#writing.

[dilfmade]

↺ that southern drawl. old cowboy’s first time bottoming. hanky code. soundgasm link.

“i’ve never seen a cowboy without his hat.” at that, there was a confused glint in the strangers eyes, before you gesture towards the rust colored hanky in his back pocket.

the left one, to your surprise. that can change.

he nods in understanding, sitting up straight and shifting to face you. “left ‘em home. old boy needs a break.” you chuckle, now taking a seat beside him as he pushes his glass to the side.

“what color is it?” a pause. “the hat.” there’s a belly laugh given before the answer. “brown.”

you make a noise, clicking your tongue, then taking the hat off your head and placing it atop his own. after situating it right, you take a good look at him for the first time that night, holding his chin. he lets you, staying still as if you commanded him to. your gaze alone was enough to make him silent.

he’s got a stubble, with the shine of a few gray strands, the same thing going for the grown-out hair on his head. you spot smiles lines, crows feet, some forehead wrinkles, all on tanned skin. your black leather cowboy hat brought it together.

his adams apple bobbed slightly, almost nervous as he’s never been observed like this before. he’s usually in your place. oddly enough, he doesn’t mind the switch. might even like it.

“you look better in black.” no, he loves it.

time seemed to blur together as you both drank, and eventually he ended up desperately grinding against your jean clad thigh. his breathy grunts were muffled by your lips, thin flannel hardly shielding his back from the cool bathroom stall door he was pushed against.

you separate, earning a groan from him, but before he could complain anymore you unbuckle his belt. “you givin’ into me, cowboy?” your hand reaches back, slipping the hanky out of his back pocket. “this don’t mean nothin’ to you?” you laugh in his face, him completely ignoring you as his hips move faster. his panting started getting whiner, unashamed; his role was made obvious, why not go all out?

though, you had other plans. using that same bandana, you gag him, shoving the fabric between his wet lips. “don’t get too loud now, boy.” he gave a huff, borderline whine, through his nose, leaning his head back until it hit the door. once he was looking away, you unbutton his jeans, pulling them down to rest just under his ass.

you palm his ass, spreading him open while spitting on your hand. you rub your middle and ring finger against his hole, before one pushes inside. his hands grip at your shoulders, biting down and drooling onto the bandana. “look at that. not as tight as i thought you’d be, huh? you finger yourself, partner?” it almost feels like you’re taunting him, and it shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does.

your hat tilts and covers half of his face, and when you adjust it, you see how his eyes are locked onto your bulge— so close to his freed dick. his hips jut up, attempting to hump against you and get away from the finger in his ass. you show some mercy, pressing your cock onto his and playing with his tip. the texture of your pants felt rough rubbing along the underside of his dick, sucking in a breath as his legs twitch. one jolted, and you hook it onto your arm to get a better angle as you add another finger.

he couldn’t decide what to focus on, all he knew is that he wasn’t going to come until your dick was inside him. he had to be stubborn in some way, for the sake of his own dignity. his takes the hanky out of his mouth, hardly acknowledging the amount of drool collected in the cloth.

“come— c’mon, boss, if yer’ g’nna fuck me, then fuck me.” and how could you turn that down?

[dk-thrive]

A poem-shaped space, I thought. A poem-shaped space.

I pulled out my notebook, scratched a few words in ink. A poem, a poem, I thought. No; it was not actually this that I thought. A poem-shaped space, I thought. A poem-shaped space. I tried to hold a poem-shaped space in my mind. Sometimes the work of life is like preparing a bedroom for a guest: sweeping the floor, emptying the ashtray, watering the sloping aloe plant. Opening the window wide to let new air in. I did all this inside my head, behind my eyes, while my fingers made words appear and waited for that guest to arrive.

— Sean Michaels, Do You Remember Being Born: A Novel (Astra House, September 5, 2023)

[makemeactup]

Ringo Starr x Reader - Stolen Glances

Summary: Ringo has feelings for his long time friend, but cant bring himself to do more than steal glances.

This is actually something I wrote for my oc but thought everyone would enjoy it. So — here ya go!

---

It wasn't that Ringo was scared to say anything to you. No, he wasn't the least bit worried about the outcome. You were adults now, it'd be fine. But, perhaps, he was just being cautious about the situation. Weighing up the possibilities and the comfort of the now. Such as:

Everytime you would playfully shove him, or playfully punch his shoulder, or playfully try to fight or wrestle, or just sit next him or drape your legs over his lap or put your head on his shoulder, Ringo held a humongous grin. His cheeks would tint a soft red. His blue eyes took you in as quickly as they could without drawing any attention.

Each time, he played along or dismissed you with a joke. Sometimes he would wrestle or take an exaggerated boxing stance, or he'd put his hand around your legs to make sure that you could relax and not worry about them sliding off. You'd smile at him then, beaming and radiant. And it'd be just for him — until one of the other boys, usually John, demanded your attention.

You were like that with everyone for the most part, Ringo had reasoned. You'd playfully shove George, but you wouldn't try to fight him. You'd use Paul as a pillow, but you wouldn't try to wrestle with him. You'd offer both men your smile, the one they all knew so well. But John, to Ringo's eyes, was too close to how you treated him.

John did get the playful fights and attempts to wrestle, and sometimes you'd get put into a headlock or he'd have his arm wrenched behind his back. John did get sat next to, and he got your head on his shoulder, or legs over his lap. But worst of all, he got the smile. The others got the smile, sure, but that wasn't the same. It was a specific smile.

But who was Ringo against John? Clint Eastwood versus Larry Fine?

Oh well, Ringo would shrug to himself at the thought. You were all long time friends, nothing more. His feelings had to pass, right? The denial certainly wouldn't, but that was neither here nor there.

Sat behind his drumkit, drumsticks held loosely in hand, he watched his friends interact. He watched you as you laughed at something George had said, waving him away. He admired your side profile, your shiny hair. Your shirt was nice today.

Sporadically, his eyes flickered to whoever was talking, an attempt to cover his tracks. He'd crack a smile and laugh at a joke or story, but he wasn't actually listening. Not as he gently hit the cymbals absentmindedly, and not as he looked at you again.

"—right, Ringo?" Came the sudden voice of Paul, the use of his name knocking him back into the room.

It was only then, under the scrutinising stares of his friends, did the drummer realise that his face gave away his previously absent mind. His eyes, dark with the apparent lack of sleep lately, grew briefly wide as he perked up and looked at Paul.

"What'd you say, Paul?"

"You alright? You look spaced out."

"Oh," Ringo blinked. "Yeah, I'm fine. And you?"

"You're gonna get bug-eyed if y' keep starin'," John hummed, smirk wide. He had obviously seen something the others hadn't.

"In me own world," Ringo raised an arm and moved his drumstick in a circular motion beside his temple for emphasis.

"Can I join your world?" You asked innocently, brows arching, as if you'd have to plead for him to say yes.

"'course ya can!" He beamed softly. "None'a these jokers can, though."

"What have I done?" George asked, sounding offended to be included with John and Paul.

"Dunno, let me get back t' you," Ringo offered, earning a small laugh and smile from his friends.

His eyes met yours, and he offered a small shrug. When you didn't immediately turn around, he swore he felt his neck grow warmer and the grip on his drumsticks grow ten times tighter. His lips grew into a lopsided grin, nose turning a soft shade of red.

When you did eventually turn back around, he released a breath he didn't know he was holding. Swallowing thickly and lightly hitting his drumsticks together, he feigned interest in whatever joke or story was being told. All the while, as subtly as he could in the background, he kept stealing loving glances at you.

[thisfeelingyourname]

the only one.

"you're not the only one tryna be the only one."

bill kaulitz x roman reigns smut | 2400 words | images from pinterest.

i am so excited to share my first long fic in years! likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated and thank you for reading! song inspo linked above. 🦋

cw: explicit, daddy kink, oral, finger sucking, body worship, post break up sex.

This is the beginning of a love story: a desperate wild-burn, a never letting go of the wound. There's sweetness somewhere hidden down in the heart of it and that's where the trap lies, razor sharp and without mercy. It's worth it, though whatever this story between them has become, it's worth it.

Bill doesn't feel foolish for wanting Roman as bad as he does. The time has passed and the desire is still there, ancient and wonderful. The feeling, he knows, is beautifully mutual. Roman is a careful man, a true gemini after all, but with Bill the ruse always crumbles and he's ended up showing his hand far too many times for Bill to ever doubt his intentions again.

Shit happens though and here they are in another round of their forever push-pull of love and running. This time their running chases them down to the hallowed halls of a local club, the night laced luscious with desire. It's bad how good Bill is in tying Roman neatly around his pretty finger, that darling smile simmering full into a delicious "come here" as he brings his lips to Roman's, butterflies white hot and free between the two of them as the walls and bodies dancing around them spin and spin into a glittering neon blur.

It's no secret that one thing Roman just could not stand about Bill was that wretched fucking mouth of his. Once he kicked off, it was a never-ending drama that Roman never seemed to figure out the point of, his mind wandering towards the inevitable make up sex after instead of listening to whatever Bill was fuming about. Luckily Roman learned just how good Bill's mouth was for less nauseating things, kissing him being one of the finest of those few things.

They've barely made it back to Roman's hotel room tonight, twin hands needing skin and skin, the wait in the elevator fanning the ache into wildfire. The room door clicks open and the two men stumble through, Bill's back meeting the wall with a delightful thump, a relieved sigh slipping from his lips when he lets Roman claim him, moaning open into his mouth as they kiss and kiss, blood deep with need.

Roman likes it when Bill gets eager grabbing at his ass through his jeans, a devilish smirk glinting on his lips as he brushes them against Bill's bottom lip, grazing his teeth along plush skin, nipping at his lip ring while he welcomes himself into Bill's body, strong hands searching up beneath Bill's blouse, goosebumps flushing up fresh beneath his touch as he palms Bill's chest, humming with appreciation when he feels him shudder with that thirsty turn of his hips against Roman's as he crushes his lips to his, tongue lapping greedy at his mouth.

It's addicting how good this feels to both of them, how gorgeously Bill melts into Roman's hands, trembling and perfect as he writhes against him, whining for him pressing his body closer while they kiss and kiss again, desire dripping down sweet and heavy.

Roman has always been very particular about his hair and it becomes all the more sacred to him when he feels Bill wash his fingers through long black locks, pulling impatiently as he grinds his hips against Roman's, his mouth pressed wet against Roman's, each kiss breathless, butterflies flowering up warm in Bill's chest.

"Why do we keep doing this stupid shit, baby?" the man Bill loves asks him suddenly. Roman is serious now, raising a hand and caressing it against the soft of Bill's cheek, his gaze level with Bill's and Bill is shaken, the knife in his chest twisting one more time. God, Roman is beautiful, so beautiful he ripples chills through Bill's body when he looks at him like that and for a moment Bill is left speechless, so utterly in love with him, his heart seeping honey to his knees.

He raises a hand brushing tattooed fingers along Roman's cheek, smiling as he watches the other's expression relax into the comfort of his touch. "Cuz it works for us, baby," is Bill's simple reply, that darling sparkle of a smile on his lips as he brings them back to Roman's, kissing him and sealing their fate for one more night.

That answer seems to satisfy them both and their world starts turning again, brilliant and devastating. They trade places for a little bit with Bill sat on his knees, looking up at his man with hearts in his eyes and lips parted and primed to perform. Roman sifts his fingers through soft blond strands, peering down at his most beloved, the sight of him nearly making him come right there.

Bill doesn't wait for his direction, instead moving his hands to settle them against Roman's thighs, sighing with pleasure when he feels all that muscle twitch in response. He has Roman right where he wants him and holds him there, unbuttoning his jeans and yanking them downward just enough to see what he wants.

He closes his eyes, reveling in the adoration of Roman's fingers coursing through his hair and a smile spreads on his face, dreamy and glowing when he nuzzles his cheek to Roman's clothed arousal, the fabric of his boxers already wet with precome. He drags his tongue stud slowly over the bulging tip, moaning quietly as he plants a kiss to it before trailing his mouth up towards Roman's hips, each kiss lingering and deliberate, reverence placed like a blessing upon his skin.

This game is just getting started, but already Roman feels like he's at the edge, a siren's song away from tragedy. He scoffs to himself, tilting his head back against the wall with a half smile, letting Bill to do what he does best. Bill is in heaven on his knees playing his part, mouthing kisses to Roman's dick, his body throbbing with excitement at how hard Roman is for him. There's nothing left for either of them to say. It all gets misunderstood anyway, but the body is always crystal clear.

Roman lets him have it all, praising Bill in stuttering, panting breaths, his hand firm on the back of Bill's head, guiding him as Bill gladly sucks him off, dribbles of saliva and precome clinging to his chin. The feeling of being full of Roman is heart-singing to Bill, his eyes almost rolling into the back of his skull with happiness.

It's ruthless how good Bill is at sucking dick and Roman is alight with pride at his creation, rewarding him with a jolt of his hips into Bill's mouth, grinning as he watches Bill take all of him with ease, brown eyes love struck when they look at one another, raw with longing. "My baby girl," whispers Roman, the words sealing themselves in Bill's heart as tears start to well in his eyes. He allows Roman's dick to fall from his mouth before stroking it slow, wetting a rose of a kiss to the head, the taste of him like an aphrodisiac on Bill's tongue. He gazes up at Roman then, smiling. "Your baby girl...," he whispers back to him in tenderness, gorgeous face smeared with come.

They undo one another then, slipping out of their clothes still tangled up pleasantly with one another until they tumble naked into the lush, king bed, the blankets quickly pushed out of the way. Roman has Bill resting his back against the pillows on the headboard, long legs spread apart for him like it's instinct. Bill is so agonizingly hard, his dick taut against his stomach but he doesn't even think to go there, his attention trained only on the man he loves in front of him, whose loving hands are tip-toeing down the sweat slicked flesh of Bill's inner thighs.

They find each other then, Bill's fingers locking themselves around fistfuls of black hair, a groan rumbling low in Roman's throat as he crushes his mouth against Bill's, kissing as if they're running out of forever. Bill is desperate, pleading open mouthed into Roman's, his breath caught in his throat when Roman's fingers fan themselves over Bill's hole, sensitive flesh tensing up and a grin spreads itself wicked on Roman's face, he's got Bill caught, ready and absolutely miserable for him. He moves his lips to Bill's throat, dotting kisses along blushing skin until he meets his pulse point fluttering tender beneath his tongue.

It's torture for Bill, everything in him wrecked open, displayed like an offering waiting in Roman's hand and he wouldn't have it any other way. Especially now when he feels Roman fold a few of his fingers against the plush of Bill's lips, those honey brown eyes darkening and Bill swallows hard, mesmerized in his beloved's gaze as he takes Roman's fingers in his mouth, lazily rolling his tongue over them, his eyes never shying away from him.

He knows that Roman knows that he's the only one that can work Bill down like this and it's a privilege that Roman dares not take lightly. "Good girl," Roman murmurs, nodding in admiration, moving his other hand to stroke the side of Bill's face. A sound of contentment rises from Bill's throat before he snakes a hand down between them to play with Roman's dick, teasing him in slow, careful strokes. The feeling shoots stars pink and blue in Roman's vision, every nerve wound up delicious with ache.

He shoves his fingers further into the wet heat of Bill's mouth, dragging them out before pushing them back in. Bill gifts Roman with another pretty noise, following his lead as he begins to deep throat his fingers, tightening one hand around Roman's wrist as he continued to work his dick, pearls of precome messy between his fingers. It's almost insufferably good to Roman and he chooses to please his baby girl, bringing his other hand back down between Bill's legs he presses a finger against his hole, just barely coaxing inside and Bill whimpers anxiously in reply, his expression pleading as he bucks his hips frantic against Roman's hand.

He knows the bad twin is showing up and he tears Roman's fingers from his mouth, gathering his face into his hands to marry his mouth to Roman's. "Fuck me," Bill gasps, the words urged against Roman's lips and Roman obliges him, moving to lean his back against the headboard as he sat open legged and waiting, the bad twin wide awake and ripe to devour as he raised a hand, directing Bill towards him.

"C'mere, Billa," Roman's tone is dipped in that smoky bass and Bill is spell bound, crawling on top of Roman, straddling him as warm hands plant themselves to Bill's waist. They look at each other then, something trembling between them and for a second Bill is terrified of how much he loves Roman, his body reaching for him as if he might lose him in the dark.

"'m not goin' anywhere, baby," assures Roman, gentle voiced with a kiss crowned to the top of Bill's hair as he burrows his face in the heat of Roman's neck, stubble tickling against his skin. He closes his eyes, inhaling the heady scent of Roman's body and it's comforting, his heart beating like wedding bells in his chest and he relaxes, quietly exhaling.

"Want me to fuck you now?" Roman wants to know, drawing a hand to Bill's back, soothing circles to precious skin. Bill nods his head with a smile, butterflies swarming in his belly when he feels the tip of Roman's dick nudge against his hole, his breath hitching when he edges further in, his toes curling with delight.

They share a tiny gasp when Bill takes him to the hilt, the feeling causing Bill's mouth to fall open in bliss. He squeezes down on Roman's dick, the start of a moan on his lips when Roman grips his ass hard in reply, steadying him before he starts to fuck into him, the pace gradual as Bill joins him, moving his hips in perfect sync, thanking Roman with his mouth, kissing and kissing him.

They're made for each other, from the beginning to the end. Roman holds Bill close, needing so much more of him it's insatiable. He's taking him so well and he's so tight Roman is sure he won't last long and he swears again, smacking Bill's ass, the skin beneath burning rose red and Bill cries out, wincing from the sting, pain ringing in his ears and he screws himself down on Roman's dick, the move bleeding stars in their eyes as the end closes nearer, Bill scrambling to scar his nails into Roman's back, crying for him in broken, gasping breaths and Roman keeping Bill there, fucking him harder, faster pulling him back down to heaven, that sweet oh oh oh from Bill's lips spoken soft against Roman's mouth as Bill fawns over him, beautiful face cast golden when he comes at last, rutting against Roman in ecstasy, his name sang over and over like thank god.

It's over for Roman then when Bill comes, splendid body clenching up around his dick one last time, milking him empty as he comes inside of him. It's exhilarating the climax that washes over Roman, knocking him straight to cloud nine. He buries his face into the crook of Bill's shoulder, a drawn out groan bitten into blushing skin, marking what's always been his. A long exhale heaves itself from Roman's big body and he settles into the calm of the afterglow, willing his eyes closed as the two of them lie together, silent and sated, merged skin to soul with one another.

Knowing fingers thread themselves through blond hair moments later, a kiss wed to Bill's temple, stray strands still stuck to his forehead and Bill purrs, gratified and safe in the well of Roman's warmth, full of his come and his dick still inside of him. The mood is cool and Roman ventures to strike up some pillow talk.

"So," he starts, his voice run a little rough. "Tell me what I gotta do to lock you down for good, beautiful." He isn't joking and Bill glances up at him, noting the race of his heart beat mirroring his own. Bill doesn't want to sour the moment, but he has to tell the truth. It's simple, really. The best things in life usually are. Bill smiles kind and leans in a kiss, intimate and just between them, butterflies stirring alive in his chest once, twice and again.

"Stay," he whispers.

And it's the truth.

[lasbrumas]

W T W V A L E N T I N E S W E E K ; day three - eros ↳ dolores & cecilia

dolores did not intend to fall in love with anyone, especially at an abbey of all places. but alluring, mysterious cecilia is more than just anyone. the heiress to a wealthy fortune and a so-called prophet, she draws everyone in with her magnetism and grace. and when her attention lands on dolores, there is no escaping her love.

psd: @/notoriousaesthetics

[cynicalramencrumb]

If I say I love space romantically but not scientifically, would it make sense?

[sagishii]

@feilien gets an angry ex <3

it  was  not  unusual  for  the  aois  to  occasionally  call  in  more  extensive  help  from  her.  she  had,  after  all,  sworn  her  life  to  them.  her  time  was  theirs  to  call  in  as  they  saw  fit.  it  also  wasn't  unusual  for  them  to  withhold  information  from  her  until  she  complied.  wary  perhaps,  of  giving  her  anything  more  that  could  hurt  them  until  they  were  sure  she  could  be  trusted.  faye  didn't  blame  them.  her  last  encounter  with  another  gangster  had  ended  in  disaster,  after  all.  that  was  the  only  explanation  she  could  think  of  because  why  else  did  she  walk  into  this  with  another  ghost  from  her  past?  and  from  another  rival  syndicate  at  that? the  assignment  was  as  easy  as  they  could  get.  keep  watch.  work  your  way  into  the  local  population  to  find  out  who  was  diverting  both  their  shipments.  squeeze  them  for  information  when  you  find  them.  survive  without  shooting  each  other.  the  details  were  lost  on  her,  unable  to  tear  her  eyes  from  matt's  face  long enough to care.  her  fist  ached  to  make  contact  with  ...  something.  she  wasn't  sure  if  it  was  his  face  or  eunwoo's  for  dragging  her  into  this.  it's  only  when  it's over, the little rat making life difficult for both their families gone,  that  she  finds  her  voice.  rage  breaks  through  the  haze  of  disbelief  that's  clouded  her  senses  since  she  first  heard  him  speak.

  (there's  something  else  to,  more  akin  to  heart  ache  but  rage  is  easier  to  feel  than  phantom  tenderness.  a  memory  of  a  time  long  past.)

    "what  the  hell."  her  voice  rises  into  what  can  only  be  described  as  a  shriek.  in  the  safety  of  their  unfortunately  shared  safehouse,  it  was  easy  to  let  her  emotions  finally  run  wild.  whipping  around  to  face  him,  the  look  in  her  eyes  is  near  ...  no,  it  was  murderous.  she  doesn't  reach  for  her  pistol,  choosing  venom  as  her  weapon  for  now.

  "do  you  mind  telling  me  what  exactly  you're  doing  here?  and  why  you're  running  around  with  the  black  dragons?"

[am4zon]

@vspertilian said: you scared me to death.

He seeks comfort in the nape of her neck, where he will inhale more than just jasmine and her cheap strawberry shampoo. There's blood. There's so much blood. It's a scent on her skin; it's blotches on her wounds. Blood is the way she smells, and the way she tastes, and the way she feels, too. Her skin is mangled from claw marks. There will come a time, later, when Bruce is assessing her wounds, when he has her in the cave and is running his tests, and he'll say something about how her markings are consist with that of a Cheetah. No, no, no, no, it was Barbara Ann, Diana will say, stammering like a prayer that feels false on her lips.

The time for that comes later. For now, Diana clings to Bruce, smearing red blood on black armor, her heart thralling from knowing just how close she came to losing that fight. We're okay, we're okay. Does she assure him of this? This man, who has lost so much and hopes for so little, does she assure him that all is well? ❝ I thought I could not protect her, ❞ she says, and she chokes on it, her own tears and her own fears and disappointment. Who does Diana speak of? The child she carries? Or the friend who burns with scorn?

❝ I thought the baby... ❞ She cannot bring herself to conclude the thought, cannot do much else at all but continue her nonsensical muttering, as though madness has struck her ability for speech. Suddenly, her grip tightens on Bruce, and her eyes are that of a wild animal's, all desperate for survival. She remembers why her and their baby are still alive. ❝ What will happen to him, Bruce? Waylon? What will become of him? ❞

[recitedemise]

Seen. He had--so longed to be better. No, Gale Dekarios. You're but the blink of an eye.

He looks onto his goddess, and she regards him from oceans, lands, and whole worlds away. She looms as if a shadow, as empty as the voids, and as her lips part, the cosmos shudders. He looks to her, shivering, liked a scolded childe.

"Gale Dekarios," Mystra coolly announces, far stars flickering. Within him, his heart begins its year-long shattering. "You have disappointed me today with the profound nature of your failing. I had granted you my favor, and I had given you the stars. But I possess nothing more that I will gladly offer. My interest, you have lost. And so, too, my mercy."

The stars start to die, and the great skies darken.

Gale, plummeting, then wakes to shadow.

Ah. Again. Again, that horrible, nauseating nightmare. As wraiths do, it seems wont to phantom his thoughts--unto the last spring's deathbed or perhaps his own. Gale, ribs grown too tight, breathes, his heart rabbiting desperately. He feels notably leaden, Mystra's indifference having iced his bones, and his exhales leave him with considerable struggle; it sluices, all jittery, through clenched tight teeth. Even sitting up, he realizes, feels like tempting fate. Gods. His friends sleep about him, Shadowheart joined by a snuffling Scratch, and as Wyll mutters dream-speak that toes with half-poetry, Gale rightens, shuffles, and wanders away.

Yes. Right now, he thinks, he must relearn how to breathe.

Though, it is, he confesses, a lonely affair.

Gale stops. He stands joined by the towering pine trees, a bed of springy aster, and the glimmering moon before a distant lake. He allows himself a moment, counting the fireflies springing up from the milkweed. When his eyes slowly shut, his heartbeat starts slowing. The darkness sinks in him and hunts his woes.

He had--so longed to be better. No, be clearer, he thinks: you'd thirsted for greater. For something. More. He had thought, there with all his arcane prowess, so reputable as to lessen all that which he lacked, that Gale Dekarios would be destined and ferried to greatness! Yes, for his talent, he'd mused, he would surpass all kings. He'd thought to rival the cosmos, to chase successes and talent to dwarf the vastness of the stars, but in one fell swoop, he was humbled with a sickening efficiency. No, Gale Dekarios. You're but the blink of an eye.

He opens his eyes to Mystra's voice. He looks up, and he steels himself for the galaxy's fantastic indifference. But the blink of an eye, he quietly repeats. Gosh. He'll extinguish eons before the very last of these suns. He'll waste sooner than he knows, and he doubts he'll enjoy the next sprouting Mirtul to color Faerûn. He had hungered for more, so aspired for greater, and in some grand, comedic twist, he'd barely scratched the surface. Now, he's but a rumor among mortals--and, heart grown heavy, hardly impresses himself.

(But the stars! They've escaped her, he thinks. They find something worth seeing.) The grasses stir behind him, his company alarmed. (And with hope, they do, too. Someone. Anyone.)

"Oh. You're hardly disturbing our conversation, that of mine and the yawning shadows. Make yourself comfortable. We can pass the night together."

[dk-thrive]

A.I. Replace Artists?

To make something count, you are going to have to do more than just rearrange precedent images and words, like any old robot. You are going to have to put your back into it, your back and maybe also your soul.

—Jason Farago, from "A.I. Can Make Art That Feels Human. Whose Fault Is That?" (NY Times, Dec 28, 2023)

[thisfeelingyourname]

sneaky link.

happy valentine's day! 🥰

song rec in the link above. x as always, bill kaulitz x roman reigns smut. cw: daddy kink, dirty talk, breath play, finger sucking, intoxicated sex.

He'd be lying if he said that he didn't fuck with that freaky shit, but Bill's got some kind of way about him that makes that low down dirty shit look damn good, irresistible and fine. He's gotta be born knowing this shit Roman thinks and that brings an amused smirk to his lips as he has Bill splayed out in his lap, has his pretty mouth slow sucking on a few of Roman's fingers as they look at each other, faded and waiting for what has always been.

They're at Bill's place for once, late at night and nearly naked on the couch they've laid out on, neon blue and red lights glittering against twin skin. This is more than a house call, better than a booty call. Roman is staying the night after all, and the night after that and the night after that caught up in that marathon fucking and loving that neither of them can get enough of.

Bill is dangerous when he's fucked up like this, out of sight and out of mind, a different type of bad that Roman isn't sure he can keep up with, but he likes a challenge, especially one as beautiful as Bill, honey brown eyes dark and hungry, gaze steady with Roman's as he continues to suck his fingers, tongue stud swirling lazy around each one, a wicked grin spreading on his lips when he feels Roman push his hips up against Bill's ass, his dick achingly hard.

"You wore that shit I like," Bill says, proud of his man, letting Roman's fingers out of his mouth one by one, each slick with saliva. Roman laughs softly at that, swiping his thumb along the soft of Bill's bottom lip, stopping to play at his lip ring. "You just tryna see that print," he teases back, thoroughly enjoying whatever the fuck this is going on hot between them.

That cheshire grin grows and Bill moves to kiss Roman, tongue lapping at his mouth greedy and Roman kisses him back, already blissed out and on one, dragging his teeth against Bill's lips. "Nasty fuckin’ girl," he whispers, praising him as he lets his hands do what they do, fingertips ghosting across luscious bare skin, down Bill's sides, memorizing tattooed skin, smoothing themselves over the swell of Bill's ass.

He's got that lacey shit on tonight, those white thigh highs too and Roman is in absolute heaven, all too eager to take what's his as he grabs a palmful of ass with both hands, groaning aloud with pleasure, his head tipping back against the armrest. "Wore that shit you like," Bill gladly reminds him, leaning in to draw kisses up Roman's adam's apple, up his jawline and Roman finds him there bringing their lips together once more.

Butterflies swarm through their blood as they kiss and kiss, tongue and teeth and need, Roman's hands still palming Bill's ass while Bill sneaks a hand down between the two of them, slipping it beneath the waistband of Roman's sweatpants to stroke his dick, slowly massaging the head as dribbles of precome slip between his fingers.

It's too fucking good and Roman is pretty sure he's losing his grip on this one, Bill already a thousand steps ahead of him not even looking back. Not one to quit so easily Roman decides to switch this shit up, the high suddenly wildfire with a new kind of desire. It shows up sweet at first, Roman calmly pushing Bill's hand aside, his own finding itself creeping up the length of Bill's throat, pulse point beating precious underneath his touch. Bill swallows, never letting up on his game, everything of him wanting everything of Roman.

He knows Roman's hand, that geminian shit never slipping past him. He catches the warning in Roman's eyes and he licks his lips, allowing the bad twin to come through thirsty and free, his eyes closing and the start of a moan on his lips when he feels pressure against his throat. Roman has him right where he wants him and Bill is glad to be caught, goosebumps chasing up his spine and pleasure twisting pain through his blood when he feels a finger slip into his ass, working itself in and out of him and the sensation spins stars in Bill's eyes.

He can't help himself, thighs beginning to tremble and he starts to move against Roman's hand before he feels a harsh slap at his ass and he bites down on his lip, whimpering. "Look at me, baby," Roman says, his tone is kind, but commanding and naturally Bill does as he's told, eyes opening up to the man he loves and for a second he's mesmerized at how romantic this moment is, how breathtaking Roman looks in this neon moonlight, dirty blue and beautiful.

"I love you," Bill swears to him, butterflies swelling in his heart and they feast when that golden boy smile shows itself on Roman's face, honey sweet and Bill is smitten, dropping gorgeously open into Roman's hand. "Love you too, baby girl," he replies back, leaning in to leave another kiss against Bill's lips, one finger becoming two, working Bill's ass with practiced ease. Bill groans brokenly, his brow tightening as Roman moves his hand from Bill's throat to his cheek, caressing him in affectionate strokes while he turns him out, savoring every pretty sound that leaves Bill’s lips.

Bill loves it when Roman takes control, effortlessly reminding him of who really runs this shit. It works brilliantly and Bill thanks him with his mouth, kissing him again and again, wet and messy as his hands work that hair tie off of Roman, bundles of deep black strands threading through inked fingers. "Lemme fuck you for a lil bit," Roman mumbles, the words flushed hot against Bill's neck as he marks a kiss to sweat slicked skin, his fingers still working on his ass. It's got Bill feeling dizzy with euphoria, his body melting right into Roman's touch and he answers him with another crush of his mouth against Roman's, his fingers coursing through his hair. They look at one another then and Bill nods his head, clasping gentle hands against Roman's face, deep in love.

Roman is inevitable. He's fate and final and Bill doesn't question it, allowing himself to fall whole into Roman, letting him to do what he does best. It's unsurprising that Roman is a master at this shit or perhaps it's that Bill has always been an easy target, good as gotten to anyone who can say the right shit to him.

"Eyes on me, beautiful," he hears Roman tell him then, panties already pushed to the side and his dick sinking into the heat of Bill's body, strong hands firm on Bill's hips as he's seated in Roman's lap. This high is too fucking crazy and Bill gasps out an apology, dipping his head down for a kiss and Roman accepts him, humming appreciatively when he feels Bill squeeze around his dick. They make their amends in their favorite way and Bill lets himself be fucked by the man who loves him from the blood to the bone, singing his praises all the while, inked fingers scouring themselves frantic through Roman's hair.

Their lips meet again, kissing each other desperate as Bill slow rocks his hips against Roman's dick, moaning softly into another kiss, pleasure chasing fierce through his body like goosebumps. Roman likes where this is going, breathing low and heavy while he fucks Bill steady, groaning delightfully as Bill works his ass in perfect time with him, taking him like he was made for him. "You gonna be a good girl and lemme come inside you?" Roman wants to know, nipping at Bill's bottom lip as he fans his hands across Bill's ass, squeezing hard at tender skin, the sensation churning fire through Bill's body drawing out another gorgeous moan from his lips.

Bill is barely there, fucked out and glowing, burning from how unbearably good this is, the orgasm dredging itself up as Bill whispers “yes, daddy”, dreamy lids finding Roman's through that midnight haze and they kiss again, Roman smirking hot against Bill's mouth.

He makes good on his word, fucking into him, hitting that perfect spot again and again, Bill seeping into his arms, latching onto Roman as his orgasm pulls stronger and stronger, rising up and ready. Roman comforts him through it, telling him how beautiful he is, whispering that he's taking his dick so well. It's too much for Bill to handle and he unravels, coming with a loud cry, body heaving as the orgasm runs through him, his vision blurring with stars. Roman comes inside of Bill a few seconds later, groaning low in his throat, swearing as he presses his face into the heat of Bill's neck, scrambling to catch his breath in the afterglow as his own climax moves through him.

Bill doesn't say anything, too enamoured with the feeling of Roman still inside him, drops of come dribbling down between the backs of Bill's thighs. He gives Roman a satisfied hum, embracing him, a smile forming on his lips when he feels Roman return that same tenderness. "Thank you, daddy," he murmurs, his voice almost gone, lids flitting closed and heavy with sleep. Roman smiles at that, lifting a hand to wash his fingers through blond strands, sighing quietly as he brings their bodies back against the armrest of the couch.

They end it there for the night, wrapped up in one another close and sacred knowing that there's a morning after, that there's forever a morning after.

[lasbrumas]

WTW’S PROMPT WEEK ; day three: foils ↳ ixora

Ixora is the shadow to Cecilia's light. Once the Prophet and Chosen One of the cult, she was cast aside after failing to live up to expectations. Now, she mostly remains behind the scenes, out of sight and out of mind, but always near. Unknown to everyone, she failed on purpose. Once she knew what would happen, she refused to be a puppet. It was her first, and only, act of rebellion.

[caitylove]

So, random writing thoughts that hit me today. I guess I just needed to get past the aspect that was giving me difficulty for weeks, because I finally hit the milestone of 20k on the WIP I've been toying with. I know its probably not a lot to many writers, but having stopped writing for years, hitting that point is exciting and motivating to me. The closest I've gotten in years and years to that was my graduate school thesis paper (which I don't count).

So I'm feeling a bit proud. lol