#I tell you what when the seed falls on good ground? you know it. you’re like holy SHIT that is some good ground

[francesderwent]

my boyfriend asks me a reasonable question of a personal nature. I sigh deeply and tell him I cannot possibly explain how I think and feel on the matter unless I give him a very condensed theology lecture first. he listens, and then asks if that is really how I look at the world. I assure him that yes, it really is. I wait for him to think it’s stupid or inhuman or overdramatic. I ask some probing questions. he actually thinks it’s comforting, or romantic. I wait for him to ask derisively why I have to make everything about God. instead he exclaims how amazing it is that my relationship with him is allowed to be a part of my love for God.

[oddwalkerduckarts]

Grassland Romance AU: Winter Winds

Summary: You've been slowly falling in love with Sylus, a strange outsider who joined your tribe some time ago. You haven't been able to pluck up the courage to say anything. However, when you are caught alone in the fiercest blizzard anyone can remember, it might not be up to you anymore.

AO3

CW: AFAB reader, no use of y/n, pet names (sweetie, little huntress), blizzard, hypothermia, hunting, nude spooning, 90% fluff by volume, sexual themes (but no sex), not proofread, melodrama (god so much melodrama).

Word count: 8k

Notes: poor Luke and Kieran have to be dogs in this AU.

“Don’t be stupid,” you scoff, “how can lemmings foretell the weather? Their brains are the size of grass seeds!” The bay mare you’re sitting astride shakes her head, before pawing through the watery, heavy snow on the ground to reach the hidden grasses underneath.

Today, as with most days, you are minding the herds with your friend Cota. The two of you are practically sisters, as her family had raised you after your parents perished when you were a young child.

“I’m not the one who said it!” She protests, leaning back to aim a kick at your foot succeeding at knocking it out of your stirrup. “I’m just telling you what Elder Shikigur said, and he said, ‘There’s too many lemmings moving, there will be a large storm coming.’”

You groan. Blizzards are a continual hazard of grassland winters. Harsh winds are able to scream across the treeless landscape with terrifying fury, tearing through even thick winter deels, and whirling snow into a blinding haze. Preparing for one means rounding up the flocks, reinforcing yurts to hold against wind and snowfall, and digging out of the yurts once the storm is through. They’re critical jobs that need to be done. That is, when the weather actually calls for it.

“It’s practically spring!” You argue, gesturing wildly to the half-melted pasture around the two of you, “It’s so damn warm, that I couldn’t even wear my thickest deel today! I would’ve been covered in sweat!”

Cota shrugs, “I’m just telling you what the elders were gossiping about.”

“Well, regardless of what they say, I’m not taking out my winter deel again until next winter.”

“I bet you would if Sylus asked you to.”

You feel the color rise in your cheeks at the sing-song tease, and the mention of his name.

You aim a return kick at Cota’s leg, but she reins her mare to the side in time to evade you. “I would not! And besides, he’s out with some of the others hunting pheasant, anyway.”

Cota’s smile grows wider, “Oh ho, so you’ve been keeping track of which hunting parties he goes with, huh?”

An irritated groan leaves your throat as your friend laughs. “Aren't you supposed to be heading back about now? I'll tell the elders you've been slacking to sit around and gossip.”

“Aw, don't pout! It's cute, all your pining. You're going to have to do something soon though, otherwise some other girl is going to catch his eye at a festival, and then what will you do?”

“I’m pretty sure you're supposed to be helping with cooking right now, aren't you?”

Cota makes her own irritated groan, “No one likes when I cook anyway!”

“Better that than you sitting here and teasing me.”

She makes a rude gesture at you, and you return it.

"Fine,” she grumbles, “but keep an eye on the weather, okay?”

“Of course, I'll let you know if the lemmings are oracles or not.”

Cota rolls her eyes with a scoff, before reining her horse around and trotting back to the village. It’s good timing, you notice the right side of the herd has started to splinter a bit, and needs to be rounded back in.

As you go about your job, you can’t stop your mind from pondering over your relationship with the strange man.

Sylus had come to the tribe as an outsider a few years ago. Strong and skilled in both riding and archery, he’d been welcomed into the fold immediately, seemingly to his own surprise. His striking appearance had immediately caught many eyes; tall, broad and strong in the chest, with eyes the color of freshly-spilled blood set in a devastatingly handsome face. The one criticism you heard of him was of his curt, reticent nature, that meant he constantly had a severe expression on his face.

Well, almost-constantly.

Within a month after joining the tribe, there had begun to be problems with a particular wolf picking off sheep in the night. It had always seemed to know where to attack, far enough away from any of the herders that it was impossible to reach him in time. It even managed to evade the vigilant Bankhar dogs, who kept constant watch on their flock, and rarely let a wolf’s presence go unpunished. The predator managed to evade everyone. Everyone except Sylus.

It had only taken two nights of Sylus on guard, before he returned in the early morning light, with the giant, tawny corpse of the wolf thrown over one shoulder. He’d managed to kill it, in the dark, with a single arrow to its skull. The entire tribe had celebrated that night; an end to the nights of doubled watches in the dark and lost sheep. Wine and kumis had run freely that night, along with music and dancing in the center of the temporary village.

The wolf’s body had been set aside, to be skinned for the fur and used as linings and blankets to guard against the frigid winter months. Even in death, it still looked fierce, its fur sleek and body corded with lean muscle that reminded you of its killer. You had bent down to examine the bared teeth, sharp and white against the pale flesh of the gums. You reached out to draw your finger over one of the fangs, curious to see if it would be sharp like a knife, or blunt like one of the Bankhar dogs.

“Disturbing the dead?”

The deep voice, close enough to feel against the back of your neck, had you stumbling backwards, and gracelessly falling on your ass. A throaty chuckle came from above your head, and you had looked up to see Sylus, his face smug and scarlet eyes dancing with laughter.

“It doesn’t count if it’s a wolf,” You grumbled, pulling yourself off the ground, “ass.”

His head was cocked to the side as you rose, finger tapping his cheek in mock-thought, “I thought a wolf was supposed to be the father of the first herdsmen? Wouldn’t that make this creature here your cousin?”

“That’s an old story, no one believes that.”

His answering smile was sharp, eyes darkening into a sneer. “Is that so?” He drew closer, close enough that you could feel his breath on your face, and feel the fabric of his deel brushing against yours. The gaze he cast down made you realize what a cornered sheep must feel like in the moments before jaws close around its throat. “I think there’s more of wolves in people than you realize.” His growl was just as deep as the dogs when they scented a threat.

A part of you wanted to shrink down in your boots, make your excuses, and flee. But, a much larger, louder part of you was indignant. How dare this man sneak up on you in the dark, make you fall over in surprise, then have the audacity to growl at you like a beast?

So you had tipped your chin up defiantly, “Better be careful. Apparently even the cleverest wolves get arrows in their heads.”

He had stared at you for a moment. Made a single blink. Then a strange, amused smile curled across his face. “Are you going to be the one to fire it, little huntress?”

“If you don’t back up, maybe I will.”

Sylus chuckled then, backing up a few steps. You released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, body thrumming with… anxiety? Excitement? Both? You couldn’t tell. To distract yourself, you turned your attention back to the kill.

“It’s kind of a shame, really. It’s a pretty creature.”

His head cocked to the side again, though the curiosity in his eyes seemed to be genuine this time. “Feeling bad for the predator?”

“He was just trying to live.”

He huffs a small laugh through his nose. “You’re cute.”

“Excuse me?” You look at him, deeply irritated at his patronizing tone.

“Most animals that steal livestock are weak. They’re sick, or injured. Otherwise it just isn’t worth risking the tangle with dogs or people. This one,” he gives the corpse a nudge, “was perfectly healthy. Strong. But instead of using its smarts to take on saiga, or capercaille, it decided to take the easy way out. It never would have stopped, once it knew that it could fool the shepherds.”

You had sighed a little, knowing that in this instance, he was right. “I know. It still seems like a shame. But at least we’ll stop losing so many sheep.”

You had looked up then to find Sylus staring at you with such intensity that you had taken a step backwards. “What?”

He blinked, the intensity dissipating as quickly as a strike of lightning. “Nothing, sweetie.”

“Sweetie?” Your nose wrinkled at the childish nickname.

He gave a small laugh, a mischievous glint coming to his blood red eye, “You feel pity for a predator that would have snapped you up in an instant. It’s very sweet, if maybe a bit naïve.”

“It sounds like something you’d call a toddler.”

“I suppose it does,” the glint was quickly accompanied by an equally mischievous curl to his smirk, “I suppose I’ll have to call you that when you’re acting like a toddler, sweetie.”

“Ugh. Ass.” You’d turned on your heel to return to the fire, trailed by the sound of deep, smug chuckling.

Since then, Sylus always seemed to show up near you, whether you wanted him there or not. And, at least at first, you certainly leaned more towards the former. He had a talent for approaching silently, getting that smugly pleased look from startling you into stumbling or squeaking. He also began to challenge you, goading you into contests or archery, or riding, or throwing knuckle bones. He was nearly impossible to beat, and even on the rare occasions that you won, he had the gall to look completely unbothered by your triumph.

Really, after a few months, you should have hated him.

But in between all of the needling and teasing and challenges, you began to learn more about Sylus. You learned that he enjoyed being out hunting or riding far more than he enjoyed being surrounded by people, even if they were praising him. You learned the long-limbed black stallion he rode when he first encountered your tribe had been declared untamable before Sylus had taken him. When one of the livestock dogs died shortly after having two pups, you even learned that (if he wanted to be) he could be downright gentle. He’d done so well in helping care for the pair, that as they grew, they followed him everywhere and obeyed his every command. All of this new familiarity, so at odds with your first impression of him, had cultivated a quiet companionship between the two of you.

Even more surprising were the moments of softness, startlingly close to affection. When Sylus had sat drinking kumis with you on the new year, and you’d excitedly shared your hopes for what was to come, he listened with a quiet smile. He’d brought you the furs from the wolf he’d killed when you caught a particularly nasty winter cold, and had even insisted you keep it after you recovered. When you met other tribes for trade, he often found you afterwards, giving you some ornament or silk from beyond the grasslands. Despite the fact he’d never admitted to it, you knew that when his two dogs accompanied you out into the grasses to watch the flocks, he’d commanded them to do so.

Maybe most importantly, he’d specifically sought you out to show you a den where wolf cubs were playing in the summer, knowing you’d like to see them tussle.

They’d been adorable, large paws and ears far too big for their fluffy bodies. The two of you had left your horses some yards away and sat down a bit distant from the pups, down wind and silent so as not to give your presence away. For a while you couldn't take your eyes off their energetic forms, tussling in the dust in front of the den, chewing on each others’ ears, yelping and licking when it became too rough. Eventually you'd looked to Sylus to ask him something, but your eyes had fallen on the short, recurve bow at his side.

“You're not going to kill them, are you?” You'd whispered

He raised an eyebrow at you in a wordless question.

You checked quickly to make sure the pups hadn't heard you. Fortunately, they still seemed to be involved in their own games.

“I mean. I know they're wolves. They might eat our flocks when they get older. But, they're just babies.”

He blinked at you, with an odd, expression you couldn't place. He rose soon after, walking silently away from the den. You'd followed him, confused.

“Hey,” you hissed, “What are you doing now?”

“Leaving. One parent or the other would've been back soon to feed them. Then I would've actually had to use this.” He tapped the bow that was now slung over his shoulder.

“Oh.” You murmured, realization dawning, “Is that what you brought it for? If one of the parents came back?”

“I certainly wouldn't have needed it to kill a fragile little pup.” He scoffed. “Besides, there's no use in killing something weak and defenseless. Though it's nice to know just how highly you think of me, sweetie.”

“That's not-” a frustrated noise had escaped you as you struggled for words, “I don't think that of you. It just… others would have done that. To make sure they didn't grow up to prey on our animals.”

He turned to you then, with a gaze that seemed to be searching you, trying to find the truth of something. “And I'm ‘others’ to you?”

“Of course not!”

He arched an eyebrow for the second time that day at the vehemence in your voice.

"You're the strongest warrior we have. And an infuriating opponent. But you're also the person who protects orphaned dogs. And brings me extra furs when I'm sick. And-” you stopped yourself before you could incriminate yourself further, taking a small breath to collect yourself. “You're Sylus. Not… Others.”

There was a small silence between the two of you for a moment, as you walked over the flowing grasses together. The only sound was the occasional waves of wind across the landscape.

It was broken, only slightly, by Sylus repeating those words. “Not others.” He said them quietly, slowly, as though testing out strange words in a new language. When you turned to look at him, you caught a glimpse of a small, soft smile on his face. A look so deeply genuine, and beautifully content, it made your breath catch in your chest.

Things had begun to change after the day with the wolves. You were beginning to come familiar with the slight curve of his smile, his real smile. Instead of your usual irritation, the glint that so often came to his eye when he was planning mischief fanned a wave of warmth in you. You began craving the slight huff of breath he gave when amused with something you’d done. The deep chuckle he sometimes gave when his body drew close to yours made something strange and molten coil in your gut. When he was out hunting saiga, you found yourself unusually sullen and snappish. And when you heard people whooping and clamoring at the return of the hunting parties, you’d be jostling to the front of the small crowd to see him.

You’d started to notice things though, in this time. The gossip among the elders as they cooked about when Sylus would marry, and whose granddaughter would be the lucky catch. The gaggles of women that followed him when he’d practice archery or spectate his races, giggling and blushing. Some of the bolder women would even bring him wine at the fireside and try to curl against him (you wished sometimes that he’d respond with more than amused chuckles at their ridiculousness, though it did produce a gratifying amount of insult in the rejected ladies). Last year at the games, you noticed he’d received pouches from women of every tribe. The smug look he gave you when he’d noticed you glaring at them had been insufferable, and you couldn’t quite force yourself to congratulate him on the numerous offers.

And yet, Sylus remained alone. You didn’t even notice other women entering his yurt (though you’d die before you admitted to watching for such). You didn’t know what you’d do if he did take an interest in someone. The thought of someone else being transfixed by that soft smile in the quiet hours of the night made bile rise in your throat. But there was always the chance that he simply valued his freedom; and being rejected in favor of an ideal you could never match seemed just as nauseating.

You mull over these thoughts as you and your mare round the goats back to the group. Or, at least, attempt to. One of the damn things stubbornly refuses to rejoin the group. You can swear you see defiance in its eyes when it looks at you. Challenging you. Mocking, even. Every time you have it going the right direction, it turns and bolts in a random direction, leaving you and your bay sliding in the slush. You then have to catch back up to it, and start herding it back once more.

You’re an excellent shepherdess, with a keen eye and a skilled hand with a bow. You've rarely lost an animal on your watch, and certainly never on purpose. But at this point, even you are beginning to think that losing one goat would really not be all that bad if it means this one wouldn’t be part of the herd anymore. Besides, a wind is beginning to rise, a cold one that cuts through the previously-warm day like a freshly-sharpened knife. You’re beginning to wonder if maybe the lemmings were smarter than you’d thought.

After one more, particularly long chase, you give in.

“Fine then!” You yell at the animal, which stood watching you with unaffected eyes as it chewed grass, “you want to deal with a blizzard alone? Go ahead! I’ll laugh when you end up as a goat-cicle! Laugh!”

With a huff, you turn your horse about, ready to gallop back to the herd, and start moving them to a more sheltered part of the pasture. The animals, however, have moved further away on their own. You can see the large dark mass of them in the distance, and you feel a slight unease in your gut. You're not sure how much you believe about oracle lemmings, but you know livestock well; They instinctively group up close when bad weather is imminent, and it seems that they are bracing for a storm now.

Even more worrying is the wall of iron-gray clouds you see blowing in. They're advancing rapidly, overtaking the sky at a pace you've rarely seen before. The wind, too, is beginning to blow so furiously it all but screams, whipping any unmelted snow up into the air.

You again feel that unease in your gut. The village is even further than the herd from where you are at the moment. Thanks to the previously warm weather, you're woefully unprepared to weather a blizzard alone. But both your other options are bleak; either try to make it to the village and hope there's not enough falling snow to make you lose your way, or try your luck with the herd and hope their bodies keep you warm enough to make it through. At least if you make it to the village, your survival is guaranteed. The same can't be said of the herd.

You rein your mare toward the direction of the village, just as the first volley of fresh snowflakes batter your face and hands. And despite your own dire situation, you can't help but think of Sylus, out with the other hunters. They may have arrived home already, and even if they haven’t, their chances are good; the men should be able to find protection from the wind and cold in a group. Nevertheless, your gut twists with anxiety. Hunters rarely stay completely together. And even in the few minutes you’ve been galloping towards the village, visibility is worsening. The gusts of wind have turned into blasts, ripping through your deel and chilling you to your bones. The blasts are also heaving the already-fallen snowflakes up to rejoin the fresh ones in the air, and creating moments where the landscape is inscrutable.

Between the moments of furious wind, you can see the outline of the village. Even as your heart pounds with hope at the sight, a needling numbness begins to take hold in your hands, making it difficult to keep hold of the reins. You try to switch hands; tucking one into the overlapping fold of your deel in an effort to keep it warm, before switching to the other. The biting wind, though, is so vicious and unforgiving, that it takes a mere few seconds for whatever warmth one hand has gained to be lost. At the same time, the numbness has taken hold in your feet, making it impossible to distribute your weight properly. The violent shivers as your body tries to warm itself are a further complication.

It only takes one misstep from your mare. One hoof landing on some uneven ground, causing her to stumble. And despite the high-backed saddle, and your best efforts, it’s impossible to keep your seat. You land hard in the snow. It’s soft enough, at least, that you’re pretty sure nothing is broken. Not that it matters much. Lost and alone in the screaming wind, and featureless white storm, you are as good as dead.

It feels like an eternity that you lie there in the snow, body wracked by violent shivers in a last-ditch attempt to survive. Logically you know it can’t have been more than a handful of minutes, since you are still alive and conscious, but time loses its meaning in a situation like this. Everything ceases to exist, save for the horrible wind and the bone-deep, soul-leaching cold. The snow is falling fast, fast enough that it’s already covered you as you try to huddle for a semblance of warmth. You’ve been buried alive, waiting to die as the world around you slowly quiets and darkens.

A morbid part of you wonders if the tribe will find you, once the snow begins to melt. You imagine Cota will insist they stay long enough to find your remains. You hope she doesn’t feel guilty; neither of you could’ve known the storm would come on so fast. Your mind wanders to Sylus, too. Did the hunters make it back home before the storm hit? You pray they did; or at least they were together when the snow began to fall. The thought of Sylus in the same situation as yourself seems impossible. You have to believe it’s impossible. Entertaining any other idea strikes a dread into your heart as cold as your little tomb. You pray instead that he’s made it back, that he is safe, and warm. And, if you’re able to be a little idealistic, perhaps wondering where you are.

Quite suddenly, a sound shatters your quiet morbidity. Stark against the background of shrieking wind, there is a deep bark. Then another, closer. Soon, there is a constant barrage of the noises.

Hope burns bright in your heart. Maybe, just maybe, all is not yet lost.

You try to shift under the snow, trying to claw your way out of your icy grave. But your limbs are trembling so hard, so frequently, that controlling them is near impossible. Worse, your muscles are becoming weak. Soon they’ll be too exhausted to even shiver, much less move the heavy snow that entombs you. Nevertheless, you have to try. You must try. Because if you don’t, your last hope of warmth will move on, and then you will truly be as good as dead.

Your efforts come to a halt when a startlingly loud crunching begins in the snow above and around you. It doesn’t take long before the blanket of snow is lifted from your head, and a warm puff of air greets your face.

You open your eyes. And instead of a blinding white storm, your vision is filled with deep brown eyes set in a furry face as black as night. The same face that Sylus has sent to accompany you on night watches and sunny days alike. You smile at the familiar creature, despite the chattering of your teeth.

“H-hey, boy.” You whisper, your numb hand reaching up to sink into the dog’s deep fur. You can still hear his brother nearby, barking furiously above the wind.

Though Sylus knows them at a glance, you've never been particularly good at telling the two dogs apart by looks. They're both black, with intelligent eyes and powerful frames. In behavior though, they are slightly different. Gerel is louder, and more playful. Khar, though quieter, is definitely the smarter of the two. He's likely the one blocking your body from the worst of the wind, now.

You try to call Gerel over as his brother curls himself around your quivering body, but it’s too hard to draw a deep breath. Instead, you lean against the one lying on you, burying your face and hands against the one reprieve from the cold. You can think of nothing else but how good the slight amount of warmth feels, even as your fingers begin to burn slightly from the frostbite. It is a promising pain, one that feels of returning life rather than looming nothingness. You doubt it will be enough to truly save you, but at least you have some source of comfort now.

Eventually Gerel goes quiet, and you begin to worry he's become lost in the storm as well. You lift your face from Khar's fur, and try again to call his brother, but fail. Khar perks up, though, his massive tail wagging a fan-shaped dent in the snow. Perhaps he can smell his brother on the fierce wind?

A few moments later, you hear it. A deep, commanding voice that cuts through the shrieking wind like a blade, calling your name.

Sylus.

You don’t know why he’s here, or if he’s even real. It may be an illusion conjured by your failing mind and body. It does not matter. Real or not, you must go to him.

You try to draw yourself up, try to call his name, but Khar remains a dead weight on you. You try to shove him, but your muscles are still shaking uncontrollably, making any efforts to dislodge Khar useless.

Please, you think desperately, please, I need to go to him. I need him, I need Sylus.

In the midst of your struggle with the animal laying on you, you very nearly miss the crunching of snow approaching you. Gerel soon appears, fur nearly white with the coating of heavy, wet snow that clings to him. And directly behind him is a sight that would make you weep if you had the breath for it.

It's Sylus. He's battered by the wind and ice as he wades through the fresh snow, only a step behind Gerel. His face bears a sharp, unwavering determination and ferocity that puts even this storm to shame as he wades through the drifts. His eyes, bright scarlet amidst the daunting white, lock onto yours. Only when his master is a single step away from you does Khar finally wiggle himself off of you. The wind immediately rips away all the warmth the dog has lent you. But you feel the loss only for a moment, as in the next breath, Sylus has yanked you bodily out of the snow and crushed you against himself.

“Found you,” his deep voice is quiet, heavy with an emotion you can’t name. And oh, oh, even if this is a dream sent to ease your last moments, you do not care. There is no one you’d rather imagine at your side right now.

He releases you, only slightly, to tug off his own gloves and put them on your trembling hands. The heat that envelopes them makes your skin burn, and a whine that is half-choked by shivers bubble out of your throat.

“Bear with it,” he murmurs, wrapping a thicker, warm deel over your current one, “You won’t be able to beat me at archery if you lose your fingers, little huntress.”

Normally, you would call him an ass, berate him for worrying about losing his archery competitor as he gave you a smug smile for taking his bait. But you can’t. Your mind is foggy, and all you can do is curl into him as he sweeps you up into his arms. You notice briefly that his eyes have narrowed again. He looks… irritated maybe? Angry? You aren’t sure. Before you can think about it for very long, though, you are distracted by a sharp whistle from Sylus, shrill and sharp even over the unending wind. It’s followed by a whinny, as his tall, powerful horse wades through the snow with a determination identical to his master’s.

Sylus walks to meet the horse halfway. He says something, and then suddenly his arm drops out from under your legs. You stumble slightly, knees buckling under your own weight as your boots drop through the knee-high snow. You are strangely surprised when you don't hit the ground, and it takes you a moment to realize that Sylus has a hold on your waist, steadying you.

Oh. He was going to set you down. That's what he had said. Of course.

You look up at him, and find a hard expression on his face. Why does he look angry now? You don’t understand.

His bright eyes bore into your own, cutting through the confusion for a moment. When his voice comes, it is a command, not a request.

“Stay with me.”

You're not sure why he's saying this. It's not like you're going anywhere. All you want right now is to just curl up and sleep, back in his arms, if possible. But you nod anyway.

Sylus swings himself up onto his horse, settling himself behind the canticle. This again confuses you. You're supposed to sit on the seat. Not behind it. But before you can continue puzzling over this, Sylus has bent half-over, wrapped an arm around you once more, and hauled you up against the side of the horse. The pressure of it is uncomfortable, and you try to squirm out of the grasp. Sylus's hold is sure, though, and before you can break it, he's hooked the other arm under your knee, and lifted you up into the seat of the saddle.

You try to brace your legs, to keep your seat as the stallion begins to move beneath you, but your vicious shivers make it difficult to control your limbs, even for an action as instinctive to you as walking. Before you can falter though, Sylus’s arm wraps around you, holding you safe and steady against him.

You do your best to keep your eyes open against the biting wind and freezing snow. But the scant amount of warmth you can feel through the thickness of both your clothes, paired with the movements of the stallion slowed by the snow, is almost hypnotic. And you are tired, oh, so tired.

“You lost this game,” he says, in that damn smug voice that always makes you want to punch his arm.

“Game?”

He gives an affirmative hum. “Hide and seek. I found you, didn't I? That's another victory for me.”

You give a grunt of disgust, still not sure what he's talking about, but irritated by the condescension in his voice all the same.

“Don't be such a sore loser, sweetie.”

You don't know why you're even sitting on the same horse as him.

“A-ass,” you hiss around the waves of shivers. “Sh-should. P-push off.”

The dark chuckle behind you is as alluring as it is infuriating. “I'd love to see you try.”

You do try, for a moment, pushing against his hold. But you are soon frustrated by how clumsy your movements are, and exhausted by the effort. Sylus's tight grip is immovable anyway.

“Seems I'm still on the horse, sweetie.” Comes the singsong mocking from behind you.

You give a grunt in response. You can't be bothered to be angry. All you can feel is the heavy tiredness dulling all your senses.

Sylus says your name, sharply. There's an odd tone to it. You don't care enough to think about why.

You're vaguely aware of being jostled. And then, for a while, you are senseless.

The damn shivering is what wakes you. It's so violent and pervasive that it drives the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping between the waves of trembling to try and regain it. On instinct, you try to curl into yourself, but are unable to. In fact, apart from the tremors, you can’t move your body at all. You seem to be surrounded by some sort of heavy mass, pressing on every inch of you. You struggle, pushing against the weight near your face to get some breathing room. The mass grunts, then moves away for a moment, freeing your head and upper body. You have only a moment of reprieve from the claustrophobia before…

Something warm, wet, and slimy drags across your face.

“Ur-rgh!” You bring a quivering arm up to rub away the slime.

A deep chuckle rumbles behind you, the breath of it close enough to make warmth fan across the back of your skull, “Is that how you thank Khar for helping to save your life, sweetie?”

Your eyes snap open at the familiar voice; although instead of the carmine eyes and seductive smirk you expect, your vision is filled (for the second time today) by pitch-dark fur and smiling brown eyes set in a distinctly canine face. Right as that same face applies another sloppy lick to yours.

“Kh-khar!” You squeak, bringing your now-free arms up to protect your face from the onslaught of affection. “Th-thanks, but s-stop!”

Khar obediently jumps down from where you’re laying, though he gives you a pathetic whine. A further weight is removed from your lower half when Gerel reluctantly hefts himself off of you to join his brother on the floor, giving you a similarly dejected look.

Without Khar laying on you, you can see more of your surroundings. It’s clear that you’re in a yurt, one that is unfamiliar to you. The only light source is the barely-visible fire crackling complacently in the small stove at the center, leaving much of the place in shadow. Is it night, then? Why are you here? And why do your hands and feet feel like they are burning?

You flex your hands between shivers in an attempt to stop the strange, tingling heat. If anything, that seems to make the feeling sharper, more biting in its ferocity. Shifting them out from underneath a heavy woolen blanket and furs to inspect them gives no answers, given the dim light.

“Can you still feel them?” Sylus’s voice, humorless this time, cuts through the slowly-lifting fog of unconsciousness and confusion.

“H-hurts.”

“Good, that means there’s still life in them. Better than losing such pretty fingers to frostbite.” Memories come to you at the word ‘frostbite’. They are hazy, as though recalling a dream several hours after waking; the dogs finding you in the snow, warming you and guiding Sylus to you through the blinding storm, Sylus carrying you in his arms, and keeping you upright in the saddle before you drifted into unconsciousness.

“Syl-” Your words are cut short. In trying to turn to face him, you realize that his powerful arm is curled around your waist.

Your naked waist. And at your back, you do not feel the rough texture of clothes; but instead the heated, sticky kind of softness of skin on bare skin.

Your body stills in shock; suddenly, you are horribly, wonderfully conscious of every inch Sylus has pressed against you: The firmness of his chest, the sharp jut of his hips, the tangle of his legs around and between yours, and (both the most enticing and mortifying of all) the warm, heavy weight of what must be his cock nestled against your ass.

That damned smug chuckle comes again, “I was wondering how long it would take you to notice. It took you a while; maybe I should be more worried about your head than your fingers, hm?”

You stutter a few times, as your mind comes to terms with your situation, before blurting in a rush, “Where are my clothes, Sylus!? Where are yours!?”

“Ah, you mean our freezing, sopping wet clothes?” His tone is almost sing-song in its blithe news, and bereft of any shame, “I took the liberty of removing them so that you didn't continue freezing to death.”

Somehow, his complete lack of any embarrassment heightens your own, as though your mind has determined to make up the difference between the pair of you. The heated panic in combination with exhaustion, confusion, and desire collide in a nerve-wracking swirl. You scramble wildly to get up, get away from this source of searing, tumultuous emotions. But the movement of your hands makes them burn as you try to gain purchase In the blankets and furs, and his arm around you is immovable as stone. “You- I- Couldn’t you have just thrown a blanket on me or- or something!? Gods, let go!”

He gives a derisive snort. “You would have just frozen to death under a blanket instead of snow. You didn’t have any heat left to trap, so I lent you some of mine. And no.”

“No what?”

“I just risked my life in a blizzard hunting for you, and I’m not about to let all my effort go to waste when I’ve already caught my prize. So, no, I will not be letting you go.”

“This isn’t- Can’t you just put on some damned pants, at least?”

“Hm, I could… but are you sure you want me to?”

“Sylus!!”

He gives a full laugh at your flustered squeak, “Once I’m sure that you’ve completely warmed up, I will. Until then, I suggest you stay still. Unless you’d like me to warm you up a different way. But I’d suggest waiting until your hands have healed.”

He must be teasing, surely. Delighting in your embarrassment as always. Still, a tiny, idiotically hopeful part of you can’t help but wonder… if you were able to see his face right now, would you see a small glimmer of want for you underneath the inscrutable mask? You dismiss the thought quickly. Even if you were able to see his face, you’d only see that damn self-satisfied smirk that makes your stomach twist.

“The elders are going to be insufferable about this,” You mutter, desperate you lay those thoughts to rest. Well, as best as you can, considering Sylus is curled around you.

“So what? Let them talk.”

“Easy for you to say. They won’t say anything to you; you’re the one half of them are looking to marry their daughters off to.” You’re only aware of the venom in your last few words after they’ve already left your mouth. You pray Sylus doesn’t notice.

But of course he does.

“Jealous, little huntress?” You can hear the smile in his voice

“You’re an ass, do you know that?”

“I’m hurt sweetie. I run out into a storm to find my poor, lost huntress, and in return she calls me an ass.”

He gives a mock-sigh, but something in his words raises a question in your mind. Sylus had been out with the other hunters just before the storm hit. You hadn’t even been sure he would make it back to the village in time, but somehow he managed to find you?

“How did you even know I was out there?”

Sylus pauses for a moment. His voice, once he does speak, is startlingly somber. “Some of the hunting group saw the cloud wall rolling in. We rode back as fast as possible. Even so, if we’d had further to go, the wind would’ve outpaced us. I’ve never seen clouds that heavy and fast, outside of summer storms.”

“I tried to ride back too, when I saw them. But with the cold, I couldn’t feel my hands, and the rough ground…” You trail off, fully prepared to be teased about your riding skills. Instead, you feel an ever-so-slight tightening of his arm around you. You wonder if he’s even aware of his own movement.

Sylus continues, “When we arrived, people came out to greet us and help get everything secured before the worst of the storm. I didn’t see you throwing people out of the way like usual.”

“I do not throw people out of the way,” You mutter.

“If you say so, little huntress.” You can hear the smile in his voice for a moment, though it disappears when he continues, “I found Cota, and asked where you were. When she said you were out shepherding, I knew you wouldn’t make it back before the snow came. So, I took Khar and Gerel, and had them track you.”

“Was anyone else missing?”

“We’ll find out after the storm.”

The two of you are quiet for a moment, as you process his response. He didn’t notice anyone else was gone. He didn’t ask to see if any others were lost. He didn’t bother to try and search for anyone else in the snow.

He noticed you were missing.

He asked where you were.

He went into the storm for you.

“You… Sylus, were you out in that storm, just to find me?”

A small, humorless huff of laughter fans across the back of your skull again. “I wasn’t out there just taking a stroll, sweetie.”

“You could’ve lost Gerel and Khar. And your horse. And your life.”

“Worried about me, hm?”

Of course you were. Sylus is a strong, clever man. Perhaps the greatest warrior and hunter your tribe has known; but even the greatest of mortals are brought to their knees by the forces of nature and the whims of chance. You want to tell him all this, tell him that the thought of him standing alone amidst the howling winds, searching for the path to safety… even just thinking about it makes your chest feel as empty and cold as the storm still raging outside. Your breath catches, and you cannot force the words, glutted with feelings as they are, out of your throat.

So instead you reply, “It’s a big risk to take.”

“Maybe.” His tone is nonchalant, as though he is talking about what he’d brought home from hunting, rather than the act of risking his dearest possessions and life trying to save you in near-hopeless conditions. “But I don’t gamble unless the prize is worth the risk.”

It takes you a moment to digest the words, heart caught in your throat, hardly daring to believe that you’ve understood him correctly. A fragile but brilliant hope lights in your chest. You had been aware of the friendship that had begun to form between you and Sylus, and you had been aware of your desire to be something more to him, to be someone he wanted. But you hadn’t dared to imagine occupying a position of such value to him.

“You think I’m worth all that…?”

You don’t mean to say the words aloud, but the exhaustion loosens your lips just enough for them to spill out. Immediately your stomach lurches at a strange, shifting fear. Perhaps speaking the thought aloud has crossed some sort of line, daring the universe to snuff out your hope just as it had been lit.

A soft, teasing lilt returns to his voice as he speaks, “I believe that’s what I just said, little huntress. Hm, maybe I should be more concerned about your head.” The hand that isn’t curled around your middle gives the top of your head a soft tap, tap, tap.

A small, breathless laugh bubbles up out of your chest, the hope within you flaring bright and making your heart race. You don’t know how he manages to do it; to convey something as heartfelt as ‘you are worth risking my life and all I hold dear’, while simultaneously sounding like it’s the most simple thing in the world. Something that should be obvious even to a small child.

It’s a special talent you’ve noticed in Sylus ever since that day with the wolf pups; he makes you want to throttle him one moment, and in the next breath he’ll speak with such sincere simplicity that it utterly disarms you. He somehow manages to walk that fine line between keeping you on your toes with bantering, and keeping you grounded with his forthrightness. It's addictive. It's comforting. You're not even sure if it's something he tries to do, or if his natural state of being is just something that draws your soul in effortlessly.

You need to face him.

You turn in his grasp to look at him, trying to ignore the burst of prickling heat in your hands. It's worth the pain. Sylus is a striking picture in the low light; all silvery tousled hair, gold skin, and sanguine eyes, graced by a rare look of surprise for just a moment.

And then his face relaxes into a soft look, one you've started to see more and more, but never fails to make your heart race faster than a horse galloping over the grass sea.

“There you are,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. And you simply cannot help it. Frostbite be damned. You might die if you don't kiss him, and you've come close enough to that today already. You have to kiss him.

The press of your lips against his is insistent, but chaste. At least, at first. Sylus takes in a sharp breath, and for a fraction of a second you wonder if you've misread, if you've pushed too far. And then, his mouth becomes soft, and pliant, and something in your chest melts when the arm he has around you slides up your spine to press at the nape of your neck, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. A pleased sigh escapes you, unbidden. Before you are quite aware of your own movements, your hand is at his jaw, cupping his face, trying to pull him closer.

A new flare of pain sears your hand at the pressure, and you reflexively pull away with a hiss.

You open your eyes (when did they close?) to see Sylus, pupils blown wide, looking at you with that same sort of ferocity and determination you saw in him earlier, when your eyes met his in the storm. And for a moment, caught in that unwavering intensity, you swear your heart forgets how to beat.

His eyes remain fixed on your own as he takes your wrist and gently (too gently) moves it away from his face, which has settled back into its usual near-arrogant smirk. Reality crashes in on you then. You are in Sylus's yurt, kissing him, sharing a bed, naked. The realization is followed by a disorienting mix of embarrassment, pride, shame, and excitement. You've just kissed him for the first time, and you know if it weren't for the pain in your hands you would have taken as much as he would give you. Begged for it, maybe. What does he think of you now? How much would he let you take? What would you tell everyone once you left here?

But as usual, when your mind threatens to whirl itself into chaos, Sylus cuts through it.

“I'll have to collect on that part of my prize later, little huntress,” He murmurs, and you wonder if it is merely your imagination, or if he is actually as breathless as you are. His thumb strokes across the soft skin at the underside of your wrist, across the vein where your pulse is thrumming like a caught hare's. “I want to see what those pretty hands can do to me when they're all healed.”

Hearing him say it out loud makes the embarrassment resurface with a vengeance, and the barely-leashed heat in Sylus's gaze makes it unbearable. Breaking the stare, you take your hand back and shuffle under the blankets once more, until the hem falls across your cheek.

Sylus's amused chuckle earns him a glare from you, but your indignation is quickly soothed over as he drags his fingers through your hair, across your scalp, gently untangling the strands. After a few minutes, the gentle scratching opens the door for a wave of exhaustion, heightened by the warm darkness and the muffled howling of the winter winds outside.

You wonder, vaguely, if the touch was meant in apology, or to make you drowsy. You're not sure it matters. Sylus is here, looking at you with that affectionate, soft smile, as your lips begin to flutter.

“Sleep, shevonica,” is the last thing you hear before drifting into unconsciousness. This time, in the safety and warmth of Sylus’s hold.

[lieslab]

The look of love, the rush of blood

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Hyunjin X gn reader

Summary: You're enjoying the sunset and reminiscing outside when your boyfriend wakes up from a nap and joins you.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.9K

A/N: I'm currently fighting a fever, but I saw a TikTok edit of Hyunjin and an idea sparked. Please tell me if this is a jumbled mess. I love that man, I hate winter, and I crave the colors and warmth of spring/summer. That's where this all started. He's so just pretty and talented, I hope he lives forever.

_ _ _

The edge of your nail bit into the soft skin of a peach with ease. One knee curled to your chest and the other knee was extended out towards the ground. Your bare foot pushed off the porch and you gently rocked yourself on the wooden swing. 

The stubborn-blue sky was finally fading away. Paint smears of lilacs and corals lined the sky’s canvas tonight. Long cotton clouds stretched until they pulled away from one another in layers. You learned that the sunset was the best time to wind down. 

Across the way, birds littered the backyard. Swiping their curved beaks through the grass, they searched for the last squirms of worms. The end of a worm, the hardened-shell of a seed, just a nibble of something to satisfy their evening hunger; even the smallest creatures get hungry before bed. 

Cold peach juice dripped down your chin. With each knock of the pit against your teeth, you were reminded how much you enjoyed the simplicity of it all. The soft breeze, the distant chirps, the sky of colors that you’d taken for granted so many nights before. 

It was Hyunjin that introduced this magic to you. You laughed as he tugged you to the back porch, but he insisted you needed to live in the moment. To look around and truly and authentically see it all. Away from electronic screens and the constant bright colors of advertisements. 

“Get out of your head and look around once in a while.” 

You laughed at how insistent he was. You couldn’t take him seriously, at first. The dropped sides of his lips and the poked out pout, it was childish. To make it better, you grabbed his hands, reached up, and pressed your lips against his. 

He tasted like wild citrus. It was a certain kind of rare sweetness. You didn’t know how to put it into words. When he plucked fresh-ripened oranges from a tree in the backyard, his kisses always tasted different. Something was lighter, the juice was sweeter, the kisses were better. 

Maybe it was because the trees were grown with your own love. When the sky was stubborn and the drops of rain refused to fall, Hyunjin was there with a small watering can and a voice of reason. He dubbed the tree a she and ran his hand over the grooves in her bark. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Hydrating our baby. What’s it look like I’m doing? Have you seen the weather report lately? She needs water.” 

The rich soil contained enough moisture, but letting the days tick by without watering her, Hyunjin swore it felt wrong. He personified one tree and then another. Another and another. 

As the summer season stretched, so did his love for the trees. The two of you didn’t plant the trees, but the previous owners did. A couple from the 60’s grew with those citrus trees. The lemons, the limes, the oranges; they were all grown with love. Not a day went by where they didn’t experience some sort of it. 

They heard it call out from the front of the house when you waved Hyunjin good-bye and blew him a kiss. The mere seconds in which you kissed one another was too short. Wanting to prove that his love would go with you, he was the first to blow you a kiss. When you did it back, he panicked. 

“Don’t send my love back to me, you idiot! Keep it! Keep my love! I don’t give it out freely, you’re supposed to cherish it!” 

The citrus trees caught glimpses of love beneath their sprouted leaves. They saw through sheer curtains and watched the two of you sneak kisses during mundane activities. Whether it was a drive-by kissing or stopping to grab the other’s hand. Lips pressed against fingers and the invisible print stained palms. 

They heard it when French ballads drifted through the open windows. At the top of your lungs and with the wrong vowels, you sang the songs poorly, but passionately. No matter how touching the lyrics were, you loved to spice it up with the wrong kinds of dance moves. Hyunjin laughed and laughed and laughed. In your pajamas, with your hair pulled back, love looked good on both of you. 

Your love fed their growth. Hyunjin’s love, more specifically, fed that specific citrus tree. The sweetened fruits appeared early this season. He swore they were bigger and sweeter this year. 

Sunlight reflected in his eyes as he dug against the first fruit of the season. You watched with amusement as he dug at the peel and forced his nails beneath the stubborn skin. Success never tasted sweeter and he saved the second taste for you. 

“Hey, you! Come here, you’ve got to try this! Look what we did!” 

He waved the fruit high overhead. The wafting sugared scent caught the attention of a nearby bumble bee. The fuzzy thing drifted closer and closer until its fuzz brushed against the side of Hyunjin’s hand.

“Um, babe, I think that was all you this year.” 

He didn’t hear you over the sound of his terrified scream. 

The citrus was sweeter with his presence. After escaping the bee, he held the fruit to your lips and watched as you took a bite. As you bit through the stringy fibers, his thumb wiped away a dribble of juice from your bottom lip. 

“Have you considered becoming a citrus farmer?” 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. He brushed off your words and turned to the side to hide his growing smile. Your compliments knew how to slip beneath his skin and warm his heart. Even if you never meant it, he was enamored by your attempts to express your love. 

Love was never boring with you. 

Shuffling footsteps drew your attention like a moth to a flame. You pushed back a stray piece of hair, licked excess peach juice from your lips, and glanced up to find a sleepy Hyunjin padding through the back glass sliding door. Messy bits of dark hair stuck out in every direction. Half-lidded eyes captured the expression of the near sleep that once was. 

“You finally made it out here.” 

He didn’t respond right away. The golden chimes across the way swayed in the breeze. The soft chiming and the brush of warm air across his face, it was so calming. He wanted to wrap this moment in time and stick it in his back pocket. At a later date, he’d pull it out and be able to truly cherish the details of it all. 

His fingers curled into his fists and stretched overhead. On his tiptoes, every muscle in his body stretched towards the sky. A yawn began to grow and your eyes wandered down to his torso, knowing what would happen. 

The white fabric lifted and revealed the single mole that sat near his hip. How could someone doing something so domestic cause your heart to pump so fast? The honeyed skin was there and then it was gone; a quick peek that was lost to the blimp of time. 

“Why are you eating a peach?” His voice came out groggy. He padded over, crawled up next to you, and nuzzled into your thighs. His eyes slipped shut while he cherished the skin-to-skin contact. “I just picked more oranges this morning.” 

“Because I like peaches better than oranges.” 

“The oranges I grew with love?” 

“We’ve been over this and I’m sorry.” A non-sticky finger on your free hand brushed a strand of dark hair from his face. “You know that I like peaches just a little bit more than oranges. Even when they’re grown by you, I prefer peaches more.” 

His eyes reopened and found your gaze. You brushed at a stray drip of peach juice that slipped across your wrist. “I love that about you.” He whispered his words softly while he gently grabbed your wrist and brought it to his mouth. 

The warmth of his tongue hit your quickened pulse and your breath hitch. He was constantly doing things like this and catching you off guard. His actions of intimacy were about as soft and sweet as the oranges from the citrus tree he grew. Nobody to watch or judge, just the two of you, and your skin. 

Quickened hearts, gentle touches, and the supple sweetness of fruit. Sewn into kisses and tangled into one another. To be loved was to be known. Nobody out there knew you better than him. 

“I love you.” 

Your words leapt from your mouth before you could stop them. Embarrassment warmed your cheeks and a chuckle fell from his lips. You felt it vibrate against his soft lips and it vivified your life. 

You swore the brown in his eyes lightened and for a brief moment, something exchanged between the two of you. A love so pure and one so rare, it was unheard of these days. Through the thick and thin, you two were glued together at the hip. 

He coaxed and hydrated your own soul. His touches fed you in ways you’d never known existed. This house wasn’t just a house, it was a home. Your roots wrapped around one another and the two of you would continue to grow here. 

Through the sideways sheets of a spring rain, the overpowering heat in the summer, the mourning of fall, and the death in winter; you were certain you could do it all beside him. As long as your roots stayed intertwined and the leaves never died, you could do this until your final breath. 

When rot carved out your insides and your limbs began to wither, you’d do whatever you could to stay afloat for him. Another season, another month, another day, and another hour. 

Citrus trees didn’t grow overnight, but it sure felt like your love did. Hyunjin pushed himself from the swing, causing you to shift, and he jerked away. “Hang on, I’ll be back.” 

You waited and waited and waited. Your foot gently pushed you and you rocked in the settling sunlight. When the door reopened, the scent of citrus bloomed. You glance over to find an orange half-peeled. 

He slumped onto the other side of the swing and let both feet touch the wooden deck. Your single foot followed the gentle rhythm. You watched without a word as his slender fingers dug into his own fruit. 

The sympathy of birds, the wind-chime, and dwindling sunlight. Love was gentle and kind. Tranquility sat between the middle of your bodies and made itself at home. After a few tugs and discarded orange peels to his side, he handed a slice of orange out to you. 

You stared at it for a moment and your eyes went back to your own fruit. Dripping with peach juice, it was impossible to pull out a neat slice. Instead, you dug your thumb into the soft flesh and jerked a chunk off of your half-consumed fruit. 

A half-smile appeared on his face as the two of you traded your respective fruits. You nibbled on your piece and let your head rest back against the edge of the swing. Your eyes went over when Hyunjin uttered your name. 

“Let’s never change for the other.” 

“I agree.” 

Every peach has a pit and, although some oranges come seedless, that doesn’t take any value away from the peach. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[dark-and-kawaii]

begging and pleading for more mean raphael 😭🙏🏻 the way you write is so ajahdhejdjsj i literally check your blog DAILY

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ The Devils Entertainment ˖⟡˚౨ৎ⋆

Summary: Raphael uses you like the eager pup you are, using you as a precious little cum dump. That’s all you’re good for anyway, to entertain him until he grows bored.

♡ Content: NSFW - Degrading - Used - Creampie - Mean Raphael

♡ Notes: Whaa!!! Thank you darling (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )!!!! I can’t believe you check my blog daily, like wow!!! I really hope this satisfies your mean Raphael needs!!!

Raphael fucks you raw until you’re begging, crying for him to cum inside you. Until your mind has completely blanked out. The man- the devil, always makes your body his own, his hands bruising your hips, your throat, your wrists as he manhandles you into the perfect position to pound your abused cunt, “You bend so easily, little pup. It’s almost dull.” He laughs low, his grip on your hip tightens as you sob his name, your arms barely keeping your chest off the ground.

Your body is sore and used, your mind exhausted, unable to do much more than feel the pleasure of his thick cock, his cum leaking from your swollen, aching cunt… “I barely exert any effort, and there you go, crumbling at the seams. It's like you were made to be broken. Pitty. I like when they can at least put up a decent fight.”

You whine when the devil pulls out, leaving your core empty so he can watch his seed spill from you. His voice is cruel as he chuckles, watching you intently, “So eager to fall apart. I wonder-“ he places his hand on his chin, “do you enjoy it? The descent, the collapse? It seems to come so naturally to you.”

You're not sure how to respond. You don't have the strength or mind to argue, not that he'd ever listen to anything you say anyway. Not that you mind being treated in such a manner…

He leans in close, his nose pressed to the shell of your ear, his breath hot, sending chills through your tired body, “Each time I think you've hit the bottom, you find a new way to disappoint me. It's an art form, really, your knack for disappointing me."

You don't have the strength to move. He grabs your chin and forces your head to the side, making you look at him, his lips against your skin, his words a dark, twisted promise, “You’re not worth my time I’m afraid, only good for one thing and that’s a hole for me to fill. But don’t worry, if you wish to get off little mouse, Haarlep will happily keep you company.”

You wanted to tell him no, that you’d do better, that you’d get him the crown and all would be well, that you worshiped him like some kind of god- like an archdevil, but the words wouldn’t come. And even if they did, would it matter? You know this is what your devil likes, tormenting you. Using you, breaking you... Watching as Haarlep his precious incubus fucks the almost ever living life out of you. Stroking his cock as you call out to him while impaled on Haarlep’s grossly thick cock.

This was your life now, a plaything for the devil and all you could do was nod with a lazy fucked out smile. Your body limp as Raphael lifts you up, tossing you on his bed near Haarlep’s lap, “do try to make this an entertaining performance, Haarlep.”

The incubus nods, lifting you into their lap, “Oh, little pet~” Haarlep moans, their hands roaming over your tired body.

Raphael chuckles, sitting on a plush chair across from the bed, a bottle of wine in hand as he watches the show.

[youryurigoddess]

The Small Back Room — Hour of Glory (1949)

Good Omens 2 begins with the visit to The Small Back Room not because it was meant to serve as an exposition scene for Maggie and her record shop. It’s a substantial foreshadowing of the main plot and the relationship changes between Aziraphale and Crowley.

As all the other classics referenced throughout the show, this 1949 Powell and Pressburger production is easily available online — whenever you have 100 minutes to spare, I highly encourage you to watch it.

Our story begins with the arrival of Stuart, a British military captain, who makes his way through a labyrinth of offices towards a small building — the research section led by an eccentric, queer-coded, bow tie wearing professor Mair — to ask for help with a secret Nazi weapon.

That’s when the professor calls our hero, Sammy Rice — an engineer and bomb disposal expert in the service of Her Majesty’s government and, not accidentally, the most brooding, wounded man in Powell and Pressburger’s impressive canon of dysfunctional and alienated characters.

Due to a prosthetic foot keeping him from active service and confining to work in the titular back room instead, Rice is dramatically slipping into alcoholism. Haunted by self-loathing and disappointment with the internal politics, he can’t see the point of his research anymore.

Sammy is also conducting a clandestine affair with the secretary of his research unit, Susan. They live in the same building and meet regularly, but can’t openly enjoy their company or even dance due to his injury, which makes him even more bitter and pathologically determined to wear her angelic patience down.

Susan puts up with it until the minister is forced to resign. She knows that if non-scientists take over, their section will become useless, Rice even more difficult, and the war possibly lost. She urges him to take action and when he dramatically refuses to make a difference, she leaves him.

Seemingly at his lowest now, Rice becomes a sudden chance to redeem himself. Captain Stuart calls him about two unexploded booby traps found in Wales, but left to himself, he dies during a heroic attempt to dismantle one of the thermos-like devices before our engineer arrives at the scene.

In a nerve-jangling finale, Stuart’s notes help Rice dismantle the second device. He becomes a hero, gets an officer commission as head of the new scientific unit, and discovers that Susan not only came back in the meantime, but repaired everything he drunkenly destroyed in the apartment after their breakup.

The parallels seem straightforward enough for me to add that in this context the role of Maggie through most of S2 may particularly reflect Crowley’s stagnancy in both work and love life. And if you’re unsure why the demon identifies with the heroic roles and characters, you might want to read this post on the subject.

Now, The Small Back Room was distributed in the US under another title — Hour of Glory. Which happens to be a specific Bible term referring to Christ’s “hour”, the period supposed to consummate all of his work on Earth and reveal God’s ultimate plan of salvation: the Son’s death.

John 12:20-36 Jesus replied, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me. Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and will glorify it again.” The crowd that was there and heard it said it had thundered; others said an angel had spoken to him. Jesus said, “This voice was for your benefit, not mine. Now is the time for judgment on this world; now the prince of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”

Christ’s hour began in the garden — this time the garden of Gethsemane — as he prayed passionately for the cup to be passed from him, similarly to Aziraphale declining Metatron’s offers on screen, both regarding the hot drink and his reinstatement as part of the Heavenly Host:

Luke 22:42 “Father, if you are willing, please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”

All throughout the Old Testament, we see God’s wrath being described as a cup poured out on sin and those guilty of it. By accepting it, Jesus took the toll of all the sins — from Eden up until the last one to be committed right before his Second Coming — on himself, for the sake of his beloved humanity.

The passion of Christ continued as Judas betrayed him with a kiss, his disciples abandoned him, and the high priest accused him of crimes he was not guilty of. Even Pilate, the prefect of Rome, pretended to uphold the law; and remember we already expect a S3 trial based on another Archers movie.

All in all, it’s an hour of great injustice and pain, but also glory of God. We’re led to believe that the Ineffable Plan will similarly triumph over the great one (or whatever Metatron tries to implement at the moment), as it did in S1. And its ending will be a good one, back in a garden.

[mrs-gucci]

For the Hunt

{ werewolf!flip zimmerman x female reader }

anon

Werewolf Flip wanting to knock you up (or role play at it) and scenting when you’re ripe for him and chasing you down and pounding you

thank you for submitting this!!

warnings. SMUT (18+), werewolf in rut, primal kink (hunter/prey), breeding kink w/no intention of actually getting pregnant, dirty talk, outdoor sex, creampie, minimal aftercare.

word count: 995

🐺 written for werewolf wednesday 🐺

Your breathing is soft, exhilarated, creating little puffs of steam in the cold night air. A shiver runs down your spine, out of excitement or nerves, you’re not really sure.

You two have an agreement that on rut nights, he has full consent to use you however he wants or needs to. He tells you what he needs from you on a particular night and you give it to him willingly, whether it's being tied up on the bed down in the basement or up at his remote mountain cabin.

His absolute favorite thing, however, is when he gets to hunt you. Which is why you’re currently standing behind a big pine tree, trying to steady your breathing.

By now you’ve nearly perfected the art of giving Flip a good chase, having been with him for almost six years. And tonight is an extra special full moon because you’re ovulating, which gives Flip the ultimate prize in his werewolf brain: the chance to breed you.

He looks up at the full moon with his golden eyes, knowing it’s time to hunt, he lifts his snout eagerly.

Almost instantly, he picks up traces of your scent and his paws thud against the earth as he runs into the thick Colorado wilderness. He can already feel that this is one of his more mild ruts, but he's still just as desperate and tuned-in regardless.

Flip slows down and sniffs the air again, knowing that he's close. You can feel him nearby, sticks snapping and leaves crunching under his large paws.

You sneak a look around the tree and he doesn't seem to notice, so you quickly attempt to sneak to another tree. But of course, his head whips over and you freeze, then take off running.

He feels the familiar tingle of his primal hunting instinct creeping up through his body, but he still gives you a head start before taking off in your direction, eyes beginning to turn black with desire.

Your breathing is heavy as you sprint away from Flip, trying to give him a good chase. He growls softly out of sheer thrill and quickly dips to the side to run around you, then stands proudly. You come to a screeching halt.

Strands of drool hang from his jowls as he takes a step forward, then another, piercing you with his lustful stare. You let out a shaky breath and step back, not actually afraid but acting so anyway.

"Please don't hurt me," you say softly, eyes flickering down to his hard member for just a moment.

He grunts when he notices your quick downward look and stands a bit taller, eager to present himself to you.

"I have something else in mind," he says in his deep, gruff voice. "If you do your job correctly, then it should be pleasurable for both of us."

You bite your lip as he steps forward again, sniffing the air.

"You smell especially good tonight, little girl. I could smell your ripe, fertile pussy from back at the house. You're so ready to be bred."

"I don't--"

"Run," he says, interrupting you. "If I catch you, you're mine."

Immediately, you take off again and he gives you a moment before taking three long strides, catching you and causing you to fall over. He quickly catches you with a clawed paw, though.

He brings his mouth down to your ear as he lowers you to the ground.

"I got you," he says. "And now, I get to pound you until you're swollen with my seed."

You whimper softly as he holds your wrists down and takes a sharpened claw to your pants, tearing the crotch open to make room for his thick, pulsing cock. He lets out a shaky breath as he pushes your legs apart and lines himself up with your wet entrance.

Flip groans when he finally gets the wet, hot relief he's been desiring all night within your walls. He gives you a moment to adjust before beginning to move, his hips delivering sharp thrusts.

You moan unashamedly as Flip growls and fucks you from behind. Hearing his noises of pleasure only arouses you more and you clench, earning a surprised, breathy grunt from your husband.

“F-Flip…”

His noises get louder and he leans down again, beginning to lick at your neck and jaw, occasionally scraping his teeth lightly against your skin as an alternative.

“I need you,” he grunts, hips speeding up slightly. “I need you to h-hold all my cum inside, keep it a-all…give me pups…”

You gasp softly, eyebrows knitting in pleasure.

“I will,” you breathe. “I-I’ll keep it all f-for you, my love.”

His cock throbs and he knows he can't hold on much longer. He always feels guilty that more often than not, you don't get to cum like this. But he definitely makes sure to return the favor the first opportunity he gets.

"Sweetheart, I'm gonna--" He cuts off as the intense orgasmic sensations suddenly rush through him. His eyes flutter shut and he rocks his hips desperately, spilling every drop he has deep inside of you. "O-Ohhhh god..."

You sigh softly as he lets go of your wrists and sits up a bit, still staying buried deep in your pussy. He helps you get up on your hands and knees, then licks your neck again.

"Are you alright? I wasn't too harsh?"

"I'm fine, honey," you reassure, looking back at him with a small smile. "I promise I'm okay. I would've used the safe word if I wasn't."

Flip nods and pulls out slowly, letting out a shaky huff as he does so. When you stand up, he gently picks you up and you rest in his large arms. You smile up at him.

"I love you, Flip."

His eyes soften and wishes he could return your smile. "I love you too."

You sigh softly and look up at the night sky as Flip carries you back to the house.

****

the fic-or-treat taglist is currently empty!

>> to join the fic-or-treat taglist, you have to send a message to my inbox!! your username must be included in some form. I will not accept tag requests that don't come through my inbox. <<

[amuseoffyre]

I went back to S1 after a seed of a thought started germinating in my brain, specifically to this scene:

Michael: You've been a bit of a fallen angel, haven't you? Consorting with the enemy. Aziraphale: I haven't been consorting. Uriel: Don't think your boyfriend in the dark glasses will get you special treatment in hell. He's in trouble too. Michael: Aziraphale, it's time to choose sides. Aziraphale: I've actually been giving that a lot of thought, the whole choosing sides thing. What I think is that there obviously has to be two sides so that people can make choices. That's what being human means! Choices! But that's for them! Our job, as angels, should be to keep all this working so that they can make choices. Uriel: You think too much.

This scene is after the band stand, after his fall-out with Crowley about making the decision to stay on earth and do the right thing. He already knows Armageddon is in motion and then he’s confronted by angels telling him he’s in the wrong, who hurt him and tell him he’s a disgrace.

In the context of season 2, this entire scene has fresh spice to it because this is the angel who has been making choices his entire existence, choices to “keep all this working”. He’s trying to find a middle ground they can exist in, even back then and is told he’s ridiculous.

Then we see the scene in Heaven in S2, when they’re discussing Armageddon 2.0 and all the angels are like yes, good keep going, and Gabriel makes a choice. Gabriel chooses what he wants over what Heaven wants and - like Aziraphale - becomes a target and an enemy.

And most significantly at the end of that S1 scene, Aziraphale calls them “bad angels”. He’s fully aware that Heaven is corrupt, but he doesn’t know the full story of why Gabriel was kicked out. He just knows that Gabriel has made choices, so that surely means the others can too, if only there was some way to get into the midst of them and make them listen.

And as Crowley said, bees are territorial if you’re trying to get into the hive, but once you’re in there...

Once more, Aziraphale is making a choice “to keep all this working”. He’s going to stay, but this time, the work needs to be done in Heaven. Once more, he’s putting himself in the firing line because he wants the world to keep turning. He is acting to fix things and make them better and stop this kind of thing happening again, because someone has to and if it always has to be him, by God, he’ll do it.

[r0b0s-robos]

Practice Warm-Up for a new AU I’m planning on writing:

Your knight stood by your side as you sat on your throne. It felt odd to call it ‘your’ throne. Until a few, short days ago it had always been your father’s.

The pain of his death was still heavy in your heart, but you had to move on. Your kingdom needed to see what a strong leader you could be. However, you doubted many would care if they saw a stray tear fall on your cheek.

Your knight stiffened at your side, sword clenching in his hand as the doors before you opened.

“Sun,” you whispered. “Calm yourself, it’s just a day of hearings.”

Your knight visibly relaxed at your command but made no comment. He stared ahead, eyes locked onto the line outside the doors.

The first of the villagers approached your throne, a small farming family by the looks of it. Two children clung behind the mother's dress as they stared at you with wide, fear-stricken eyes.

“Your Majesty,” the father bowed low. “We apologize for coming to ask for your aid so soon after the previous king’s assassination. He was a benevolent king who always showed great strength and mercy to us all.”

“I appreciate your words,” you straightened, sitting taller. “I hope I can be as good and fair a ruler as he was. Now tell me, what ails your family?”

The mother stepped forward. “Our children,” she began. “They have been caught pilfering from a neighbor's garden. They are young and did not know, but our neighbor has threatened us with a demand for our crop yield next season.”

You stared at the family silently. There wasn’t much to think about for this conundrum.

“I’ll send a bag of seeds to your neighbor in your place of next season's yield. Your children are just that, children. They have much to learn and I doubt they deserve much reprimanding. Next.”

•

As evening approached it became quite obvious that you would not be able to hear everyone’s pleas for aid today. But you tried to push on despite the fact. Even as you fought to keep your eyelids open.

Sun spoke a mere whisper in your ear. “I advise you call it a day. They will return tomorrow, there's no need to keep going.”

You sighed, “Very well. Dismiss the others.”

Sun nodded obediently and left your side for the first time since you had woken up. Alone in the throne room, you slouched and ran a hand over your temple. Exhaustion clouded your mind as your eyes closed briefly.

The only reason your eyes reopened was due to the sound of the large, bronze doors closing.

Sun approached you, bowing before the throne.

You rolled your eyes. “Sun, please. You know you don't have to be so formal with me. Especially when we’re alone.” You gestured for him to come closer.

Hesitantly, he did.

He arrived at the foot of your throne, standing at his full height. Though, you could see the way his armor lightly shook and shuddered.

“Sun… Come closer, brave knight.” You patted the empty space on your lap.

The way you said his name made his knees weak. He moved without thinking, falling to his knees as his head obediently found its place in your lap. Your gentle hands ran over his faceplate, sending yet another shudder through his body.

“You’re stressed,” you noted.

Sun leaned into your touch, unwilling to let it go. “It’s nothing. How are you?” he pushed. After all, you mattered so much more than him. “You look exhausted, should you retire to the bed chamber?”

You smiled lightly. “Now why would I want to do that when I'm having so much fun right here?”

He deflated completely at your words, suddenly feeling like floating. He hung onto your every word, sought out every minuscule touch he could receive.

“And how is Moon?” you suddenly asked.

He didn't bother to look up. “Fine, fine. He's fine. Impatient. Wants the sun to set quicker.”

“Well, tell Moon that when the sun does set, he and I can go for a stroll around the castle grounds.”

Sun visibly tensed. He raised his head, fearful eyes meeting yours. “The assassin is still out there. We can't allow that. Anything else you want to do, we will. Anything,” he pleaded.

Ever since your father’s death, your two bots had been wrecks over your safety. Neither ever left your side for very long. To them, even your other knights weren't to be trusted.

Moon stood guard in your chamber at all hours of the night. Acutely aware of every noise in the castle.

Sun was practically glued to your hip during the day. One hand always rested on his sword, eyes scanning constantly.

“I’ll be fine,” you rolled your eyes. “Moon saved me last time, surely he’d be capable of doing it again.”

Sun could still recall that night perfectly. Moon had all but plucked you from your bed and carried you out of the castle as arrows flew in all directions. They bounced off his casing as he shielded your fragile, delicate human skin.

The next morning, your father was dead.

Fear consumed them all at once. Mere jesters before, a gift from your father after a voyage, and now they found themselves in your service. They didn't trust anyone else to protect you. And frankly, you didn't trust anyone more than them.

“Please,” Sun gripped your free hand. He scooted closer on his knees. “Please, we don't know what we’d do without you. Please, let us keep you safe. If you want something from the garden we will pluck every flower for you. We will bring the garden to you, safe within the walls of the castle. Please,” he begged. If he could cry, he would be. The mere thought of putting you in harm's way made his gears creak and groan.

“Perhaps you’re right.”

His shoulder relaxed, his gears calmed.

“But do tell Moon I’d like to spend more time with him, will you?”

“Oh, Highness,” Sun sighed breathily, “he already knows.”

[ramblingoak]

Drenched

Secondo x female reader, nsfw, mdni, smut, little bit of breeding kink and a little bit of size difference kink.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

You were drenched.

Sweat, cum and tears were streaked across your skin.  When you gained the energy to look in the mirror across from you, the wet streaks glistened in the moonlight shining through the window.  Bite marks stretched from your neck to the inside of your thighs and further down were streaks of paint all the way to your toes.  No part of your body was without some sign of your Papa laying claim to it.

Secondo liked to be thorough.

“Look at you, look at how good you’re being for your Papa.”

You whimpered and laid your head back against his shoulder.  Shuddering as the aftershocks of your last orgasm still rippled through your body.  Secondo’s large hand rubbed from underneath your breasts to your belly button, back and forth in a soothing motion.  You weren’t sure when he had taken off his gloves, but you loved the feeling of the smooth skin of his hands on you.

His hand slid lower and he began to tease the hair at the top of your mound.  You started to shake your head, tensing your arms against his tie that was wrapped around your wrists.  That was the only other item of clothing he’d removed.  The buttons of his waistcoat were digging into your back and you could hear his belt buckle clinking whenever he had fucked into you.  

“Papa I can’t…it’s too much.”  He clucked his tongue against your ear and pulled your arms back so they grasped the top of the couch you were on. 

“Shh piccolina (little one), shh.  Your Papa isn’t done with you just yet.  I promised to fill you tonight and keep you full.”  He slid his hand down and rested it against your neck, applying just a little bit of pressure to make you swallow and hold your breath.  “Don’t you want your Papa to fill you, dolce?  Don’t you want my seed buried deep inside of you?”

You nodded as much as you could with his hand still gripping your neck but you stopped when he squeezed and let out a growl.

“Words, piccolina.  Tell your Papa what you want.”  His hand above your cunt slid down between your lips, rubbing back and forth between your clit and where he was still buried inside of you.  He was hard again, stretching your walls around him.  Another squeeze at your neck and you jerked, grabbing at the back of his head instead of the couch.

“P-please Papa, please fill me please I need you I want you to bree-” You cried out when he moved both hands to your hips and started to fuck into you again.  His grip was bruising and his thrusts were rough, jolting you with each snap of his hips.  

You loved when Secondo took control of your body like this.  He was almost a foot taller than you and he seemed to like the difference as much as you did.  Normally you would get defensive if anyone ever tried to manhandle you, whether it was in the bedroom or out.  But the first time Secondo lifted you and set you on his cock with barely any effort you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Secondo pulled you down roughly on his cock and ground his hips into yours.  He started to rub over your clit with two of his fingers, his other hand was pressed against your belly, securing your back to his front.  Your legs twitched where they laid over his own, spreading you out so you both could watch his cock move in and out of you in the mirror.

“I’m going to fill you again, piccolina.  My cum will be dripping down your legs for days.”  He had started to thrust once more, the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you filling the room.  “Do you want that?  Do you want everyone to know you are mine?”

“Yes Papa!”

“I want them all to know.  I want them to smell me on you.”  He was thrusting faster now, bouncing you on his cock.  You could tell he was getting close, he was panting against your neck.  Your orgasm came out of nowhere and you spasmed in his lap, your arms falling in front of you as all your strength left you.  The only thing keeping you upright were his hands and his cock.  “Tanto bene per me, sempre tanto bene.” (So good for me, always so good.)

“Only for you Papa.”

“Yes, mine!  Mine!” One final thrust and you could feel his cock kick where it was buried inside your cunt.  In the mirror you could see his cum already dripping out and your body shuddered at the sight.  Secondo growled into the skin of your neck, lightly circling his hips under you.  He chuckled when you whimpered and smoothed one of his hands over your belly again.

Your eyes met in the mirror and you watched his hand move down to where he was still buried in your entrance.  His fingers rubbed around your lips and gathered some of his leaked cum.  He brought them up to your mouth and you obediently sucked them inside, running your tongue along the digits and cleaning them.

“That’s it pet, we don’t want any of it to go to waste, eh?”  You shook your head and he pulled his fingers out with a pop.  Your eyes fluttered closed and you smiled as he situated both of his hands on your hips again, waiting for him to lift you off.  Instead Secondo hummed and started to run his hands up and down your thighs, lightly scratching his nails against your skin.

He had softened enough that his cock slipped out of you and you moaned at the loss.  He tsked next to your ear and you both watched as even more of his cum dripped out of you.  One of his large hands came to your entrance and covered you, the heel of his hand applying delicious pressure to your clit.  Two of his thick fingers slid into you and he just kept them there, preventing any more of his cum from leaving.

“Don’t worry piccolina, your Papa will fill you up again.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

My Masterlist

My Ao3

[vanoincidence]

I Still Remain // Solo

TIMING: current. SUMMARY: van reads cass's letter for her. CONTENT WARNINGS: emotional manipulation, parental death.

You are my brightest star, but you've been burning out. I am too late, and you're too far.

Van,

It guts her like a fish, and she thinks that for a moment, she can smell the salt in the air. But it dissipates after a moment as her eyes move to the next few lines.

I didn’t really want things to go this way. You know? I think I held onto the idea that things could be different for, like, a really long time. I think that’s what made everything suck so much. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for a lot of things, really. I’m sorry I was so cagey when you came by the cave way back when. My dad was inside, which you probably figured out later. He’d, like, just gotten there, and he said he wasn’t ready to meet anyone else yet, and I didn’t want to lose him. I just wanted him to like me. I was worried if you came in, if I went against his request not to tell people about him yet, he’d get mad. I thought he’d leave. I didn’t want him to leave.

There's something to be said about the love a child has for their parent, even if that parent is undeserving of it. Even if she hated Makaio on Cass's behalf, she knew of her friend's desire to be loved; to be held within arm's reach and chosen. So even though anger blooms from a seed that was since pushed beneath the ground at her feet, it is not directed at her friend. Instead, it's at the world and how it failed her. How Cass could've allowed herself to fall prey to the words he spoke. In the end, his promises, or lack-thereof, got Cass killed, and that's where the anger embeds itself into Van as she stares down at the notebook, already stained with the tears as she flipped through the pages to write out the letters from Cass to the others in the notebook.

But I don’t think that’s a good excuse. You’re my friend, and I was super rude and just… all around weird when all you wanted to do was spend time with me. That was shitty of me! Like, super shitty. You brought me comics! You were trying to be nice! I should have given you a better explanation.

I should have had more faith in you, too. That day when you came by after… what happened with the viewing station, I should have had more faith in you. I think I just hated myself a lot in that moment, so I figured everyone else would hate me, too. I didn’t even, like, give you time to not hate me. And that sucked! That really sucked. I’m sorry I did that. You’re my friend. You’ve always been there for me. I know it wasn’t just because of the promise. I know you care about me, too.

Maybe she should have pushed harder. Maybe she should have dug the dagger of her love in a little hard, hilt pressed to Cass's beating heart. Had looked her in the eye and told her that no matter what, she'd always be there. But Cass knew, right? Based on this letter-- based on the look in Cass's eyes before she was taken out of the cave, she knew that even despite the frustration, despite the falsified anger, Cass knew that Van loved her. She had to hold onto that, had to cling to it in order breathe.

That makes all of this so much harder. I love you. I don’t want you to think I don’t. I love you, and you’re one of my favorite people. But… I don’t think this town is what I need right now. I can’t leave my dad, and I don’t want him to leave me, either, but I don’t think it’s good for me to be here. And I’m sorry that I don’t know if I’ll see you again. I know my dad needs time to adjust, to learn how to be, like, a person again, but I don’t know how much time he’ll need. It could be just a few months, and then I’ll be back and we’ll be totally laughing about this. Or… it could be a hundred years, and you’ll be gone. And if it is, if that’s what happens, I guess I just want you to know how much I care about you.

The moment Cass had walked into Wicked's Rest, it had decided to take her. It took her from all of them-- from Ariadne, Nora, Thea, Metzli. From others, it plunged its fist into her chest, pulling out every small part of her that could have ever allowed her to leave this place alive. Van thought about the anger she would have felt had this letter been left behind for her after Cass's departure. She could feel it even now, trailing along, brushing against her skin. It was Cass who was gone. Those hundreds of years she was supposed to have were now gone, body left to decay against the very thing she had tried to protect. Van was angry now, because what life would she have had had she been able to leave? Would she have succumbed to Makaio's anger, fueling it on his behalf? Bringing down any of those who opposed him? But that thought was cut down the moment it came to her, because Cass had proven she was stronger than his persuasion.

Van just wished it had happened later, to where Cass could come back to them. Where her smile would warm the room, and Van would lay across from her on the ground as they stared up at the ceiling, a bag of chips between them. Instead of this, they would speak of Cass's forever, or as close as she could get. They would guess what the future had in store, and Van would hate that she wouldn't be a part of it, but she would ask Cass to always remember her. Now, Van was the one to remember her-- to put every moment they had together in some kind of flashing reel of memories. She could see Cass's face so clearly, even now. The bright smile, the dark eyes-- the laughter that cut through the air. Van hated that Makaio had taken her laughter, her breath-- everything.

But Cass in turn had sacrificed it for them. The three of them-- her, Metzli, and Ariadne. And so Van knew that she wouldn't give up on Cass, even if she were gone.

It wasn’t your fault. None of it. Not what happened in the supermarket, and not anything that happened after. You were always a good friend, even when you were melting stuff. (Side note: the melting is actually kind of badass. Like, next level comic book hero stuff. You should call yourself Meltdown, tbh.) I’m super lucky to have you. And if I never see you again, I guess I just want to make sure that comes across. I love you. I’m never going to stop thinking about you, and I’m never going to forget you. I hope you don’t forget about me, either.

I hope we see each other again someday, Van. But no matter what, take care of yourself. 

Love, Cass

Van couldn't help but laugh at the superhero name, even if the laughter hurt. It coiled in her chest, weaving around the hurt she felt in response to Cass's untimely demise. Cass's pulse continued even after the end of the letter. It continued with the love that she had for those mentioned on the other pages, and the love she had for those not written in. She thought of the love she had for her cave, for life in general-- for her father, even in the end. How Cass's acceptance had in turn caused Van to live another day.

Van continued to stare down at the letter, the edges of the paper crumpling in her hands as she dented the notebook. Her magic did not lash out in the way she hoped it would, anger blindingly painful. Instead, it soothed her. Because she would find a way to pay Cass back.

She had to, for her friend-- for the memory, for her sacrifice. The only reason any of the three of them were standing here was because of Cass, and Van couldn't let that go.

"I'm sorry," Van whispered as she continued reading over the letter addressed to her, committing the words to memory like she had done with her friend's frame.

[anewdawnwithoutfear]

Everything I Achieved and More [Professor Playlist]

Day Six: Childhood – Ayreon

No matter what you said, he’d always disagree You swore that one day you would be better than him…one day you’d win

Wait – The Dear Hunter

I’ll know when I turn to dust But I fear the answer isn’t enough So, will I ever know Heaven or Hell? Or is eternity something worse?

We Don’t Need Another Hero (Thunderdome) – Tina Turner

So, what do we do with our lives We leave only a mark Will our story shine like a light or end in the dark? Give it all or nothing

New Dawn Fades – Joy Division

It was me, waiting for me Hoping for something more Me, seeing me this time Hoping for something else

Most Likely To Succeed – Five Iron Frenzy

Do what you do when you say what you want to say, With or without regard for me Scheme what you scheme when you’re thinking of yourself, You’re the most likely to succeed The yearbook said that you’d be another winner, You forgot what success should mean

Social Climb – I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Defend your factions, cut the lines Leagues of social climbers are abound Oh, but be advised, no restitution comes tonight ‘Less we lay unconscious in the ground

The Package – A Perfect Circle

Clever got me this far Then tricky got me in Eye on what I’m after I don’t need another friend

The Man – The Killers

I know the score like the back of my hand Them other boys, I don’t give a damn They kiss on the ring, I carry the crown Nothing can break, nothing can break me down

Fools – The Temper Trap

And I want it, I want it, I want it And I want it, I want it, I want it All You can’t wait to watch me fall

Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall – Steinar Raknes (Bob Dylan Cover)

And I’ll tell it and speak it and think it and breathe it And reflect from the mountain so all souls can see it And I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinking But I’ll know my song well before I start singing

Get The Balance Right! – Depeche Mode

Be responsible, respectable Stable but gullible Concerned and caring Help the helpless But always remain Ultimately selfish

I’m Here To Take The Sky – Destroy Rebuild Until God Shows

If the sky is the limit then I’ll build a bridge up to it If I make it back, I’d still want more, more If the sky is the limit then I’ll steal the air that’s in it I won’t take it back, I’d still want more, I’d still want more

A Good Song Never Dies – Saint Motel

Hope, the wonder drug Don’t work no more, think it took too much Sweat, your equity Make the caffeine be your weaponry

See Me, Feel Me – The Who

Right behind you, I see the millions On you, I see the glory From you, I get opinion From you, I get the story

Cult of Personality – Living Colour

I know your anger, I know your dreams I’ve been everything you want to be Oh, I’m the cult of personality

One More Step – Church of the Cosmic Skull

One more step til we show you the proof One more step til we show you the truth

Personal Jesus – Oba Frank Lords (Depeche Mode Cover)

I prophesized I never lied I came to life You watched me die I bled for you You know it’s true But is this something that you would do

Don’t Stop – Innerpartysystem

The road I walk is paved in gold To glorify my platinum soul I am the closest thing to god So worship me and never stop

Ice Cream – New Young Pony Club

Let me give you what you’d like I can make you mouth run dry

Severed – The Decemberists

I alone am the answer I alone will make wrongs right

Chase This Light – Jimmy Eat World

A movie, still photograph Through a martyr’s eyes can I see I’ve seen the best of love, the best of hate, the best reward is earned And I’ve paid for every single word I ever said

The Ruler and The Killer – Kid Cudi

Now, what I want is specific, hey hey Respect what I have done for thee

Day Fourteen: Pride – Ayreon

I’ve always been respectable, I don’t understand I tried to be compassionate, I’m not a ruthless man!

Red Right Hand – Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

He’s a ghost, he’s a god, he’s a man, he’s a guru You’re one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan Designed and directed by his red right hand

Puppets – Essence of Mind (Depeche Mode Cover)

All the things you tried to do babe And all the words we’ve said before Are only part of what I started baby And you can’t stop me anymore

Mr. Malum – The Dear Hunter

His puppets to the left, and His pawns to line the right But every eye is front and center A cool intoxication from the sap that Trickles down his branches to their mouths

Unnatural Selection – Muse

I’m hungry for some unrest I wanna push it beyond a peaceful protest I wanna speak in a language that they will understand Dedication to a new age Is this the end of destruction and rampage? Another chance to erase and then repeat it again

Middleman – Bright Eyes

So I’ve become the middleman The gray areas are mine The in-between, the absentee Is a beautiful disguise

Don’t Mess With Me – temposhark

In my crown, I am king I love their endless worshiping I am raw, a dinosaur But I will never be extinct

Handlebars – Flobots

‘Cause I can lead a nation with a microphone With a microphone With a microphone And I can split the atom of a molecule Of a molecule Of a molecule

Everybody Loves Me – OneRepublic

Oh my, feels just like I don’t try Looks so good, I might die All I know is everybody loves me

Eat Raw Meat = Blood Drool – Editors

A little bit for myself, don’t put a price on your health, I give a little to her I give a little to you, I give a little to him, I give a little to her

Rules Don’t Stop – We Are Scientists

It’s not as if it’s gonna kill anyone If there’s no victim then there’s no crime Just draw another if you think we’ve crossed the line

No Consequences – VersaEmerge

Everywhere I go, No one says no to me, They don’t, They don’t dare

Everybody Knows That You’re Insane – Queens of the Stone Age

You wanna know just how long you can hide from What you are? Not very long

Further – VNV Nation

And in retrospect I’ll say we’ve done no wrong Who are we to judge what’s right and what has purpose for us? With designs upon ourselves to do no wrong Running wild unaware of what might come of us

[lesfeldickbiblestudy]

What is the only way to be saved during this present age of grace? [convertplayer id="nMsTZKi9a" width="700" height="525"] Now let’s look at the Gospel as outlined in I Corinthians Chapter 15, and beginning with verse 1. I never tire of repeating it, and I hope you never get tired of hearing it. I Corinthians 15:1   "MOREOVER, brethren, I declare unto you the gospel which I preached unto you, which also ye have received, and wherein ye stand;"   "...wherein ye stand" is a positional term. That’s why he writes in another place that we are not to be blown about with every wind of doctrine. Some people are so shallow in their understanding of Scriptures, that they see someone on television or someone can come to their door and they have a good line, and a nice approach, and they fall for it. We are supposed to be so well versed in the Scriptures that something like that won’t happen. We are to be like an anchor, steadfast, immovable. Now verse 2. I Corinthians 15:2,3   "By which also ye are saved (it’s only by this Gospel that you are saved. It’s not by something else), if ye keep in memory what I preached unto you, unless ye have believed in vain." And now here comes Paul’s Gospel in verse 3: "For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received (here he’s talking about what we saw in Galatians in our last lesson, how that by revelation, "He made known unto me," Paul says. This is what the Lord revealed to him. We will find that Paul’s Gospel is not based on the Judaistic Law, or just on the fact that Christ was the Messiah of Israel, but it’s that The Messiah of Israel, The Son of God, died on that Roman Cross, shed His Blood, was buried and rose again, and here it is), how that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures;" This was in the Old Testament. It was all in the pre-eternal mind of God, that all of this would fall into place.   I Corinthians 15:4-6a   "And that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures." That’s the Gospel! And to prove that Christ rose from the dead we see in verse 5 and 6 the following. "And that he was seen of Cephas, then of the twelve: After that, he was seen of above five hundred brethren at once;..."   Paul tells us that he also saw Him in person. Paul knew that He was alive. Now back to Romans 1:16. That’s The Gospel – that Christ died for the sins of the world. And that’s what Paul expressly desires to get across to people. It’s so hard for people to comprehend that this is all they have to do. Just believe the Gospel for Salvation. If you really believe He will save you. Now you know that I’m not an easy believer. You know that. I’m not just talking about making a mental acknowledgment and you’re all right. No, what I’m talking about is a Holy Spirit driven belief, that my eternal destiny is based on what He did for me on that Cross. And we will be seeing more and more of that, especially when we get into Romans Chapter 6, where Paul just begins to draw that simple analogy of a little seed that’s planted in the ground, but before that plant can come forth, and bring forth fruit it must die first. So the whole analogy is that, "When Christ died, we died. When He was buried, we were buried. When He arose from the dead, we also arose out of deadness in the old Adamic sin nature to a new life." Verse 16 again: Romans 1:16   "For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it (The Gospel, not our works, or denomination, not anything that we can do, but rather The Gospel) is the power of God unto salvation..."   One of the newer translations waters this down by using the word ‘salvation’ as a better way to heaven. Salvation is much more than a better way to heaven. Salvation is that all inclusive work of God on our behalf, whereby we are forgiven: He justifies us, He sanctifies us, He glorifies us, He baptizes us into the Body, He seals us with the Holy Spirit, He fills us with the Holy Spirit, and on and on you can go in all t

hat was accomplished on your behalf by an act of God instantly the moment you believe. And you’re not going to necessarily feel any of those things, but they have happened to you if you were genuine in your belief. But how do I know that these things have happened to me? The Book says so. And that’s where faith comes in. That’s what The Book means when it says we are saved by faith and are to live and walk by faith. Taking God at His Word. So, you just simply have to know what The Book says. When you come to Salvation, and say, "I don’t understand this or feel any different," remember The Book says that it has happened. And that is what God is pleased by. Remember Hebrews 11:6: Hebrews 11:6a   "But without faith it is impossible to please him:..."   You should be able to say, "Yes, I know that I’m forgiven," not because I’m so perfect, or any better than anybody else, but simply because I believe what this Book says! I can’t make it any plainer than that. So when an individual realizes that he’s in the cesspool of sin, in that old slave market, and there is no hope of getting out, unless the power of God takes him out; God pulls him out of that deadness in sin, and gives him new life, sets his feet as the Scriptures say, "On a Rock," and does all these things for him. That’s what believing does! After that, you become a totally new person in your outlook on life, in your desires, and you don’t work for that. Remember, you won’t become a mature Christian overnight. It’s going to take time. The Christian life is like coming into physical life. We come into the Christian life as a babe in Christ, just an infant that needs tender loving care. An infant that needs nourishment, and protection. That’s what a new believer is. But God doesn’t expect a new believer to stay a babe in Christ. He expects them to begin to grow in Grace, and knowledge and wisdom. To grow in a new lifestyle. Over the years I’ve told my classes the basic fundamental aspect of a Christian life, the part that will immediately become visible to our friends and relatives, and yes, the whole community; a true born again child of God is going to be a good citizen. Have you ever thought of that? When we are a practicing believer, we will be a good citizen. In other words, you won’t find a true child of God giving the police department fits. Now there may be isolated instances, that’s always a possibility. But the basic believer will be a good citizen, and a good parent. He will be a good grandparent. He will be a good child. He will be a good teenager. Now that doesn’t mean we are perfect. Nevertheless, we will be the kind of person that will enhance society. If you could have a community of 100% born again believers, then you would have a pretty decent place to live. I’m not saying that it would be perfect. It’s just like the local church, no church is perfect. I said on this program once, if it was perfect I’d like to find it, but I wouldn’t dare join it because it would be no longer perfect. But, for the most part, God’s power unto salvation has imparted all these things on our behalf and they will make us different. That doesn’t give us the right to walk around like we are perfect, or better than everybody else. But what we have is an imputed position that God has accomplished on our behalf. We will look at that more in depth later in Chapter 3. Romans 1:16b   "...for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; to the Jew first and also to the Greek."   I said at the close of the last lesson that there were many things in there that normally people would think should be. Over the years, I have taught to be aware of what is not in Scripture that many of us think should be. Well, here is a good one. Let me read this verse the way a lot of people think it should have been written. This is just an example: "For it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that repents, and is baptized, joins the church, gives ten percent of his income, does good works, and believes."&n

bsp;But it doesn’t say that does it? There are a lot of these things that people just automatically think are requirements for Salvation, and they’re not! They are all right in their rightful place after Salvation. But so far as our salvation is concerned it’s based totally upon our faith in the Gospel, and what God has said concerning the finished work of the Cross.

[jdgo51]

How Does Your Garden Grow

Today's inspiration comes from:

The Garden Within

by Dr. Anita Phillips

You crown the year with a bountiful harvest; even the hard pathways overflow with abundance. — Psalm 65:11 NLT

Tabitha Brown is one of my favorite influencers. She’s a comedian, an actress, and the patron saint of vegan living. I am not a vegan, and I think that’s true of many of the millions of people who follow her on social media. We just can’t get enough of Tabitha’s oh-so-infectious energy. She always brings inspiration no matter what she’s communicating. At the same time, she has been open about the pain in her own life. It’s the authenticity for me. The bright colors she wears, her Southern charm, and her unapologetic love for Jesus make her downright irresistible. An encounter with Tabitha’s content feels like an encounter with pure joy. So when she launched her children’s show, Tab Time, I watched that too (despite my age falling well outside the target demographic). The first episode became an instant favorite for me because Tab (and her buddy Avi the Avocado) taught us about how things grow.1

The episode begins in Ms. Tab’s real-life garden. Then she and Avi whisk us off to a brightly animated fruit orchard where we meet an orange-tree seed named Marmalade. Marmalade tells us that all she needs to start growing is good ground and some water. Ms. Tab tucks Marmalade into the soil and waters her well. Then we all pretend our arms are the arms of a clock; together, we speed up time by making big arm circles. A few seconds later Marmalade reappears, but now she is no longer a seed but a full-grown orange tree bearing her first fruit. Less than seven minutes into the episode, the preschool children for whom the show was created have already learned all they need to know to understand how gardens grow.

The garden within may be a completely different way of thinking about how we were created and what it means to flourish, but when it comes to what you need to know to live this powerful life, you probably learned it in kindergarten or — at the latest — by the end of a middle school science class.

The Creator made things very simple for us. No wonder Scripture encourages us to come to Jesus with the heart of a child (Mark 10:15). Things are so much easier when we do. And when it comes to letting the Creator change what we believe about how we feel, the timing couldn’t be better.

Your emotional well-being influences every other dimension of your life, including your spirit.

It’s Okay Not to Be Okay

When we catch a glimpse of Tabitha’s real-life garden, it is too lush for words! It’s full of bright colors and fruits and vegetables; this garden is useful. I don’t know Tabitha personally, but I wouldn’t be surprised if her garden looks exactly the way she wants her life to feel — a reflection of her goals for her garden within.

If you could design a garden that looked the way you want your life to feel, what would it look like? What would be growing there? Now ask yourself,

How is my inner garden looking? Don’t feel bad if the soil needs attention. Don’t be surprised or upset if you notice that some areas are bare, some are growing well, and others are dying. You’re not alone. In fact, a lot of people are not okay right now.

As I write these words, multiple global crises are affecting us all. It started in 2020 and it hasn’t slowed down. I’m not just talking about the coronavirus. I’m talking about the mental health pandemic that it triggered. Covid-19 claimed a staggering number of lives in a very short period of time, leaving a trail of emotional devastation in its wake. With every death, an average of five loved ones are left grieving long-term.2 That means that as of late 2022, more than thirty-three million people were grappling with the trauma attached to grieving someone who died not only unexpectedly but unimaginably, from a disease that seemed to come out of nowhere.3

There were other life-altering losses to grieve as well. So many of us missed attending not only funerals but weddings, baby showers, graduations, and milestone birthdays and anniversaries. These are the ceremonial moments that chart the timeline of our lives, shared memories that entwine us in relationship and in community.

On top of that, the way we understood and organized our lives fundamentally changed. People lost jobs. People lost homes. People lost businesses and dreams. People lost sobriety. People lost their sense of safety, and whether they have admitted it or not, some people lost their faith.

All that to say, a lot of people are not okay right now, and that likely includes you or someone you love very much. During 2020, global cases of major depressive disorder increased by 27.6 percent. That’s an estimated 53.2 million more people than the year prior. Anxiety disorders increased by 25 percent. There was more anxiety to start with, so that increase amounted to around 76.2 million more people.4 Of course, that’s just counting the people we know about. So many others haven’t sought help, so we don’t have reliable confirmation. But like diabetes or heart disease, the diagnosis doesn’t create reality; it just points it out. Maybe you haven’t been formally diagnosed with depression, anxiety, or another mental health problem, but that doesn’t mean what you are struggling with isn’t real.

For the first time during my career, a significant number of mental health professionals have waiting lists. We can barely keep up with the demand. And from college kids to clergy, Christians are by no means exempt. At Christian colleges and universities, the number of students contacting campus counseling centers for issues like stress, depression, addictions, and suicidal thoughts also rose sharply.5 The pastors striving to lead these young people as part of their congregations found themselves struggling too. In an October 2021 Barna study, pastors were asked to rate their well-being across six dimensions. Nearly a quarter of pastors surveyed identified as unhealthy overall, with emotional well-being the dimension most often rated as below average or poor.6

Hear ye, hear ye! Knowing Jesus guarantees your salvation; it does not guarantee your emotional health. Reflecting on the lack of emotional awareness in the body of Christ, author Peter Scazzero writes this in his incredibly important book Emotionally Healthy Spirituality:

Christian spirituality, without an integration of emotional health, can be deadly — to yourself, your relationship with God, and the people around you... Sad to say, that is the fruit of much of our discipleship in our churches.7

He goes on to say that “a failure to appreciate the biblical place of feelings within our larger Christian lives has done extensive damage, keeping free people in Christ in slavery.”8 As a therapist and as a minister, I see this over and over and over. Christians haven’t had a scriptural model for understanding the critical role of the heart, so our response efforts have been unbalanced. But now you know that

your emotional well-being influences every other dimension of your life, including your spirit. Remember, the words of the Kingdom are constantly being sown in the ground of your heart, so nourishing the fertility of that sacred seedbed is Kingdom work. Living a powerful life requires you to embrace how your spirit, mind, and behavior work together seamlessly. That means approaching your own heart as a garden rather than a war zone where you’re constantly battling your emotions. Eden is our model for flourishing. The seeds of the garden of Eden were sown on good ground. That ground is our hearts.

Your heart is the soil of your life.

Tab Time, season 1, episode 1, “How Things Grow,” produced by Tabitha Brown, published December 1, 2021, YouTube video, 22:34, https://youtu.be /zUTZEk32tc8. Erika Krull, “Grief by the Numbers: Facts and Statistics,” The Recovery Village Drug and Alcohol Rehab, May 26, 2022, https://www.therecoveryvillage.com /mental-health/grief/grief-statistics/. “WHO COVID-19 Dashboard,” World Health Organization, accessed April 19, 2023, https://covid19.who.int. Damian F. Santomauro et al., “Global Prevalence and Burden of Depressive and Anxiety Disorders in 204 Countries and Territories in 2020 Due to the COVID- 19 Pandemic,” The Lancet 398, no. 10312 (November 2021): 1700–12, https://doi.org/10.1016/S0140–6736(21)02143–7. Helen Huiskes, “It Takes a Campus: Pandemic Expands Mental Health Resources at Christian Colleges,” Christianity Today, December 17, 2021, https:// www.christianitytoday.com/news/2021/december/christian-college-mental -health-counseling-pandemic-demand.html. “38% of U.S. Pastors Have Thought About Quitting Full-Time Ministry in the Past Year,” Barna, November 16, 2021, https://www.barna.com/research/pastors -well-being/. Peter Scazzero, Emotionally Healthy Spirituality: It’s Impossible to Be Spiritually Mature, While Remaining Emotionally Immature (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2017), 9, 44. Scazzero, Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, 44.

Excerpted with permission from The Garden Within by Dr. Anita Phillips, copyright Dr. Anita L. Phillips.

[kastlequill]

your secret is safe with me / and if secrets were like seeds / when i’m lying under marble / marvel at flowers you’ll have made

i didn’t care much, how long i lived / but i swear i thought i dreamed her / she never asked me once about the wrong i did

when you move / i can recall something that’s gone from me / when you move / honey, i’m put in awe of something so flawed and free

how long i’ve been away / the shape that i’m in now / you’re shaping the doorway / make your good love known to me / just tell me about your day

in a few days / i would be there, love / ever here that’s left in / me is yours just as it was

oh, and these colors fade for you only / hold me, carry me slowly, my sunlight

you know the distance never made a difference to me / i swam a lake of fire, i’d have walked across the floor of any sea

i’d walk so far just to take / the injury of finally knowing you

know that i would gladly be / the icarus to your certainty / strap the wing to me / death trap clad happily / with wax melted, i’d meet the sea

there’s no plan, there’s no kingdom to come / i’ll be your man if you got love to get done / sit in and watch the sunlight fade / honey, enjoy, it’s gettin’ late

i know who i am / when i’m alone / i’m something else when i see you / you don’t understand, you should never know / how easy you are to need

my babe would never fret none / about what my hands and my body done / if the lord don’t forgive me / i’d still have my baby and my babe would have me

in the low lamp light i was free / heaven and hell were words to me

in the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene / only then, i am human / only then, i am clean

something isn’t right, babe / i keep catching little words, but the meaning’s thin / i’m somewhere outside my life, babe / i keep scratching, but somehow i can’t get in

feeling more human and hooked on her flesh / i lay my heart down with the rest at her feet / fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile / it’s bloody and raw, but i swear it is sweet

she’s gonna save me, call me baby / run her hands through my hair / she’ll know me crazy, soothe me daily / better yet, she wouldn’t care

honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes / i feel like a person for a moment of my life

there’s something wretched about this / something so precious about this / where to begin / there’s something broken about this / but i might be hoping about this / oh, what a sin

i will not ask you where you came from / i would not ask and neither would you / honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips / we should just kiss like real people do

i’d be appalled if i saw you / ever try to be a saint / i wouldn’t fall for someone / i thought couldn’t misbehave / but i want you to know that / i’ve had no love like your love

i was housed by your worth / thus transformed / by your grounded and giving / and darkening scorn / remember me, love, when i’m reborn / as the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn

i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me / what you’d do to me tonight

gaz is hozier coded send post

[petersbaby]

Billy x tipsy gf reader

Warnings: mean billy. a little dark, name calling, rough sex, brief female masturbation, exhibitionism if you squint and breeding implications

-

You’re riding in the passengers seat of Billy’s car like you have many times before. This time, however, he had just picked you up from a small party you went to and got tipsy.

You were practically radiating sexual energy, you were so horny you couldn’t keep it together when you plopped down in the car and looked at him sitting there in his tight jeans, no shirt, just a leather jacket.

His arm was resting on the middle console as he drove, and you grabbed it, bringing his hand to rest on your bare thigh. Your skin was warm to the touch in contrast to his cool fingers.

He allowed this, even squeezing your thigh every now and then. After this, though, you were bored and spread your legs a bit, wanting his hand to venture further but it didn’t.

This was when you decided to take your panties off as he watched you from the corner of his eye.

“What the fuck are you doing??”

“It’s dark, not like anyone can see me. ‘m horny.” You pull your panties the rest of the way off past your ankles and immediately reach for your needy core, slipping two fingers in right away.

This felt so good, more than it ever has before. You didn’t realize the extent to which you were moaning, but you figured out it must’ve been a lot.

He was mildly amused with your antics at first but it turned serious really quick.

“You better stop, now. Being such a slut you can’t even wait to get home.”

“Hmm”, you reply mindlessly and continue touching yourself. Before you knew it, you took a wrong turn.

“Nooo, my house is that way.” You pointed.

“I know. You’re being a whore so I’m gonna fuck you like a whore.” He says, matter of factly, with more anger in his voice now.

Your mind started racing over what he could mean by that, but you discovered soon when he pulled to the end dead end road with only one streetlight and the moon lighting it up.

He throws the car in park and gets out. Soon after, he had stormed over to your side, opening the door and yanking you out by your arm.

“Gonna take you right here, because I warned you and you didn’t listen. Maybe I can fuck some sense into you.” You take a few steps and then he’s bending you over the hood of his car.

The cold metal sent a shiver down your spine as he pushed your skirt up to bunch up at your hips and then unbuckling his pants. With no warning besides the sound of his zipper a moment before, he slams into you and you lose your breath for a minute.

This was supposed to be some kind of punishment, but you loved it. The idea of being so filthy outside in the dark, hearing your own moans echo in the surrounding woods.

“Billy, fuck, wait-“

“No princess, you’re not gonna tell me what to do, not how this works.”

You had wanted just a few seconds to catch your breath but he kept pounding into you from behind.

The pleasure was overwhelming, so much so that you felt like you could cry and knew you’d be thinking about this moment forever.

“Yes sir, ‘m sorry sir.” You whine out.

“There she is. Already fucking some sense back into you, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

His hands grip your ass roughly and his nails dig in to the skin, creating red marks. You were moaning, crying out, trying your best not to scream like you wanted to.

Trying to be good.

“You really don’t deserve it, but I’m feeling generous. I’m gonna fill your cunt, give you all my fucking babies.”

You can only moan in response as he fucks in and out of you a few more times and then stops, buried deep inside of you, and you felt the warmth in your body.

He thrusts a couple times to push the seed back in and then pulls out, tucking himself back into his jeans.

He goes to your side of the car, grabbing your panties from the floorboard where you had left them. Coming back to you, he tosses them your way carelessly so that they fall to the ground.

“Put ‘em back on, real tight. If you leak cum onto my seat you’re gonna be sorry. You’re gonna hold that in til we get home, kay?”

You nod, worried that you will inevitably leak because you could already feel it soaking through the crotch of your panties you’d put back on.

“Let’s go.” He calls out impatiently, and you hurry to slide into the car and shift around nervously in your seat, trying your best to “hold it” like he said.

[sukirichi]

sweet lies [02]

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. explicit smut, slight body worship, public sex, dirty talk, praising, toxic megumi, fwb dynamics, slight angst, body marking, sukuna bullying megumi, age gap, scratching, mentions of oral (m receiving) and mutual masturbation, the traditional unedited fic

note. choose your fighter, megumi or sukuna 😈 also UHM do you guys want me to make the ending angsty or fluffy? i wrote out two versions so LOL let me know what you think! we’ll get more of the megumi scenes on the next chapter though~

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

Sukuna isn’t kidding when he said he’ll have you unable to walk by the end of this.

You’ve lost count of how many times you guys have fucked.

Once more in the stalls when you thought of repaying the favor by sucking him off, followed by him growing impatient and hauling you inside his car. Both of you were too tired to go for another round, but were still very much addicted for the other’s touch that mutual masturbation seems like the best option.

Thankfully, Sukuna’s cut his nails, so having three of his fingers buried knuckle deep in you feels like absolute heaven. He’s not complaining about your smooth hands wrapped around his shaft either, especially not when you’ve had enough practice with Megumi to know just how to make a guy lose his mind. By the time you’ve made it back home, Sukuna’s grown hard again, too impatient to make it to the bed before he just fucks you raw against the wall. You’re trembling at his hold, left with no choice but to trust his strength to drop you on his cock and bounce you to his pleasure.

It’s a miracle you’ve made it on the bed.

His digital clock reads a quarter at three in the morning, and for a moment, you worry about how tired you’ll be in class tomorrow when Sukuna’s large hands grips your thighs sharply.

“Goddamn,” he hisses through clenched teeth, chuckling at the irresistible sight of your breasts bouncing before him. Limbs tangled, minds controlled with the primal need to fuck, and moans shared with his deep grunts – you somehow end up on top of him, your thighs feeling like they’re on the verge of giving up as you continue to ride his thick length.

“You are so fucking sexy,” he slaps your ass and causes your hips to rut deeper, forcing that delicious curve of his cock to meld with your walls. You throw your head back, palms planted on his chest, focused only on that burning pleasure between your thighs. “I could fuck you all night long.”

Even though you truly have no wish to, you shake your head, fingers balling into a fist. “I have class tomorrow, need to wake up early,” you protest, the words falling into deaf ears as Sukuna thrusts up into you. He must’ve noticed how you’re growing tired and took matters into his own hands, feet grounded on the mattress to pound deliriously into you. You’re debating whether to be thankful or frustrated he still has so much energy even after hours of fucking, but it honestly doesn’t matter. You’re falling into his chest, arms slipping on your equally sweat-covered bodies. Right now, you just wanted to cum – once more, again, one last time! “Ah, Sukuna, t-too much!”

“Too much?” he laughs and tangles his hand to caress your scalp, the gesture too soothing that you almost forgot he’s fucking you into oblivion. “Want me to go slow?”

“No…”

“Thought so, sweetheart,” his grin is absolutely cocky as he bends his knees in a fold, pushing you until your back rests on his muscular thighs. Your mouth falls open at his hands wrapping around your threat, keeping you right there, hips flat and grinding on his cock. “Come on. Come for me,” Sukuna urges, tightening his hold around your neck a little harder.  

That’s all you need for your vision to blur and see stars, your body’s shaking uncontrollable. He’s thrusting with all his power and energy that it feels like you’re nothing but a hole on top of him, tongue falling open in a wanton manner as your drool trails down your chin.

You look filthy, you feel filthy, and yet, Sukuna sees it entirely different.

“So – fucking – gorgeous, fuck. I woulda fucked you sooner if I didn’t feel weird about it.”

“What?”

“Aw, come on, sweetheart,” he smirks at your half fucked out state. Sukuna rolls his hips in such a mind numbing manner that you end up staring at the ceiling, trying your hardest to decipher the colors of his room to get a grip of yourself. But he feels so hot, cock throbbing and pulsing inside you, your puffy lips encasing him with a translucent ring of cum and it feels so fucking good you don’t really understand what he’s saying anymore. “Did you really think I never saw you in my dreams?” he slaps your ass again, the reflexive response of tightening around him pulling a deep groan from the beautiful man beneath you. “I have such a sexy roommate, I couldn’t help it.”

“Then why didn’t you – ah, right there, shit – tell me?”

“Cuz,” he snickers and finally lets you breathe, your pupils blowing wide from the sudden flow of air. Sukuna kneads your breasts greedily, never stopping his mind-numbing rhythm of ramming deep into you. Your body burns, your thighs ache, your pussy feels sensitive but you can’t find the energy to stop him. Instead, you fall prey, failing in your mission to keep him wrapped around your fingers because now you’re wrapped around his cock, and you were quite fucking addicted to it. “You’re my friend’s student. Felt so fucking wrong.”

“What’s the difference now?”

“The difference is,” Sukuna’s face contorts into something of discomfort for a moment before he leans forward, his sturdy grip homing in on your hips again. You feel his searing breath on your ear, so parching it puts the warmth of your pussy to shame. “Having you like this has never felt so right, and I’ll keep fucking you if you let me.”

“I-I’d let you,” you concede absentmindedly and capture his lips for a sloppy kiss, tongues giving up on a battle of dominance. You’re always so clingy when you’re about to come, something Megumi never fails to chastise you for, and you fear Sukuna might push you away as you wrap an arm around him, nails painfully scratching down his back. Red marks leave a trail on its wake until his blood pierces through the sheets, the pain manifested through the increasing roughness of his pace. Now it’s your turn to whimper in his ear, pulling the man close and tugging harshly at the ends of his hair. Gosh, were you actually crying? “Sukuna, I’m close! Yes, yes, right there!”

Sukuna groans at the erotic sounds you reward him with. “Come for me, that’s right, ohhhh,” he stills inside you, his seed spilling deep inside you. You wince at the burst of warmth spreading all over your belly and Sukuna chuckles at your bulging belly. He presses down on it to coax his cum to trickle all over his cock, and he’s fucking filthy – you learn easily – to watch you make a mess on his cock with a childish smile on his face.

You push yourself off him and fall to his side, him following suit not long afterwards. The room feels completely stuffed from your intense fucking, the bruises on your body and scratches on his back a huge attestment to that.

Your legs remain wide open as you clench around nothing, his cum oozing out like a waterfall. Sukuna (that damned pervert) dips two fingers into your hole for one last moment just to drench his fingers in it, his eyes lit up in wonder while he lets it web around his fingers. You snicker at his actions and roll to his side, eyes fluttering close from the wave of exhaustion that comes into full force.

The lingerie set you intended to wear for Megumi was now ripped at the other side of the room, discarded, forgotten – merely evidence of a moment that had never been given to him.

Oddly enough, you don’t feel bad, not even when Sukuna faces you, his cheeks squished by his soft pillows. “I’m spent. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired. My gym sessions can’t compare to this.”

“You go to the gym?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t born this gorgeous, you know. I had to work hard for this,” Sukuna gestures to his body. You can’t help but follow the gestures and admire the hard planes of his muscle ripped above one another, the smatter of dark hair leading down his hips adding to his already immense sexual charisma. It makes you want to jump on him all over again, and you have to bite your lip to resist that urge, rolling your eyes at him in favor of letting him know you could totally go for another round.

“Dork.”

“Got me laid though, was worth the effort,” he jokes, and you both laugh.

It’s actually…weird, to laugh so casually with someone like this. It might be normal for Sukuna in his past sexual endeavors, but it’s totally a different thing for you. You and Megumi had never even bothered with aftercare. As long as he’s satisfied himself, he’d clean himself off in the bathroom and wear his sweatpants, winking at you before he leaves you alone all over again. The memory – albeit not really a regrettable one – is still painful each time you’re reminded you’ll keep coming back to him.

But are things different now? Could you go back to Megumi? You only ever wanted to fuck Sukuna because you’re sad and horny, but it wouldn’t be fair to him, especially when your roommate has been nothing but nice to you. Besides, him being a little more decent doesn’t immediately equate he’s different than Megumi.

For all you know, you could just be another cheap fuck. Sukuna is older and sexier, after all, he’s clearly had a lot more experience than you do.

As if reading your mind, Sukuna rests his head on his palms, elbows flat on the bed as he turns to you. The expression on his face is unreadable, but there’s some sort of softness behind it – a softness you’re not really familiar with.

“Hey. I don’t exactly know what you’re going through, not everything, anyway, but whatever we have right now, I want you to know it’s not because I see just as a pretty pussy, okay?” he says with a straight face, but you really shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up because Sukuna smirks, mischievous eyes darting back and forth to your soaked pussy and bare breasts. “Although you do have a pretty pussy. Can I eat you out again?”

With that, you snatch the pillow underneath him and whack it straight at his face. Sukuna laughs at your protests, the sound growing louder and a lot more mocking the harder you hit him. “Gosh, Sukuna, shut up!”

You end up hitting him way too many times in the face that he can’t get his words through, and before you could react, Sukuna’s ripped the pillow away from you. He cages you in his arms and hovers over you once more, his boneless dick grazing the insides of your thigh. It’s not meant to be sexual, and nothing about his stance gives off anything that shows he wants to do it again, but you can’t help but feel aroused, shifting your legs up and down the bed as you squirm.

“Seriously though,” he repeats, “We can be casual, or this could be a one time thing. Card’s all yours to play. If you want to forget everything tomorrow, I’d gladly do it. Let’s just go back to the way we were-”

“Sukuna.”

“Yes?”

“Did you really think I was only using you to distract myself?”

Sukuna’s lips flatten into a line. “I’m not stupid,” he says somberly, “I could tell you were still thinking about him. Not that I mind, though, you can’t stop yourself from loving someone,” Faintly, you’re distracted by his thumbs rubbing at your pulse point. It’s so lulling you want to fall asleep, but Sukuna isn’t done talking. “My point is…you don’t have to worry about being weird with me. We could just be friends with benefits, if you want, and not the kind you have with your boy toy either. ”

His blatantly catches you off guard and your eyes widen before they narrow at him, trying your best to hide your embarrassment. If Megumi was painfully honest, Sukuna’s ridiculously blunt that his mere words make your heart do weird things you’d rather not feel.

Careful, you remind yourself, Megumi is the one you want. You have to keep reminding yourself that before your feelings get the best of you. It’s Megumi, it’s always been Megumi and it always will be Megumi. Sukuna is just your roommate who’s nice enough to take your mind off things. You only wish you weren’t lying too much in case he gets the wrong idea you’re leading him on, but then again, isn’t that what you’re doing?

Friends with benefits or not – you still have no plans on getting involved with this guy any longer.

It’s always Megumi. You just really needed a quick fuck, someone whose dick didn’t belong with the guy you’re so hung up on over. The change feels nice and you definitely feel a lot better than the last time you met Megumi, but this guilt…it tastes bitter on your tongue, too heavy to swallow and ignore. It’s always Megumi, you tell yourself again in an attempt to relieve your pain.

Though it doesn’t subside and you huff in exasperation, turning away from Sukuna. You can’t stand looking at him right now.

“I’m not,” you mumble weakly, but the tears – the guilt, the heartbreak of not being Megumi’s lover, the regret and the ironic need to be closer to Sukuna feels all so confusing – all threaten to burst through. You don’t want him to see you cry, that would be lame, so you scoot closer to him and kiss his shoulder as you shyly ask, “C-can we cuddle?”

“Of course,” he chuckles, pulling you closer, “You don’t have to sound too nervous to ask.”

“Sorry, it’s just-”

“He never does that?”

“…Yeah.”

“Well, I’m not him,” Sukuna answers confidently, surprising you when he grabs your ass to press you flush against him. You’re both sweaty and hot to the point it’s uncomfortable, but Sukuna smells so sweet with his lingering cologne that you can’t help yourself from planting your face in his neck, breathing in the little hums he makes. Sukuna kisses the crown of your head – which is a little too sweet than you’d like – while his other hand runs down your back in a slow, sensual manner. Hell, it feels close to body worshipping, and you hate that you silently want more of this. “I’d cuddle you every day if you asked me to.”

“You’re surprisingly sweet,” you voice with a smile. Sukuna’s chest rumbles from the low laughter, and like that, you cling to him like he’s the only sturdy pillar in your life. It’s pathetic, maybe even desperate, but if he doesn’t mind, then why should you?

However, the moment is quickly ruined when the bell rings. “Shit, I forgot he was coming over!”

Sukuna glares at the door and holds you tighter, almost possessively, and refuses to let you go even as you squirm under him. “At three in the morning?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to meet him right now,” you groan helplessly.

Sukuna shoots you a blank look after that, then shoots out of the bed in an instant. You watch as he quickly dresses up in a fresh pair of sweatpants, grabbing a random hoodie from the back of his chair, presumably to hide the scratch marks. You have to hide your smile behind your hand because he looks so drool-worthy with marks littered on his already marked skin, and the fact he lets you mark him is even hotter.

He pauses at the door for a moment, pointing a finger at where you peered up at him curiously. “Stay there. I’ll talk to him and say you went out or whatever. Just make sure to silence your phone in case he calls. Better yet, turn it off.”

Sukuna closes the door behind him, already on the way to the entrance just as you press your ears against the door to eavesdrop. There’s a slight shuffling before the door unlocks, then, “Why the fuck did you lock-” Megumi pauses in his words, and you can perfectly picture his infamous scowl painting his handsome features already. Gosh, you wish you could actually see it, but if Megumi catches you sleeping with someone else, he might totally lose interest in you. That’s not something you could afford to happen.

“Oh. You’re her roommate.” You snigger at his usual what the fuck tone – how Megumi of him.

“Hey, kid, it’s a little too late for a visit, don’t you think?” Sukuna taunts, and it takes everything in you to not burst through the door at that moment. You’re stuck between wanting to laugh and crying, mostly because you would love and hate for Megumi to get riled up. “Do your parents know you’re here? Kids shouldn’t be out this late.”

“I’m not a fucking kid, I’m in uni,” he defends, “Do you know where Y/N is? I need to talk to her.”

Deciding fuck it, you open the door by an inch, just enough to peek. As expected, Megumi is glaring behind Sukuna’s shoulders in search of you. Meanwhile, Sukuna’s completely calm, checking his nails boredly as if Megumi isn’t fuming in front of him. And boy, do you know how much Megumi hates being ignored. “Oh, I think she went out, I don’t know why though. House was empty when I got here.”

“She didn’t tell you where she was going?”

At Megumi’s imposing tone, Sukuna tilts his head to scrutinize Megumi. Now that you’re seeing them together, Sukuna’s twice the size of Megs, their height and shoulder width too different to start comparing. But knowing Megumi, he’s not going to back down from a tattooed guy twice his size, not even as he sarcastically remarks, “Ain’t you her friend? She should be telling you that kind of stuff.”

Truthfully, you expected he would put up more of a fight. The two of them share a heated staring competition before Megumi scoffs, the first one to look away. “Whatever,” he dismisses, “Tell her to pick her damn phone up. I’ve been calling for the past hour.”

“I think I should tell her to get better friends.”

“What was that?”

“I said get home safely,” Sukuna chirps. Even with his back turned to you, you could tell Sukuna’s just further pressing his buttons with a grin that’s not meant to be inviting at all. Just when you think it’s done, however, Sukuna finishes off with, “Kid.”

Megumi rages. His blue eyes flame into something feral, his fists balled at his sides. He’s always had a temper issue and you nearly reveal yourself to stop whatever fight is about to ensue, but Sukuna’s already closing the door, ridding any opportunity for the younger one to retaliate. At the sound of the door closing, Sukuna leans against the door, his smile still plastered on his face as if he knows you’re watching the whole time. He meets your eyes from the slight peep of his door, waving his hands sarcastically.

“Sukuna, you didn’t have to be so mean.”

“Sorry,” he isn’t apologetic at all. “Next time I’ll be nicer to your asshole crushes,” he adds with a slight roll of his eyes and you punch his chest playfully. You don’t stop him from grabbing your wrists to embrace you in a hug that doesn’t seem so platonic – but not so suggestive either. Sukuna rests his chin on top of your hand while he sways you both side to side, his voice muffled in your hair. “I understand why you’re attracted to him though. He’s really handsome.”

“Yeah, he is,” you agree sadly, thinking of how much it’s really all a waste Megumi has to be like that. “Just sucks his personality ruins everything.”

“A pretty face is always deceiving,” Sukuna suddenly pulls away and holds you an arm’s length away.  “Hey, want to have early breakfast?”

“I think that would be late dinner,” you frown at him.

“Whatever, food is food,” he responds rather excitedly, and you watch as Sukuna rummages through the fridge. Now that you think about it, having sex so much really took a toll on you, and your stomach grumbles loudly. Sukuna hides his chuckles through the fridge but you hear him anyway, shouting at him that you’re not hungry. “Wasn’t asking, sweetheart. Now go get cleaned and changed, I’ll make something for you.”

If anyone were to tell you that a good fucking is all that’s needed for you to immediately form a new kind of friendship with your roommate, you’d call them weird. Sukuna isn’t necessarily out of reach, you and him just simply didn’t cross paths.

But now, you’re dressed comfortably in his boxers and the oversized shirt you stole from him, eating the slightly burn cheese sandwich he’s made, sharing conversation and laughing with him like you’ve been doing it for such a long time. Your sandwich is actually half forgotten on the plate as you whack your palms on the counter, “That’s how you and Prof Gojo met? I never would’ve expected you guys fought over a girl!”

“He was fucking annoying in high school,” Sukuna grumbles over an angry bite, “He was getting all the girls that when someone confessed to me, the hottest chick, no less, he straight up punched me in the face,” you laugh as you imagine the memory of a younger, already rebellious looking Sukuna getting smacked by the even more intolerable Gojo Satoru. Sukuna is lost in his own memories as well, shaking his head from around the last bites of his bread. It’s clear he hates the burnt crust judging from the way he turns a little green, but he’s bragged about his cooking skills so proudly that he has to save face in front of you. “Ah, such good times,” he muses before wincing at his own words, dropping his bread in disgust. “Damn, I sound old, don’t I?”

“You’re only like, five years older than me, it’s fine,” you giggle, “I like the maturity that comes with older people. You’re a lot easier to be with than guys my age.”

“Please,” Sukuna smirks, “Just say you like fucking older men. I won’t judge.”

If anyone were to tell you that you would be jumping over the counter to strangle your roommate who’s now running like hell, your laughter bursting through the once silent apartment, you would call them a liar. But now, you and Sukuna are panting on the floor, too tired from sprinting all around before calling it quits. Maybe it’s a lie – maybe this connection will never really be that much of a big deal – but as long as this lie and play pretend of friendship lasts, you’ll just enjoy every sweet moment of it.

taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed) (bold can’t be tagged) @uwubby-1 @expectoscamander @your-consulting-fangirl @dora-the-grownup @cosmotoic @charlie-xo @kittaliapenn @sukunas-cult-leader @flowersgirl02 @cloudsinthecosmos @90s-belladonna @averysheart-raleighsdick @generousstudentpsychic-bat @kat-su-ki @issamomma​