-yous, tucking them into her skirts with the comb.