anarchistbeetle
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Astarion gave him another over-the-shoulder look, his eyes narrowed and assessing. “And you’re into him?”
Wyll nodded. “He’s incredibly hot.”
“Oh thank god, we’re the only people I know who’ve been this long in an open relationship without managing to fuck anyone else. I was beginning to think there was something wrong with us.”
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Wyll meets a handsome man at the gym, but just when it looks like sparks might fly ideological differences bring the whole thing crashing down... or do they?Bookmarked by anarchistbeetle
07 Aug 2026
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Wyll, the bleeding heart of the bloody Frontiers, really ought to be dead by now if this is how he treats the creatures of the night: walking off with one of them, alone, into the shadow of the trees, just to watch it feed.
Astarion has a peculiar problem. Wyll has an unexpected solution.
Bookmarked by anarchistbeetle
04 Aug 2026
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"Marriage, Wyll? I thought you'd have learned not to get trapped by devious contracts."
Series
- Part 2 of nothing is safe
- Language:
- English
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- 41,941
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- 6/6
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Bookmarked by anarchistbeetle
22 Jul 2026
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The moon bathes the garden in her light, stray droplets of rain sparkling on the perfect bushes of roses. The stone path is damp underfoot, and so is the plush green of the grass.
When a thrall wants something that his masters need, everyone can be pleased so simply, and such a garden is an idyllic backdrop for these things.
Bookmarked by anarchistbeetle
12 May 2021
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A big, broad-shouldered man came through the door, the look of a long-haul trucker hanging around him like a ratty coat. He was wearing old oil-stained jeans and a frayed flannel shirt thrown over a white t-shirt, his scuffed boots peeling up at the toes with age.
He had the air of a man who’d reached the end of his rope. He had a battered wide-brimmed hat pulled low to cover his long, frazzled hair, half of which was scraped back into a loose tail. He had dark hair and dark skin and dark eyes that were framed by the deep-set bruises Arthur only ever saw on long-haulers and cattlemen, the marks of too many nights at the wheel or in the saddle, the normal rhythms of life stretched out and pulling at the seams.
The feller was handsome. Arthur noticed that as an afterthought, his breath catching in his chest. Under the bruises and the loose strands of hair, the feller was handsome. His eyes were bright and keen.
“Uh,” said Arthur, caught flat-footed by the unanticipated surge of attraction tightening his belly. “Hi.”
The feller looked Arthur dead in the eye. “I need all of the caramel sauce that you have,” he said.
(or, a coffee shop au. yeah. i know.)
- Language:
- English
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Bookmarked by anarchistbeetle
05 Nov 2020