#Christ Beckons

[christisilluminati]

A Call to Healing: The Word of Christ

This poem explores the struggle between darkness and redemption found within us through Christ. It begins by depicting a "single spirit" that embodies despair and sin, weaving through lives and igniting violence and turmoil. Amidst this chaos, the voice of Christ emerges as a beacon of hope, offering healing and the promise of redemption.

In the quiet depths of a hollowed heart, Where echoes of despair and shadows start, A single spirit roams, a specter of fate, Weaving through lives, a concealed darkness waits.

Born from the chaos of the earth, It whispers in silence, a murmur of coal, A flicker of violence, a breath of sin, The complex tapestry woven within.

In alleys forgotten, where shadows conspire, This spirit ignites an unquenchable fire, The rage of the voiceless, the cries of the meek, Mankind reflects it, the strong and the weak.

Beneath the surface, in each twisted lie, It dances through dreams, where the innocent die, With every decision, a choice to be made, The line between mercy and violence displayed.

Ode to the murders, the sins unconfessed, To the wars that were waged, to the souls dispossessed, Each drop of blood spilled stands as a testament, To the spirit of sin that whispers in every man's ear.

Yet amidst this turmoil, a voice breaks the night, The audible Word, a beacon of light, With power to shatter the chains of despair, A whisper of healing, a promise laid bare.

It echoes in the tabernacle, roaring through the night, A balm for the broken, a truth that defies, The weight of our burdens, the darkness we bear, The Word of Christ beckons, "Come, cast off your cares."

In the grip of temptation, we falter and fall, This viper bites us all, Yet the voice of redemption cuts through the venom, A reminder that love can conquer sin.

With the sound of Christs calling, the stillness gives way, To hope like a river that washes away, The scars of our past, the guilt we disguise, In the love of the Savior, our spirits can rise.

Oh, the stories we tell, of heroes and foes, Each tale a reflection of the spirit that grows, But the greatest of stories is woven in grace, In the heart of the One who showed us Christs place.

For violence breeds violence, and sin begets sin, Yet the audible Word can draw us within, Transforming our hearts, renewing our sight, Illuminating the path from darkness to light.

In the grip of despair, when our voices grow weak, The whispers of Christ, we find what we seek, A touch of forgiveness, a glimmer of hope, In the shadows of sorrow, we learn how to cope.

The temptress, the false god who lies, With promises gilded, he leads us to the grave, But the voice of the Savior speaks louder and clear, Inviting the weary to draw ever near.

For within this great struggle, a lesson unfolds: That love can triumph where the spirit once scolds, And the power of Christ, like a sword in the fray, Can vanquish the darkness, turning night into day.

So let us awaken to the truth of our plight, Embrace the complexity, the shadow, the light, For even in struggle, there’s a chance to be free, A recognition of Christ spirit, and who we can be.

Let us rise from the ashes, let us break every chain, A spirit of God, a union of pain, For in our collective, we’re bound to reflect, The beauty of life, the essence of respect.

The shadowed spirit walks, seeking control, For each heart has the power, each mind has the goal, To rise above violence, to shun the Vipers deceit, To find in the struggle, our journey complete.

And so, with each promise that Christ speaks aloud, We gather our courage, our heads unbowed, His Word is the light that dispels every fear, A melody soothing, whispering, “I’m here.”

For in the end, we are not shadows, we are the light, A single spirit binding, through day and through night, In the heart of humanity, where love will prevail, We rise from the ashes, becoming veiled.

So let this journey continue, with hearts open wide, For the audible Word is our anchor, our guide, In the depths of our struggles, in moments of strife, We find in His voice the true essence of life.

And thus, may we carry this truth as we tread, The spirit of Christ, a beacon ahead, In the shadows of chaos, in the weight of our sin, We hear Him calling us home, let the healing begin.

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[david-tennant-in-chairs]

They like holding hands

Source: AziracrowDaily on TikTok

[talentforlying]

@savagecowboy: Meta Topic: I’m sure canon wise this fluctuates a lot, but I’m curious on “your take”. Does Constantine genuinely think he is a “savior” type, like he is meant to be a hero to help prevent the evils of the world? Is he more of a “it’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it? Or is it ultimate reluctance, “if I could retire tomorrow I would”? I feel like you see a bit of all 3, but is any 1 more definitive than the other at his core? — SEND META TOPICS.

there's absolutely a bit of all three involved, and his moods fluctuate sharply enough (i tend to classify him in periods of highs and lows) that he has genuinely believed all three at different points in his life, but i think he has a desperate desire to be a savior, to make up for all the ways he's fucked up previously in life and have a slim chance of doing something good enough to earn his way out of eternal damnation, and i think that desire exists because he believes he's the opposite of one: at his base level, beneath the bravado and arrogance and pride, he quite genuinely considers himself a poison to people. he thinks this mostly on an interpersonal level rather than to the world at large — he's toxic to friends and family, but he prevents apocalypses and worldwide disasters enough to think he actually can do some good for humanity as a whole — but it certainly spreads through the well when he's in a darker mindset.

at his core, i think he's a combination of the last two. he's very, very much someone who would retire tomorrow if he could, he's lived his life hand-in-hand with guilt and violence and grief and the depravities of the human soul almost from day one and he is 70 goddamn years old now, he is so fucking tired. there is nothing he wants more in life than to settle down and be forgotten by the world. that said, he is also one of the biggest obstacles in his own way here. as much as he would find immense relief in no longer being approached as a defender of the desperate and the lost, he has also never been able to look away from people in trouble when he knows he's capable of helping them; it's a dirty job, but if he's the only one willing to do it, then he'll do it. he'll probably regret it, and it'll probably drag him further into other people's drama and politics and mess, but he can't just close his eyes and pretend there's nothing happening.

and yeah, it's a noble and tragic impulse and all that, but there's also just the fact that he's a nosy old bitch à la miss marple, with a narcissistic belief that he is always the only one willing to do the hard tasks and people would be hopelessly lost without him involved. so he does it to himself when he's not being manipulated / dragged kicking and screaming into it first, really.

[http-shield]

inspo: prompt three from this post

“Fuck, you turn me on so much.” Bucky groans and throws his head back, breathing ragged.

Your hands stop their work, fingers bloody as you hold the gauze against the wound to his ribs. "What the actual fuck is wrong with you?" you screech, quickly refocusing your thoughts and press harder against the bleeding gash.

"You just, fuck. It's just you." Bucky whines, and you don't know if it is pain or some weird, sick pleasure he is feeling. "You were so hot screamin' at me."

"Jesus Christ, James." you huff, no longer thinking of berating him further for his ridiculous actions in battle. "You... I can't even tell you off now."

Bucky smirks and shifts, grimacing at the pain radiating through his side. "Come here." he holds up his arm and beckons you with two bloody fingers.

"No, I'm not playing into your weird shit, Barnes." You glare at your partner. "You're bleeding, I need to secure the wound."

"I'm gonna be fine. Just come 'ere, baby." the name has your scowl softening.

You hold one hand to his abdomen, keeping pressure as the blood slows, and lean towards him, weight braced on your free arm. "that's my girl." he praises, words breathy.

Bucky slides his hand to the nape of your neck, securing his fingers in your hair. Your faces now inches apart, he lets his eyes slip shut. "I'm gonna to be fine, sweetheart. You worry too much."

"You don't worry enough."

"That's why I've got you. You stress enough for the both of us."

Bucky leans forward and presses his mouth to yours, the kiss slow and sloppy as tries not to move unnecessarily while his body stitches itself back up. His lips move languidly against yours, tongue brushing against your bottom lip in a way that is too casual for the impending doom you have just escaped from. You pull away, the taste of blood on your tongue, and frown at Bucky, his grin lazy and stupid.

"I'm serious. You turn me on so much."

[semperreformanda]

pray. it doesn't have to be eloquent. you don't need a whole hour. sometimes all it takes is "help me please" under your breath as you try to navigate through your difficult day. sometimes words don't come when the pain is too heavy, but the Spirit understands. sometimes it looks like crying and all the words you can muster up to say is "You know... You know." and that is okay. He still says, "Come to Me."

come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy-laden, I will give you rest.

come to the throne of grace, where you can receive mercy and find grace in your time of need.

cast all your cares upon Him, because He cares for you.

do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. and the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

over and over in Scripture, God beckons us: come! come to the throne! don't carry this on your own, come to Me! I will give you grace. I will give you wisdom. I will strengthen you.

what mercies we have in Christ! that we can come to the King of Kings any time of the day with our request, and He listens! truly He gives us all that we need and more. we are never in lack, but there is grace upon grace upon grace.

beloved, it's time to pray.

[leclercstars]

perfectly matched.

college!art donaldson x reader

Summary: You and Art swore to never speak of that drunken night again. But you found yourselves together at your college bar, tipsy, and almost unable to resist each other. Warnings: SMUT! 18! alcohol usage, drunk sex, cursing, biting, protected sex

It was one night.

One night, three months ago. Swept up in too many celebratory glasses of champagne. His messy blonde curls looked like a halo with your blurred vision. The traces of liquor on his upper lip seemed to be beckoning you in, begging you to find out if it was vodka or tequila. You left at the same time, he had offered to walk you home. Always a gentleman, always seemed to care about you. You both were stumbling, the drinks hitting the two of you all at once. You ended up outside your house, and then inside your house, up your stairs, in your bedroom. You’d seen his strong hands gripping the racket before but god they looked even better gripping your ass. Clothes thrown all over the room, not able to undress each other fast enough. His chiseled collarbones the perfect culprit for you to leave bite marks along. You woke up the next morning, head pounding, still naked. You felt him next to you, his tight abs pressed against your bare back, curls tickling the side of your neck. Fuck, how could you let that happen. He left in a haste, each of you promising to not discuss the events of the night prior ever again.

And now here you were. A few too many double vodka lemonades deep inside your shitty college bar. The whole team had decided to go out to celebrate the end of a stellar season and unfortunately, Art looked just as good as ever. His backwards Stanford cap and his loose Budweiser t-shirt made him look like some sort of shitty frat guy, which certainly wasn't unappealing to you since that tended to be your type. You tried to play it cool when he walked over to you. “Having fun?” he smirked, sidling up on the barstool next to yours. He leaned back against the bar, looking so perfectly relaxed. How do people end up this sexy?

“Could be having more fun,” you said casually, sipping your drink. Wait. What the fuck. Why did you just say that. You knew you had drank quite a bit but jesus christ isn’t it supposed to be liquid courage not liquid “ruin this friendship?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Art, looking genuinely confused. God sometimes his innocence was almost a little annoying, made you want him even more half the time.

“Sorry, geez I should not have said that,” you were slurring, the alcohol and your emotions making it hard to think straight.

He leaned in closer to you. You could smell the tequila on his breath, knowing that was his liquor of choice from the last time this happened. “I think I can make this night a whole lot more fun,” Art growled. 

You had never heard his voice sound like that before. Low and lusting, you knew you were not going to be able to resist. You locked eyes with him, and you could just feel how needy you probably looked. The two of you got up and left without saying goodbye.

Art was gentle. He was caring, a shoulder to cry on. Someone you could turn to if you were having a bad day and needed a hug. That side of him was not so apparent behind your bedroom door. He pinned you against the wall, muscles rippling in your face as he sucked on your neck. Your moans were soft, hands pulling on his curls, earning equally soft groans from him. You were obsessed, this didn’t happen often and you knew you had to take in every moment. Every inch of him that you could feel, taste, touch, it was completely overtaking you. His boxers were sitting low on his hips, exposing his v-line. Your lacy bralette had been tossed aside, leaving your nipples free to be caressed by his rough hands. His mouth roamed from your neck down to your tits, taking one in his mouth as he gazed up at you. Fuck, your head rolled back against the wall. His eyes were shut, tongue flicking so expertly across your nipple. You never wanted this image of him, looking so intoxicated with your body, to leave your mind.

He stood back up, leaving no room between your now naked bodies. Suddenly his features softened, a nervousness painting itself across his face. He scratched the back of his head, a tell-tale sign that something was on his mind. “Do you want to like-” he was basically whispering, cheeks flushed. It was astonishing how all his confidence had suddenly evaporated. “Fuck?” you filled in the blank, leaning closer to his lips, teasing him with the thought. That hadn’t happened last time you were together. He was too drunk, and well,  he just couldn’t quite get it up. “Yeah, fuck yes please.” he groaned. You laid down on your bed as he walked to his wallet, pulling out that little gold wrapper. He climbed up on top of you, using his thumb to gently brush the hair away from your face. He looked ecstatic, the drunken-ness painting a stupid grin across his face and making you just feel insanely horny. He slid the condom on over his already throbbing cock, positioning it just outside your entrance.

He slid just the tip in first, making you wince. You needed to get used to how big he was, learn how to take him. His hips rocked gently as he gave you more each time, slowly starting to fill you up.

“God I needed this,” you moaned breathlessly. “Yeah baby?” he cooed, giving you more of him as he pressed his lips against your tits, leaving marks along your cleavage. “Making sure you don’t forget this in the morning,” he smirked, his confidence returning. “Then fuck me like I won’t forget it,” you clapped back, basically saying you wanted all of him.

“Oh yeah?” He thrusted inside you, making you cry out in ecstasy. No dick had ever felt this good before, and maybe it was because you were drunk, but you could just tell he was hitting it like he fucking meant it. Your hands clawed into his back, legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper inside. He was pounding into you now, the sound of your bodies echoing throughout the room. You watched as he slid in and out. “You like watching huh baby? Like seeing how good you are at taking me?” 

You grabbed his hair in response, pulling his head into your neck and making him groan and fuck you harder. His tip found your g-spot, and the feeling was unlike any other. Watching his muscles ripple with each thrust, so far inside you he was nearly in your stomach. You squirted all around his cock, leaving his abs glistening. He bit his lip and looked at you, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “God that is so hot.” he wasted no time getting back to the rhythm of things.

This sex was truly unlike anything else. Watching the man you saw as a teammate, so vulnerable above you. Completely naked, so far inside you. And you were taking him so well, the sexual chemistry between the two of you just completely undeniable. You made great hitting partners on the court, and that relationship suddenly didn’t feel so different from this one. The way you both knew exactly what the other wanted. The perfect balance of teasing and support. “Fuck, fuck.” Art’s moans were primal, and you could feel how close he was getting, watching his arms tense up. “I’m gonna cum too,” you said breathlessly.

“Look at me,” he grabbed your jaw, making you lock eyes.

It was like an explosion, overtaking every inch of skin on your body. You cried out, feeling his cock throb inside your pussy as you came simultaneously. You fit perfectly together, feeling each other up as you rode out your orgasms. His hand was wrapped around your arm, yours clawed into his back. He collapsed onto your chest, looking up at you in awe.

“You are unbelievable.”

dividers by : @.cafekitsune

[2tarbell]

TRAILERPARK!RAFE letting reader play dress up in his clothes ‘cause he knows his girl loves fashion and modeling. if he could he’d buy her all kinds of expensive things to wear, but seeing her in his shirts was just as mind reeling.

“whaddaya think ‘bout this one?” her voice gentle and airy, posing seductively and playfully under his intense gaze.

it was just such a sweet sight.

the way the fabric of his nicest button up swished at her thighs. the way the sleeves fell well past her hands. jesus christ. rafe sips his beer as he trails his gaze up her exposed legs, smirking at the goofy smile on her face.

he pretended to think over the question. the answer is easy: she is gorgeous, she always is. rafe just enjoyed winding her up.

“hmf, dunno... why don’t you gimme a spin?”

“rafeeee—“ she whined, feeling embarrassment (even though this was her idea) creep up her spine.

the thought of spinning for him, showing herself off for his cerulean eyes to appreciate all of her, made her heart pick up speed in double time.

“c’mon, do a spin f’dad, baby,” that low voice, commanding and comforting, always got to her. with an encouraging nod of his head and that sexy little smile on his pink lips, reader really had no choice.

with a playful pout, she spins around. the shirt lifts slightly and shows off the edge of her panties. the little show makes rafe adjust on the worn couch, man spreading further to accommodate the throbbing length of him, already half hard.

he’s ready to grab her and bend her over the couch. hell, he was ready two outfits ago. but her smile and cute poses rendered him soft. just not between his legs.

her sweet voice mumbles about having ‘jus’ one more, daddy’ and rafe needs a cigarette, now. his knee is bouncing incessantly but he nods and tries to will himself to be a little more patient.

but when she shyly steps out of their bedroom minutes later, sporting a pink lace lingerie set he’s never seen before, he freezes and drops his pack on the floor.

his mouth is suddenly very dry, “god—damn…”

reader is holding her arms behind her back, shuffling slightly as she gauges his reaction. she spent a little extra on the set to spoil him; he deserved it and more.

“d’ya like it, daddy?”

rafe whistles and leans back further, raking a hand through his grown out buzz cut. his eyes can’t seem to focus on one thing. from her batting lashes, cleavage pushed together from the bra, and the way the underwear straps are sitting on her hips, he more than likes it.

“shit, baby, s’uh— the— the prettiest little thing‘ve ever seen,” he mutters dumbly, eyebrows kissing his hairline from his wide eyes.

she giggles and pushes some hair away from her face. he huffs out a chuckle at her adorableness and beckons her closer with a crooked finger. she pads around the coffee table and stands in front of him. having her now in front of him makes rafe feel like he won the lottery. nah, any amount of cash was dull in comparison to her.

“you’re jus’… gorgeous,” a press of his lips to her hipbone. her hands immediately find purchase in his hair, now grown out enough to give her something to hold onto. the realization of the passage of time made her smile.

“yeah?”

“hell yeah.”

his hands pulls on her hips, urging her to come to closer. she climbs into his lap nimbly and straddles him. their bodies immediately settle together comfortably from nights spent in this position and many more. his firm bulge presses eagerly between her legs and he pulls her closer by the small of her back, leaving her to arch into him.

the friction and weight of her makes his brain feel fuzzy with want, want, want.

“seriously, i— i’ve never seen somethin’ as beautiful as you, sugar. takin’ my damn breath away, jesus…”

his gravelly praise and appreciation of the outfit makes her feel flush, a pleasant haze bathing her senses.

her smile is bashful as she leans in for a kiss. rafe hums as her lips meet his and her hands slide up his chest, the warmth of her palms felt through the fabric of his shirt. nipping at her bottom lip until she smiles, and he uses the moment to slide his tongue into meet hers. nothing has really ever felt more right in his life. at least until she mumbles her next words against his lips.

“daddy… wanna take a picture f’ya wallet?”

big thank u @fae-of-prey for helping with this!!!!!!💝💝

[bi-writes]

I feel like now that MOB and Simon are comfy together and truly utterly unbelievably in love, they'd maybe wanna have a wedding. Not in the traditional, big church tons-of-guests way, but like in the dress up, say vows, and show off your love to your loved ones (no matter how few) way. Not cause they need it or cause they feel pressured, but just cause it's be sweet. A beautiful memory for them (and an excuse for MOB to see Simon in a suit and for Simon to see her in a wedding dress yknow?)

mail-order bride

you're nervous.

more nervous than you felt on the way to this house for the first time. sitting in the back of that taxi, one suitcase in the trunk and the cat in the seat beside you, even then, even knowing you were heading to meet a stranger, you did not feel this type of nervousness.

it's deep in your belly. a taut force that tangles your insides, and you try to hide the shake in your hands as you close the small book that holds your vows and pick up the small bouquet on the dresser.

they're daisies, from the garden. simon picked them for you this morning, had woken you up by tucking one of the stems behind your ear. you made sure to add a few to your hair before dressing.

the silk sits perfectly. that shop on the main street had kept your measurements, and when you asked if they could make you something a little more special, you could not have envisioned anything more beautiful.

structured bodice to hold you in, draped in silk that fell over every curve and every line like falling water, in an elegant white that made the sentiment of what today would be all too real.

he's leaning against the doorway to the backyard when you open the bedroom door. you're barefoot, quiet, so it takes him a minute before he notices you.

both of you pause at a reasonable distance when you finally get a good look at each other.

simon looks so handsome. he's all made-up in his dress uniform, a faded green jacket buttoned over slacks with a khaki shirt underneath, but it is tailored to perfect, and the belt around his waist makes him look all the more formal. what really has you swooning is the lovely medals on his chest--lined up in beautiful rows, glinting in the sunlight as he tips the beret he's wearing to eye you carefully.

"christ," simon murmurs, taking both his hands out of his pockets. he clears his throat, shifting in his boots, and he finally holds a hand out for you, beckoning you forward. "wot a bloody sight y'are, luv."

you pad forward, smiling, and when your hand fits in his, you both squeeze, staring at one another with grins that won't fade. he leans forward to pressing his face to yours before making his way outside with you.

there's a seat under the tree, with a small table beside it. there's flowers everywhere, petals across the grass, and you follow simon under the shade as he takes a seat, guiding you into his lap so you both can sit there for a moment.

it's quiet. there's a light breeze making the leaves fall, but the sun is peeking through the clouds, and you can see the cats in the window, staring at you both as they chew between nips of cat grass. you set down your bouquet on the table beside you, settling in simon's lap as you hold the notebook to your chest.

"can...can i go first?" you ask, and simon reaches up to brush a few strands of your hair out of your face. he nods, adjusting you in his lap, and you try not to focus too hard on how much your hands shake as you flip open the little book you're holding.

the first few pages are your first few drafts, scribbled out with messy pen strokes. you settle where your real words begin, somewhere in the middle, jumbled between messy handwriting since you spent so long perfecting it all.

"simon," you start gently, and you relax a little when you feel his hand settle on your lower back, soothing you gently as he listens. "i had no idea what i was getting myself into all that time ago. my entire life, it's felt like...i've felt like i've just been running. running from the things i've always been afraid of. from people that i didn't trust. from the things that have happened and the things i thought might happen. in fact...i felt like if i didn't keep running, something terrible would catch up to me."

one of your hand falls, and simon covers it with his own. the shaking settles, and you continue.

"and then i came here," you whisper. "i-i..." you swallow. "i-i came here, and i ran right into you." you notice a few wet spots on the pages, and you steady your breaths, trying not to focus too much on the wetness you feel along your cheeks. "a-and you caught me."

you look over at him, and he's smiling, dark eyes trained on your clasped hands in your lap. he squeezes, bringing your hand up to his mouth, and you have the courage to keep going when you feel him kiss your knuckles.

"i don't know how we found each other. i-i don't know who knew that this house was mine. i don't know who understood that there was an empty place inside that belonged to me, but i'm here now. a-and i'm not...i'm not going anywhere."

you bend, leaning forward, and you press your forehead to his temple.

"no one has ever loved me the way you do, simon riley. and i-i promise i will try until forever t-to do the same for you."

it hurts. there's a place in simon's chest that physically aches, like a tender wound, squeezing against his ribs as he hugs you close to his body. the time with you is precious. he fears the moment he knows that there is not much left, but that time isn't now, and he cherishes that fact.

he has always carried a sense for those kind of things. he can tell when there is little left, like knowing there is nothing more to drink in canister without shaking it. it's a feeling, one he knows well, but he doesn't feel that with you, not yet, and he will consume every breath he can that he shares with you until then (because when he feels the time waning, he will give you every breath of his that remains if it means you get just one more second of this life).

simon reaches into his jacket, pulling out a small paper. he unfolds it gently, still holding you close, and you cling to the lapels of his jacket as he talks to you in that low, soothing voice of his.

"'m not sure where t'start," simon chuckles. "was hard for me to think of wot t'say t'ya." he takes a small breath before kissing your forehead. "'s hard ta think about wot it was like before i had ya 'ere. only eatin' because i had to. only leavin' the house because the job demanded it of me. like the whole world was a terrible fuckin' grey. so fuckin' quiet, i could hear this nasty ringin' in my ears."

simon crumples the paper a little, and you wrap a hand around the back of his neck to anchor him.

"honest...i thought the job would 'ave me. tha' i'd go out in some reckless sort of way, or maybe i'd just...let it take me with it one day. and when i knew y'were comin', i still thought tha' was how it would be. tha' i'd settle in it alone, on my own, like i always 'ave."

you close your eyes, and you can hear nothing besides his voice.

"thought i'd run outta luck. thought crawlin' out of my fuckin' grave was the last thing that they'd ever give me," he mutters, and you suck in a shaky breath when you hear the paper crumple sharply. "i don't know wot i ever did to deserve someone like you, luv. 'm not good. never 'ave been. the things i've done, wot i've seen, i wasn't meant for good things."

you pull back a little and open your eyes, and simon's own are full of pain. he grips your waist a little firmly, digging his fingers into you there.

"'n ya aren't just good. y'r perfect. like y'were made in my dreams. and still y'r 'ere, and ya haven't left, and..." he swallows. "nothing else matters, swee'eart." his eyes meet yours. big, brown ones, sadness so permeable, striking, an unnerving kind. "family is oll that matters." when your foreheads touch again, you can't stop yourself. his voice is low, gravelly, weighed down by some kind of pain that you'll never understand. simon has pieces of himself that are missing. people from a past life that he tries to keep finding, things that he knows should be here, but will forever disappoint him by no longer being real.

when he puts his hand over your heart, you can't see him anymore, not really. your tears blur your vision.

"y'r all that matters."

when you cut the cake in the kitchen, you feed each other small bites of decadent chocolate, and when you finish, you gift each other the vows you've written, to tuck away somewhere special, to read when the world gets too loud or when the colors of life get washed out by meaningless distractions.

the dance in the kitchen has lasted for minutes or hours, you can't remember. the music is soft, and you're swaying, but time is meaningless when you're looking into simon's eyes.

it is a part of him that will never change. you memorize how they look, because you want to recognize them in every place that you see them. you want to remember them everywhere, now, soon, until time rots the plants above the sink and kills the vegetables in your garden and makes threadbare the kitchen towels on the counter--you want to remember them.

so you can find him in this life, and every other one that comes after.

[writtenbymoonflower]

Hi! Can I please request a poly!Marauders x reader where the reader has a secret admirer? The reader is receiving anonymous gifts and letters, making the boys anxious and jealous. If not, it's okay! Thank you, author-san!

omg i love this! thank you so much, baby, hope this is okay! gn!reader x poly!marauders

cw: jealousy and possessiveness, borderline harassment and stalking, hickey

1.1k words

You groaned loudly when you opened the front door only to be greeted by yet another bouquet of flowers. You begrudgingly brought the arrangement into the house, setting it on the countertop. 

"Again? That’s like the third this week, and it’s only Wednesday." Sirius said, exasperated and (almost) as annoyed as you. 

"Fifth, actually." You hated that you were complaining, you knew you were technically very lucky to receive all these gifts, it was just distressing. And to be frank, getting very old.

"Christ, this person is thirsty." Sirius’ voice was strained, clearly more anxious than he was wanting to let on. 

"At least it seems they don’t have much of a chance, anyone worth their salt knows that you hate roses, angel." James said, between mouthfuls of his sandwich. 

"I know," You cringed. "Who should I give these to this time? Lily has enough flowers to open a shop" You rolled your eyes. "Speaking of," You reached into your work bag and pulled out two boxes. "There were chocolates at my work when I got there yesterday, and a pair of earrings on monday." You walked over to where Remus and Sirius were cuddled on the couch. 

“Geez, dove. Are we gonna have to step up our game?” Remus said, voice tinged with jealousy. 

"No, this person needs to step down. Or at least give me a return address or something. All the notes say is ‘from someone who appreciates you, xx.’ It’s actually kind of distressing." You handed the smaller box of earrings to Sirius, "Are these your style, honey?" 

"What? You don’t want them?" He sounded surprised. Of course you didn’t! Why would you need presents from a random person when you have three boys who give you all the love you could ever need? (and in the way you like it)

"No, I would feel weird wearing them." You cringed, handing the larger box to Remus. "You can have these, I don’t even like cherry chocolate." Remus took the box like it was filled with poison, a disgusted tilt to his lips, just as Sirius dramatically dropped the jewelry box onto the coffee table. 

"I don’t know whose grubby paws have been on this box." He sneered. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, looking over to James who was still in the kitchen. He had set his sandwich down and was looking like a kicked puppy. It made your heart crack.

"Jamie, what’s wrong baby? Come here." You beckoned him over. He rushed to your side, placing his hand protectively on your shoulder and gripping you tight. You looked at your other two boyfriends, Remus’ jaw was clenched tight and Srius was still looking at the box and scowling. 

"I jus’ don’t like it." James said from your side, his voice was small like a child's. 

"Wait, hold on," You said, "Are you all actually worried about this?"

"Define ‘worried’ lovely," Remus said, his voice an awful mix of venomous and depressed. “I don’t think any of us like knowing there’s someone out there fighting for your affections.” His eyes had an angry glint to them. 

“Guys,” You said, your heart only breaking further. “You have nothing to be worried about, okay?” James’ grip tightened on you. “There is absolutely no competition here, I’m not even giving these the time of day. I don’t want anything to do with the gifts or the person sending them.” 

“But you would if we weren’t in the picture.” Sirius said quietly, all too insecure for your liking. You wormed your way out of James’ grasp, resulting in a whine being pulled from his throat, to crouch in front of Sirius. You grabbed his pretty face in your hands, looking into his sad eyes. 

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m not impressed by these gifts.” You took a deep breath, not wanting to confess the next part and worry your boyfriends worse. “They actually kind of scare me.” You admitted, making all their eyes snap to you. 

“Scared? Of what, darlin’?” James piped up. 

“I just,” You cringed. “I don’t like knowing that there is someone this obsessed with me and I don’t know who they are. And that they know where I live and where I work. I mean, who knows how much they know?” 

“Well now I feel like an arse.” Sirius grabbed you from the floor and hauled you onto the couch with him and Remus, wrapping himself tightly around you. “Here I was thinking this person was gonna get you away from us, not knowing they were worrying you.” 

“You’re not, I promise!” You reassured. “Honestly, if there was someone doing all this for you three I would be really jealous too.” You placed a hand on two of your boyfriends’ thighs, looking over at James, who was still sulking, now sitting on the coffee table in front of you. “But I can assure you, even if I found out who this person was, they, and no one else, would be able to take me from you three. You aren’t getting rid of me that easy. Besides, I don’t like stalkers.” You joked. 

Remus pulled you closer to him, gentle but still much more aggressive than usual. Your other two boyfriends had settled, but he was still heated. 

“Remmy,” You turned to face him. “I promise, you have nothing to worry about.” 

“I know,” He grunted, burying his face into your neck. You wanted to shrink at the ticklish feeling but you allowed him to stay there, knowing he needed it. Remus had a jealous streak, perhaps the most of all your boyfriends. James and Sirius were more subtle in their protectiveness, but Remus started marking you all like a wolf anytime someone let their gaze linger too long. You buried your fingers in his hair and scratched his scalp, trying to relax him. 

“As soon as I find out who this is I will get them to stop, I promise.” You said vehemently. You looked guiltily at all your boyfriends, “I’m sorry this is happening, it isn’t fair to you all.” 

“It’s not your fault, dolly.” Sirius placed his hand on your back. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, you aren’t asking for this.” You were about to hug him, but Remus held fast around your waist, you started to protest, but you felt Remus’ lips latch to a spot on your neck, nibbling and sucking hard enough to sting, but not hurt. The sound you let out was half giggle and half moan.

“Christ, Moons!” James barked, “You trying to brand them or something?” The three of you started giggling like children. Remus released your skin from his teeth, observing the red and purple splotch that was left in his wake. 

“Gotta make sure they know what’s mine.” He said, possessively. “Don’t worry," His eyes glinted furiously at your two other boyfriends, "you two are next.” 

[cyberstrm]

what you get

dr greg house x gn!reader

cws: blood, comical violence, your dickhead husband sneaking up on you

back on my house md bullshit

the lab was quiet as you worked methodically. searching for answers to save lives was exhausting work, but you had to keep going.

you felt your eyelids droop, but you had to stay awake.

although you were stood up, you were so comfortable...sleep was beckoning...your eyes closed slowly...

"BOO!"

two firm hands grab your waist, you shriek in surprise and your instincts kick in, and you throw a hard punch at your attacker.

"jesus christ!" greg's voice rang through the once quiet lab, along with the sound of his cane skittering across the tiled floor.

"greg?" you breathed exasperatedly, heart racing. "you asshole! why did you do that?" despite your anger, you knelt down and helped him to his feet, handing him back his cane.

"you throw quite a punch." he mumbled, wiping his bleeding nose.

"yeah, well..." you muttered, "that's what you get for sneaking up on me."

once stood up and stable, he leaned forward and kisses your cheek lazily. "yeah well, just wanted to come surprise my spouse so we can go home, have dinner, have sex, and go to bed."

"there are other ways to surprise me rather than nearly giving me a heart attack-"

"i know, but it would've been way less fun." he smirked, placing a hand at your waist and squeezing. "cmon, let's go home, doll."

[loveinhawkins]

gently prise the feeling out

ao3 Written for @steddie-week Day 2 prompt, “hands.”

It’s the movement that catches Steve’s eye: Eddie’s hands flexing gingerly as they walk through the woods.

At first Steve dismisses it as a nervous habit—honestly, he’d say Eddie’s holding up pretty well for someone who recently swam into an alternate dimension—but then his flashlight illuminates the side of Eddie’s face at just the right moment, and he sees the clenched jaw of discomfort.

“Are you hurt?”

Surprisingly, Eddie doesn’t look like he’s been found out; he just looks puzzled. “Uh, no?”

“Your hands,” Steve clarifies. “You keep…” With his free hand, he imitates the motion.

“Oh,” Eddie says. “I didn’t know I was—it’s nothing, man, really, just—” He laughs slightly. “Was swinging the oar around, managed to hit a bat—Jesus Christ, those fuckers are heavy. Honestly, it’s, uh, kind of a miracle I hit it at all, d’you remember how shit I was at baseball?”

“You weren’t that bad,” Steve says—vaguely recalls the days of shared phys ed and thinks, you were just left-handed, and no-one threw the ball at you properly.

Eddie’s lips twitch into a smile. “You’re very generous, Harrington,” he says; the words sound like they’re placed somewhere in between teasing and genuine. As he speaks, he subtly shakes his hands out.

Steve angles the flashlight down to them. “Lemme see.”

Eddie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

Steve stands his ground, just raises an eyebrow expectantly. Robin and Nancy aren’t that far ahead; they’ll catch up again in no time.

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief. Scoffs. “Um, I think I’ll live, Steve. I can’t believe you’re even—like, you’re—” He gestures wildly, and it takes Steve a second to realise that he’s referring to the bat bites.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve says with practised confidence; right now, he doesn’t have time to be anything else.

“Then I’m fine, too.”

Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes; he doesn’t want to be locked in a stalemate out of their mutual stubbornness.

“Dude, I could’ve already looked by now.”

Eddie actually rolls his eyes at that. He turns his hands over quickly, darting in and out of the flashlight’s beam like he’s saying ta-da!

“Wow,” Steve says in mock astonishment. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were five.” He makes a beckoning gesture, like an impatient teacher waiting for homework.

Eddie smirks as if he’s trying not to laugh outright. And then he joins in on the act, too, stomping over with theatrical reluctance.

“Watch the vines,” Steve says, amused.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says, “that’d be a real stupid way to go.” He stops right in front of Steve—and this time, he shows his hands properly: cupped together, arms outstretched.

“Can you just—need ‘em a little more—” Instinctively, Steve puts a hand underneath Eddie’s, gently pushes them up, further into the light. “Yeah, there.”

Eddie’s skin is cold to the touch; it reminds him of how Robin’s hands had felt the night of Starcourt and, less distressingly, whenever she’s nervous before a practical music exam.

He moves the flashlight back and forth in assessment. It doesn’t seem like anything’s swollen—he remembers the ache of his own hand that night in ‘83: the erratic pulse of Christmas lights as if they were possessed; the crack of the baseball bat; Jonathan and Nancy’s screams.

But what the flashlight does expose is…

“Ouch,” Steve says sincerely.

Eddie’s hands are embedded with splinters.

Eddie shakes his head again. He nods at the bandage across Steve’s middle. “C’mon, man, I don’t—these aren’t exactly war wounds.”

Steve decides not to fight him on it. Opts for a lighter touch, “No more oars for you.”

Eddie chuckles the tiniest bit. It’s a sad sound.

“Yeah, that’s not—they’re from Rick’s. The, um, the boat, y’know? I…” Eddie bites his lip. “It’s kinda… fuzzy, but I’d fall asleep in there, like just for a second, and then I guess I’d—” His fingers twitch above Steve’s palm. “Panic.”

Steve can picture it: Eddie starting awake, hands scrambling across the rough wood, as if in desperation for it all to be a nightmare; that maybe if he kept searching the splinters would melt away, transform into the softness of bedsheets.

“Remind me later,” Steve says, and he pats the unmarked skin of Eddie’s knuckles in reassurance. Keeps his touch there so he’s still partially holding Eddie’s hands up. “I’ll get them out with a pin, I’m good at…” He falters at Eddie’s silence. “I’ll be careful,” he says—it feels important, suddenly, that Eddie should know.

Eddie looks at him. The reflection of the flashlight’s glow flickers in his eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” he says softly.

One of his hands tilts ever so slightly, fingertips brushing against Steve’s palm. Then he steps back, hands falling down to his sides.

Steve resumes illuminating the forest floor. They walk on, and in the quiet, the air feels different, changed—for the better, Steve hopes: like something tender’s been exposed to the surface.

[lotsoflola]

happy new year - l. haechan

summary: when a stranger asks to share your first kiss of the new year, you allow yourself to have some fun, just for the night... genre: icl it's just smut warnings: smut, whole lotta smut, this is complete and utter filth i am so sorry. everyone gets head, dirty talk, spitting lol, praise, kinda dom!haechan, don’t really know what’s going on half the time word count: 5.1k authors note: happy new year!! little treat bc im on my period and in love with lee haechan. (sidenote: this went so far i don't know what came over me but jesus christ)

31st december 2023, seoul- 11:54pm

“come on mate, get another drink down you,” mark lee handed his best friend a jagerbomb, his spare hand resting on haechan's shoulder, his drunken self unable to stand properly.

haechan smiled slightly, before taking the drink and shotting it in one. it had been a few days since him and his girlfriend broke up, and he wasn’t anywhere near over her yet. he didn’t know if he ever would be, judging by how he felt right now. he wanted to be at home, bottle of some 40% spirit in hand and trying to forget.

mark wouldn’t let that happen though, forcing him out tonight so he finally left the confinement of his apartment, hoping that the party scene would alleviate some of the stress on his best friend's shoulder.

“come on, there’s so many fit girls here, take your pick,” he slurred, before being pulled away by his girlfriend for the traditional new years kiss.

haechan hadn’t realised it was almost midnight, and suddenly he felt his stomach drop at the reminder that last year he was doing this with his ex. he grabbed another drink from the bar and got it down him quickly, planning on sitting at the bar while everyone around him spend the next few minutes with their loved ones.

until he saw you.

his eyes were glued to you the moment he saw you, stuck on how the short red dress you were wearing clung to your curves, stuck on how your hair tumbled over your bare shoulders, stuck on how the sparkly eyeshadow glistened under the neon lights or the club and lit up your whole face.

you made eye contact was you turned towards the bar, and obviously he caught your fancy, with a black button up that pronounced his muscles more than usual, a chain around his neck, and his hair in defined curls that contrasted his tanned skin. he looked almost like an angel descended from the heavens, except an angel would never have such a sorrowed look upon their face.

he beckoned you over with a flick of his fingers, eyes never leaving your body, and you may have been upset if you weren’t as gone as you were. you settled yourself in between his legs, taking the half drank glass from his hand and finishing it off for him, leaving a faint red mark on the rim.

he was infatuated at first glance. his hands settled in the dip of your waist, almost engulfing your body with their size. his mouth slowly curved into a smirk as he watched you lean over him to place the now empty glass on the bar, allowing him a small look at your lace bra you were wearing under your dress.

he checked the time on the clock. 11:57.

“what’s your name, gorgeous?” he asked, thumbs drawing lazy circles against the fabric of your dress.

you told him your name, before then asking for his, and his eyes widened with the realisation that you didn’t know who he was, or you were too drunk to realise.

“haechan,” he smiled softly, voice deep and husky.

11:58.

“you here with anyone?” he asked, eyes dropping down to your red-stained lips before meeting your eyes again, the actions so quick you could barely recognise it happening.

you shook your head. “well, my friend, but she’s here with her boyfriend so…”

“i’m in the same boat,” he chuckled softly, subconsciously pulling you closer and closer towards him, so your thighs were brushing against his, “my mate mark is here but he’s ran off with his girlfriend now.”

“god i hate people in couples,” you laughed, receiving one in return from haechan, “they act all in love with no regard for those of us who are single.”

11:59.

“tell me about it,” haechan rolled his eyes, his hand slowly climbing up your body so they were now resting against your rib cage.

you looped your arms around him, hands settling in the nape of his neck, a finger wrapping around a loose curl in his hair. he stood up now, looking down on you, and leant down so your faces were mere centimetres apart.

“you know it’s almost midnight,” he whispered in your ear, breath warm against your skin.

you hummed in response, feeling your heart beat doubly as fast against your ribs, the air suddenly feeling so much warmer.

“and i don’t have anyone to kiss.” as the final word left his mouth his lips attached to your neck, soft under ear, leaving a sloppy kiss that made you want more, want so much more.

“i don’t have anyone either,” you almost whispered, scared you had the wrong impression, but of course you didn’t.

chants of people in the background took you out of your little bubble, as the familiar ‘ten, nine, eight,’ sounded through the club.

haechan leant right in, so your lips were practically touching already. “can i kiss you?”

you nodded just as the clock struck midnight, and his lips crashed into yours, with a sense of lust that you hadn’t felt in far too long.

the kiss was wet, it was sloppy, but it was desperate and needy and it sent a shiver through your body down to your core. your hands buried themselves in his hair, pulling against his roots and causing him to groan into the kiss, allowing him to stick his tongue in and control the kiss.

your tongues moved in harmony as his hands ran down the lengths of your body, as if he was scared this would be the last time he could touch you, the last time he could feel you under his fingertips. they eventually settled against your ass, cupping it lightly as he pushed your hips against his, so you could feel his semi through his jeans.

you wanted to kiss him forever, wanted all of him all at once. you decided that if the world ended now, you would be happy to die here and now, in haechan's embrace, his lips pressed against yours.

he pulled away, but only for his lips to find your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses until he found that sweet spot, the spot that made your neck roll back, giving him more access to suck against your skin, undoubtably leaving deep purple marks wherever he went.

your hands detached themselves from his hair and instead you dragged them down his body, fingers spaced out as you passed his pecs, passed his abs (though you were very tempted to linger there), and finished at the waistband of his jeans, dipping an index finger inside to trace the elastic of his boxers.

you felt him groan against your skin, pulling away to give you a look as if to say ‘really? in public?’. deciding to play it innocent, you just beat your eyelashes at him, a confused look on your face, and slowly ventured lower and lower.

haechan wasn’t having any of that, however, grabbing your wrists easily in one hand and dragging you over to the door, pulling his phone out to call a taxi. you tried to kiss him again, but he just tutted, with a dangerous glint in his eye that told you you were in for it when you got back to his.

the taxi arrived sooner rather than later, and haechan made an effort to sit in the front, leaving you in the back alone. you were confused, wondering where the sudden coldness had come from, wondering if you had pushed it too far. but when he turned around midway through the journey, and mouthed ‘behave now, and i’ll be nice later’, you knew it was going to be a fun night.

you quickly sent your friend a text to let her know you were okay, not that she would read it for another few hours, before deliberating whether or not to behave. on the one hand, behaving means that you wouldn’t piss haechan off and that he’ll ‘be nice’ later, whatever that meant. but one the other hand, you kind of wanted to push his buttons, see what you could get him to do. which is why you decided to call your friend and stir up some trouble.

“hey bitch!” you practically sang into the phone, the drunkenness being more apparent than ever. you could see haechan in the rear view mirror, and watched as his face seemed confused, but not upset.

“hey!” she slurred back, as drunk as you were, “where the fuck are you?”

“i’m with this guy,” you smirked to yourself as you started your plan, “but i can’t lie, he just doesn’t seem all that you know. like he seems like he’s all talk and he won’t deliver.”

haechan raised an eyebrow at that, but still didn’t say or do anything, though you could tell he was definitely listening in now.

“then why are you going with him?” your friend asked, and you could faintly here the music of the club in the background.

you hummed into the phone, but loud enough for haechan to hear as well. “don’t know, maybe i just feel bad for him. he just doesn’t seem like he knows how to fuck, you get what i’m saying?”

haechan's fist clenched at that comment, but he still kept his cool, at least from the outside.

“like, i don’t know, he just doesn’t seem like he knows how to make me cum.”

that particular comment must have hit a nerve because haechan leant back and grabbed the phone from your hand. you pouted and lazily attempted to grab it back, but really you were glad you were able to rile him up.

he quickly spoke to your friend, telling her you were okay and where you were going, before hanging up and ignoring your pleas for your phone.

it was only a few more minutes before you were back at haechan's flat, and he still ignored you while he paid the driver and guided you up the stairs, other than a link through your arm to make sure you didn’t fall. you liked the fact that he was still a gentleman, even though it seemed like he was about to not be.

“haechan-” you whined as you waited outside his apartment, watching him unlock the door, but he cut you off before you could say anything else.

“what did i tell you?” he asked, voice still and stern, not facing you at all.

you tried to grab his wrist to get him to face you but he resisted. “to behave.”

“and you didn’t behave, did you?” his voice was almost patronising, but it was deep and rough and so fucking sexy that you didn’t care. “so now, i have to show you that what you were saying to your friend isn’t true. unless you’re going to apologise and tell me you didn’t mean it?”

he was giving you a chance to back down, to take the easy route. but it was new year’s day and you were never going to see him again, so you decided to have some fun.

“i don’t know what to tell you, you just don’t seem like you could make a girl cum,” you played it like you didn’t care, when your heart was racing knowing that something good was coming next.

he finally opened the door to his apartment and picked you up, your legs naturally looping around his waist as he pulled you into a rough kiss. it wasn’t like the one earlier, where even though it was rough there was a sweetness behind it, but instead this was pure lust and need in a kiss. his tongue explored every part of your mouth, at a ferocity that you felt like you were on fire, and that no bucket of water could ever pull you out.

his hands settled under your ass, kneading the skin under the silk of your dress. your hands found his shoulders, broad and wide, and you needed them stabilise as your world was spinning around you.

he carried you through his apartment, with you getting a brief look before he threw you onto his bed, leaving you looking up at him with rosy cheeks and lust-hazed eyes.

in the light he looked majestic, with two dimmed lamps either side of you projecting warm orange hues onto his face. fuck, he was gorgeous, chiseled by the gods themselves, and as he undid the buttons on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, your mouth almost started to water at how beautiful he looked.

you pulled yourself up, going to try and finish undoing the buttons to take his top off, but he stopped you, once again capturing your wrists but this time pinning them behind your back.

“you don’t get to touch if you misbehave, baby,” he said, fake-pity written all across his face.

his other hand pulled your dress off your shoulders, and he let go of your hands for just a moment to remove it from the rest of your body. your heels were next, as he undid them slowly and carefully, taking his time to admire you, watching as your patience was running out.

left in just your lacy red lingerie, you watched as he climbed back over you, obvious hard on that he ignored as his lips met yours in another kiss. it wasn’t quite like the other one, slightly softer, as if he was checking that you were okay with all this. and of course you were.

he pulled away. “i can’t make you cum, yeah?”

“that’s what i said, isn’t it?” you teased back, tilting your head while trying to catch your breath.

“well, i guess you won’t be coming tonight then,” he almost sighed, before diving into the crook of your neck and leaving harsh, aggressive kisses wherever he could, adding to the deep purple marks he caused earlier on.

he slowly made his way down your neck, before finally making it to the valley of your breasts, where he sucked harder than before, obviously trying to deepen the colour and add to your pleasure. his hands found your breasts, taking one in each and kneading them, a soft massage that felt better than it ever should have done. was it the alcohol? or was it him?

he pulled your right boob out of your bra, eyes widening as his index finger and thumb took your nipple in between them and started to roll it gently. you arched your back in reponse, a weak moan falling from your lips, which pushed your breast into his fingers more. his other hand pulled out your other breast, but instead of his fingers his lips attached to it, and your mouth parted subconsciously as a wave of pleasure washed over you.

god, he was good. and he knew he was good judging by the smirk on his face. you almost regretted not letting him pleasure you how he was planning to.

almost.

“fuck, haechan,” you let out a breathy whine as he swapped over, both of your nipples having an overwhelming sense of pleasure, “look so pretty sucking my tits.”

you could tell he liked that, as a vibration shook through your body when he moaned against your skin. he pulled away, much to your dismay, but you stopped minding as he slowly made his way down your body, still leaving the open mouthed kisses as he reached your belly button.

“you know,” he almost panted, hands still fixed on your tits, “i was gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

one hand leaves your nipple, a cool trail down your stomach before it settles at your waistband, mimicking your actions from in the club. your hips buck against his hand, causing him to chuckle slightly, as you crave more and more and more of his touch’s

“i was gonna make you come on my tongue, it would have felt so fucking good,” his sultry voice was working wonders as his fingertips traced the patterns in the lace, “would have had you screaming my name as i sucked your clit, would have felt fucking euphoric.”

even his words made you feel something, made you feel like any moment now you were about to combust. one finger trailed down your panties, feather light over where you needed him the most, but with the lace barrier in the way.

“god, you’ve ruined these, huh?” he chuckled, feeling how your wetness had soaked through your underwear. “so fucking wet and all i’ve touched are your tits. so responsive for me.”

you wanted to talk back, wanted to have some bite to you, spur him on even more, but you couldn’t conjure up anything while he left soft kisses on your inner thighs.

“still want my mouth, baby?” his voice was sickly sweet, but the tone behind it was cruel and teasing, because obviously you still wanted his mouth.

you nodded as best as you could, but he shook his head a response, a ‘tut tut tut’ leaving his mouth.

“need words, sweetheart,” he almost sang, the petname laced in a sense of mocking, “or else you’re not getting anything from me.”

you mustered up every last drop of energy you had and spoke up. “please, haechan. i want you.”

“want what?”

it took every fibre in your body to not tell him to fuck off there and then. you wanted to, you really wanted to, but you also wanted him. and that want won.

“want your mouth on me, please, baby.”

and that was enough for him, as he pulled down your lace panties and finally revealed your pussy to him.

“fuck me, sweetheart,” his finger trailed over your folds, feather light, as he took in the sight of it, “you’re glistening, look, you’re dripping out.”

you would have felt embarrassed, but the dutch courage must have taken over. “not used to seeing a girl so wet, huh?”

his tongue poked his cheek. “easy, pretty girl. let me make you feel good.”

he gently blew over you, making you squirm slightly, before he dived straight in and began sucking your clit. the pleasure was instant, your hips bucking into his face as he chuckled against you, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. everything he had made you feel up to this point was microscopic compared to the pleasure you felt now.

it only grew when he slid two fingers into your pussy, curling them up at hitting that spot inside of you, looking over as your face contorted in pleasure, eyes closed, mouth hung open, he thought you looked like the prettiest girl in the world.

you were already close, no idea how as you hadn’t been going for that long. but the mix of his fingers in your cunt and his mouth on your clit was bringing you to the edge.

“i- i’m close, haechan,” you stuttered, speaking hard when so much pleasure was coarsing through your veins.

he tilted his head slightly. “you’re close did you say?”

you nodded, feeling your orgasm approaching faster and faster, you could already feel it happening now. to add to everything, his fingers somehow reached deeper inside of you, contorting in a way where everything was just so fucking good.

“but wait,” he let out a soft, fake laugh, “i forgot. i can’t make you cum.”

and with that he pulled away, leaving you recovering from a high you never even got. you had to take a minute, your body feeling worse than ever as the euphoria slowly went away, and the lack of human touch was getting to you.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he faked pity, reaching down to swipe his thumb across your cheekbone. “you weren’t expecting to finish, not according to what you said in the car.”

you slowly opened your eyes, seeing his gorgeous face looking down on you, and fighting the urge to throw a punch. you subconsciously leaned into his touch, craving it despite the atrocity he just performed, and watched as he undid his belt with his other hand.

“here’s the deal,” he pulled away, leaving you with a whine, before unbuttoning his shirt and taking it all off, allowing you to see his abs for the first time that night, tone still ever-so-mocking. “you’re gonna suck me off, and if you do a good job, then, and only then, do you get to cum. understand, sweetheart?”

you nodded. secretly, you wanted to suck him off anyway, and with this deal you would get to come as well. he took a step back from the bed, tapping his foot against the floor as a gesture for you to come down. you couldn’t understand though, brain slightly fucked from the shortly lived pleasure, and instead looked at him confusedly.

“get on your knees for me, baby,” he cooed, and you did as he said, sinking onto his wooden floor and looking up at him, waiting for his next order. with the promise of an orgasm at the other end, at this point you would do anything to get to the prize.

he started to unzip his jeans, and as you went to help, he instantly took a step back. “hands behind your back, no touching remember?”

you pouted, but did as he said, linking for fingers behind your back as you waited for him to get ready. he pulled his boxers down, and jesus christ were you not ready.

he looked big through his hard on in his jeans, but you were not ready for all that. you could tell you were shocking your shock through your face, and he let out a soft chuckle and grabbed your chin with his right hand.

“think you can take it?” he asked, holding it with his other hand as he kept your eyes on it, watching as your mouth suddenly seemed to water.

you nodded. “mhm. just wanna make you feel good, baby. that’s all i want.”

he smiled down at you. “give me a kiss.”

you tried to climb up to kiss his lips, but his hand kept you pressed down, and you understood instantly. you leant forward to press your mouth against his dick, kissing the tip gently and watching as his head fell back. you left open mouthed kisses all down his length, finished at the base before climbing all the way back to the top. you started leaving kitten licks on the tip, watching the veins in his neck pulsate at your actions.

“god, you’re so fucking good,” he grunted, hand moving from your chin round to the back of your head, nestling in your hair as he started to take control. “you gonna take me all in?”

you hummed against his cock, opening your mouth as he guided you down, controlling your movements as he gently fucked your mouth. you tried your hardest not to move or choke, instead trying to focus on his pleasure.

you couldn’t help your eyes watering though, and when he looked down he obviously felt bad, relaxing a little bit as he let you take more charge.

“look so pretty naked on your knees for me,” he cooed, taking in sharp breaths as your tongue swirled around his tip. “who knew that such a sweet looking girl could give head like this? yeah, keep going, fuck, you’re so fucking good.”

you just kept going, knowing that the more you pleasured him the more likely you were to get pleasure yourself. haechan didn’t want to seem selfish, however, as his hand wrapped forward to stroke your cheek again.

“fuck, play with your nipples for me,” he ordered, slightly out of breath, but moaning as you started to play with yourself. he let out a groan as you moaned around his cock, head bobbing like this was your last day on earth. “such pretty tits, should be framed in a museum how good you look right now.”

you could tell he was close by how his breaths got shallower and shallower, and his thrusts into your throat got weaker. he pulled away though, leaving a string of saliva from your mouth to his cock, which you licked up instantly. you went back to kissing his cock, waiting as you could feel yourself growing wetter.

“you were so good, huh, baby?” he picked your naked body up, grabbing your hands and wrapping them round his neck, telling you that you could finally touch him again. “listened to everything i told you to do, such a good girl.”

his praise was music to your ears, and his actions matched the tone of his words. he lay you gently down on the bed, climbing over you as his lips met yours in the softest kiss of the night. it was an ‘are you okay?’ kiss, an ‘i hope i didn’t go too far’ kiss, a ‘you look beautiful’ kiss, and it was possibly your favourite of the night.

“gonna fuck that dripping pussy,” he mumbled into your lips before continuing the kiss, lining his cock up against your entrance, tapping it against your clit purely to watch you squirm with elation.

and as he thrusted into you it was like your world had stopped. fuck, he felt so good inside you, filling you up more than you could have imagined and left you choking on air as inch by inch he entered more and more.

haechan felt much the same, obsessed with how you felt clenched around him, how tight you were as he continued in. he waited once his whole dick was in, holding back from setting a rhythm until he was positive you could take it.

“feel so good clenched around me,” he muttered out, leaning back so he could check you were alright, check that you were ready for this, “such a tight little pussy needs to be stretched out.”

you nodded at him, a signal to start moving, and he did as he was told, beginning to thrust in and out of you at such a pace that your mouth flew open in shock. his hands dug into your hips, undoubtably causing marks as he fucked you deep and hard.

the moans emitted from your mouth were ungodly, borderline pornographic, and led to you covering your mouth in embarrassment. haechan was having none of that, however, stopping his movements to gaze into your eyes.

“don’t you dare not let me hear those pretty sounds,” he thrust at the end of the sentence, as if to solidify his point, and you allowed yourself to moan, “want all the neighbours to hear how good i’m fucking you.”

you were so close to the edge, once again seeing it in the distance, and you clenched around haechan trying to let him know. he chuckled and leant into your shoulder, kissing over the deep marks he’d left earlier, just adding to the euphoria you were feeling.

“gonna cum,” you whined, grabbing one of his hands and guiding it to your clit, needing that final push to make it over the edge.

he understood instantly, rubbing rough circles while sucking against your neck. the pleasure was washing over you in waves, and it wasn’t long until you felt your orgasm rush through your body, every part of you feeling lighter and in a state of happiness you couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

haechan kept going, however, chasing his own orgasm, and you decided to help him get thrre, however harsh it was for you. your lips found his neck for the first time, leaving sloppy kisses along his collarbones that were followed by a row of dark purple and red.

“fuck me,” he grunted, thrusts getting sloppier as he got closer and closer to the edge. “gonna pull out, yeah?”

you nodded against his chest, nails tracing over his abs as you rocked your hips in tandem with him, so sensitive that you might even come again.

as he kept thrusting into you, you remembered how much he loved being praised earlier, and thought that might help get him over the edge.

“being so good, fucking me so well, baby” you sighed, whispering into his ear as you kissed up his neck.

you felt his thrusts stutter with your words, obviously having a positive impact as a blush rose to his cheeks. his hands gripped even harder around your hips, and you began to feel another orgasm coming.

“such a pretty boy, so so pretty, look so good and fuck me so good,” you kept going, your hands leaving him and instead finding your clit. “got the prettiest dick as well, feels so good all wrapped inside me.”

“fuck-” he choked out, before pulling out and finishing all over his chest.

he panted while you got yourself to finish, cumming over your fingers. you threw your head back against the pillow, watching your chest as it rose and fell, trying to catch your breath.

haechan joined you, lying across the bed while pulling himself together. you decided you weren’t finished, however, crawling over on top of him and licking his cum off of his abs, making sure to get every last drop off. his hands tangled themselves as you finished, pulling you up to him so he could kiss you again, making out like teenagers as you just enjoyed each others company.

“so,” haechan finally broke the silence as he pulled away from the kiss, “i did make you cum.”

you shrugged as you rolled back to the side of him. “was it more fun that i challenged you?”

“definitely. never known someone so responsive to some dirty talk,” he jested, earning a slap on his bicep.

“never known someone love to be praised so much,” you retaliated, shutting him up as he went to grab you a glass of water.

he returned quickly, along with some boxers for him and a baggy t-shirt for you. you noticed the t-shirt it had ‘nct dream’ across it, and you hummed for his attention as you threw it on.

“you like kpop then?” you asked, not expecting him to laugh in reponse.

“yeah, you could say that.”

you tilted your head in confusion, but decided you were too tired to understand whatever was going on. “you don’t mind me staying the night?”

“not at all.”

“you gonna tell me why that was so funny in the morning?” you asked, knowing it would be your last question before you drifted off to sleep.

he hummed. “of course. happy new year.”

“happy new year.”

[chelseeebe]

i’ll be your fool

part 2 to guilty as sin

18+. mdni. SMUT! mentions of alcohol briefly eddie munson x harrington!reader though no descriptions of r are used! no use of y/n.

a/n: heyyy i actually love this and i love their relationship and the sneakiness and so i do have another part for this because i cannot let them go so soon

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

eddie regrets a lot of things, but coming back with steve tonight might just be his biggest. 

the muffled sounds of sex takeover his ears, corrupting his mind and infecting him with all sorts of ridiculous, filthy thoughts. 

he, steve and christina had all gone out to some bar she had heard about, a good night, on reflection. hell, he’d even hit it off with some girl, talking music and all things steve never entertained. 

but then instead of doing the intelligent thing of taking her home, or even going home on his own, he’d happily agreed to join steve and come back here. 

he knows why, deep down. 

because to even have a minuscule chance of sleeping with you again, made that decision a whole lot easier. 

though, eddie’s not too sure it was the right decision. 

you hadn’t made a noise since they’d been back, there was no sign you were even here and now he’s stuck listening to the sordid events next door, trying his hardest not to get hard over his best friend. 

oh god. 

he could jerk off, he supposes. but that wouldn’t last long and these two showed no signs of slowing down. 

eddie desperately grinds his hips down into the mattress, it had been a while, alright? and by a while he means two weeks to the day since you’d lured him up to your room and crossed the line that should’ve never been entertained. 

he wonders if you can hear it. 

maybe you’re asleep. 

maybe you’re not even here. 

maybe he should check. 

make sure you were doing alright in these traumatising circumstances. 

who’s he trying to kid? 

his dick is aching and you’re potentially just a couple feet away, 

he’s already at your door before he can dwell on it, knocking softly, hoping to be heard above the rhythmic thumping of steve’s bed frame against the wall. 

for a second he thinks there’s no answer, until he hears the soft padding of your feet against the floor and it creaks open to reveal your already scantily clad frame. 

“c’mon,” beckoning him inside with your two fingers, turning the lock the second the door is closed behind him. 

to do this once should’ve been enough, but to crawl back in here a second time, already completely pent up and desperate for your touch, he should know better. 

your eyes trail down to the bulge in his boxers, widening just so when they meet his again, “that’s weird, eddie,” using his name to taunt him as you circle around, “do you wanna fuck my brother or something?”

“what? no- no.. jesus christ, i can’t.. can’t help it,” pulling at the fabric, now wishing he had just opted to jerk off instead. 

“i’m joking,” placing your palms flat on his chest, nudging him back towards the bed, “i’m assuming you didn’t come in here to talk,” walking your fingers downward. 

eddie shakes his head no, he’s not opposed to talking, but he can’t focus with this raging boner so perhaps you could do something about it first. 

his knees meet the edge of your bed, buckling as he falls down onto the mattress. he can only look up, infatuated with your cascading figure and the taunting, narrowed eyes that sit above. 

“sit back,” you order, knocking your knee into his to jump start his limbs into action before climbing atop, knees resting either side of his trembling thighs. 

“i thought this wasn’t happening again,” teasing in your tone, after all he had been the one to cut this off. his words were stern but gentle, making sure that you understood that it wasn’t you per say, but your brother. 

“i lied,” running his hands underneath your shirt, pinching at your doughy hips, “can’t stop thinking about you.. that night,” shifting himself so his feet are camped firmly on the mattress. 

“yeah?” one hand caressing his cheek, the other held tight on his shoulder, “i knew you’d come back,” moving slowly over his stiff cock, “you can’t help yourself.” 

eddie groans, unsure of whether from the sensation of your pussy rubbing against him or your words, however true they are. 

“you don’t have to rub it in,” he adds through gritted teeth, “i can go if.. if you want,” losing his train of thought with every jerk and whine. 

your hips rutting endlessly, he can feel his boxers dampen, a mixture of your arousal and his leaking cock to blame. 

“do you think i want you to go?” 

not really, but then, he could never be sure with you. 

eddie shakes his head, obedient as ever. he wasn’t about to let his loose lips and poor self esteem ruin this too. 

“so don’t say stupid things like that then,” staring at him in annoyance, too pent up to entertain his stupid mind games. 

you huff, tugging at his underwear until they rest just below his balls, cock springing up against his stomach as he struggles to contain himself for much longer. 

he’s only grateful that the sounds of he best friend are non-existent in your room. unsure if he could really put in the work with those distractions. 

kissing messily at his jaw, you pant, “what do you want, eddie?” grinding your hips down against his cock, a lacy thong the only thing keeping you apart.

“you.. fuuck- i need you,” he gasps, handfuls of your ass in hand, gone far beyond horny at this point. 

your lips quirk to the side, running your hand down the length of his torso, stopping just before his cock. “gotta be quiet, yeah?” before moving your panties to the side and fisting his dick, running his leaking tip between your soaked folds. 

“jesusfuckingchrist,” he rushes, cut off by your hand slapping against his mouth, he’d blow this whole thing wide open if he weren’t careful. 

your eyes roll slightly, lowering yourself onto his aching cock, muffling your own cries as you bite down onto your lip. 

eddie said never again before but now he’s not sure he can ever leave you alone. your thighs collide with his, producing a sickeningly filthy sound alongside your soaked cunt, the remembrance of that alone could get him off for the rest of his life. 

with your palm clamped firmly against his mouth, you pick up the pace, head thrown back towards the ceiling, using him purely to get off. 

eddie’s useless, watching as you ride his cock, mouth open in blissful pleasure though you’re doing a better job of keeping quiet than he is. cursing muffled swears into your hand, his high pitched whines coming out in hoarse grumbles, he needed to scream, start yodelling or something. 

“such a good boy,” muttering under your breath, the praise hits his ears with utmost delight, making his toes curl in tandem with his hips beginning to thrust mercilessly up against you. 

there’s no cohesiveness to the movement, your bed rocking with the sloppy movements. 

you let go of his mouth, entrusting him not to start yelling as you come to hold the back of his clammy neck. 

“holy.. fuck,” breathing his words, punctuating his thrusts, “s’all yours- shit,” burying his face into your neck, carelessly connecting his lips to the soft skin, dotting kisses haphazardly. 

your fingers curl into his hair, gently tugging at the roots as you near your orgasm, letting him take over the rhythm as your hips grow stagnant. 

your whines occupy his ears, “ohgodohfuck,” eddie can feel your thighs begin to tremble, resting all of your weight on his body. his thrusts become loose and without much effort, desperate to cum inside of you but not stupid enough to suggest it. 

“y’gonna cum?” he teases, his own orgasm near, switching the roles once more. your hips no doubt littered with markings of his fingertips, your ass red as a result of his grabby palms. 

“mmm,” you mewl, which he takes as a yes, sinking himself deep inside for the last thirty seconds he had to give to you. 

“fuu-uck,” pussy clenching around his throbbing cock, your body becoming completely malleable as you cum. 

eddie ruts up lazily, right up until he can last no longer and this becomes a game of russian roulete. lifting your writhing body from his cock, spurting his thick release over his boxers and your unsuspecting thighs. 

garbling a bunch of nonsense into the crook of your neck, “sh-shit, i’m sorry,” letting his arms hang loose, both of you reeling, panting in synchronicity. 

you roll off of him to the other side of the bed, sighing softly as you do so, trying to regain your bearings just as he was. 

the quiet is nice but he can’t stop his mind from wandering back to that moment only a fortnight ago. 

eddie has to do it. it had been inflicting his mind since you came onto him two weeks ago. 

i like them to be friends with my brother at least. 

he breaks the silence, “can i ask you a question?” maybe he’d regret it and maybe you’d kick him out without even answering, but he was anxious to know and you were docile. 

you hum, seemingly in agreement. 

“have you ever.. done this with steve’s friends before?” he was just curious, that’s all. he didn’t care if he was the first but he’d like to maybe be the last. 

“who told you?”

“who told me what?” turning to face you entirely, tracing patterns along your arm with his callous fingertips. 

you sigh, looking anywhere but his eyes, “i made out with tommy onc- a couple times,” your eyes roll, an obvious regret, “why d’you think they’re not friends anymore?” 

oh. 

the realisation hits, not so much making him regret what had just happened but instead a reminder that steve wouldn’t be delighted to find out about your escapades. eddie didn’t want to lose steve at all, but then you’d sigh and your lips would fall apart and he’s forgetting about the implications of it all immediately. 

he’s fucked. royally fucked. 

he should get out of this room- this bed, and leave it all alone. no good could come out of continuing to mess around with you. 

it’s clear you can tell he’s hesitant, watching his face with a frown, “it’s not that bad.. steve only found out because tommy told him,” shrugging his worries off, “you’re not gonna do that, are you?” 

he shakes his head no, resuming his fingered tracing of your body, “i wouldn’t,” because really, he’s not that stupid. 

you swallow, blinking before you begin, “i like having sex with you eddie,” coming to tap his cheek, drawing him from inside his head back to reality, “don’t ruin it.”

this is the part he’s most terrified about. 

the quiet, passive moments that had his heart thumping faster and faster, moments that blurred the line between just hooking up and something more. 

-

eddie wakes up slowly, your fingers drawing patterns on his scalp and the hum of the early morning from the window. your fingers weaving through his hair, sending shivers down his spine. 

oh no. 

this wasn’t a dream and this isn’t the bed he’s supposed to be in. 

he shoots up, almost knocking your dozing body onto the floor, laboured breaths that hurt his chest. 

“i fell asleep, i wasn’t supposed to fall asleep,” frantically trying to pull himself from the bed, a mess of nerves and adrenaline. 

how could he explain himself? 

steve would have him hung from the rafters if he so much as saw him in here.  

you grumble getting out of bed, being the only one of the two of you to possess any common sense. 

“just.. calm down,” throwing a glare his way, “i’ll check if he’s awake and then you can sneak out and no one will know,” shrugging on a discarded sweater, already sick of his worrisome look. 

you hold your finger up to your lips, demanding his silence before inching the door open. 

there’s faint chatter from downstairs, dishes clinking and then he can hear steve’s laugh. maybe they’d already peaked inside the guest room and found it empty, assuming he’d gone home. how would he ever explain that?

“coast is clear.. i’ll go down first, get dressed and come down in like ten minutes,” nodding so as to make sure he fully understood. 

he nods back, sliding off the bed in utmost silence, tiptoeing back to his rightful room with baited breath. 

he can’t hear steve’s accusations, or the inevitable screaming that’d come if they had happened to hear you. 

eddie counts to sixty ten times, and then another for good measure. convinced that steve would’ve marched upstairs by now if he had suspected anything. 

the stairs creak, giving his position away immediately. he’s still wary about needing to dash out of the door, prepared to leave his boots and run the four miles back home barefoot. 

“here he is,” steve announces, rummaging for another mug, “how’d you sleep?” wiggling his brows, pushing for eddie to mention the unmistakably obvious noises of sex. 

“yeah.. pretty good,” clearing his throat on arrival. you’re perched at the other end of the island, quietly sipping your own mug, pretending not to notice eddie’s gawping. 

steve’s hand claps him on the back, shoving the mug of coffee into his grasp, “i’m glad, we weren’t sure if we were too loud,” covertly bragging, ever the annoying prick. 

christina mumbles something, telling him to shut up and immediately turns to face you, pretending not to listen to the conversation. 

“well well, what were you doing last night?” christina titters, eyeing the violet marking on your neck. 

“oh um,” pulling your collar higher immediately, “i was just.. with a friend,” shying away from her questions. 

eddie tries to stop his cheeks from flushing, he hadn’t meant to leave any evidence, but he can’t help himself from getting turned on all over again at the sight of you, marked by him. 

“a friend? which friend?” steve grills, never not relinquishing the overprotective big brother act. 

well, it was your friend to be exact. not that eddie says it. 

“none of your business, thanks,” quickly shutting him down. it really was none of his business, mostly for his own sake. 

steve’s brows furrow, a deep set frown on his face as he eyes your neck, very clearly the cogs are turning in his head. eddie’s just grateful that he knows steve and thus, he knows he’ll never figure it out on his own. 

at least, he hopes. 

“aw poor eddie,” christina starts, swaying his attention loudly, “you must be the unluckiest man alive,” she giggles, ignoring steve’s prying and subsequent confusion. 

“yeah,” you nod, keeping your eyes on him, “poor eddie,” a mocking pout overcoming your lips. 

fuck, he felt smug being in on this little secret with you. steve liked to poke and prod at eddie, pretend he was just joking, only eddie knew he wasn’t really. 

but now he had this over him, one upping every jab and jest with the knowledge that he eddie had fucked his sister, right under his nose. 

[solarmorrigan]

Lucky

For the @steddie-spooktober day 13 prompt: Superstition Rated: T | Words: 1096 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, furthering my Steve Harrington is a cat person agenda, Eddie tries to be the reasonable one, fluff Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Surprising Steve Harrington fact: the man is superstitious.

It’s not obvious at first. It actually takes Eddie a little while to notice, but the details pile up: the way he tosses a pinch of salt over his shoulder when the shaker tips over, the way he absently knocks on wood any time someone says something even remotely jinxable, the way he had insisted on carrying their bedroom mirror himself when they’d finally gotten around to buying one because he refused to risk breaking it (to be fair, that last one could go either way in terms of evidence, Eddie has been known to get distracted while carrying things, but he maintains that Steve had handled it with a disproportionate amount of care and concern as they hung it on the wall).

The final nail in the coffin had been when he’d thrown a fit at Eddie for opening an umbrella inside the apartment – not just because it’s bad luck, but because he apparently doesn’t trust Eddie not to take out the picture frames on the wall with it (which is fair enough, Eddie guesses).

In any case, it’s because of this that the most surprising thing about coming home to find Steve cuddling a kitten Eddie’s never seen before isn’t the fact that he’s cuddling a kitten Eddie’s never seen before, it’s that the kitten’s fur is jet black.

Steve, who steps around cracks on the sidewalk and won’t go under ladders and thinks Friday the thirteenth is an unlucky day, is cuddling a tiny black cat.

“Am I interrupting something?” Eddie asks, watching as the kitten rubs its cheek clumsily against the edge of Steve’s jaw, purring so loudly that he can hear it from where he stands by the door.

“Eddie!” Steve grins over at him from the couch, beckoning to him with the hand that isn’t currently full of feline. “C’mere, I want you to meet someone.”

“Oh, boy,” Eddie mutters under his breath; sounds like Steve’s already attached. Louder, he asks, “So who’s this?”

“I found him outside, just sitting in the road. I couldn’t leave him out there,” Steve says, gently unhooking the kitten’s claws from the collar of his shirt before presenting it to Eddie.

The thing is absolutely tiny – a ball of black fluff that fits in the palm of just one of Steve’s hands (though Steve is carefully holding it with both) and it stares up at Eddie with enormous eyes that are still baby blue.

“So… you found a random animal outside and just decided to bring it in?” Eddie asks, and he can practically hear Uncle Wayne in his tone.

“It’s cold out, and he was all wet. I couldn’t just leave him,” Steve says again, pulling the kitten back against his chest; the kitten, for its part, goes happily, rubbing its cheek against Steve’s shirt and settling in.

“But what if it has fleas, or something?” Eddie asks (he’s definitely pulling from Wayne’s playbook now; Eddie had tried to bring home so many lost pets and wild animals as a kid, ones they wouldn’t have been able to afford or that they shouldn’t have had inside at all, and Wayne had gotten pretty good at deterring him).

Steve scoffs at him. “I checked him over when I gave him a bath, he doesn’t have fleas.”

Eddie stares back. “You gave a kitten a bath?”

“I told you, he was all wet and muddy. I figured the bath would warm him up and get him clean. Two birds, one stone. He barely even scratched me!” Steve holds one hand out for Eddie to see, apparently quite proud that there’s only a handful of angry red lines there, before petting back over the kitten’s tiny head with two fingers. “He’s really well-behaved.”

Christ, it’s worse than Eddie had thought; if Steve had willingly put something wet and muddy in his car, he isn’t just attached, he’s probably already in love with the thing.

“Aren’t black cats supposed to be bad luck?” Eddie tries – a last-ditch effort.

The look Steve shoots him is pure affront. “He isn’t bad luck,” he snaps out. “I nearly hit him with my car. The fact that I managed to see him, when it was dark out, and stop in time is crazy. I think we should call him ‘Lucky,’ make it official.”

Eddie bites the inside of his lip, holding in a noise of frustration. “Baby,” he finally manages, gently as he can, “don’t you think that if he’s this affectionate and this well-behaved, it might mean that he’s already someone’s pet?”

Steve frowns, looking down at the kitten. He strokes its tiny ears with the tip of one finger and the thing purrs up a storm. “He doesn’t have any tags, or anything…”

“He’s pretty small, still, Steve. His owners just might not have gotten around to it yet,” Eddie says, reaching out and placing a hand on Steve’s leg, giving him a consoling squeeze.

Steve sighs and the kitten mirrors it, hunkering down in Steve’s hold for a nap. Steve looks back up at Eddie, and fucking hell, if the kitten’s big blue gaze hadn’t been bad enough, Steve’s puppy dog eyes are going to kill him.

Eddie hadn’t been the only one who’d wanted a pet as a kid; Steve had begged his mom and dad for a dog or a cat or a hamster or anything when he’d been younger, something to keep him company in the lonely stretches spent with disinterested babysitters and then with no one at all. He’d always been denied, told that animals were too messy and too much work, but now–

Well, now, Eddie has no idea if anyone is missing this cat, or if their apartment actually allows pets, or if they’ll even be good at taking care of an animal, but he does know that he’s always been terrible at saying no to Steve.

“How about this?” Eddie finally says. “We’ll take him to the vet, and we’ll ask around, and we’ll do the whole posters thing, and if no one calls and claims him…”

“Yeah?” A smile dawns slow and delighted across Steve’s face.

Eddie sighs, letting his head fall back in a show of put-upon defeat. “Then we’ll keep the damn cat.”

The kiss Steve gives Eddie is just as delighted as his smile, and lasts as long as it takes for the kitten to start peeping, jostled between the two of them.

(And it’s just their luck that no one ever does call to claim him.

Lucky stays.)

[stardust-sprinkler]

Calling Shinsou by His Pro-Hero Name in Bed:

The first time you say it, he’s got you on your back on the desk in his office, his pants barely undone and your panties pulled to the side. His rhythm falters, his hips still as his perpetually sleepy eyes widen substantially.

It had never even crossed his mind, but suddenly it’s like a switch has been flipped—now it’s all he wants to hear from your sex-drunk lips.

He quickly realizes that you haven’t even registered saying it. Your eyes are hazy, a few tears trickling and smudging some of your eyeliner. Shallow breaths accompany needy whimpers as you try to roll your hips, frustrated beyond belief that he’s not moving. You practically sob out, “‘shi, why’d’ya stop?”

Christ, you look so beautiful, fucked-out and desperate for him.

He immediately resumes fucking you, but this time—he’s throwing your legs over his shoulders, gripping your thighs tightly enough to dig his nails into the supple flesh, and thrusting into you like it’s all he was made to do. His new pace speeds up past its predecessor, and he’s snarling out demands in a way he never has before.

“Say it again, princess…”

“Hi-hito..shi—”

Your broken attempts are cut off when a cry is torn from your throat. One of his hands had cracked against your ass hard enough to make you clench suddenly around him. His head tips back for a moment, a string of curse words being tossed towards the ceiling.

Then his gaze is locked on you once more, eyes heavily lidded, but somehow still blazing hot. “Nope. Try again, slut. And if you say Shinsou, I’m gonna turn your ass red.”

You let out a frantic mewl, wracking your addled brain for what else you could’ve called him… Something finally beckons to you.

“P-please, Mindjack — fuck me! Ha-arder, please!”

His eyes slam shut and he grits his teeth harshly, fighting to strengthen the tenuous grip he has on his sanity as he keeps his pace. You suddenly feel a hand squeezing the sides of your throat.

“What a smart little kitten… such a pretty slut for your hero, hm? Say it again.”

You obey eagerly, repetition your only focus, and he rewards you with a finger circling your clit. You scream yourself hoarse, sure anyone else working late hours could hear you, floors away. His nom de guerre is the only thing you can recall—everything else has drifted leagues away while he fucks you brainless.

This man doesn’t need his quirk to have complete control of you.

Asks are open! — follow for more mha hc, drabbles, & fics. AO3 crosspost: StardustSprinkler

[queerprayers]

If you need this year to end, if you crave a slow beginning, if you need to be confronted with (re)birth, may I interest you in a liturgical new year? What if, on the first day of Advent, you forgot about the resolutions and the diets and the parties and you lit a candle? What if your new year was a season (not just a day), and you had time to prepare, and January 1st was just another day of Christmas?

Construct your calendar how you wish of course, but I want to invite you to join the Christian new year, even halfheartedly. You have a week to decide (and you can of course have two new years, or none at all).

Advent is for small lights in big darkness, dim mirrors, veils and unveiling, cleaning house, waiting. Christianity beckons you to a new year devoid of self-improvement. We will be changed, of course. But ultimately there's nothing we can do about it. We create what we can and know God will shatter our plans.

It's almost the new year, is what I'm trying to say. If you choose it. Christmas is our second-highest feast day, one worth preparing for. Let secular Christmas happen, participate in it as you wish, but know that the Church will be holding its breath still. There is a dark womb before the birth. Be patient in the growing.

(And if you need a liturgical end of the year, one that is a surrender and a calling amidst the politics and nationalism of this world, may I interest you in the feast of Christ the King?)