#its hot. let us have A SINGLE WIN

[bleufu1]

HONEYSUCKLE’S

“You gon’ teach me sum’n?”

“imma teach ya’ more den’ that.”

mini taglist — @kxllanxtdoor @marley1773 @motheroffae @yourcoralansene @coldeforprez @twistedsistas-stuff @heyyimmisunderstood @spatterpus @bendoverboo18 @pinkpantheris @briana-mishell24

chapter review

SYNOPSIS: The Juke Joint. An’ tension is thick.

not wordless but not full dialogue | sexual tension | p in v | unprotected (stay wrapped kids!!) | mature jokes | sammie flirting | 18+ | smut | oral (f!reciving) | riding |

Everyones sweating. The joint was still hot. Musicians on the stage playin' they hearts away an' everybody still on the dance floor. Been goin on for a good couple hours now. Smiles on everybody's faces, like they been' waitin for the opportunity to wine down and just live.

The musics boomin. Ladies both married and single on the dance floor, whining an' grinding on the men in the room not even caring if they had someone to go home to. Everybody seemed to be having a good time. Nothin’ bad going on — less work for smoke.

Sammie was off at the bar, glass of whiskey in his cup. Annie stood with him, an’ watched as his eyes drifted from his cup an’ back to Sugar from time to time. Eyes lingering longer every time. Annie already knew what he was feeling. She had felt the same way bout’ smoke all those years ago. Back when he was winning her over with compliments an’ flowers.

Made her heart skip seeing him the same way.

Sammie watched her from a distance. Decided it’d be best to give her space an’ let her have fun for the night. Can’t be all up on her an’ she just got back — he had to give it time.

“You staring pretty hard there, Sammie.”

He came out his daze, looking back at Annie seeing the smile on her face. He could tell by the look she was giving him that she done seen him gawking. This ain’t the first time he’d been caught either. Not that long ago he’d been caught by Slim — earning a cackle to the face an’ a mini life lesson on how to get girls in one night.

Sammie damn sure wasn’t listening to his drunk ass.

He smiled back at Annie, eyes scouting out for nosey folk.

“Ain’t no harm in starin’ — i’m just admiring.”

“Admiration shouldn’t look that dark in someone’s eyes. Better stop foe’ your love turn to lust.”

Sammie laughed a bit at her words. Sure — Sammie noticed how her curves enhanced her every move. How her eyes made him crazy an’ how he so badly wanted to feel her. But he ain’t just need her, he wants her. Not just for body but for her. He loved that girl an’ wanted to show it to her, he just ain’t know how.

“Now Annie — ain’t no lusting over here, only love. Promise’ you that.”

Sammie meant what he said too. He loved that girl with everything he had. She was his reason for livin’ an’ why he even keeps pushin’ to begin with.

Annie seen the way he looked at her. She knows she talked bout’ it before but it’s just so surreal. Smoke use to do the same with her when they were younger. He’d always buy her flowers — treat her like a real lady an’ made sure she felt an’ seen the love.

She'd seen this kinda love before, an' it aint no mistake. Sammie loved sugar, member' him sayin' sum'n bout her being sweet as the Honeysuckles when they in full bloom. Said she bout as pretty as magnolia in may.

Sammie watched as Sugar swayed in a corner by herself. Watchin' her. Seen how she lured him in, an' she wasn't even doing anything. Just existing. He'd seen how much she's changed. From her facial features — to her hair. Her body, the way it curves differently now. How tight her dress hugged her waist, how tight it got round' her hips.

God save him.

Sammies mind wandered more. Deeper. Letting his eyes do all the talking for him. He eyed her down, like an animal — quietly and slick. Undressing her with his eyes, he wondered what she'd look like without all the layers in his way.

It's almost as if his body moved on its own. Sammie stood up and walked towards her. He ain't even know what he was gon' say, but he knew what he wanted. He'd been yearnin' for it since she came back. Ain't want her for her body. Not for the lust or the pleasure — partially. But mostly — for her. He wanted his Sugar back by any means necessary, an' he was gon' get er'.

Sammie slide past all the folk on the dance floor. Weaving through everybody crowding the corner. He walked up to Sugar with a smile on his face, sly grin he always wore when he was up to no good.

"What ya' want huh, Preacher?"

Sugar eyed him. She'd seen him basically beggin' from the other side of the joint — his eyes, the way they danced over her figure, how they slowly got darker with intention. Told her everything she needed to know. She knew he wanted her — but she wanted him to ask nicely, at least.

"Nothin' special, just wonderin' why ya' over here lookin' lost. You wanna go home or sum'n?"

"No — just can't find nothin' to do. Already said hi to everybody I know."

Sammie thought for a second.

Then it hit em'.

"Know how ta' dance?"

Sugar looked at Sammie. She eyed him for bit. Knowing him — at least what she knew bout' him — him askin' anything bout dancing was never a good thing tho agree to. She member' when they were younger, Sammie convinced her to dance in the rain.

They both ended up sick within' the next four hours.

"I do, a little — why ya' wanna know huh?"

"A Little? Nah, that ain't good enough — c'mon lemme teach ya somethin'."

Sugar looked him up an' down. Nudging him softly, soft smile came on her face.

"An' what you know bout' dancing?"

"Know enough ta' get you out this damn corner."

Sammie stepped up a little, backing Sugar into the corner a little more. They kept eye contact — neither one lookin' away. Sammies eyes spoke somethin' to Sugar. Heat rose between the two of em', could hear each others breathin' getting louder an' deeper. Sugar tilted her head at Sammie, giving him a smirk.

"You gon' teach me a lil sum'n?"

Sammie stepped up, put his hands on her waist.

Slid em' down to her hips.

Gave em' a squeeze.

"Imma teach ya' more den' that."

Sammie walked backwards, slowly leading Sugar to the floor. Turning round' Sammie stepped behind her. Hands still on her hips. Carefully, Sammie brought her closer to him, her back to his chest. His hand stayed on her — helping her with the steps a bit. They swayed a little before Sammie got bold.

"Don't be shy now, sway a lil' more — there ya' go."

Sammie gripped Sugars waist tighter. One of his hands moved to wrap round' her waist, hugging her tighter to him. His thumb caressing her side a bit.

The room felt hotter. For a while Sugars mind was dizzy. High off the attention. Sammie dipped his head into her neck, giving it small pecks here an' there. Just enough to get a rise outta' her.

Sugar got into it after while. She started rocking her hips to the beat instead — Sammie followed her movement.

His hands got more curious, he wanted to get more curious. But he kept his hands to himself. Kept them where he had em'. His touch got more grabby — more needy.

Both of em' swayed to the beat. Bodies rolling against one another. Sammies hand on her, her body on his. Enough touch to make both of em' forget the sense they were born with.

Lost in their own daze. Both in two different words. But both feelin' the same thing. Both feelin' the reaction.

For a second — it felt like they were alone.

Sammies pecks raised more an' more. Started soft turned harsh. Pecks turned into full kisses, to small sucks.

The hoot of someone else on the floor brought them back.

Just membered' they ain't the only ones here.

Sugar turned around to meet his gaze. His eyes were low — dark. She decided to play round' with his patience since, clearly — he had none left.

"Ain't know you could do allat' now Preacher boy."

She raised her arms to wrap round' his neck. His hands rested on her lower waist.

"Theres a lot you'n know I can do."

"Oh? An' what's that?"

Sugar batted her eye at him slowly. Her tongue poked at the side of her mouth, head tilted as she smiled a bit at him.

"Shit — you gon' get me in trouble girl."

"You started it."

Sammies grip tightened, he pulled her closer — noses almost touchin'.

"Yeah? An' imma finish it — you keep playin'."

Sugar laughed a little.

Right in his face.

"An' what you gon' do? — Shit."

Ok.

Sammie took her wrist, quickly dragged her to the back of the barn. Weaving between everybody, some folk called his name. He ignored em'. Other people the least of his concerns right now. Too busy.

Sammie tugged them to the room, closing an' locking the door behind him. He turned to face Sugar. Same fiend innocent face she wore outside, after all she told him — In that purposely low voice.

Sammies patience was clipped.

He paced towards her — fast. His lips was on hers before she could react. Sugar kissed back, equal amount of need behind their kisses. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

Sammie took her face into his hands. Kissing her harder. Like she was gon' disappear if he let go. The kiss got more heated the more they went on. All the pent up frustration put into one kiss.

Their breathing heaved, both out of breath but couldn't find the audacity to stop.

Eventually — Sammie separated from the kiss.

They took a second to collect themselves. Sammie looked her in the eyes.

Dead, in her eyes.

He walked her into one of the crates. Lifting her up onto the box, thumbs caressing her hips as he stands between her legs. Sammie takes her face into his hands again, making Sugar look at him.

"We don't gotta do nothin' more than kiss, anything you'n wanna do ya' don't have to."

Sugars heart melted. Her favorite man in the whole world, too sweet for his own good. Damn, she loved him.

"Sammie."

She grabbed him by his shirt. Bringing him closer.

"I want you."

Sammies pupils dilated for split second — Sugar almost missed it. He licked his bottom lip — inhaled sharply.

"Better tell me what ya' want. Closed mouths don't get fed baby."

Sammies hands grabbed anywhere they could. Sliding up and down, grabbing on the fat of her body.

"Don't care what ya' do — just make me feel good yeah?"

He ain't need ta' be told twice.

Sammie dropped to his knees, his hands went under her skirt. Pulling down her panties an' tossin' em to the side. He slid her skirt up a bit. Sammie bit his lip a little, sucked in a breath. Sammie looked up at Sugar as he kissed up her inner thigh, makin' sure to go slow on purpose. He wanted to get a taste bad — but he wanted to see her reactions, her responses.

He watched her twice at every kiss. How her brows furrowed whenever he stopped for too long. She looked so.

Sammie locked his lips onto her.

He licked an' sucked. Dragging his tongue in and out as he did so. He ate her like a starved man fresh outta' the cell. Like he aint seen his wife is years since it sentence. God it felt like it.

Sugar squirmed and whined. She lifted her hips a little an' rolled em', tryna' get more feelin'.

Sammie wrapped his arms round' her thighs an' pulled her back down. His grip tightening on her inner thigh, tellin' her ta' keep still. Be good. He lifted his head for a second, replacing his tongue with his fingers.

Sugar fell into nothin' but small gasps.

Sammie worked his fingers well. In an' out. Fast goin' in an' slow comin' out. He curled his fingers whenever he pulled them out.

Sugars legs shook, her legs try'n to close but Sammie kept them open.

"Aht Aht — Keep em' open for me."

Sugars legs shook under his arms. Chest heaving, breathing hard an' loud. She gripped onto a near shelf for support, some sort of anchor so she wouldn't pass out.

"God — Sammie.." "Oh— right there, please."

Beggin' an' Pleading.

Sammie looked up at Sugar, eyes full of love an' lust.

"I gotchu', r'lax for me."

Sammie kept his fingers goin', while he put his mouth back on her. He flicked his tongue up an' down slow while his fingers worked fast. The motion made Sugar shake hard.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her chest caved in deeper as she breathed. She put one hand on Sammies head, try'n ta' push him further. Her legs shook an' her hips lifted at the sensation.

Breathing got harsher.

Back arched higher.

Sugars legs caved in, round' Sammies head.

Sammie ain't stop though, he cleaned up the mess he made. Like a real man.

Sugar lifted herself up slowly, still catching her breath. Sammie came from under her skirt, his lips an' chin covered with her. Goofy smile on his face, like a kid who just got the big corner piece of cake.

"Smiling real hard ain't ya'." Sugar exhaled a laugh.

She stood up, holdin' onto Sammie for support. She looked at Sammie, eyes low. Her drive was still high, she wanted more.

Sammie wouldn't mind, now would he?

Sugar slowly walked Sammie to the wall, pushin' him to slide down. She followed suit, sitting on his lap. She grabbed his face an' kissed him hard. Sammie licked her bottom lip a little. He wrapped his arms round' her — pulling her in. Sugar pulled away.

"Wanna try sum'n, gon' let me?"

Sammie stared at her, lips swollen an' glossy. Face still a mess.

"Whatever ya' want Sugar, whatever make ya' pleased."

Sugar smirked, grinned ear to ear. She started undoing his belt enough to pull his pants down. She reached her hand into his boxers an' released him from his briefs. Sugar lifted herself off his lap a little an' aligned herself to him. Slowly — she sunk herself on him.

They both groaned at the feeling. Sammie felt how tight she was, thought he was gon' come undone on the spot. Sugar felt a small stretch, it hurt for a little bit till' the pain went away. Replaced by pleasure.

Sugar sank all the way down on him, bottomed out the second she got all the way down.

Sammie was panting already, an' she barely moved at all. He kept a firm grip on her hips, holding her down. He was scared he'd only last a couple minutes. He couldn't focus with her wrapped round' him like this.

Sugar started rockin'. Both immediately felt it rising. The more she moved, the faster she went. Sammie put his hands on her waist, movin' her more. Pushin' her harder on him.

His arms were on her again, pulling her on him. Sammie put her in a bear hug. One arm was propped up, keeping him up. The other was pullin' Sugar in.

Both of them rolled an' grinded against each other. Moans bounced off the walls. Sammie had his head tilted back, biting his lip try'n to contain his sounds. Sugar was all heavy breathing, hands on Sammies shirt, scrunched up from her grip.

Sammie sat up. Started kissin' up on her neck. Sucking an' biting at her shoulder. Sugar rolled faster.

Sammie was lost in the feeling. The feeling of the bliss. Feeling of the drive. The feeling of her.

"Shit — Sugar, almost there. C'mon, give it to me." "Let go mama."

Whined into is shoulder, Sugars legs shook.

Sammie let out a low groan. Hips snapped up into Sugar.

Once. Twice.

Both bottomed out an' outta breath.

Sugar pushed herself up. he hair was a mess. Tousled like she'd just fought a wild cat. Sammie thought she looked beautiful.

They both took their moment.

Looked at each other, an' laughed.

They sat there for a minute, and laughed with each other. Sugar rested her head on Sammies shoulder, while he kept his arm round' her waist. Thumb occasionally stroking her side.

The moment lasted — till' they heard someone call for Sammie.

Sammie sighed in annoyance. He ain't wanna get up. Not from this, he wanted to stay with her for as long as he could before Stack or Slim would drag him off for the rest of the night with their bullshit. His grip tightened round' her. Sugar let out a small giggle.

She took his face in her hands.

"I think we should get ta' lookin' presentable, yeah?"

Sammie set his head to hers, sighing hard.

"Mmm — Inna' minute Sugar. Wanna stay."

"Hm. Okay — only for a little', can't stay in here forever."

Sammie gave her a small peck on the lips.

"Who said?"

——————————————————————————

🫶 — Heyyyy, hope yall like ittttt 😼😼

[maimaily]

the lads boys as kittens. 🪐 ‧₊˚ xavier

summary: You were living in your new apartment now, a free space for yourself, but maybe it was too free. You weren't quite used to the silence and loneliness of it, so you decided to welcome a little one to your home. After considering many options, a cat seemed adequate: clean, independent, wouldn't take much of your time like a dog… right?

characters: kitty!xavier (other characters will be posted separately), mc as reader.

a/n: cat breeds are selected based on the "Yes, Cat Caretaker" event. If there's any change, it'll be based on the appearance of each breed, but not its personality traits strictly. proofread but if there's any mistake please let me know! (eng isn't my first language).

rafayel 🢒 zayne 🢒 sylus 🢒 caleb (coming soon)

Xavier — Ragdoll How did he get to live with you?

You adopted him. He was going to be your first cat, so you wanted to make sure you were choosing the right one, and receiving recommendations from an adoption center was the best idea. You went there and heard of a slightly older cat who hadn't been adopted yet. A single look was enough to know he was the one. His bright blue eyes stared at you, and his paws tried to reach you as you got closer. A little nervous of scaring him, you gently allowed him to sniff your finger, and he then rubbed against your hand. It is not necessary to say you decided you'd give your life for him.

On the way home, the little kitty curled into a puffy ball of fur, sleeping peacefully after feeling safe in your warm arms ♡

Little did you know what this little thing really was !!

This kitty EATS. A LOT. You can easily win his heart with treats. He can smell them even before you open any can or package, but will wait like the good boy he is, with both front paws stomping cutely on the floor. However, you had to cut back on them because your wallet was starting to suffer the consequences of a gluttonous kitten. Poor thing got upset for a while, but the food was still yummy, so he adapted (he's not that much of a picky eater…)

Eepy baby. He's a sweetheart and always, I repeat, always cuddles to take naps with you. The kind of cat who climbs onto the bed the moment you flop down on it and makes his way between your arms to be cuddled and sleep. Purrs quietly and very softly, and will rub against your hands as he does. Rarely meows, but does it when he's being needy. Has fallen asleep while eating or drinking his warm milk more than once, his little chin all dirty, so you have to clean him (he doesn't like it!).

He follows you everywhere. Whatever you're doing, if you're walking around the house, he'll follow you like a loyal knight. His fluffy tail moves gently against your legs when you're standing, washing the dishes, brushing your teeth, or cooking. Sometimes he expects you to see him (you do) to pick him up (you always do). He's a needy boy! Needs lots and lots of your attention!

Talking about attention, he climbs onto your body when he feels neglected. You were happily cooking, humming the songs on your playlist, chopping vegetables for the new dish you wanted to try- and then oop! The weight of a fluffy hairball snags on the fabric of your hoodie back without warning. "Xavi! Don't move- Don't move!" you urgently exclaimed as you slowly moved back from the hot stove. Can you blame him? He just wanted to spend time with you :(

Great hunter in every shape! A cockroach? He's already smacking it with his paws. A fly? He already jumped to catch it. Mosquitos? He saw them even before you did. If by any chance there's a mouse or rat inside, be sure he's getting rid of it! And he's so fast! (Give him a treat afterwards, he deserves it.)

Grumpy if you wake him up. He hates the vacuum cleaner with his life, and hates it even more if you decide to use it when he's just fallen asleep. When you switched to an automatic one, he smacked it with his angry paws each time it bumped onto him. Doesn't hiss at you, he's too docile for that, but will meow very loudly until you comfort him back to sleep (and give him treats-).

His favorite place to make biscuits is your chest while you're lying down. If you're watching some TV, reading a book, scrolling down your phone, or simply flopped down on the sofa or your bed, he climbs on top of you and makes his way to your chest and starts kneading very gently. He never uses his claws on you, so you allow him to do it, it's his way of bonding with you and relieving some stress after all <3.

Sulkynator 2000. Baby boy gets UPSET to astronomical levels when you even mention other cats. Do NOT play with his little heart like this! :( Why are you watching cat videos if he's right there? He can do tricks too! Or why are you petting the neighbor's dog? He's dirty and too loud! Xavi is clean, he doesn't leave mud on your carpet, and doesn't bark in the middle of the night for no good reason! :(( You'll have to face a moody Xavier for a good time until you soothe his poor feelings.

It was a quiet Sunday morning. The weather outside was hot, and that woke you up, along with the blinding sun that entered the room from the window in front of the bed. You stirred, kicking the blankets away when a gentle paw touched your cheek.

"Morning, Xavi!" You baby-talked to your little prince cat, who had just woken up by your sudden movements, stirring with you and slowly opening his little blue eyes, struggling to keep them open for too long. "Oh no, what are we gonna do? My prince is too eepy to start the day!" You giggled, taking him in your arms and cuddling him once more, kissing his little face. He didn't even need to convince you to sleep five more minutes, his mere sleepy presence was enough for you to feel lazy again and go back to the bed.

But today was too hot to stay in, and you wanted to change out of your pajamas as soon as possible. With another kiss, you sweet-talked your lazy cat to wake up and have breakfast, but he just purred in response and kept his eyes closed. Accepting the impossible, you just got up, feeling his small claw clinging to your shirt; you couldn't sleep with him anymore, but you couldn't ignore his adorable attempt of keeping you close, so you cradled him like a baby, holding him in your arms and even rocking him a little.

If Xavier could blush, he would definitely do so at that right moment. He was a big cat already! But… your arms were so warm and he was so comfy… That's how you ended up carrying him to the bathroom, brushing your teeth with one hand and holding him with the other, then you made him lie against your shoulder, taking your hair products out.

"Mwraa," he protested when you set him down on the floor outside the bathroom. "I need to take a shower. Wait outside, breakfast will be ready in a minute." It wasn't really breakfast that his meowjesty was requesting, but his comfortable sleeping spot: you! But now he couldn't bring himself to be sleepy again, so he wandered around the apartment lazily, finding a good place in front of the balcony door to sunbathe.

When you came out of the bathroom with your hair still dripping wet, the first thing you saw was that adorable bundle of fur lying on his back with his little paws stretched faaar as he just finished doing the most exhausting job in the world. And maybe he did, carrying all that beauty had to be exhausting!

"My, look what I found!" You crouched down to him with a big smile, tickling his tummy, which he quickly defended by trapping your hand. "Is Xavi the prince enjoying the warm weather? Hm?" He got up in a swift move and rubbed against your legs, his long, fluffy tail almost tickling your nose. You picked him up, peppering his face with kisses before putting him down again. "Let's get breakfast, come on."

He happily followed behind you, passing through your legs when you leaned down to pick his empty bowl from the floor. The good thing with Xavier was that no food went to waste… which was also bad because it meant that tummy seemed to never fill. He meowed only once as he saw you open the wet food package.

"Almost done, Xavi. Wait a second," and he did, his little paw ritual bringing a smile to your face. When you put the plate down, he hurriedly took the first bite. "Enjoy, baby. Ah- I forgot to take out the trash." The hurried sense flooded through your veins as you saw the hour. "Wait for me, I'm back in a minute!" Your hands were quicker to pick up the smelly garbage bag and run out of the complex to dispose of it before the truck came by.

You did it just in time, sighing in relief as you walked back, until you saw an adorable stray kitten playing with a plastic bottle cap between his paws. "Look at you, aren't you having fun?" At the sound of your voice the kitten stopped playing but didn't run away, an act you took as an open invitation to get closer. You fawned over the stray, your voice melting into playful coos as you playfully ruffled its fur.

It wasn't until a loud noise from the street scared the small cat you realized you'd been playing with it for a long time. With a content sigh you dusted your hands off and walked back to the complex. Inside your home, Xavier had already finished his food, waiting patiently around the entry for you to come back, blue eyes locked on the door as if he was afraid to miss your arrival. When he heard the soft click of it, he meowed as a greeting, until… What was that?

"Ah Xavi. I'm back, did you finish your food-?" You hadn't finished your question when his fluffy body jumped right at your arms with an angry growl. It surprised you, honestly, he was always so calm and loving that this behavior only occurred when… Oh.

"Is someone jealous over here? You don't like that I- Ow! Hey!" He didn't scratch you, but he definitely was about to chomp that teasing finger you were wiggling in front of his very upset self. He meowed in protest, trying with all his might to rub himself against you once again! How could you do this? He works so hard keeping his scent on you, and now you come back after a fifteen-minute leave, invading his sensitive nostrils with another's cat scent? Oh no, he wasn't having it.

But you couldn't contain your laughter. He wasn't even scary and wasn't hurting you because he trusted you too much to do that, but he was madly funny when he got like that. "I see, I see. I made Xavier upset. I apologize, baby," you said, cradling him in your arms as you sat on the couch. "How can I get your forgiveness, hm?" Xavier acted like he hadn't heard you, wiggling his tail still in his petty mood, squirming gently in your arms as if trying to get away. "Ah ah ah. Don't you want me to be only yours, your majesty? Gotta stay here for that, then. What about I give you a small catnip treat I got you yesterday?"

His entire expression shifted. Oh well. You were right, of course you were, mm-hmm. He couldn't be mad at you all day either, could he? And now he moved closer to you, licking gently your cheek, bringing a smile to your face. "Now who's a good boy, huh? Of course you are, you'll always be."

Xavier held no grudges against you, he never did. After all, who else on this planet would love him as you did, after facing loneliness for so long? He was your good boy, and he'd be always there for you.

© MAIMAILY. Please do not steal, copy or plagiarize this work.

Likes, reblogs are comments are greatly appreciated!

I did it! I can believe the amount of time it took me to finish this, but it's been ages since I last wrote any kind of fanfiction or content for fandoms so I'm a bit nervous. I hope you like it, and if it's the case I'm so happy for that! I'm already working on Rafayel's version so don't miss it <3

Dividers made by: @uzmacchiato and @v6que

[rawjutsu]

YOU'RE SO PRETTY :3 p1 of the ":3 with benefits" series

pairing: college aged loser yuuta x college aged lesser loser freader

summary: yuuta :3s his way into some pussy

cw: unprotected sex, objectification, mild degradation, dubious enthusiasm, hentai references, loss of virginity, the tags make it sound a lot worse than it rlly is

you’re one more “mommy pls sit on my face” away from setting your phone on fire.

every time you open hinge, it’s the same photo getting all the attention: the cosplay pic. it was meant to be pg-13, sure—but between the school uniform blazer fighting for its life and your very intentional push-up bra, you’re not exactly shocked by the thirst. just exhausted.

“let me see em 😍”

“damn ur tits could cure my depression fr”

“mommy?”

“pls ruin me 🧎🧎🧎”

you sigh, aggressively pressing the little “x” next to every like. the app is one second away from being deleted, until a single comment stops you:

“you’re so pretty :3”

…what the fuck?

you blink. then blink again. is this bait?

you click his profile, expecting the worst, and are met with a guy who looks like he just rolled out of bed after crying over a studio ghibli film. his hair’s messy in a kind of hot way, dark bangs falling over his eyes. his profile pic is just him awkwardly holding up a peace sign, next to a cropped-out friend with green hair. you clock the dark circles under his eyes immediately. he looks like he hasn't slept in 36 hours. he’s kind of cute.

prompt: "two truths and a lie?"

“i’ve been to africa. i have a cat back home named rika. i’ve never cried during an anime.”

you match and reply.

“thank you :)”

you shift in bed, suddenly very aware of how dry your texting game is. you’ve never dated, never been in a relationship. technically, you’ve never even had sex. unless fingering yourself to doujinshi counts. probably not.

still, you send:

“you’re pretty too :)”

instant reply.

“oh my gosh thank you :3”

“i would be so honored if i got to kiss you :3”

oh god.

somewhere, your best friend is cursing herself for not warning you about men who use emoticons like “:3”. because three days later, you’re in his twin xl dorm bed, and everything is spiraling.

...

yuuta's panting like he just ran a marathon, eyes wide and locked on your tits as he jackhammers into you like he’s trying to win a prize.

“fuck, your pussy’s so warm—so pretty—oh my god—feels so good—”

the bed is creaking. you’re folded like laundry. there’s an unopened cup ramen on his desk vibrating with each thrust. he’s got your legs hooked over his shoulders and your brain is doing olympic-level gymnastics trying to process how this soft-spoken guy who said “:3” just days ago is currently rearranging your guts like it’s his life's mission.

and yet—he looks so tired. his bangs are stuck to his forehead with sweat, and those dark circles? even darker now. like he hasn’t slept since you two matched. and despite looking like he could collapse at any moment, he's somehow still going. and talking.

“your tits are unreal i’m gonna die—fuck—can you feel how good this is for me?”

you groan. not from pleasure, but because your eye just caught the anime poster on the ceiling. a busty anime girl in a microscopic bikini is bending over, ass out, cheeks flushed, pussy print visible. you don’t know if you want to laugh or cry.

he moans. you flinch. he misreads the whole situation and starts palming your boobs like they’re stress balls, pinching a nipple with such confidence you wonder if he’s actually done this before or if he just watched a lot of hentai and decided that was enough.

your phone buzzes from his desk. it’s your best friend.

how’s your hinge date?

you close your eyes.

you really should’ve deleted that stupid app.

taglist: @isagistar sttaejoon-blog

a/n i absolutely did not write this from personal experience.

[cherrywrecked]

bite me — yu jimin.

summary: reader's favorite time of the year is halloween, her favorite mythical creatures are vampires and her fuck buddy, karina, has a developing biting kink.

cw: g!p idol!karina. vampires. aphrodisiac. rough sex with rina. pussy slapping. dirty talking. no condoms. dom!karina.

halloween was long far done, but to you, every day was halloween. i mean, it is your favorite time of the year; anybody could be anyone. you can be a sexy doctor or nurse, a slutty firefighter, a cheerleader, hell, you can even be a fucking vampire. everybody could wear whatever we want with zero judgement and that's what you liked about halloween best. but i honestly you won halloween 2023. you were so committed to it, you even got vampire fangs. crazy? maybe, but your sexual partner loved it best. she only saw it online, but still, who's crazier between the two of you?

karina had been away for a few months for their tour and unfortunately, you weren't together last halloween, but she's now home for the holidays, and it wouldn't be karina if she didn't have anything prepared for me when you got to her apartment. the moment you walked inside the pad, all you could smell was the enticing scent of a dark, elegant and sexy perfume—it was scented candles. it was all over the hallway, as if forming a path for you to walk through. just a few steps away from me was her table and there was a glass of wine atop of it with a note which read, “come straight to my room after you're done with this.” you took your time with the wine, but as soon as you were done with it, you went straight to her room which you didn't have a hard time looking for.

there, karina was sitting on a single couch, a leg crossed over the other. she looked stunning with her black jeans and tight crop top that hugged her beautiful frame. “took you a while since i heard you enter.” she said as she got up from the couch and slowly walked towards you. “it's been a while.” she whispered, face close to yours. she looked so pretty but you started feeling lightheaded and moreover, hot. “karina, why the fuck do you have your ac off?” you asked to which karina only laughed at. she took another step closer, and another, until she pushed you in her bed.

“oh, sweetheart. still as gullible as the first time, aren't you?” she smirked as her index finger traced your chest down to your cleavage through your black lace top. her touch brought shivers down your spine, moreso when she ripped your top open. she was scaring you as you've never seen her like this. “the wine... did you put something in it?” you muttered, biting on your lower lip to bite back the whimpers itching to escape as her fingers played with my nipples. karina smirked, humming. “smart girl, why, is it taking effect already?” you blushed and sure enough, it was. your body was aching for her. instead of replying, you pulled her into a hungry kiss, one arm snaking around her neck as if locking her body close to yours, whilst the other roamed around her body, eventually taking her top off, leaving the both of you now topless.

you felt karina run her tongue along your lips which you then parted and let her in—your tongues danced, fighting for dominance, but you both know she'd win. you can feel yourself get so turned on and wet through your panties just by the kiss. “rina, i need you.” you whispered when she brought her lips to your jaw, tracing the kisses down your neck. she didn't reply, she instead used her hand to cup your womanhood through your panties under your skirt, eliciting a long moan from you. her hands feel so soft against you, you needed more.

moving your hips, you started to hump her palm, palming myself as she kissed your neck, nibbling on patches of your skin to mark her territory. “you enjoy this, don't you? look at your slutty waist, moving on its own.” she chuckled lowly against your ear before pulling away only to take the remaining pieces of clothing off your body. your nipples are so hard and you could already feel your wetness dripping down your cheeks. it's the first time you felt so horny, so needy and all you could think of is her— you wanted her.

“karina, please. i need you. fuck me, mhm? i'll be good. please.” you said as you reached out to hold her. karina only slapped your hands away and roughly spread your legs. she got in between them, her knee pressed against your cunt. you mumbled another profanity and karina's face got closer to you. she only stared at you; “move.” she commanded and you instantly knew what she meant— your hips automatically moved on its own. as if rubbing your clit against her thigh wasn't enough, karina started to slap your mounds alternately. it was too much, your moans started to get higher with every slap. as your skin gets redder with every slap, karina's smirk grew wider—even more when she took notice of the fangs you've had done.

knowing your mounds are already sensitive, karina pulled you in and put one of your nipples into her mouth, licking, sucking and lightly nibbling on it as she played with the other with her hand. karina felt your body shiver, and with one hard suck, your body collapsed on top of her. “you love being a slut for me, mhm?” karina whispered against your skin, earning a loud, whining from you as a response. karina, she thinks—no, she knows she owns your body. she knows it even more than you do, so it wasn't hard for her to know when you're already close to cumming. not saying another word, she used her free hand to palm your clit, making you bury your face against her neck, but the moment she slipped two fingers inside of your hole swiftly which pushed you over the edge, cumming, biting karina's shoulder. she winced it pain, yet groaned from the painful yet pleasurable feeling of your sharp teeth against her soft skin. “rina, rina—!” not even letting you compose yourself, karina started to thrust her fingers in and out roughly of your entrance. collapsing on top of her, pushing her over the bed, your body wiggles, pushing your bottom more against her fingers, grinding against her palm.

“t-that feels s-so good—fuck. more, please! mommy, please, more.” it was the nickname that sparked something in karina. she pulled her fingers out, rolling your bodies over. now with her on top of you, she kisses you on the lips, letting her tongue graze over the sharpness of your fangs. “wait here.” she says as she pulled away, leaving you breathing heavily and still, needy. you started to play with your nipples, tears forming your eyes as you grind your hips against the empty space karina was once were. rubbing your clit, you moaned out her name, and as if on queue, karina was back, naked and a lubricant on her hand. “naughty girl, who told your to touch yourself?” she clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, as she opened the bottle of lubricant, smearing some over your sensitive clit, the coldness of the gel making you shiver. hovering over your torso, her dick sticking out, poking against your mouth. “suck.” with sparkly eyes, you looked up at her as you opened your mouth and took her in. you sucked, licking along the tip of her cock, earning a low grown from karina. “mhm, you take me in so good.” she said before thrusting her hips, forcing her full length inside your mouth, deep throating, suffocating you. she pulls herself back, a string of your saliva and her precum trailing from your lips and her tip.

“karina, i need you to fuck me, please.” your voice was weak and shaky, almost sounding like you're about to cry, but it was just from karina teasing her tip against your clit and your entrance. “yeah? beg for it.” karina laughed menacingly while you could only while as you reached your hand out for her, the other pressing her length against your cunt. “rina, baby... mommy, please. please, please! i'm your good girl, please, fuck me.” karina loved it. she loved hearing your voice so needy, she loved looking at your desperate eyes, she loved that you were so desperate for her and only her.

karina didn't waste any more time and slid her length inside of you, making you arch your back while letting out a long, loud moan in pleasure. karina didn't move, letting you adjust to her length, but she let out a chuckle of amusement as you desperately reached your hand for her, eager to hold her—touch her, as if her body's not against yours just yet. karina started to roll her hips, making you wince yet moan out in both pain and pleasure. god, you were so wet for her and karina loved that atop of it all. with or without the fucking drugs, the both of you knew that only she can make you this fucking turned on. karina started to thrust in you, moaning your name every time her length completely disappears inside your cunt. her dick is so big that with every thrust, she hits every fucking spot possible and it's making you insane. you feel so lightheaded and nothing but senseless begging and chants of her name spilled out of your mouth.

“fuck, baby, you're so wet.” she groaned, slapping your cunt in between every word, each slap making you squeal louder and louder, eyes rolling back. “c-close... i'm soso close, rina!” you announced so fucking loud, karina had to cover your mouth with her palm. “cum with me.” she only replied, putting more force into her thrust, each thrust feeling slower yet so much deeper as your walls clenched around her length. karina used her free hand to rub your clit, heightening your pleasure. forcing yourself to open your eyes, you looked up at her through your lust filled eyes as you brought her hand to your neck, choking yourself with it as you get closer to your high. karina took the initiative to do so, making you smile, biting your lower lip and holy fuck. in karina's eyes, you looked the hottest lile that. god, that stupid vampire fang of yours.

feeling a familiar knot forming, karina drops and pushes her mounds against yours, letting your nipples rub against each other. “cum inside—inside! please, i want to feel you, rina! breed me. fucking breed me, please, please—!” through your moans, you managed to beg for her. at this point, karina could only think so little, she wanted you. she wanted you to have her and nobody else. “i'm cumming, baby—fuck. cum with me...! fuck, i'm cumming!” with your face buried onthe crook of her neck, you wrapped your legs around her waist, not wanting her to pull away, chanting her name along with strings of profanities in between your moans. soon enough, the both of you are cumming—karina shooting her load inside of you at the same time you clenched your walls around her length, making her groan out loud. with your teeth dug on her neck, leaving a mark, karina threw her head back, moaning your name in pleasure, whilst your body squirms and trembles under her.

heavy breathing and whispered profanities were shared as you both laid next to each other. "you're mine, understand? you're all mine." karina muttered as she kissed your lips, hands once again roaming your body. "one more."

hehe, this took a while. i got so sick during the holidays, so i couldn't really post it. anyways, happy holidays, my kitties!

[ma1dita]

its 10pm again.... 😈😈

rivals with benefits Luke who makes everything a competition. even in bed. 😼

IM ALSO SO SORRY FOR FLOODING UR INBOX

MDNI

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

a/n: liv we're boxing because i literally could not rest until i got this right,,,, smut. public sex. wrap before you tap. creampie. all the nasty things. fuck man...

wc: 968

“That’s a point for me,” Luke says with a menacing grin. The both of you are soaked to the bone after paddling across Canoe Lake to see who could make it to the other end the fastest, and as you gasp for air while holding onto the wood post of the pier, you can’t help but somehow be convinced that he cheated.

“You’re built like a frog with those long legs of yours, how the fuck was I supposed to win?”

Daybreak spreads slowly across Camp Half-Blood, sunlight kissing where the sky meets the water and Luke thinks he wants to kiss you. Knows it, actually—deep down to his bones that the line between hatred and love must be lust.

He swims closer to you like a predator creeping toward his prey, wet curls stuck to his forehead as he admires how hard you’re breathing. You’re right there, and since you like to make a competition of everything from capture the flag strategies to how many campers you both can get to screech at nightly sing-a-longs, he thinks he has an offer you won’t be able to resist. Luke’s hands glide under your shirt as the both of you tread water, still fighting for dominance even when it comes to who takes up the most space to stay afloat. You lick your lips, fingers tugging at his camp necklace as you look at him curiously and raise an eyebrow.

“I’ve got an idea…”

“I’ll start my prayers,” you smirk, before seeing the hot burning want in his gaze. You can feel it in his fingers as they brush the underside of your breasts, nipples stiff in the frigid water. Shaking your head, a nervous giggle leaves you as your arms circle his neck, bodies separated by your thin, sopping nightshirt. If he touches the rest of you, he’ll find other parts that are wet too, warm enough to brave the chill of the morning breeze that settles upon your shoulders.

“The nymphs might see…” you whisper, even though the both of you know not a single soul is awake right now but time is running out like sand in an hourglass.

“You backing down?”

The kiss you press into his open mouth is a clear enough answer—tongues sliding and spearing against each other, hot and angry and bruising. It’s a fair shot, not knowing who’s going to come out on top.

—

“Oh, gods, please!”

Your hands and knees are scraping in the rocks and sand of the shoreline underneath the pier as Luke pistons into you at an alarming rate, each thrust a blow to your senses. He watches your head bob up towards the sky almost in reverent prayer and he’s grinning, continually sinking into your warmth while the rest of him shudders from the cold. Luke’s cock works inside your slick hole instead of against it, and he laughs at the irony of you finally letting him have his way. Your fingernails dig into the coarse beach, grains of sand making their way through every crevice as he fills your pulsing one with glee.

“Fucking knew you’d behave…” he grunts, one hand pulling at the thin cloth around your waist and the other holds onto your stomach so he can feel himself bludgeon you from the inside. “Can’t fight back when you’re getting your brains fucked out, hmm?” 

He watches your pretty tits swing from the stretched out opening of your soggy shirt as you choke out a sob of pleasure.

“Yes…f-fuck Luke,” you whine, reaching back to ease your hand against his abdomen but he pulls it behind your back to use as a better hold on you. Luke puts two of his fingers in your mouth and they prod at the skin of your cheek, spit dripping around the digits.

Despite the intrusion, you’re groaning loud enough over the icy smacks against your skin that for a moment he thinks it might actually wake the forest nymphs, but then he’s distracted by your pussy pushing and pulling him as his hips clap against your ass, leaving them raw for days to come. Light waves crash against the shore with your movements, splashing against your knees and you’re giggling at him with a dazed grin as you push your hips back harder against his thrusts, overpowering his control over you. 

He swallows thickly, groaning through the building sensation in his stomach as you rock back onto his cock faster and with the purpose of taking him down and winning. The both of you work in tandem as you writhe against each other in a battle to reach the end, unsure of if you’re with him or against him but gods, it feels so fucking good being under him.

“M’so close…Don’t fucking stop,” you shudder, and Luke shuts his eyes hard and takes a deep breath. Even if all 12 Olympians came down right now to smite him he wouldn’t be able to pull out. 

So he doesn’t. 

He couldn’t even if he tried—he cums so hard, his front meeting your back as you fall into the sand with a muffled yelp and he’s pumping thick rods of his release into your pussy. You shiver under him slightly until you realize your belly is warm from his efforts.

“That’s gotta be like 5 or 10 points,” Luke pants, nipping at your shoulder before he sits up. You’re laying there, ass up and motionless so he slaps a cheek before you start laughing.

“For me. At least you came,” you drone, having been on the brink of an orgasm.

He couldn’t argue with that. So he flips you onto your back and eats you out (sand and slick and all) until he’s ready again and by the time the morning bell rings, you’ve both lost track of who’s won your so-called competition.

[narcjsistx]

— 𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ! (bllk series)

✶ FIRST PART: INTRODUCTION AND ALREADY DESIRE TO LEAVE

plot: the largest villa in japan is opening its doors to 16 guys, all with the same characteristics: hot, young and single. get ready for the life of 8 girls and 8 boys, all ready to win the main prize: to come out winners and, maybe, with their soulmate. the challenges are ready, but you are ready for the challenges? the journey begins now!

"Are we sure it works? I mean, I don't even think it's on..." says the presenter, who happens to be me, Maya. The sound of the microphone explodes in the TV studio, causing a slight complaint from the audience who now have no eardrums "Oh yeah, it definitely works" I say satisfied, then turning to the audience that probably hates me at the moment "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the first edition of the reality show "Race to Romance", where our contestants will find their soulmate among their enemies!" I say, but a voice interrupts me in the background "Say enemies to lovers didn't work better?" says the mysterious voice, but with a quick sign to the staff I ask to cancel the propagation of the sound from the mysterious microphone. I sigh a bit "It’s time for introductions, since time flies here. Let’s start with our ladies…"

You go up on stage, yes, you who are reading this right now. The audience explodes in a huge applause, maybe because of the beautiful dress you are wearing or maybe because they are paid to do this. Probably both. You arrive at the end of the television studio, the audience stops applauding. You turn slightly towards the wings, where the girls you will be participating with are looking at you curiously: you had the chance to talk to them previously, and you think it will be a nice opportunity to spend a few days with them on this program. You notice Helen looking at you smiling, while Nikki is giving you the thumbs up, maybe to encourage you. You look at them hopefully, as you take the microphone and clear your throat "It's a pleasure for me to be here, I'm also surprised above all that I passed the auditions. But evidently they chose the best ones" you say trying to sound charismatic, and not anxious as you are. The audience applauds again, and you sincerely hope that they are not doing it just because they are paid to do so. Maybe in reality you hope so, you just need to know that you don't seem ridiculous at the moment

"Only the best for the first season of the reality show" I say, clapping my hands lightly "Tell me girl, what do you think of the group of girls you've already met?" I ask. You clear your throat again, trying to relax your nerves "I've talked to some of them, but I'm really sure a good group will form once we enter the villa. We'll be strong when the men drive us crazy" you say, and I nod "Of course! You always have to have at least someone to confide in, here you'll def have more than one. Instead, what do you think of the men's introductions?" I ask

In your mind you replay the videos you've seen, the ones where the guys introduce themselves: you also shot the same commercial a week ago, and probably the others saw it the same way you saw theirs. You've seen a lot of cute guys, but there are others you'd stay away from. Three in particular come to mind "I've seen a few, but especially the one about the German, the extremely rich boy, and a certain younger brother. I have nothing bad to say about them! They seem fine... at least the last two. The first one, the German, seems extremely full of himself" you say honestly, and the audience laughs "You're talking about Micheal Kaiser, Reo Mikage and Rin Itoshi. Why do you think that about Kaiser Micheal?" I ask, and you sigh "In his video he did nothing but talk about being an emperor. I get it! No need to repeat it... 17 times?" you say sighing, and the audience actually seems interested

"I see. I ask the audience to give another round of applause, because another person is about to join us. From the men's team, Micheal Kaiser!" I say, and turning around I notice how slightly pale you have become. You gulp down a lump of saliva, a particularly heavy one, as the slender figure of the Bastard Munchen striker steps onto the stage. The usual smirk curls his lips, as he takes his microphone "Good evening everyone. Any problems with me and we haven't even entered the villa?" asks the boy. You turn to the girls, but magically they have disappeared. You put the microphone to your lips, but a series of stuttered words only make your situation worse for you. Kaiser laughs, running a hand through his hair "You don’t know how answer to me?" he asks, but I take his microphone "Save the beef for when you're locked in there. Race to Romance officially starts now!" I say, and two assistants come to get you

As you walk back to the girls, you wonder why you wanted to participate here. Cute boys? Definitely. Chance to make new friends and become famous? Sure. But the destruction of your ego was not planned for this soon, yet it has happened

✶ taglist: @shidousveneers ; @nevvynev ; @neeeooon ; @ravenbc ; @jnkosstuff ; @magicsness ; @kumasakka ; @ferraririi

✶ beautiful dividers by @dollywons !!

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Dangerous Dreams

Written for round 1 of the @steddiebingo and for week 1 of @steddiesportsau

Prompts: Hurt/Comfort | Olympic Sports

Words: 2,023 [also on AO3]

Rated: T

Tags: Figure skater Eddie; Coach Steve; Past Stancy; Injury; Sexual tension

Notes: Prequel to this one

It’s long past dark by the time Steve walks Nancy to her car. They're the last ones to leave the rink as usual, all of the other athletes and coaches long gone. Some things never change, he guesses.

“You really don’t have to do this,” she says, eyeing the bag with her clothes and skates that he has slung over one shoulder. “People will jump to conclusions if they see us together like this.” 

Steve huffs, opening the trunk and throwing the bag inside. 

“Like what, that we’re dating again? I’m your coach, aren’t I? I’m allowed to look after my athletes.” 

She shrugs, playing with a strand that has escaped from the updo she has thrown her hair into for practice. 

“That’s not how the tabloids are going to see it and you know it.” 

“Yeah, well,” he smiles drily. “Let them think what they want. I don’t care about their opinion.” 

She raises her brows at him, fumbling in her jacket pocket for her keys. 

“Oh, yes? What about the opinion of a certain loud-mouthed, curly-haired figure skating prodigy?” 

He sputters. 

“I don't- … What? No! He's a pain in the- I mean … who are you even talking about?” 

As she slides into the driver's seat, she gives him a look. 

“You know exactly who I'm talking about. And I suggest you get it sorted out before the Olympics, one way or another. We'll all need a clear head for the competitions.” 

Steve watches her tail lights grow smaller, wondering how she still manages to see right through him. It's another thing that'll never change, he guesses.

*

If he decides to do a final round of the premises before going home, it's solely to make sure all of the doors are locked, and not because he needs to clear his head. The rink lies in darkness, bar for the neon lights over the emergency exits that never go out. It makes the ice glitter invitingly, and before he knows it, he is standing at its edge, clutching the banister. 

He knows he shouldn't. 

There's nobody around to help him if he falls. It's crazy and stupid and reckless, and he should know better. 

But the white, glistening surface is whispering his name, and his muscles are aching for the familiar movements and his blood is longing for the thrill of the speed and the spins and the leaps. 

He'll only do a few rounds. 

*

The blades glide over the ice like an extension of his legs, the rest of his limbs flowing into movement on muscle memory alone. He skates along the outer barrier of the rink in a wide circle, then another, picking up speed as he gets more confident and the initial tension leaves him. 

He's been missing this. 

It feels like coming home. 

He turns, gliding backwards for a few yards, then twists again, lifting the bad leg off the ground and extending it behind himself in an elegant arch, using the momentum of it to spin into a slow spiral. It's nothing like what he used to be able to do, nowhere close to the routine that was supposed to win him his third gold medal, but with the empty hall blurring out of focus and the rush of speed in his veins, it's easy to remember. The spotlights shining down on him, bright and hot. The murmur of the crowd in the stands disappearing under the music blasting from the speakers. A hundred cameras gleaming and flashing all around him, every single one trained on him as the world watches him defy gravity, holding its breath as he prepares to leap. 

He jumps. 

It feels like flying, like soaring. Like coming home. 

And then gravity sets back in and all he remembers is pain. 

He knows that it'll go wrong the second his blade connects with the ice, just like he knew four years ago. His ankle gives out like a twig, pain zapping all the way into his teeth. He tries to control the fall as he goes down, bringing up his arms to protect his head, angling himself so that he won't crush the bad leg with his own weight. And then his hip hits the ice and everything turns into a blur of pain. 

Even after the world stops spinning, he keeps lying with his arms shielding his face, waiting for ringing in his ears to die down and for the sting behind his eyelids to go away. 

It's easy to remember. 

The music grinding to a stop. The alarmed murmurs picking up from the stands. Nancy and their coach rushing to his side, frantically calling for the medics. The goddamn cameras still running, eager for a glimpse of his pain and humiliation as the double gold medal winner lay in a crumpled heap on the ice. 

He's an idiot. He should've known better than to try again. At least, this time, there's nobody around to see him. 

“Shit, man. Are you alright?” 

Steve freezes. Suddenly, he's hyper-aware of every tiny detail of his surroundings. The cold of the rink bleeding into his back. The heat of his own sweat drying on his skin. The burning pain in his ankle and hip and shoulders where he tumbled over the ice. When he drops his arm from his face, his vision is still blurry, but it doesn’t matter. He'd know those stupid, expressive doe eyes looking down on him everywhere. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he croaks, sitting up and running a trembling hand through his hair to check for head injuries. 

“Arriving just in time to watch you eat dirt, apparently,” Eddie says. “Or ice. No need to thank me. I'm also glad I'm around to make sure you don't bleed out or choke on your own tongue, or- hey, careful now.” 

Steve, who is just hoisting himself upright, clinging to the banister for support, swats off the hand that reaches out to steady him. 

“Leave me alone, I don't need your- ah, fuck.” 

The twisted ankle gives out the second he tries to put weight on it, and Steve grits his teeth through the fresh surge of pain. By the time the white lights bursting across his vision fade, Eddie’s hand is on his elbow again.

“Sure you don't, big boy. Now c'mon, let's get you looked at.” 

This time, Steve doesn’t protest as Eddie guides him off the ice. 

*

“What are you doing here?” he asks again, once they have made it to his office - Steve's arm slung over Eddie's shoulder - and he's safely seated in his desk chair. 

Eddie, who has his back turned and is rifling through the freezer for an ice pack, shrugs, but Steve sees the way his shoulders go tense. 

“Just dropped by to pick up my wallet. Must've left it in the locker room earlier.” 

Steve gives him a look. “Your wallet. Really.” 

“Yup,” Eddie replies cheerfully. Like Steve can't see the cut-off shirt and skin-tight leggings under his leather jacket. Like Steve won’t notice that he isn’t wearing any of his usual jewelry, except for the delicate ring with the stone - the one he never takes off, not even on the ice. “Now hold still, this is gonna hurt.”

Before Steve can protest or brace himself, he has dropped to his knees and pulled the injured foot into his lap. Steve hisses as nimble fingers push up the hem of his pants, prodding at his ankle. 

“Already bruising,” Eddie mutters. His head is bowed, and his hair is in a high ponytail, leaving the long, pale curve of his neck exposed. “Doesn’t look broken to me, but I’m not a doctor. You want me to call Robin or-” 

“God, no,” Steve groans. “She’d behead me with my own skates.” 

Eddie snorts a laugh and presses the ice pack to the tender, purpling skin. A few seconds pass in silence while Steve curls his fingers into the chair and waits for the worst of the sting to settle. 

“It’s not broken,” he finally mutters, when the quiet gets too heavy and oppressive. “I know what a broken ankle feels like, and this is nowhere close.”

Eddie doesn’t answer, just hums - a vague noise that could be anything from agreement to doubt. His fingers graze Steve’s ankle as he adjusts his grip on the ice pack. 

“It was a shame that happened,” he says instead. “You were a fucking legend, man. You oughta have won that medal. It was what you deserved.”

Steve feels himself flush. He half expects Eddie to follow the remark with one of his usual quips or jabs, but his eyes are nothing but serious as he looks up. The air in the office seems too thick all of a sudden. 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “Life isn't fair, sometimes.” 

Eddie smiles sadly. 

“I guess it isn't,” he agrees. Then he pauses. Licks his lips. “You ever considered getting back into it?” 

“Huh?” Steve, momentarily distracted by the light sheen of moisture on Eddie’s lips, startles. “What, at my age, and with that injury? Forget it. I'll never be able to skate in competitions again, I wouldn't stand a-” 

“I wasn't talking about competitions,” Eddie says. “Just … for fun. I dunno, but … that jump? I think that was the happiest I ever saw you just now.”

Steve snorts a humourless laugh, ignoring the painful twang in his chest. “Until I brained myself on the ice, you mean.” 

Eddie shrugs. “What's life without a little risk? Playing it safe may keep you from getting hurt, but sometimes you gotta fall before you can fly.” 

Steve is just about to ask what motivational poster he pulled that bit of wisdom from when Eddie removes the ice pack and climbs to his feet. 

“Now, you need a ride home, or-” 

“I can drive,” he blurts, hurriedly suppressing the mental image of himself riding passenger princess-style on that black monster of a motorcycle that Eddie insists on driving. He still accepts the offered hand and allows Eddie to hover by his side as they make their way to the parking lot. 

They're almost at the car when Eddie speaks again. 

“So … about my routine.” 

“No,” Steve says. Eddie groans and throws up his hands. 

“I didn't even say what I wanted!” 

Steve yanks open the driver's door, throwing himself into the seat and suppressing a wince when his ankle protests. 

“I'm taking a wild guess. We've been over this before, Eddie. You're not picking a metal song for an Olympic skating routine.” 

Eddie's mouth does the twitchy thing that means he's consciously holding himself back from saying something stupid. 

“You said to pick something that speaks to us, so that we can deliver our best possible performance. This speaks to me. I don't understand why-” 

“Because,” Steve interrupts him, “it will speak to literally nobody else. “Have you for a second considered what the jury will think?” 

There's more on the tip of his tongue. How Eddie is a once-in-a-lifetime talent. How he has seen him do things on those skates he never thought possible. How he'll go on to be far greater than Steve ever was, and could ever have hoped to become, if only he can get that goddamn ego in check. 

He doesn't say any of that, though.

“I'm not letting you ruin this for yourself,” is what he does say. “It's too risky, and that's my final word.” 

Eddie’s face twitches again. When it settles, his smile is all teeth.

“Of course,” he mutters. “You would know all about risks, wouldn’t you?” 

It lands harder than it has any right to and the pain in his ankle, which had only just calmed down, suddenly feels sharp again. 

“Eddie, listen,” he says, but Eddie has already turned and is walking towards his motorcycle, which is parked a little way off. 

“No need, you've made your point clear. We better both head home. See you tomorrow, coach.” 

Steve sits in his dark car long after Eddie has disappeared into the night, thinking about risks and choices and the contempt in those dark, pretty eyes. 

More Steddie Bingo

[blog-of-agony-and-despair]

Believe

Gods, you hate him.

You and Loki have been going against each-other for months now- the two of you going head to head and toe to toe to try and beat eachover in the upcoming election that will tell you who will become the next president. But neither of you do much to hide the obvious..sexual tension between the two of you.

Warnings: smut, swearing, enemies with benefits, soft Loki at times, use of y/n, sweetheart, love, mocking, candidates for presidency, reader is wearing a dress,

every Loki has you. Whether you are a stranger he crosses paths with once, enemy, arranged marriage, friend or ally- Loki always ends up falling in love with her- one way or another, no matter how long it takes.

It’s one thing that brings every single Loki together.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

for president Loki..it’s the woman he’s going against in the campaign. She is just as hot as he is, as good at lying and impossibly witty. He hates her with a burning passion and is on the verge of simply assassinating her.

hes watched on his tv as she gives a speech so soul shattering the votes went up in her favour by 83% and he’s endured her sassiness at every cabinet meeting. He’s had to deal with her spirit and determination and frankly? He’s sick of it.

…so why is he so attracted to you?

Every night he lays in bed and thinks of you- your hair, eyes, skin..he truly can’t help the way his hand always makes its way into his pants!

he stops in front of you on the stage, he’s trying to put on his cockiest smirk as he looks into her eyes. He’s polished his horns extra today and shined his shoes so much you could see your face in them. His waistcoat is buttoned perfectly and his tie is straightens to a T. The button that says “Loki” sits proudly on the left hand side of his chest.

he shakes your hand, his grip much tighter than it needs to be. “I’m going to win this election, and laugh in your face while I do it.”

You stare up into his eyes- a cold glare meeting his. “I’m gonna make you wish you were dead.” You scowl, shaking his hand with a grip that’s just as tight as his.

his jaw clenches as you return his grip, his eyes narrowed in pure hatred..and maybe a little something else, the corner of his lip lifting into a smirk*

”You can certainly try, darling. But it wont work. Im going to completely destroy you in this campaign.”

he leans forward so his mouth is right next to your ear, a low purr to his voice.

”I’ll enjoy watching you squirm as the votes go up in my favor and you finally realise you will never win this election.”

You snarl him- “please, there’s a week left and the votes are in my favour by more than half. You have no chance.” You move closer to him, your chest almost against his. “Your pathetic-”

he chuckles, pulling away a little

“Oh.. did I hit a nerve, sweetheart? Or do you really just hate to admit you can’t handle me, love?”

his tone is filled with cockiness, his eyes roaming over your body blatantly as a smirk settles on his face- clearly he’s sizing you up.

“You’re too cocky, I can handle you anyway you want me, Loki.”

He narrows his eyes slightly. “President Loki to you”

“That’ll never be your title. Prince- however? You should stick with that.” You don’t even realise how close you are until a flash of a camera snaps at you both- he blinks in sync with you and you both let go, taking quick steps back, away from eachover.

You’ve been doing this for months now. You’ve been trying to be President for years but you’ve never gotten this close- and you’ll be dammed if your letting the god of mischief of all things beat you.

You hate him. You beg to the Queen everyday to take Loki back to the palace to be prince and not the president and leave you to be the ruler outside of royalty- the one who takes care of the people and not the war like the king and princes do. you pray to whoever’s listening above that something will happen and he’ll have to resign..you’ve never despised anyone more.

You hate the royal family, you hate how the people might have to deal with Loki.

You hate yourself even more for finding him so hot.

he quickly smooths out his shirt, his eyes darting to the press taking pictures, a pang of…what is that- disappointment? Anger?.. going through him. Despite how much he hated you, he had enjoyed the closeness for a split second

he quickly returns to his usual cocky smirk as he looks back at you, folding his arms across his chest

“we both know I will win this election, darling.” He says as if it’s a stone cold fact.

“You wish.” You roll your eyes as you turn back towards your podium, flipping him off as you do- ignoring the countless flashes that come from the crowd as you do.

He watches you walk to your podium he has his gaze linger on one place for a few seconds. His eyes roam downward, staring at your…ass..for a good few seconds before he catches himself, snapping his eyes back up and scowling.

he turns on his heel and strides back to his own podium. His fingers tighten on the edges of the wood, his knuckles going white.

you stare over at him, tapping your finger against the stand, the microphone in front of you ready for anything you want to say.

his eyes flicker towards you, taking in the tapping of your finger. It annoys him to no end, the sound repetitive and irritating. He tightens his grip more before he forces himself to relax a bit

he watches as you step up closer to the mic, and he knows you’re about to say something to piss him off even more

“Asgardians.” You start- turning to look at the countless people stood in front of you both on the stage- the king Odin and the Queen Frigga stood at the back, Thor stood next to them. “Do you truly want a prince to be your ruler? Someone who has no real connection to you, the people- the ones we’re supposed to be fighting and dying for?..someone who’s spent his entire life bathed in gold and silver, dressed to the nines in the most glorious outfits?”

You shift your weight to one leg and you tilt your head slightly as you continue. “The royal family already have so much power over us, do you want them to have even more?…Loki is a liar. He is a bad person and he won’t do what’s right for you he will do what’s right for himself. He won’t be kissing babies, he’ll be kicking them.” You scoff and a couple of scattered laughs come from the crowd. “I know what it’s like firsthand to be on the streets- begging for some kind of fair rulership..you want someone who sees you. And cares for you. And I can be that person for you! Don’t vote for someone who uses the fact he lies alot as his main argument!” You smack your hand gently against the wood as you finish and everyone begins to cheer and clap.

The glare that Loki sends to you across the stage could kill. His grip on the podium has made his knuckles go white- his face flushed with anger.

he grits his teeth as you speak, scowling in irritation. He absolutely loathes you in this moment, his blood boiling as you continue to degrade him and tell the public about how much of an awful person he is

he clenches the sides of the podium until his knuckles go a light shade of red- every word you say makes his hatred for you and your words grow. He lets you finish but everyone starts cheering and clapping, a few people even whistling as they cheer.

Ans it. pisses. him. off.

You look over at him, raising an eyebrow for him to say something- it makes his nostrils flare as his body go straighter as he clears his throat.

he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to relax a little. He can’t let you know just how much your words get to him, how much your insults and jabs made him want to strangle the life out of you

he straightens up and looks directly at you, his eyes narrowed and his jaw still clenched

“I must admit, you are very good at giving speeches. I’m very impressed by your skills of deceit, darling. And that speech was very well put together. Pity I don’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth.”

You snicker- “then it’s a good thing you’re not the one i have to persuade. Once again- ladies and gentlemen, Loki- making it all about himself.” You point at him and everyone cheers once again.

he scoffs, his eyes narrowing even further. Seeing you point at him, hearing you mock him in front of hundreds of people, having everyone cheer when you call him a self centred ass- it really set him off

he straightens up completely, his shoulders squared as he glares at you- he wants nothing more than to march over to you and wrap one of his hands around that pretty little neck.

You smirk and wink over at him- happy with the entire situation.

the cheering continues but he barely registers it. All he can hear is the pounding of his own pulse in his ears, his hand tapping against the side of the podium in anger. He watches as you bask in the support the crowd is giving you and it just fuels his hatred. He hates how much you clearly relish in the approval of all these people- how it just adds to your ego.

he glares at you- the look on his face clearly stating that if you weren’t onstage right now he would be throttling you.

You lean further towards the mic and mockingly say- “anything else, your majesty?”

he bristles at the mocking tone you use, scowling heavily. Seeing you lean into the mic, knowing you were only doing it to irritate him more, pissed him off even more.

“No.” He scruffs out, turning and walking off stage quickly- grumbling to himself with every quick step.

You watch as he leaves for a couple of seconds before you look back to the crowd..“thank you for listening, together- we can do this. Vote y/n!” You smile and nod to them as you turn and walk down the same tray that Loki rushed off too- following him quickly.

“Loki-” you stop next to him and he turns and grabs your lower neck- not enough to choke you at all, but enough for a man to dream, turning you both so you walk behind one of the many marble pillars and pushes you against the wall of the large, golden, building behind you.

You gasp softly as he leans forward, his hand staying on your neck as he does..

“What exactly do you think you’re doing following me back here, darling? Hm? Did you come to gloat some more?” He scowls, you can feel his breath on the side of your chin and it’s driving you insane-

“Loki-” you gasp softly, looking into his dark, blue, eyes- your own narrowed slightly as you move one of your hands to rest on his.

he stares at you, taking in the look on your face. Hearing your soft gasp sets something off in him and he grips your neck a little more, his thumb brushing along your jawline..he hates you more than anything so why is his first thought the thought of doing unspeakably sinful things to you?

he leans closer so his face is directly in front of yours, his body pressed against yours.

“I asked you you a question, love. Answer it. Why did you follow me back here after you’ve already had your fun on stage by mocking me in front of hundreds of people? God- one day I’ll shut that pretty little mouth of yours-”

“Just wanted to see how you were doing.” You smile mockingly, trying to act casual..“I hope you learn to recover after you loss.” You pout at him sarcastically.

“You know nothing-” his voice is annoyed but persevered, obviously trying to keep it together no matter how mad he is..“and you certainly don’t know who will win or loose- even though it will most likely be me.”

“You think you’re so special, don’t you?..” your eyes soften very, very slightly- glancing up into his own with a hint of sarcasm yet genuine interest. “You think you’re better than me..the people, your brother- your parents. But you’re not. You’re just another sad, little boy begging for attention.”

Rage.

He grabs your upper arm and shoves you against him. “You know nothing about me, you insolent, pathetic-”

“I know more than you think!”

He stares at you in shock for a couple of seconds- his eyes drifting from your eyes to your lips as you speak. He’s suddenly overtaken by a wave of annoyance and rage as he leans in, smashing his lips onto yours desperately. He can’t hold back anymore- it truly is this or killing you. No inbetween-

It takes you by surprise for a couple of seconds— before you lean in and kiss him harshly back, your hand moving to grab onto his arm and the other goes to the side of his neck, holding onto him as you tilt your head and deepen it, making him groan quietly.

he pushes your lips open, his tongue pushing past and into your mouth. He can’t control himself at all, not when he has you pinned like this, not when you taste so damn good. He moves one of his legs between yours, pulling your body completely against him as he practically devours your mouth..

he can feel the fire in him slowly igniting, the anger and hatred being replaced with lust and want. He kisses you desperately, gripping your cheek a little harder as he does. His tongue explores your mouth, tasting every inch as he presses you even further against the wall. He bites down on your bottom lip gently, tugging on it gently as he looks into your eyes as they slowly open- he lets go and pants softly.

What the fuck?

Your mind goes blank as you stare at him- you can feel the neediness begin to overwhelm you as you watch him take a small step back..

He had..intended to slap you..choke you properly- knock you out..so why did he kiss you?! He looks to his feet then back to you- his face a mixture of confusion and lust.

“What was that?..” you say quietly and in the softest voice he’s ever heard from you.

He takes another breath and looks back over at you- seeing you standing there, lips swollen, eyes wide, face flushed. The sight of you like this really wasn’t helping his situation at all.

he tries to regain control over himself, running his hand through his hair again and crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes roaming your body and lingering on your red swollen lips for far too long- too long for your liking entirely…“I don’t know..” he admits quietly.

“Y-you don’t know?!” You whisper-shout harshly. “You just kissed me-!”

“-Don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy it, darling…..it was the only way I could think of to get you to shut the hell up for five damn minutes.” He snarls.

“Fuck you.”

he laughs, a sound that is almost mocking. He looks back at you, eyeing you and taking in your body again. He still can’t believe he just kissed you, he hates the fact he lost control of himself like that.

“You wish, darling…you’d be too lucky if I ever decided to grace you with the privilege of being beneath me like that..”

“If anyone is beneath anyone- it would not be me.” Your lips part and you suddenly move closer to him. “I think you’re forgetting who kissed who here.” You scoff. “It wasn’t exactly a peck either, darling.” You say in a mockingly tone, scrunching your nose up slightly as you look him up and down in..disgust? Lust? Need? Want? Yearning? You don’t even know-

“You liked it, though..didn’t you?” He practically growls out, not moving away as you move closer..

You look up into his eyes- those blue eyes you hate seeing on every poster, billboard and button..you despise how right he is.

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re not a very good liar..” he spits out the words-

“You know about being a good liar, wouldn’t you?”

“They don’t call me the god of mischief for nothing.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, staring down into your eyes..the ones he loves hates despises. so much..

He can feel his fingers itching to reach out and touch you - grab your hips and drag you up against his body. He still can’t stop looking at your lips, can still feel the taste of you on his tongue. He wants to see you flushed and panting, he wants to see those pretty lips swollen from him..

But he pushes that thought out his head. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. He shouldn’t want you like that-

“Gods, I hate you.” You breathe out, licking your bottom lip as your eyes wonder down to his chest then his own lips- his nose, eyes..those eyes.

“The feeling is beyond mutual, sweetheart.” He knows he should walk away and end this before it goes any further but he finds his feet rooted to the floor, staring at you and watching you as you shamelessly check him out.

“Why don’t I believe you?..” you mutter under your breath but he hears it loud and clear..

he grabs your chin and forces you to look up at him, his fingers gripping your chin almost harshly-

“Did I not make it clear enough how much I loath every fibre of your being, darling?”

“Sorry, the glances and the making out against the wall might have confused me a touch.” You mock sarcastically, looking into his eyes- your eyebrows furrowed slightly at the feeling of him grabbing you- why is it doing..things to you that It certainly shouldn’t be.

he growls, clearly annoyed that you were trying to tease him again. He knew you were being a smartass and it pissed him off more than he cared to admit

hearing your sarcasm makes him tighten his grip on your jaw, his hand still keeping your head tilted up towards him. “Can that mouth of yours do anything other than spout sarcasm and bullshit?”

“Why don’t you find out?” You lean forwards, your breaths mixing- your body now against his- as it was when he had you pinned..

He snaps.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

In a flash of green- you found yourself being shoved (once again) against a wall- instead this time it was the wall of his bedroom in the palace, his rough hands on your hips- his chest against yours and his breathing heavy.

“Tell me to stop.” He growls out, snarling down at you as he huffs, grinding his hips subconsciously against yours.

You pant back at him, slightly dizzy and out of it from the sudden change of atmosphere- the gold a stark contrast from the darker backroom of the stage- “what if I don’t want too?” You look up into his eyes to steady yourself, grinding back against him once to test the waters between the two of you.

he leans in closer, his grip tightening on your hips- his body still completely pressed against yours. He pushes one of his thighs between yours, forcing your legs to spread- your jaw clenches as he snarls in your ear, his voice gruff and low as he speaks, his breath heavy and hot against your ear- “Then...I won't stop.”

You grab his face and turn it to face yours as you lean forwards and smash his lips to yours, your tounge immediately pressing against his own- just as needy as you are.

His hands move to cup the either sides of your neck, the tips of his fingers digging into your hair as he brings you further away from the wall- suddenly ducking and pushing you backwards so you fall over his shoulder, your hips resting on him as you scream and go forwards.

He stands up and turns with ease, walking towards the bed on the other side of the room- one of your hands go to his arm and the other goes towards his shoulder, just next to where your hips resting is.

“Loki!” You call out, unamused by his sudden act, but you can help the laugh that escapes your mouth.

He gives you a smack on the ass before he roughly throws you down onto the bed, crawling on top of you so his body is pinning you down. You grab onto the fabric of his fine asgardian cotton and he pushes you further onto the silk sheets of his bed- putting gum out of reach from you, but you certainly not out of reach from him.

He moves to his knees, looking down at you- the way your hair flares out around you and the way your legs seem to spread so perfectly for him..“fuck, I hate you.” He leans down and smashes his lips onto yours, he undoes your dress quickly- pulling it down your body desperately.

You whine softly into the kiss and you lift your hips, helping him as he snatches it off of you-

Your hands move to his blazer and you shove it off of him, throwing it to the side at the same time as he throws your dress- now completely bare to him..your cheeks flush very slightly and you go towards move your hands to your chest what if he doesn’t want it after seeing you, he hates you enough already what i-

“Don’t.” He grabs your hands (surprisingly) gently before you can, his eyes roaming over your body deliciously..he’s staring like he wants to simply ravish you right now- “please, don’t..fuck, your beautiful.”

Your breath hitches and you move your hands slowly out of his and you move to undo his tie- loosening and tugging before pushing it up and over his head then to the floor- before your hands find their way to his belt. He groans softly and puts his own hands on his shirt, quickly undoing each and every button with hurried purpose.

You throw the belt to the side and quickly pull down the zipper of his pants, hooking his button out of its hole- as he untucks his shirt to do the last two buttons, ripping it off of him before he leans down to your neck, sucking and kissing on it, as he kicks his pants off.

You turn him over roughly and move so your straddling him. “Good girl..” he grunts and leans up, kissing you.

The next thing you know, your riding him like your life depends on it. His fingers digging into your hips and your hands on his arms, the noises coming out of your mouth are erotic and the grunts and pants coming from his only make you go faster. You don’t know how many orgasms he’s pulled from you at this point..two with his mouth- once with his fingers..your so achy but it hurts sooo goood.

You look down at him and groan as you tilt your head back, your hips jerking as you get closer and closer to your release- “Loki- fuck-” it comes out broken and needy, your thighs burning and your eyes watering-

“C’mon- we’re both so close-” he brings his thumb down to your clit as he snaps his hips up in time with your movements, quickly circling the throbbing, soaked, button. “Oh!” You see stars as you throw your head back, your mouth opening as you cum, his hips going even faster as you clench and splutter around him- until he finally finishes- deep inside you, you pull him up by his hair and you wrap your arms around him as you breath heavily, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kisses your neck gently.

He knows if you do..get pregnant- he can just cast a magic trick on you or something..you’ll be fine, he’s sure of it..mostly.

“Told you I’d shut that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You move so the side of him and lie down, your eyes fluttering closed in exhaustion. He pulls the covers over both of you and he turns so his backs to you, you do the same..it took you both about five minutes to end up back in each-others arms, fast asleep.

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 11 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇indornrememebr

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Y/n sat alone in the dimly lit nursery, the soft glow of a single lantern casting shadows on the walls. She cradled Adonis tightly against her chest, his small fingers curling around the fabric of her dress as he dozed peacefully. His quiet breaths were the only sound in the room, but they did little to comfort the ache that seemed to consume her chest. Her tears fell silently at first, dripping onto Adonis’s soft curls as she pressed a trembling kiss to his forehead. The weight of her captivity, the suffocating presence of Raphael, and the constant fear for her son had taken its toll. But tonight, it wasn’t just the present that haunted her, it was the absence of the people she loved most.

She could almost hear Antinous’s voice, teasing her in that sarcastic way of his, calling her stubborn and overdramatic but always watching over her like the protective older brother he had been. He was brash, hot headed, and often infuriating, but he loved her fiercely. She missed the way he’d bicker with her one minute and stand ready to defend her the next. The thought of him locked away in Ithaca, unaware of her suffering, made her heart ache all the more.

And Telemachus, her beloved Telemachus. She closed her eyes, clutching Adonis even tighter. She could almost feel his arms around her, his warm voice whispering reassurances that everything would be okay. She could picture his laugh, the way his eyes would light up whenever he looked at her or held their son. He was her anchor, her strength, and now he was gone, too far away to protect her or Adonis from Raphael’s cruel games.

A choked sob escaped her lips, and she buried her face in Adonis’s tiny shoulder. “I miss them so much,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I miss them, Adonis. I miss your father, your uncle… I miss home.” Adonis stirred slightly, his little hand brushing against her cheek as though sensing her sadness. It only made her cry harder. “They’ll come for us,” she whispered, almost as if trying to convince herself. “They’ll come, they have to. Your father… he’ll bring us home.”

But doubt lingered in her heart. What if they didn’t? What if Raphael’s lies about storms and shipwrecks were true? What if Telemachus had already lost his life trying to save hers? What if Antinous never knew what had happened to her?she shook her head, refusing to entertain those thoughts. “They will come,” she repeated firmly, her tears still falling. “They have to.”

She looked down at Adonis, his innocent face so peaceful in sleep. Her son was her only solace now, her reason to keep going. Gently rocking him, she whispered a lullaby, her voice shaky but soft. “Sleep, my love..” As her voice wavered, she kissed his forehead once more, her tears wetting his soft skin. “I promise,” she whispered, “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll hold on until they come. I won’t let him win.” But deep inside, she felt the crushing loneliness of the moment, the overwhelming longing for the family who was so far out of reach.

——

Antinous paced the ship’s deck like a caged animal, his hands clenched into fists. The constant sound of waves crashing against the hull seemed to only fuel his restless energy. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were blazing with frustration and anger. Eurymachus, leaning lazily against a crate nearby, raised an eyebrow as he watched Antinous fume. “You’re going to wear a hole in the deck if you keep pacing like that,” Eurymachus said with a smirk, clearly unbothered by Antinous’s intensity. “What’s got your toga in a twist now?”

Antinous stopped abruptly, his shoulders stiff as he turned to glare at Eurymachus. “What’s got me in a twist?” he repeated, his voice rising. “My sister—my baby sister—is out there, being held by that bastard Raphael, and you’re asking me what’s wrong?”

Eurymachus raised his hands in mock surrender. “Easy there, Antinous. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. I get it. You’re pissed. But pacing and shouting isn’t going to bring her back.”

Antinous stepped closer, his face inches from Eurymachus’s, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “When I get my hands on him, Eurymachus… when I find him…” His hands twitched as if imagining wrapping them around Raphael’s throat. “I’m going to make him beg for death. I’ll carve out every ounce of his arrogance, strip him of every shred of dignity, and let him rot.”

Eurymachus whistled low, his smirk faltering slightly as he realized just how serious Antinous was. “That’s… uh, quite the plan. Got any specifics in mind, or are you just going to wing it?”

Antinous’s eyes darkened, and his voice took on a venomous edge. “Oh, I’ve got specifics. First, I’ll break his fingers one by one, make sure he can’t lay another hand on her. Then I’ll take my time with him, make him feel every ounce of pain he’s caused her, and when he’s finally at his weakest, I’ll remind him that this is just the beginning.”

Eurymachus, though usually one to make light of any situation, found himself shifting uncomfortably under Antinous’s glare. “You’ve, uh, really thought this through, haven’t you?”

Antinous let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Do you think I can sleep at night knowing she’s out there? Knowing he’s probably… hurting her?” His voice cracked slightly, but he quickly masked it with anger. “I can’t stop picturing her, scared, alone, with that monster whispering lies into her ear. And Adonis… my nephew. If he lays a hand on that child, I swear to the gods, there won’t be enough of him left to bury.”

Eurymachus studied him for a moment, uncharacteristically quiet. “You really love her, huh?”

“She’s my sister,” Antinous snapped, his tone softening just a fraction. “She’s the only family I have left. I failed her once by letting her get taken. I’m not going to fail her again.”

Eurymachus nodded slowly, his usual bravado replaced by something almost resembling respect. “Alright, Antinous. We’ll get her back. But you need to keep your head on straight. Losing it now isn’t going to help her.”

Antinous sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as some of the tension drained out of him. “I know. But if I don’t make it out of this, promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Promise me you’ll make sure Raphael suffers.”

Eurymachus smirked again, though this time there was a glint of determination in his eyes. “You’ve got my word. That bastard’s going to regret ever setting foot on Ithacan soil.”

——

The storm hit with no warning. The skies darkened as if night had fallen early, the waves roared like thunder, and the wind howled with a ferocity that made the ship groan under its power. Rain lashed against their faces, and the crew scrambled to keep the ship steady, their voices lost in the chaos. “Hold the line! Don’t let her tip!” Telemachus yelled, gripping the wheel with all his strength. His muscles strained as the ship tilted dangerously with each wave. Acrisios was beside him, trying to tie down loose cargo that was sliding across the deck.

“This is worse than the last storm!” Acrisios shouted, his voice barely audible over the crashing waves. “I swear, the gods have it out for us!”

Cassander and Eurymachus were at the oars, trying to stabilize the ship while exchanging their usual banter despite the chaos. “This is it!” Eurymachus yelled, half panicked. “We’re done for! Drowned before we even get a single war prize!”

“Quit your whining!” Cassander snapped, though his grip on the oars was as white-knuckled as Eurymachus’s. “If I die, I swear I’ll haunt you!”

Meanwhile, Florus was gripping the mast, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. “We need to steer clear of those rocks! Telemachus, to the left!”

“Don’t tell me how to steer my ship!” Telemachus growled, but he adjusted the course anyway, the ship barely missing the jagged rocks Florus had pointed out.

Through it all, Antinous and Druses were… sleeping. In the middle of the storm “Unbelievable!” Pisistratus snapped as he tightened a rope. “They can sleep through this?!”

“Forget them!” Telemachus yelled. “We’ve got bigger problems!”

Another wave crashed over the deck, soaking everyone to the bone and sending Florus tumbling into a heap of barrels. Telemachus barked orders, but the storm was relentless, and one by one, the crew began to lose hope. Suddenly, a massive wave surged forward, lifting the ship into the air before slamming it down into the water. The force sent the crew flying in all directions.

The world spun as the ship was tossed like a toy. Then, darkness. Telemachus woke up coughing, his body aching as he pulled himself out of the sand. He squinted against the harsh sunlight, his head pounding from the ordeal. Around him, the remains of the ship were scattered across the shore, broken planks and supplies littering the golden sand. “A-Antinous? Acrisios?” he called hoarsely, his throat dry and raw.

One by one, his crew began to stir. Acrisios groaned as he sat up, sand sticking to his damp clothes. “We’re alive? How in Hades are we alive?”

“I could ask the same,” Florus muttered, rubbing his head as he stumbled toward them.

Cassander rolled over and coughed up water. “That… was the worst storm I’ve ever seen. Eurymachus? Where’s Eurymachus?”

“I’m here,” came a weak voice from behind a piece of driftwood. Eurymachus was sprawled out, his face pale. “I think I swallowed half the ocean.”

Antinous and Druses, who had somehow managed to stay asleep through the storm, were sprawled on the sand nearby, finally waking up.“What the—” Druses sat up, brushing sand out of his hair. “Where are we?”

“Egypt,” Florus said grimly, pointing to the towering statues and pyramids visible in the distance.

Telemachus sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “The gods are playing games with us.”

“Egypt?” Acrisios groaned. “How in the name of Poseidon did we end up here?!”

Eurymachus, still lying flat on his back, chuckled weakly. “Well, at least we didn’t drown. That’s something, right?”

Cassander threw a handful of sand at him. “Shut up.”

Telemachus stood, determination hardening his features. “This isn’t over. We’ve survived storms and worse before. We’ll gather supplies, repair what we can, and find a way to finish what we started.” The crew exchanged tired but resolute glances. They were battered, bruised, and far from home—but they weren’t giving up.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches @sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl

@dazedemery @tsmaruchan

@holywizardprincess @galaxygurlll @pjopinkk

@h0ne4bee @minteaspoon @zendoesstuff @xo-cuteplosion-xo

[kamwritesonvicodin]

INT. HOUSE & WILSON’S SHARED APARTMENT – NIGHT

The front door bursts open. HOUSE enters, holding a half-ripped Party City bag and a 12-pack of Gatorade. He looks like he just ran a marathon fueled by pettiness and horniness.

HOUSE (in the tone of someone entering a motel room with malicious intent) Helloooo, birthday boy.

WILSON (face down on the couch, muffled) It’s not my birthday.

HOUSE It is now. I brought streamers and thirst.

He tosses the Party City bag on the table. A single balloon floats out. HOUSE walks over, peers at WILSON like he's studying a rare frog.

HOUSE You’re drunker than a Princeton sophomore at rush week. This is hot.

WILSON (rolls onto his back, squinting) You actually came back for me.

HOUSE Of course I did. You said I could see your real personality. I want that. I want to see it. Naked.

WILSON Greg.

HOUSE Jimmy.

WILSON You’re doing it again.

HOUSE Doing what? Being devastatingly handsome and alarmingly available?

WILSON Being a menace to my sexuality.

HOUSE That’s rich coming from a man who just texted “emotionally eat me” at 2 a.m.

WILSON That was metaphorical.

HOUSE Nothing is metaphorical when whipped cream and stethoscopes are involved.

WILSON groans and throws a pillow at him. HOUSE catches it with surprising grace and sits down next to him, closer than necessary. The air gets weird. Like, third-base-in-the-living-room weird.

HOUSE So, what now? You gonna make a move, Dr. Wilson? Or do I get on all fours and pretend I’ve fallen again?

WILSON Greg—

HOUSE —Gregory. Use my full name if you’re gonna reject me mid-foreplay.

WILSON (sharply, but blushing) I’m not that gay.

HOUSE (smug) Great. You can be the top then.

WILSON Shut up. (beat) God, you’re impossible.

HOUSE And yet… you let me live here. You pay the rent. You bought me that weighted blanket.

WILSON That was for your insomnia!

HOUSE That was love, and you know it.

HOUSE leans in slightly, like he’s testing the gravity between them. WILSON doesn't move away. He looks at HOUSE like he’s trying to do long division with his emotions.

WILSON You’re serious?

HOUSE Only about three things in life: pain, Vicodin, and you.

Silence. Long. Charged. Ridiculously romantic if not for the fact WILSON is draped over the couch like a Victorian lady recovering from consumption.

WILSON If I kiss you, I won’t remember it in the morning.

HOUSE Then I’ll kiss you again. Sober. And worse.

WILSON You’re the worst man I know.

HOUSE And you want to make out with me so bad it’s giving you a tumor.

They stare at each other. The jazz starts playing softly from the speaker House queued earlier like a little freak. The balloon bumps against the ceiling. Neither of them moves.

WILSON …Do you have any of that cake?

HOUSE Only if you feed it to me shirtless.

WILSON Shut. Up.

But he’s already smiling. And House is already winning... on my ao3 guys its a one shot

[maybe-boys-do-love]

But actually, for all the jokes you can say about WinTeam having hot nsa sex in the locker room while DeanPharm are trying to upend the tragic curse of their past lives, Between Us uses its side couple premise with much more depth than it had to.

Instead of mere UWMA fanservice, Between Us explores the utter privacy with which feelings and relationships flow beneath our awareness. We might be the main character in own adventures, but other people’s hearts are like lights on inside so many doors we never open.

In the series, Bee and Prince kindle their romance on campus in secret to protect the public love stories and image Prince must convey as an actor. Tul (Soodyacht) and Win’s older brother Wan (O) fall for each over chat on a video game without exchanging names or seeing one another’s faces.

Then there’s the clandestine thirst of WinTeam, shaded darkly by the commitments they won’t make and the feelings they won’t speak, with their friends, each other, perhaps even inside their own minds, even as the love starts to become apparent. You need great physical performers if that level of yearning’s so essential to the storyline, and BounPrem deliver. The gravity pulling their characters together might be invisible—no previous lives that they must karmically amend—but the force is undeniable.

I read somewhere that in romantic love turn away from the rest of the world. We realize there is a world inside of one person that we could spend a century mapping without managing to capture even a single shore. The full measure of how little we know about a single person’s inner life and personal history, let alone the rest of the world, stretches out before us like an ocean.

Between Us has elements that disrupt one’s full immersion into its thematic depths, and not everyone’s acting at the same level of Boun and Prem. Still, the central theme is so intriguing with a sex-first relationship development that feels modern, especially in P’New’s oeuvre. In the moments the full potential surfaces on screen, Between Us and its private desires are indescribably sublime.

[physalian]

7 Misused Tropes (And How to Improve Them)

Tropes in isolation aren’t inherently bad, but a lot of them are prone to poor execution. Each one of these probably could have a whole post by themselves. A few of these used to be good but have since fallen by the wayside as their original meaning has been lost.

7. Dramatic Miscommunication

You know the ones. I think it’s worse when the story is otherwise good, the writers just could not come up with a better way to get X alone or send Y off on the necessary side quest than the lowest of low hanging fruit.

Two essential ingredients for fixing this trope: Precedent and consequences

Precedent–have the character doing the missassuming already be prone to jumping to conclusions, already suspicious or insecure, or misled by a third party so this looks inevitable, instead of pulled out of your ass.

Consequences–usually these are big blow up fights that fizzle out without any impact on the plot once they fulfill their purpose, but if it’s a nasty enough fight, characters shouldn’t just forgive and forget. While they might not completely ruin relationships, it should have characters taking a step back and either second guessing where they stand, or using this blowup to fix an underlying issue in said relationship.

6. Love Triangles

Good Love Triangle for the first 3 seasons: Elena/Stefan/Damon (TVD).

Bad Love Triangle for the entire series: Bella/Edward/Jacob (Twilight).

The difference between them (besides time to flesh out both candidates) is that both brothers brought valid pros and cons to Elena’s life, both got the chance to be with her, and Elena’s whole arc wasn’t solely focused on the agonizing choice of which brother she should pick. Regardless of which camp you’re in, Stefan brought stability, that classic cliché high school romance, mostly all good vibes. He never challenged her or talked down to her or got aggressive with her. Damon did the opposite, for better or for worse, and we know which direction the show went.

On the other hand, Jacob never for one second stood a chance with Bella and the narrative wasn’t kidding anyone. They never so much as went on one date (unless you count the motorcycle ride) and it seemed like Bella was only letting him hang on for pity’s sake. Theoretically he brought pros to the table that Edward couldn’t (like, idk, being alive), but the narrative never explored what could be done with him. He just ended up being the Nice Guy friend who then decided it’d be hot to lust after an infant.

5. Agency-less Chosen Ones

These tend to be wish fulfillment characters that bring nothing to the story and have no discernible skills, yet are constantly in the middle of the action, have all the love interests fawning over them, and are Important and Critical to saving the world… because the narrative said so. They don’t make a single choice the entire plot except to move forward or stagnate, chosen by the gods or a prophecy or fate and destiny.

The problem: These characters walk with the crutch of “I’m the chosen one thus I don’t need a reason to exist in the story” and that’s just not a satisfying narrative shortcut. So? Give them agency. Even if they’re chosen by some ancient prophecy, you still have to convince the reader why the Universe wasn’t just talking out of its ass.

Good example: Emmet from Lego Movie literally says he’s useless and has no skills and cannot think outside the Lego box. He’s supposed to be as generic as painfully possible and when he does have creative ideas, they’re supposed to be asinine and stupid. And yet. He might be physically dragged around by the other characters, but he has plenty of choices, plenty of opposition to what’s happening, plenty to say about the state of his world, and his ideas do matter and his intimate knowledge of the instructions and playing by the rules is how they win.

4. Bad Boy Love Interests

These guys were supposed to be counter-culture icons, standing up to The Man for the little guy because he knows the system is broken and rigged. He’s an affront to the stereotypical nuclear lifestyle, he resents a robotic and soulless office job and wants to create art or music or in some way benefit his world and isn’t going to play nice just to get his way. He exists in contrast to the nuclear female protagonist: Conservative, demure, rule-following caged bird who falls in love with him because he shows her that life isn’t meant to be lived in The Man’s cage. He respects the authority that deserves respect, the teachers who actually give a shit, the janitors, the librarians, but probably not the principal or the police or the local politicians, because he knows they don’t respect him and respect is a two-way street. He’s probably a mama’s boy or at the very least loves his parents (if they’re alive) and while he might engage in a little property damage like graffiti, it’s for a good cause.

This dude is NOT SUPPOSED TO BE: Abusive, controlling, aggressive, or condescending to his love interest. He’s not supposed to be an overprotective stalker or plagued by insecure jealousy over any other man in his love interest’s life. He’s not rude to his friends or arrogant about his own smarts and doesn’t think he knows best about every little thing in the world. He’s not sexist or racist just to make himself feel better and he doesn’t pressure his love interest into sex because she owes him or whatever.

Ahem.

Please bring back classic bad boys. That is all.

3. Major Character Death (for shock value)

I remember the implosion of the Walking Dead fandom after they killed Carl, one of the very few characters who was supposed to make it to the end, for… various sketchy reasons and I could never figure out what was true. Some theorized that his actor was aging out of the ‘child actor’ payscale and they didn’t want to pay him as an adult and while I have no proof, it wouldn’t surprise me at all.

Carl died after getting bit in just one of those hectic moments where he got unlucky, while doing something noble and stupid. In isolation, it fits the nature of the “anyone can die” show but man did it just come across in poor taste.

Obviously “for shock value” shouldn’t be the reason you do anything in your story but there is still a way to pull it off without it causing a riot: Make sure they get killed in a non-contrived way. If you plan on killing off one of your heroes suddenly, either make it bitterly ironic, or make it a situation that this character would absolutely get themselves into. The more it “fits” the less likely audiences will see the hand of the author coming in just to break the character’s fictional contract.

2. The Power Inside You All Along

This trope is usually disappointing because it tends to melt a character’s whole arc down into something pointless—this whole adventure was apparently useless if they didn’t actually need to grow or change or challenge their conceptions of the world. They could have got up off the couch as joe shmoe and beat the villain day one.

While that’s probably not what their creator intends, ‘it was inside you all along *wink*’ tends to feel that way, as it discourages internal conflict. Usually, their creator is likely trying to convey the message that one need not change, that it’s what’s inside them already that makes them special.

I present to you once again Kung Fu Panda’s “there is no secret ingredient” i.e. “the power inside you”. The difference is. Po still has plenty of internal conflict: his own self-confidence. He begins the movie eager but inexperienced and a bit oblivious, fanboying it up around his heroes. He and Shifu both insult his weight and his lacking kung fu skills, and his arc is learning self-confidence, learning how to use his weight and the body he has to fight in a way that the villain isn’t prepared for, to where Po can shit-talk him to his face during the final fight.

Most failures of this trope don’t bother exercising their protagonist. They’re pissy and resistant for the entire story and only win when the narrative agrees they were right all along. Therefore, no change, no conflict, no resolution.

1. Strong Female Characters

So many of these read like "slapped boops on a male character". They don’t work for many reasons (usually being very preachy with their agendas), but they especially don’t work when by trying to be pro-feminist, they’re still reinforcing masculine standards. A lot of people, when Captain Marvel came out, said “you didn’t have any issues with Tony Stark being an asshole but now you do when he’s a woman” which. No.

Tony was an asshole, but being an asshole was the whole point of his character, and he got humbled right quick by getting blown up and held hostage. “Proof that Tony Stark Has a Heart” and all that.

Carol was an asshole with nothing to substantiate it, and never got a reality check. She had amnesia so we didn’t get insight into who she was before to understand this transition into dickishness and was so OP, she wasn’t ever physically or emotionally challenged like Tony was.

But the other thing is this: Slapping boobs on a male character with a slew of toxic masculine traits also says that to be a successful woman, you must behave like a man. It swings so far from the femme fatale sexy leg lamp that it comes around and eats its own tail. These characters are just mean and insecure and build themselves up by tearing down the men around them.

So. Calhoun from Wreck it Ralph is this exact trope done extremely well. She’s aggressive, arrogant, loud, rude, and cynical. For about 10% of her arc. The movie immediately throws her into a situation where her strengths are basically useless—she’s stuck in Candy Land and has to rely on someone who is the antithesis of her game and character to make it out. The movie also shows you why she’s cynical via her tragic backstory.

Not only that, she’s more than just a heap of toxic masculinity in a pixie cut. She laughs, she cries, she admits when she’s wrong, she has a soft side, a gentle side, a caring side, and remains a badass through and through.

Or, once again rolling out Tigress from Kung Fu Panda: Proud, aggressive, the snubbed chosen one, cynical, mean, and overconfident in her abilities. Tigress nearly gets her entire team killed in her arrogance. She’s allowed to be wrong, very wrong. She also has her soft moments and, like Calhoun, has a very valid reason for being jaded, and is still shown to be capable of softness and nurturing during the evacuation.

Third example to hammer home that I don’t hate badass women: Andromache. Jaded, overconfident, short-tempered, aggressive, and a little mean-spirited. Tragic explanatory backstory? Check. She is also caring and loyal to her team, allowed to get emotional, allowed to be wrong and fail and lose, and kind of the surrogate mom of the team, who can also laugh and joke around and have light-hearted moments.

Whether the character is a man or a woman, being an arrogant asshole who takes zero accountability and refuses to admit when they’re wrong and never loses, audiences aren’t going to like them.

[jawsoffate]

Diabolically Yours | part II (vessel!demon x reader)

Summary: Emma just wanted a simple magical boost to win a writing contest, not a snarky and handsome demon bound to her soul. But after summoning the wrong hellspawn, she ends up stuck with Vessel: a sarcastic, shirtless chaos entity who won’t stop flirting or stealing her snacks. Now they’re magically tethered, emotionally entangled, and dangerously close to something much scarier than a pact gone wrong... feelings.

TW: Contains supernatural shenanigans, mutual pining, steamy tension, and one annoyingly hot demon. Read with care (and maybe holy water on the finals part).

💖 masterlist

Part I | Part II | Part III

Part II: Comparative Literature and Other Forms of Torture

Emma hadn’t been able to sleep since she accidentally summoned the wrong demon four days ago. Which is the bare minimum one might expect after summoning an entity by mistake — especially when he decides to sit in your favorite armchair, wear your comfy slippers and your post-shower robe, and grab the remote like he’d rented the place on Airbnb.

"There’s no Netflix in Hell, you know?" Vessel commented, flipping through reality shows and horror movies with the same enthusiasm someone might show for the weather forecast. "We’ve got something similar, but it’s more... eternal. And involves more screaming."

"Are you really staying there?"

"Are you really pretending this is comfortable?" He slapped the armrest. "This is foam with a dead grandma print."

Emma huffed.

"Okay. Rules. First: no sarcasm before 9 AM."

"Ha ha."

"Second: no possessing electronic devices. My laptop already crashes on its own."

"I promise to only possess things in extreme cases. Like commercials with annoying jingles."

He turned to her, smirking.

"You know, if you wanted a pact, you could’ve asked for something more useful. Money, power, I don’t know... flirting skills."

"I do have flirting skills."

"Sure. That’s why you’ve been single for… how long again?"

She crossed her arms.

"That’s invasive."

"I’m a demon. Invasiveness is my strong suit. I sabotage, disturb, and occasionally give unsolicited advice. Teasing is for cupids and ghost coaches."

She ran her hands over her face.

"This is punishment."

"Technically, it’s a cosmic consequence of your failure to properly read occult texts. Punishment is what happens if I have to sleep on the couch."

He got up from the armchair and began inspecting the room like a picky landlord. He stopped in front of the bookshelf, tilted his head, and let out a judgmental "hmm."

"‘Contemporary romance with a touch of drama and questionable endings’..." He read the titles aloud. "You’ve got good taste. Predictable, but good."

"Don’t touch my books."

"I’m just analyzing. Promise. Still processing the fact that I was summoned by an Ali Hazelwood fan. Explains a lot."

"Like what?"

"That you should be careful what you wish for, human. Sometimes the enemy shows up... but the romance ends up in debt."

Emma narrowed her eyes but didn’t respond. It was hard to argue when the guy you wanted to kick out of your room was wearing your lilac bathrobe and philosophizing about contemporary fiction like a bored literary critic.

"Look," she started, raising a finger, "if you came here to destroy my self-esteem and my literary taste all at once, congrats. Mission accomplished."

Vessel gave her a lazy smile and pulled a book off the shelf, flipping through it like it was some strange artifact.

"And if you wanted the right demon, maybe you should’ve double-checked your pronunciation and, I don’t know, used... what’s it called, Gorgul?"

"Google. It’s called Google."

"Yeah, that. You didn’t do that and now you’re stuck with me — a dramatic catalyst for your life’s plot. You know, every protagonist needs one."

"I’m not a protagonist. I’m a senior lit student trying to finish her final project without completely losing her mind. And you", she pointed at him like she was facing off with a flying cockroach, "are what happens when sleep deprivation meets sketchy grimoires from the internet."

"Exactly," he replied, proudly. "I’m the plot twist you didn’t ask for, but now have to deal with."

She rolled her eyes and collapsed onto the sofa, sinking into the cushions like they could shield her from the supernatural avalanche in the shape of a man currently invading her life. He returned to the armchair, now chewing on a bookmark like it was a toothpick.

"What’s your full name again?" she asked, too tired to keep denying reality.

"Oh. Now you ask… Gonna try to gain power over me by learning my name? Hate to burst your bubble, but that’s just superstition. Doesn’t work."

He dropped the bookmark and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, as if about to share a precious secret.

"My name is Vessel. Just Vessel. The rest is unpronounceable in human tongues and causes spontaneous combustion in recycled paper."

"Great. So, Mister Vessel, what exactly do I need to do to dissolve this arcane bond or whatever it is?"

He shrugged.

"Like I said, something grand. A deep personal achievement. Could be an act of true love, an emotional epiphany, or... turning in that assignment with your soul in it."

Emma raised a brow.

"You’re telling me if I write a good short story and get a high grade, you’ll disappear?"

"Maybe. Or maybe you’ll realize you like having me around and decide to keep me for a few centuries. Imagine that? The first human to keep a demon as a literary consultant. You’d blow up on Shick-Shack"

"It’s TikTok. And I’d rather have a cat named Cersei."

"And I’d rather be haunting a corrupt banker right now, but life’s full of surprises."

A brief silence settled between them, broken only by the low drone of the TV, where reality show contestants were yelling for absurd reasons.

"Fine," she said at last. "Let’s make a temporary deal. You stay out of my dreams, my drawers, and my personal drama. In exchange, you can... comment on my drafts. But only if you promise to stop wearing my robe."

Vessel looked down at the purple fabric wrapped around him with a thoughtful expression.

"Tricky. It’s absurdly comfortable."

"I’m not negotiating, I’m threatening."

He raised his hands in surrender.

"Very well, human. We have a provisional truce. But fair warning: I’m excellent at subtext and terrible at boundaries."

Emma sighed.

"Why me?"

"Because you said the wrong words, in the wrong tone, at the wrong time. And deep down, you wanted an impossible story. Congrats. Now you’re living one."

He smiled sideways.

And for a second — just one — Emma had the distinct feeling her life had officially gone off the rails.

________________

Emma thought that, after accidentally summoning a demon, nothing else could surprise her. She thought. Because on the fifth day of forced cohabitation, she found herself trying to attend her Comparative Literature class while an infernal being made sarcastic remarks in her ear like some kind of hellish commentator, audio-description version for those who never asked for it.

"Seriously, you're debating the narrator's function for the third time this week?" Vessel yawned, floating beside her chair. "Have you considered summoning the narrator's spirit and asking directly? Much more efficient."

Emma gripped her pen so tightly it almost turned into a weapon.

"Shut up."

The girl sitting next to her, with a thick braid and a curious look, turned slowly, frowning.

"What?"

"Nothing!" Emma forced a smile. A stiff, tense smile. "Just… talking to myself, no big deal"

The girl nodded with an awkward little smile and went back to her notes. Vessel chuckled.

"Nice save, Emma. Totally natural."

"Why are you here?" she whispered through clenched teeth. "You don't have to follow me to college."

"Of course I do. Arcane bond, remember? Until it dissipates, I go where you go. Including your Literary Analysis classes that smell like boredom and mildew. Oh, and there's something dripping from that ceiling fan. Just saying."

Emma looked up. Yep. It wasn’t demon sweat, unfortunately.

He rose and hovered a bit higher, observing the classmates, the whiteboards, the motivational posters taped to the walls. It was the first time he seemed genuinely curious.

"Humans put motivational quotes on walls when they lack internal motivation, is that it?"

"Shhh!"

Vessel let out a sigh, and she imagined he rolled his eyes too, before beginning to recite the posters in a dramatic tone as she tried to copy the projected slides:

"You are capable of everything you haven’t tried yet.' How poetic. And vague. Have you tried flying, Emma?"

"I will curse you if you don’t shut up," she hissed.

"Too late, sweetheart. That’s my job."

During the break, she tried to seek refuge in the library. A sacred place. Quiet. Cozy. At least until Vessel discovered the computers.

"Wow. This place is a relic. Smells like ancient dust and burnt cookies." He turned on a terminal with a snap of his fingers. "The system froze before it even opened the browser. Impressive."

"Please don’t touch anything."

"Too late. I found YouTube. Look at this! A channel called ‘Apocalypse Cooking’. There’s a video on how to make doomsday garlic bread with just three ingredients."

"You’re going to crash the system, and the librarian’s going to kick me out again."

"Relax, she can’t even see me. In fact, she’s looking at you right now like ‘this girl’s been talking to herself for way too long’."

Emma gave the librarian a fake smile and waved. The woman blinked slowly, like someone who had long since given up trying to understand young people.

When she finally sat down to write her story for the Creative Writing class, on her own laptop and not the library fossils, Vessel sprawled — invisible — on the floor between the bookshelves and started narrating his own demonic contract with the tone of a French cult film trailer.

"‘Partial invocation. Potential emotional bond. Guaranteed chaos for an indefinite time. Not recommended for minors or emotionally unstable adults.’ Dramatic enough?"

"Vessel..."

"‘Any exorcism attempt will result in public embarrassment, nausea, and academic failure.’"

She looked up, pushed her laptop aside, and stared at him.

"This is a nightmare."

"No, this is college. Hell is less bureaucratic."

He stood, circled her chair, and pointed at her laptop screen.

"Okay, but seriously. This dialogue in your story? How do humans say it? ‘Meh.’ Needs more chaos. Emotion. Subtlety. Want help?"

Emma raised an eyebrow.

"You were serious when you said you could help me write the story?"

"I’ve inspired tragedies since Ancient Greece. I was the muse of three cursed playwrights. One has a festival named after him. Another choked on parchment. The third... fell in love with a tree. Long story."

She sighed.

"Well, I did try the ritual for this exact reason... but if you make me get a bad grade..." She left the threat hanging, staring at him in what was meant to be intimidating. It’s hard to scare a demon who’s been alive for millennia.

"I have millennia of tragedy under my belt, darling. I’m basically a walking infernal genius. And better than most people charging fifty bucks an hour."

Emma shut the laptop with a snap and looked around. The library remained silent, the other students oblivious to the supernatural being sprawled in front of her.

"Okay, but we’re not doing this here. I’m not about to become known as the crazy girl who talks to herself in the library. Let’s go home."

She looked at the empty space — or rather, at Vessel — and muttered with the expression of someone who had already given up fighting fate:

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

Vessel grinned, already wrapped in an aura of false innocence.

"The best version of your existence. Now let’s go home and write your story. I want metaphorical blood and emotional climax. And preferably no happy endings. There’s already too much romance on those shelves."

[hypotheticalprose]

Dandadan Finale, or why cutting your season in half is fucking stupid

The end of Dandadan season 1 has rightfully frustrated or turned off some viewers, but I think the way that the story has been framed, especially by the abrupt ending mid-arc, has a lot to do with the reception. This is also a broader meditation on edgier scenes in storytelling and what, if anything, can justify their use.

Spoilers for Dandadan season two, so be warned I guess. Content warning for discussion of sexual assault.

Some people have pointed out that in the manga, Momo’s encounter at the bath is resolved in a single chapter as a point in favor of it being not a big deal. While that’s true, I don’t think that gets to the point of what turns people off from these kinds of things: the feeling of gratuity and lack of necessity. If something is included in a story for seemingly no reason, people are going to assume that the reason was self-indulgence. And it’s very, very reasonable to be creeped out by a story that seemingly self-indulges in that kind of thing.

The question that really matters is, what is the story trying to say with the inclusion of this scene? A clean-cut example of a challenging scene with a purpose is actually the first episode of Dandadan, where Momo’s fight with her shitty, abusive boyfriend is replicated shot-for-shot with her fight against the Serpo. In both cases, she is fighting back, but unlike the first time, when she only wins a moral victory by telling him to fuck off, in the second scene she demolishes the aliens, establishing that she is not a damsel in distress, but rather the protagonist of the story.

Let’s go back to the bathhouse scene and zoom outa a bit. In the manga, it’s established that the men who attack her in the bath are members of the Kito family, who also happen to be Jiji’s landlords and the main antagonists of the arc. At the same time that the men attack her, the Kito family woman barge into Jiji’s home, threaten him with a shotgun, and generally act similarly threatening. It’s also established that the Kito family see themselves as the guardians of their town, but the rest of the town seems to despise them; the men get chased out of the bath after Momo kicks their ass and are only saved by a corrupt cop in their payroll.

So, what is the story trying to say?

The Kito family are utterly entitled. Because they “keep the town safe,” they view any transgression as compensation for their sacrifice. The fact that they don’t actually sacrifice anything themselves is utterly irrelevant to them. Their matriarch even explicitly tells Momo that they “keep the hot springs safe” despite the fact that they do the exact opposite of that. The literal sacrifices that they commit is a mirror to this.

Another thing to consider: there’s a reason every member of the family is depicted as middle-aged or old. They’re a living embodiment of the entitlement of older generations; shitty parents, abusive landlords, creepy older men who twist social norms to their own benefit.

A secondary purpose of the bath scene is that it introduces Turbo-Granny’s luck-based powers that she gained from her new cat form, as well as demonstrating that despite her harsh words, she doesn’t tolerate the abuse of girls around her, including Momo. It’s a moment of camaraderie between the two of them that develops their bond.

So clearly, this is not an instance of gratuitous sexual abuse. It serves a purpose in the story. The problem is that it only serves that purpose as a small part of a longer arc. Making it a cliffhanger is an utterly incomprehensible choice, especially when the next episode doesn’t come out for six months. Holy shit, that’s such a bad idea! Removing the scene from its context makes it gratuitous! Frankly, it would be better not to have it at all if that’s your plan. It didn’t sit right with me, and I knew the context. For anime-only viewers, it feels like it utterly undermines the point made in the first episode. It makes Momo into a victim again instead of the hero. Ending the season like that is a betrayal of the story’s original message.

Science SARU remains one of my favorite animation studios of all time, but this was a missed input of gargantuan proportions. This is also why 12-episode seasons that are actually just half of a season are stupid as fuck.

One last point before I sign off on this: I think it’s very reasonable to not be interested in a story where sexual assault is played for laughs, drama, or horror. Even if it is technically proficient and serves a purpose, it isn’t for everyone. An example is Devilman Crybaby’s reboot, also by Science SARU, as well as Fire Punch and Chainsaw Man by Tatsuki Fujimoto. I wouldn’t just recommend those to anyone without warning them about the challenging elements. It’s no different from extreme non-sexual violence, or explicit consensual sex scenes, really. People have different comfort levels, and that’s totally fine. Lord knows I have my limits. I’ve been watching Ranma 1/2 lately, and I despise Happosai with every fiber of my being and skip every episode he shows up in. I’d kill him with a hammer if I could.

[dioslesbianwife]

Hi

I was wondering if you could do a part 7 jojo head canon with a reader who has a cute stand that is secretly terrifying. And I mean that the stand is able to adapt to be able to kill any enemy. But the stand looks like it belongs in a children’s toy store. Please

of course! hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting :p

Johnny Joestar

The first time he sees your Stand, he’s like “Oh, that’s kinda cute”, but the moment he sees what it can actually do, his brain short-circuits.

Watching your Stand morph its abilities to counter an enemy’s every move makes him shudder. It’s not just strong- it’s inevitable.

“How the hell does something that looks like a stuffed animal kill people like that?!” He says, horrified, watching as it slaughters a man with unsettling precision.

He tries not to think about what would happen if you ever turned it against him- not that you would! But still, he knows it could kill him if it wanted to.

Despite everything, he actually likes your Stand’s cute design. It’s a weird comfort. When he’s having a bad day, you let him hold it, and he grumbles, “I’m not a kid, but thanks.”

Gyro Zeppeli

“Ha, what is that?! Is that your Stand?!” cue Gyro laughing at it the first time he sees it

But then he sees it absolutely decimate an enemy, adapting to their attacks like it was built to win, and he stops laughing immediately.

“Oh. Ohhhhhh. That’s- okay. That’s horrifying.”

He doesn’t like the way it smiles while it fights. It doesn’t even have an expression, but he swears it’s enjoying itself.

Sometimes he tests it, throwing a Steel Ball just to see how it reacts. Every time, it adjusts perfectly, like it’s already figured out how to kill him if necessary.

He starts calling it “the devil in a toy box” and will not let it near him unless you promise it won’t do anything weird.

Hot Pants

She doesn’t trust it at all. Your Stand looks like it belongs in a kid’s room, yet it adapts to counter every possible attack? That’s too much power for something that looks that innocent.

“It’s unnatural,” she mutters after watching it reduce an enemy to a pile of bones in seconds.

Despite how uneasy it makes her, she respects your control over it. She’s used to violence, but something about your Stand’s methodical efficiency unsettles her.

Once, when she was badly injured, she woke up to find it sitting next to her- just watching. Not moving. Just staring. She nearly punched it out of reflex.

She keeps her distance but will fight alongside you without hesitation.

Diego Brando

The biggest hypocrite, because his Stand is a literal dinosaur army, but the moment he sees yours, he immediately dislikes it.

“That’s not normal. It shouldn’t be able to do that.”

He tries to study it, watching how it adapts and figuring out if there’s a limit- but there isn’t one. That terrifies him more than he’d admit.

The worst moment was when he thought about attacking you as a joke, and your Stand turned to look at him like it already had three ways to kill him ready to go.

“Tch. I don’t fear it,” he says, but he absolutely does.

Funny Valentine

He is immediately intrigued. Your Stand is a contradiction, a childish, harmless design hiding an unfathomable ability to kill.

He watches it work with morbid fascination, admiring how it adapts to any opponent effortlessly.

“Your Stand is truly remarkable,” he tells you, genuine in his admiration. “A perfect blend of deception and lethality.”

But he knows a threat when he sees one. If you ever turned against him, he’d have to eliminate you immediately- because your Stand is too dangerous to be left unchecked.

He is polite and respectful toward you at all times, but that’s not just because he likes you, it’s because he knows that if he makes a single wrong move, your Stand will find a way to kill him before he can react.

[mackandcheezy]

Don't Blame Me (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

​​A/N: I have yet to see ABAOSAS so simply this is for the vibes, major plot changes from the book/ movie so dont mind that, simply I saw a hot morally grey man and decided I can fix him so this is for all the girlies with a toolbelt ;) 

His eyes had been glued to the screen for what felt like hours. The little specs of graininess following his vision everytime he blinked. Coriolanus Snow did not falter for anyone-- that was until he met you. Something about your blind optimism reminded him of a child, and god how he hated children, but somehow on you it was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of. It made something warm start in his chest, and little fires erupt in every nerve. It was nothing like he had ever felt before, he hated it, and yet he couldn’t get enough. And now he was going to watch the only thing that made him feel that way slip between his fingers like nothing more than a single snowflake. At some point the snow had to melt and here he was watching it live. 

He kept replaying that last conversation over and over. “I’m going to survive, there is no if,” he remembered how you brushed your fingers across his cheek through the rusty bars of the zoo. If he closed his eyes and thought about it hard enough he could feel the warmth of your fingers against his face again. He refused to remember the single tear and question that had prompted that response. This could not be a one time thing. He just got you and there was no letting you go now. Love is a drug and he was nothing but an addict. 

Coryo was jolted to reality when he noticed another tribute sneaking up behind you. He couldn’t remember his name. There was no point, the only one that mattered was the victor and that was you. It had to be you. 

Staring into the depths of your form he begged you to wake. The bile was already crawling up his throat burning a trail in its wake. Stomach clenched he closed his eyes as he heard what could only be described as a battle cry leave the murderer’s mouth. 

Three seconds. He was allowing himself three seconds of grief before he had to move on. To survive. Snow falls on top and he faltered for you but now it was over and he had to go on. 

That was until he opened his eyes to your form. You were standing over the tribute, eyes wide as the saucers that Grandma’am used to take tea in. A bloody knife dripped blood down your pale dress leaving you in a haunting shade of wet red down your right side. He didn’t remember you having that, deciding you must have fought the tribute for it, you always were good at getting what you wanted, especially from him. You took his every waking thought like it was nothing so what was a knife? 

“I killed him. He’s dead. I killed him..” Coryo could do nothing but watch as you spiraled within the tunnel. He wanted nothing more than to hold you and tell you that this was nothing more than a bad dream. Though part of him knew that in a way the person who brushed his cheek was gone. 

He quickly fixed the look of concern dawning his face, remembering how you had told him once that his “human was showing.” That single thought gracing the smallest of smiles on his lips. 

In a twisted way seeing you covered in a thick sheet of red brought him comfort. A small part of him knew that was wrong. Knew that his comfort came at the cost of a human life. But none of them deserved to live as much as you did. Now he knew you could do it, knew you had what it took to win, with the added bonus of having a weapon. He had not felt so much joy since hearing of the opportunity to go to University. You were the key to his new life, and it started now. 

He remembered thinking you were weak when he offered you the posion and you declined citing that “cheaters never win.” Coriolanus felt the entire essence of his personality crumble when those words left your perfectly pink lips. It set something inside of him aflame. You made him almost want to be a good person, almost, because if anything happened to you he would do whatever it took no matter the cost. He was ready to put his own future at risk for the assurance of knowing that you would live to see tomorrow's sunrise. Because you deserved a tomorrow more than he ever did. 

The games were coming to a close. Only a few tributes left and he watched intently as you moved around the arena. Even caked in blood, dirt, and who knows what else, he had never seen a figure more beautiful. 

He couldn’t help but allow himself to think of you adorned in the luxuries of the capitol. An egregious dress adorning your shoulders and your hair in some unnatural twist. Somehow it never looked as good as you did right now. Raw and natural, locks framing your face in small clumps. You were going to get out of this and he was going to get you out of those crummy districts. You deserved more than any of those pathetic traitors, and he was going to get you that. One way or another.