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flaminhotlili · 1 day ago

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asking to tie a ribbon on it.

synopsis — what the title says <3

warnings — nsfw content mdni please or i will steal ur kneecaps, afab!reader, teasing, oral (m receiving), a bit of cock worship, all of them are subby because i said so <3, pet names (my love, sweetie, cutie), praise... i might've missed smt lmk if i did !

featuring — xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, & caleb (separate fics)

notes — this is my first time in a long time writing for a fandom 😵‍💫 in honor of caleb's new myth, have this haphazardly-made mess as a lil gift from me in all its unedited glory <3 addtly, this was inspired by @hoshifighting's nasty shua drabble :P

Xavier

While Xavier was no stranger to being adventurous in bed, he still was surprised when you made the teensy request. “Can I try tying a ribbon around it?” you asked, moving closer to his face with a playful pout. Xavier raised an eyebrow at the question, but he played along with your antics, figuring that you were just doom-scrolling on the web too much again.

Five minutes later, as you tied a bow around the base of his hardening cock, Xavier found himself suddenly struggling to breathe. He sat on the edge of the bed with you in between his parted legs, pants down to his ankles with his cock just beginning to drip with pre. He shuddered at the sight of your darkened eyes as both of your hands wrapped around him, the silk material obscuring your skin.

“Look so pretty, Xavier…” you said slowly, your voice almost slurring. Xavier’s face flares up at the compliment and gasps when you press a kiss on the underside of his tip. “Feels so soft, too…”

Xavier hissed sharply when the tip of your tongue began tracing around the ribbon-covered part of his cock. The sensation of your wet muscle was barely there, leaving him panting for more more more.

Zayne

Zayne never regrets saying yes to every single whim you could think of. But right now, sitting up on your bed with your fingers struggling to wrap the silk cloth around his cock, he might start rethinking his choices.

The air was knocked out of his lungs when your hand finally wrapped around his cock and began slowly stroking it. The silk chafes against him deliciously and Zayne can’t help the shaky moan that’s punched out of him.

“M-my love–aah, g-god…” Zayne leans back against his elbows, unable to keep sitting up with how much he’s trembling. He hears your little giggle as you slowly build up a steady pace for him. “You’re as red as that ribbon on your pretty cock, Dr. Zayne,” you whispered into his ear, your tone teasing and sultry.

Zayne couldn’t respond, instead he barely restrains his whimpers as the material grazes a sensitive vein underneath his tip.

Rafayel

He laughs in your face the moment you ask about it–“A ribbon? What am I going to do with that, cutie?” he quipped.

He stopped laughing when the pink ribbon was finally wrapped around his half-hard cock. Rafayel clears his throat as he violently shudders under your fingertips, your manicured nail barely grazing his skin. “Cutie, th-this is torture… You’re literally torturing me.” he breathes.

You pointedly ignored his comment. “So pretty, Rafayel.” you purred, pressing a light kiss on the tip. Rafayel’s cock twitches in response and he slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle his moans. You grinned at his blushing face, nuzzling your cheek against his cock like a cat. “And it’s made just for me.”

Rafayel moans desperately as your mouth envelopes around his tip–he’s going to think twice before laughing at your ideas from now on.

Sylus

Sylus was generally loud in bed, but he became especially vocal when you decide to bring…a uniqueness into it. While he made light of you proposing putting a bow on it after dinner, he was praying to whatever higher being there was that he’d be able to last.

“S-sweetie–unh! I- I’m–” Sylus’s hips buck into your soft hand; the red silk was tight around his girth and you had struggled to even make a decent bow while you tied it up. But the appearance of the ribbon mattered little to him–all his attention was placed onto your hand, where it was languidly stroking his cock.

You smiled at his struggle, “Yes, Sy?” you asked quietly, your teeth grazing his earlobe. Sylus’s thighs stuttered, panting harshly, unable to form coherent thoughts as you squeeze his cock. You giggled and Sylus lets out another moan as your mouth began trailing down open-mouthed kisses from his ear down to his neck.

Caleb

Caleb tilts his head back onto the dining chair with his eyes squeezed close, trying not to crumple the documents in his hand as your mouth devours his tip in one go. He groans loudly into his hand when your tongue struggles to lick underneath the fabric wrapped around his cock.

When you made the request of tying a silk ribbon around him a few days ago, he thought nothing of it, contributing it to just another trend on the web that you wanted to follow. But now, in his dining room, where you kneeled underneath his dining table sucking him off with a bow around his length, Caleb was definitely in trouble.

“Fuckkkk, Pipsqueak…” he whined. He let go of the papers and raked a hand through your hair to ground himself. You sucking him off was almost a regular thing, but Caleb feared that he might cum too quickly for this.

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blueivyy99 · 1 day ago

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Calm and Serenity

Sylus x Non!Mc

summary: you didn't know what sylus saw in you. he said you were calm, quiet and serene and that's what he needs. you believed it. he showed it. not until little miss hunter came. she's everything you're not. news that she's in danger can make the ever so calm sylus to run and leave everything behind. it made you think, would he do that for you as well?

tags: angst, romance, hurt and comfort, confused sylus, non-mc reader (this is it for now)

note: thank you for the love in the previous chapter 🥹

Link to Part 1

It's been a month or two since the last time you've been with Sylus. It saddens you that the time you get to spend together is cut short, only seeing each other at night when he pleases to have dinner or greet you goodnight.

You asked Luke and Kieran about what's happening, but they don't know either. They just know it has something to do with Miss Hunter, about Aether Core, about something that you have very little knowledge about. You mentally noted to search about it later.

“He is very grumpy lately,” Luke said, "He was glaring at us like he wants to skin us alive whenever me and my twin are being a little louder than normal.”

"The only one safe from his anger is Miss Hunter,” Kieran added. "I don't appreciate that Boss is playing favorites in our team.”

You tried not to let out a shaky breath. Luke noticed and he had to elbow Kieran to make him shut up.

"Sorry, Y/N.”

You gave him a small smile. "It's okay. I'll try and catch Sylus one of these days. I'll talk to him.”

The twins scurry away while arguing. They think they offended you and they are passing on the blame with each other.

On normal days, it's not easy to get you offended but lately, every little thing just makes you … sensitive.

Maybe it started when you wanted that crow brooch that is neatly placed on Sylus's table …

When you asked him for it he just said, “It's for Miss Hunter,"

He took it from your hand. Albeit gently, it still weighed heavy in your heart.

You know you don't always get your way but with the little seeds of jealousy slowly growing in your heart, it's easy to feel hurt and feel neglected.

You just wanted that damn brooch and you know that he can buy another piece. Or even make you a custom-made one, one that is more inclined on your taste.

You took a deep breath.

Sylus is stressed. You know that and it's not right to add more to his burden. It's just a brooch after all.

“I-I didn't know, but when you have the time to grab one, remember me, okay?” you said.

"Next time, sweetie.” He replied and quickly went back to reading reports.

You don't know if he took your words seriously, but you have enough faith in him to trust that he did.

Or maybe the disappointment started when you wanted to go to Linkon.

There's a newly opened arcade shop that you're really itching to go.

Normally, Sylus would agree and watch you play. He's not the best when it comes to the claw machine, anyway.

So imagine your surprise when he rejected your offer. Not only that, the answer that followed chipped away at your heart little by little.

“Me and Miss Hunter already went there. It's not as fun as the other ones you've tried. You're just gonna waste your time there. Not even new plushies,” he even had the audacity to roll his eyes at that.

It seemed like he didn't think before speaking or he didn't see anything wrong with what he said.

Truthfully, there is none. The logical part of you knows he didn't say anything wrong. But for fuck's sake! Really telling your girlfriend that you went to the arcade with another woman? That's new. That's not something she expected of Sylus.

“You went with her?" you asked. You're anticipating his answer. Praying it's something logical. Something acceptable.

Please tell me it has something to do with those missions.

He looked at you, trying to see what's in your mind but you didn't show anything. Blocking any negative emotions from seeping on the cracks of your face. You tried to look as curious and as genuine as you can be.

Thankfully, he believed that.

“Yes. We went there after getting some intel around the area. She dragged me inside and she played until her heart's content. I remembered she went home with that crow plushie with a bib. She looked happy,"

You almost wanted to scoff at his face. You wanted that plushe as well, he seemed to forget about that. If it's only about the plushie maybe you can push down these negative feelings but here he is looking so endeared while saying that. As if he's not talking to his girlfriend.

Patience. Patience.

“I see. Good for her.” you said. "I also want that crow stuffed toy. Good thing to know they have them."

You tried giving him a hint. It's not like you to make anyone guess what's on your mind.

But then there's silence. And a beep on his phone. He tore his gaze away from you and your statement long forgotten.

At that point, you're holding yourself together trying not to scream and yell at him.

Maybe that's where it started. Maybe it's when you know that the distractions were not just caused by the missions but by Miss Hunter herself.

You sighed. It's evening and Sylus is still nowhere to be found. You texted him but you're met with silence. You wanted to call, but you hesitated. It feels like you don't have the right to do it.

Worry starts gnawing at you when Luke and Kieran hurriedly go out. They didn't even have the chance to say a proper goodbye.

Minutes kept ticking, and you heard it.

Explosions.

Your heart stopped and you wanted to run to where it was because something tells you that Sylus is there. He's in danger.

But before you can even step out of the base, Sylus's men stopped you.

“Boss’s orders to not let the Madame go out when the mission is in full swing. Please wait for him here."

You wanted to pull your hair out. You're trembling with worry but anywhere you go, someone will stop you. You can't even sneak out because that will surely trigger the alarms.

With a heavy heart you slumped on the couch.

“Fucking hell, Sylus what is happening when are you coming home!” you muttered to yourself.

You kept pacing and pacing every second seemed to last a lifetime.

Until the door opened.

And there he was, shirt torn, hair deshiveled and a few scratches on his body.

"Thank God you're alive!” you exclaimed and caught his heavy body before he lost consciousness.

"Sylus? Sylus!” you tried shaking him, but he won't wake up.

You settled him on the couch and grabbed the nearest first aid kit you can reach. Sylus might have the fastest regeneration in the world but it won't ease your worries about the small cuts that still remains on his body.

You tried suppressing your tears seeing him like this but you just can't. As you press the cotton on his cuts, you can't help but open your mouth and nag him about being careless.

“I know you think that this body is invincible, but please be careful! You need to come home to me. You have to come home to me. No matter how I'm annoyed at you right now, you don't have the rights to make me worry like this.”

“What's so important in that mission that you exhaust yourself like this? What's so important about Miss Hunter that you're willing to do such great lengths?"

You know that he can't hear you, but still you talked to him until you calmed down and ask his men to help you settle him in bed after changing him. You called the physician to check him up for anything. You kept yourself busy to shrugg of the nerves but those questions still linger in your head.

Sylus is a strategist even though he looks smug and arrogant. He carefully plans everything and tries to move in quiet only letting the results speak for themselves.

But this? This is not the usual.

Explosions everywhere and declaring a full on war with his enemies is not his style. You know that there's nothing really beneficial for him in this deal with Miss Hunter.

You managed to understand a bit about what their goals are. Getting that Aether core for Miss Hunter.

Tough mission, yes. But Sylus won't grab it if he won't benefit from it. And that's what you're left puzzled with. Sylus is a businessman, everything should be give and take.

So? What's in it for him?

You didn't expect the answer to voluntarily come to you. You went to his study to look for something or anything that you can help him with now that he's still unconscious when you stumbled upon a journal.

You thought it was not Sylus's. You never see him as someone who will write down his thoughts but you were dead wrong.

You opened it expecting it to be a list of things related to Onychinus, but you were greeted with phrases, sentences and some sketches about Miss Hunter.

You read each of them, it was a jumble of words. You almost thought it was a fairytale.

Past lives.

Dragon and Sorceress.

Kindred Spirits.

Energy Linkage.

Sweet Evil Trap.

All of it is too much. Too much for your poor little heart to take. And from what you understood, Miss Hunter is from his past. Someone who has a part of his soul.

Someone he waits for.

And the bitter realization although still unfounded, you concluded that maybe she's someone he still loves.

But what about you? What's your place in the grand scheme of things?

“I’m keeping you around because you’re still useful.”

Those lines ring in your ears. Sylus always say that to everyone but you. You thought that maybe you are an exception. That you're not someone disposable to him because you matter.

And as you soak up all the information that you knew, you started to doubt yourself as well.

note: aaackkk thank u for reading lemme know your thoughts! Part 3 soonest!

#sylus x non mc #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #sylus x reader #caleb x non mc #rafayel x non mc #non mc reader

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asaarii · 2 days ago

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little mark grayson x fem reader thing heh....

You’re three Pipeline Punches into a six-game loss streak when there’s a quiet knock on your window. Internally, you groan, pushing yourself from your chair before padding over to the source of your ire while your joints pop from lack of use.

As expected, you find none other than Markus Sebastian Grayson floating dumbly outside your window, his silhouette barely visible under the dim light of the moon. His gaze is distant, hands fiddling absentmindedly with a tear in his suit until you roll your eyes and drag him in by the wrist before you’re neighbor pulls in from her night at BINGO.

“What’s up with you?” Your lip curls into a half-hearted smile as you bump your shoulder to his, breath hitching when you finally catch sight of his deep brown eyes. Though, to be honest, he’d always been unfairly pretty, even in your younger years when he’d be showered in compliments by the neighborhood grandmas while they pulled your cheeks about being more ladylike.

Your question seems to pull him from his daze as he blinks light back into his eyes. He stares at you for a moment, his lips parted minutely while he tries with something—anything to say, but his mind draws a blank.

So, he kisses you; the motion slow and practiced as he’s done a thousand times before. His hand finds a familiar purchase on your hip, tracing circles on the skin. You can feel the light chappedness of his lips, bloodied and bruised as they slot perfectly against your own with unmistakeable fatigue. When he pulls away, you can’t help but chase the feeling of his lips on yours.

“I just…missed you.” His voice is quiet—intimate in a way that has you smiling like a lovesick schoolgirl. He pulls you impossibly closer, holding you to his chest like you’re one of the only things keeping him going in this fucked up world.

“I take one night off heroism and you act like I’ve disappeared off the face of the Earth.” It’s meant as a jest, but the way he tightens his hold makes it clear he doesn’t appreciate the sentiment.

“I’d find you, you know,” he whispers into the column of your neck, “Earth, Viltrum, or anywhere else in this goddamn galaxy. There’s nowhere I wouldn’t go for you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you laugh lightly, knowing full well the truth behind his words. You slap your hands to his cheeks roughly, pulling him away from the juncture of your neck. His eyes are wide momentarily with shock, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Especially not when you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky all for you. “C’mon, pretty boy, you really need a shower and I need to rank up.”

Mark finally shifts his gaze off you to your monitor, his cheeks still smooshed lovingly between the palms of your hands. He can’t help but snort, the tension once sagging his shoulders now lifted as he finally laughs.

“Rivals? Really?” He spares a glance at your clock, “At three in the morning?”

Your eyes narrow playfully while you usher him to your bathroom with a half-baked scowl, “Just go take your shower, Wonderboy. Should have some spare clothes you left in the basket next to the sink.”

With one last lingering kiss to your lips, he disappears behind the bathroom door and you make your way back to your room, queuing up for another dreaded game, praying for teammates with any semblance of brains.

You don’t hear the shower stop or Mark pad over curiously over your aggressive clicking and the curses muttered beneath your breath, but you do feel him snatch your freshly opened drink from your hands. “Wha—Hey! I was still drinking that!”

He rotates the neon pink can in his hand and shakes his head as his eyes scan over the ingredients, gaze momentarily flickering to the three other crushed cans tossed haphazardly into your trashcan. “I don’t think it’s healthy to chug these, babe.”

You spin in your chair to face him with an inquisitive quirk of your brow, the word “VICTORY” displayed proudly behind you. “And I don’t think it’s healthy to be thrown through the city like a ragdoll, but hey, there’s a reason why we’re heroes and not life coaches. Besides,” you start with a shrug, cracking open an actual bottle of water for the first time tonight while powering down your pc, “I could just tear out my liver and regrow it if I needed to. Would probably take, like, two minutes tops.”

Mark grimaces at the gruesome imagery, burying his face in your comforter to take in the lingering scent of you. He feels the bed dip when you crawl into the space next to him, somehow burrowing your way into his arms as though it were second nature. He can’t recall when you’d turned all the lights off, but he can’t help but melt against you like freshly soldered iron. His nose finds your neck and your hand cards through his semi-dry locks.

“It’s not safe to sleep with wet hair,” you murmur, sleepiness still edging its way into your voice despite the amount of caffeine coursing through your veins.

“Thought we weren’t life coaches.” His chuckle is deep, reverberating through his chest and soothing you to the very core.

“We’re not, but you’re very annoying when you get sick.”

“Like you’re any better.”

“Well, unfortunately, regeneration doesn’t solve issues with my immune system, so sorry if I bitch about my useless power.”

Mark feels the way your lashes flutter against his forehead as you roll your eyes slowly and he smiles, pushing himself impossibly closer to you in an attempt to mold into you.

It’s been so long since he’s had a moment like this. A moment that made him feel like the nineteen-year-old he was. A moment that made him feel like a rebellious teen sneaking into his girlfriend's bedroom to gossip and play video games before curling beneath the comforter to just sit and chat without the weight of the world’s gaze bearing down on his back.

He’d meant what he said earlier about searching through the galaxy just for you, no matter how close to choking he was, he’d still search until he’d found himself right where he belonged in your tender hold.

A beat of comfortable silence passes and he can feel you shift in his arms. You call out his name so sweetly as opposed to your normal rigid tone that he can’t help but indulge you, humming softly into your neck.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

©asarii 2025 — do not copy, steal, repost, or translate any of my works on tumblr or any other site

#invincible—・❥#invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #fem reader #invincible #invincible fanfic

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thisapplepielife · 24 hours ago

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Written for @steddiebingo and @steddiesongfics.

we left our hearts on our sleeves (and the clothes all over the floor)

Steddie Bingo Prompt: Souvenir | Steddie Song Fics March Prompt: Free Space (Hotel Key by Old Dominion) | Word Count: 2000 | Rating: E | CW: Explicit Sex, Open Lavender Marriage, Recreational Weed/Alcohol Use | POV: Eddie | Tags: Future Fic, Old Friends, Reconnecting, One-Night Stand, Platonic Stobin, Happy Ending

Also on ao3.

Eddie tugs on the collar of Steve's dress shirt, yanking him back into his body. Hotel key for a place down some street he can't even pronounce, burning a hole in his pocket. A chance meeting, a blast from the past that he never thought he'd see again. Steve Harrington. All grown up. Sitting at Eddie's regular bar, tie hanging loose around his neck.

Being sure it was him didn't even cross Eddie's mind, he just walked up behind him, and covered his eyes, leaning against his back. He'd recognize Steve anywhere, even with the years between them.

"Guess who?" Eddie had asked, leaning close to Steve's face.

Steve had laughed, open and bright, like he knew.

He did.

And now Eddie's hand shakes as he slides the key into the heavy lock, with Steve draped over his back, breathing down his neck. Lips brushing against his skin.

He's gonna have a one night stand with Steve Harrington.

Goddamn. Holy shit.

It's the laughing, the kissing, the wandering hands that are really doing it for Eddie. He's had hookups before, but this feels familiar, even if they've never done this before. Not together.

Steve's on his knees, forearms braced on the bed as Eddie slams into him, over and over. Thrusts knocking his hip bones against Steve's ass. And Steve takes him, moaning, clawing at the sheets, and it's the hottest fucking thing Eddie's ever experienced.

He's fucking Steve Harrington.

Twenty-year-old him, stumbling through the woods of the Upside Down scared to death, could have never fathomed this turn of events.

Good things come to those who wait, he guesses.

He reaches around and fists Steve's leaking cock. He's big, thick, and Eddie definitely wants to reverse their positions before Steve slips away for another dozen years.

"Harder," Steve demands, pushing back against Eddie, and fucking hell, Eddie will give it to him harder.

Controlled, firm thrusts. Not faster, he didn't ask for faster, he asked for harder, and Steve's hanging his head. Making a low, pornographic sound that Eddie prays will never stop rattling around in his brain.

He's keeping it, a souvenir, definitive proof the wild interlude in his otherwise rather mundane life actually happened.

Steve Harrington. Under him. Fuckin' A.

Eddie doesn't even want to blink, doesn't want to miss a moment of this. And he doesn't. He stays in the goddamn zone until Steve comes, clenching down on Eddie's cock, painting the sheets, and Eddie's fist.

Only then does Eddie stop holding out, giving one more hard thrust as he buries himself to the hilt, coming as he squeezes Steve's hip with his free hand.

Flopping onto the bed, avoiding the wet spot, Steve's chest is heaving. Eddie takes his hand into his own. Thumbing at the ring on his left hand. Steve hasn't said he's married, and Eddie isn't going to ask. Not his business.

"Robin," Steve says, "I'm married to Robin. But, you know, not like that."

"You're her beard?" Eddie asks, and Steve just shrugs against the pillow, shifting his hips. His cock is big, even soft, nestled against his thigh. Eddie wants it in his mouth, his ass, everywhere.

He wants to make sure neither of them can walk by morning. If they aren't crawling out of here, they didn't do it right.

"I guess? We're each other's? I don't know. It felt like the thing to do. I wanted to get married, and she wanted to stop having people look at her like there was something wrong with her. And my unused college fund was converted into a trust that wouldn't kick in until I was married, or fifty. So, we had more than one reason."

"Fifty, goddamn," Eddie says, that's a hell of a collar for his folks to put on him. They really must have been mad at him for not going to college, not following his father into the family business. Unless he has, now? He was in a suit.

"Kids?" Eddie asks, and Steve shakes his head. "She knows about you doing this?" Eddie follows up, waving their joined hands in the air.

Steve nods.

"She is not in charge of anything below my belt," Steve laughs, "that's a direct quote."

Eddie laughs. Steve married Robin in some sort of lavender marriage, and now he's the one that gets to fuck him tonight. He wasn't looking for love anyway. Win-win.

"I just have to be discreet. Nothing to raise eyebrows around town. So, business trips. You know?"

And Eddie nods. He isn't expecting anything more from him, this alone was above and beyond his wildest dreams.

"You being safe out there?" Eddie asks, "Staying out of the bathhouses and stuff?"

"Yeah," Steve says, nodding, "I mostly pick up women. It's easier, you know?"

Eddie knows, in theory. That's just not what butters his bread.

"But sometimes I just wanna get fucked. Lucky that I stumbled across you," Steve says with a smile, "It was nice to really let loose with a trusted old friend."

An old friend. He's old friends with Steve Harrington. That seems crazy, but it's true. They lived through their Vecna ordeal, and then just drifted away. But that summer of '86, they were friends. Real, true friends.

If he could stay in touch now, reconnecting with both him and Robin, that'd be pretty awesome. He's missed them.

"Pray tell, what does Steve Harrington do for a living?"

"Insurance. I sell insurance," Steve says, and Eddie grins.

Steve Harrington sells insurance. What's this world coming to?

Eddie feels warm and loose. They're working their way through the mini bar. Shots, a joint passed back and forth, and expensive mini bar snacks they're devouring after sharing the half ounce they were smoking from. Now, he's staring at Steve Harrington sitting in the middle of the bed, legs crossed, stoned, half-drunk, with a big ol' grin on his face. Eddie's t-shirt is the only stitch of clothes he has on.

Eddie's shirtless, standing at the foot of the bed, just watching him eating overpriced Pringles, and looking fucking gorgeous.

This is the best night Eddie's had in a long fucking time.

Eddie puts the do not disturb sign on the door, and turns and grins.

They might not have forever, but they have tonight.

It's three in the afternoon, and Eddie rolls closer to Steve. Check-out was technically noon, but they've slept through it, comfortable and warm together in this bed that Eddie isn't ready to leave.

Steve's on his back, and Eddie slings his leg over Steve's bare hips, grinding down on his thighs. Steve's big hands come up and grip his hips, his eyes still closed, but a smile is pulling at the corners of his lips.

Eddie toys with Steve's chest hair that is somehow thicker, even more impressive than it was back when they were just kids.

It's gorgeous. Steve's gorgeous.

Eddie wants it all. If this is all they get, he's gonna enjoy every second.

He wraps his hand around Steve's half-hard dick, and strokes him as he clenches his thighs, pulling himself upwards. Reaching for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, and he slicks up his own fingers, pushing two inside himself. Getting himself ready as he lazily strokes Steve to full hardness underneath him.

Steve's arms are tucked behind his head, and he looks confident, cocky. Satisfied.

He looks happy.

"Are you happy?" Eddie asks, and Steve's smile blooms. A mischievous, toothy grin that Eddie hasn't seen since they were sneaking cigarettes, and yeah, a little weed, behind Robin's back during that summer when they were supposed to be resting. Healing.

"I've got no complaints at the moment," Steve answers.

Eddie meant in life, all of life, but he'll take it. He's making Steve happy right now, and that sends a wave of want through him as he brushes against his own prostate.

He whines, closing his eyes, tilting his head backwards.

"You gonna do that without me?" Steve asks, teasing, and Eddie shakes his head. He's ready. Fuck. He's more than ready.

He extracts his fingers, and has Steve open a condom with his unslick fingers. Then Eddie slides it on Steve's cock, then sinks down on him with a groan. He's so fucking full.

If Steve's happy, Eddie's elated.

"Goddamn, Eddie," Steve says, hand reaching up to brush Eddie's hair out of his face. It's soft, tender, and the warm sunlight casting a glow around the rented room makes it feel magical.

Eddie works himself up and down, enjoying the view of Steve below him in the glow of this afternoon delight.

He laughs, and Steve cocks an eyebrow, amused.

"Rubbin' sticks and stones together make the sparks ignite," he sings, and Steve's stomach ripples with laughter. Delighted. Hips coming up off the bed, driving himself deeper into Eddie.

Eddie moans.

"Best afternoon delight I've had in years," Steve teases.

The thought of loving him is an exciting jolt, but one Eddie knows he'll have to tamp down. Bury deep.

They've got this.

And this is good.

With the sun setting, Steve picks up the room key off the table, and slides it into his pocket. Eddie grins, he's totally fine with Steve keeping that as a souvenir of their night together. He wishes he'd thought of it first.

Eddie scrawls his number on a sheet of hotel stationary, and puts it on top of Steve's jacket. No pressure. But if he doesn't want to lose touch again, the ball can be in his court.

He knows they can't re-open this door. Physically and metaphorically. But they were friends first, and he'd love to be able to say that again. Steve still presses him into the door, while they're on this side of it, locked in their bubble, and kisses him.

"This was fun," he says when he pulls back.

"Definitely," Eddie agrees, and he wants to throw out the offer that he's always available for a repeat performance, but he doesn't want to make Steve let him down gently.

"It was good to see you," Steve says, and wraps him up in a warm hug that Eddie greedily accepts.

"Tell the wife hi," Eddie teases as they pull apart. Steve grins, promises he will, and then he's gone.

Three months later, Steve is sitting in the same bar, but he's turned towards the room, as if he's waiting. For someone, or something.

Eddie grins, and hell, maybe Steve was.

He steps up next to him, and looks down, "Hey, stranger."

Steve smiles, reaching out to let his fingers graze Eddie's thigh. Then he reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a familiar hotel key. Different room number, though.

Eddie's about to make a comment, when Robin slides onto the open stool next to Steve.

"Buckley!" he shouts, a little too loud before wrapping her up in a hug she's fighting more than reciprocating. But she's laughing.

"Get off me," she says, and he does. But he stands there grinning at her. Maybe Steve was waiting for her, not Eddie. But he had the hotel key, so now Eddie's just confused.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

"Accompanying my husband to meet up with his boyfriend," she snarks, in a hushed whisper.

Eddie's not, they're not, but maybe. They've talked a few times. But he had no idea Steve was coming back to town. It was never mentioned.

Steve's grinning, and like, goddamn. Fuck yes. Game on.

"If you steal a second key as another souvenir we may get real famous on the behind the desk do not rent to bulletin board," Eddie teases, and Steve giggles, reaching forward, slipping the offered key into Eddie's back pocket.

"Totally worth it," Steve says, grinning.

They'll just find another hotel, next time. Or Steve can just come home with Eddie if they're actually doing this, with Robin's blessing, apparently.

Because Eddie already knows, looking in Steve's eyes, there's gonna be a next time.

And more.

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and @steddiesongfics and follow along with the fun!

#steddiebingo2025 #steddiebingo #prompt: souvenir #steddiesongfics #steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steddie fan fic #steddie fic #stranger things #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiebingo #thisapplepielife: steddiesongfics

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captain-athos · 1 day ago

Text

Survivor's Guilt

[with beautiful art from @lobotomy-jpeg]

It begins with a breath. Unsteady. Tremulous.

Father in heaven. Gracious Lord.

The words are familiar, too much so, so that they slip out without a thought for whom he is addressing. He clears his throat, and tries again.

Father in heaven. Gracious Lord.

Forces himself to meditate on the meaning of those words. Calling upon a God who will be caring and kind, one who might listen to his plea today, help him make sense of his shame.

He shouldn’t feel like this. What he feels is too close to self pity, selfish and blind in the face of the real problem at hand. Nevertheless, he hurts.

I come to you today with a prayer not for myself, but on behalf of the Holy Father. Lord, it has never been a secret that the papacy is a great burden to bear, but this-

Vincent doesn’t sleep. Sometimes for days at a time. It’s too quiet here, the sound of the outside world shut out by steel and marble. “The silence is different here,” he says, wringing his hands in desperation. Thomas has never felt so helpless in his life.

I know I prayed that I would be spared. And I was grateful, Lord, that the cup was passed from me. Grateful too for the blessing of a Pope as wise and kind and… and untainted by all this-

He flounders, grasping for the right words. All this. Surely God will know what he means. There’s so much of it. The curia are divided on their opinion of him, the press even more so - some adoring but naive supporters stamp him “the liberal Pope we have all been waiting for,” and still others with disdain have given this the label of history’s first anarchist papacy. They want to know Vincent Benítez, they’re hungry for him, ravenous, poised in waiting to snap up every detail they can glean.

I know you’ve promised that none of us will be tested beyond what we can bear, but surely this… surely all this…

His brow creases, his lips thinning as he realises what he’s saying.

Forgive me, Lord.

Even if Vincent’s mind has made peace with his new station, his body has not. In those precious in-between moments, when he turns from the pulpit to leave, when he waits just behind the balcony to address St Peter’s Square, in the backs of cars - Vincent’s heart races. He sweats and his breath shakes, shoulders hunched over as he wrestles with the urge to make himself smaller, to crawl out of the spotlight where decades of experience have told him it is dangerous to be seen, that recognition might one day spell death. It’s a lesson not so easily unlearned, carved as it is under his skin, deep into the bone. Thomas is unsure of how much longer they can conceal the reality behind Vincent’s gentle demeanour and easy kindness. The Pope Thomas has been praying for is a man who returns to his room each night grey and shaking with exhaustion from the weight of his duties.

There are burdens he alone can bear but Lord, I just… I wish… for his sake, for my selfishness, Lord-

His hands, pressed together in front of him, move to cover his face as he crumples forward.

I wish it had been me.

#Conclave #Thomas Lawrence #Vincent Benitez #sorry for the angst Irene was like 'do you think thomas has a kind of survivors guilt over vincent becoming pope' and I went insane

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mintartem · 1 day ago

Note

I really love your Poseidon!!! ❤️❤️

Also, angst time! What if the 600 strikes happened when Poseidon is pregnant? + plus point if Ody doesnt even know about it :")

No not miscarriage! I can’t handle that! <- just joking I love angst.

The timeline won’t match up. To make this make sense, this is completely different from the whole Posiren shenanigans. It’s a whole story of its own.

I think that would break Poseidon. Imagine failing to avenge your blinded son, who by the way is still angry at you until you kill the mortal who blinded him, being beaten by a mortal despite being one of the big three, and now losing the children that you are carrying that you promised to protect.

Poseidon’s storm wouldn’t be raging. It’s more akin to weeping clouds than an angry hurricane. The fish caught by fishermen appear unhealthy, sickly, and they dont even catch a lot of fish. The salty sea breeze has a faint hint of the smell of tears. The waves crashed and raged against each other leaving fishermen and other traveling ships going off course, stranded at sea, or worse, sunken.

Many prayed to the sea god to end this catastrophe. Offerings of the finest quality were given and the best live stock were sacrificed. None were enough. It’s almost similar to when Demeter lost her child for the first time.

Deep in the sea, there is a palace made of gold, with pearls and other stones that can only be found within the ocean, sat on his throne is the god of the sea. His face appears blank. His trident, normally at his side, was thrown far across the other side of the room. One of his hands is clutching his flat stomach. His eyes shows extreme sadness. And yet the Earth-shaker did not weep, for his domain did it for him.

And then cut to Odysseus.

Odysseus stood at the courtyard of his palace, glaring at the sea. He watched the waves clash savagely against each other, completely different from its normally graceful dance.

“What is it this time Poseidon?” He screamed to the horizon. “You won! I may have won our fight on the rock, but you still won the war! I’ve become ruthless, just like you wanted, just like you taught me!”

Tears prickled at the corner of the king’s eyes. He just got home! He finally got reunited with his family and kingdom. Things were looking up! Why did such a catastrophe have to happen now?

“No need to yell. Us gods can hear even a mortal’s faintest whispers if we so choose.”

Odysseus quickly turn his head around, almost making him dizzy. There stood, hovered, Hermes. “Hello, old friend” said the messenger with a sad smile.

“Hermes?”

The god laughed, not in the same way they met the first nor the second time. This laughed sounds fake, hiding the sadness visible in the messenger’s eyes.

“You have beaten him, yes. And he may have won. But at a cost.” The god of travels started. “For you, it’s your humanity, your mercy. But for the god of the sea…” Hermes trailed off. The immortal looked at the sea for a moment. When Hermes looked back at Odysseus, Odysseus felt his breath hitched when the God of Travels’ irises were gone, reminding Odysseus that Hermes is still a god despite being on friendly terms with him.

“For the god of the sea he lost his unborn children that, may I add, you put in him.”

Odysseus froze. His hands felt cold yet sweaty. His heart rate increased, beating wildly against his chest. He killed unborn children? Killing an infant is one thing, but killing the unborn? Odysseus felt his stomach churn. A wave of Nausea passed over him.

“The gods have sent me to give you a message.” Hermes’ loud echoing voice took Odysseus away from his thoughts. “You shall travel to the deepest parts of the sea, seek out Poseidon, and undo the chaos that has begun. These orders are from Zeus himself.”

This is more of a concept that I may draw because the whole Posiren Pregnancy saga is intended to be comedic and unserious. But damn, this has a lot of potential!

How the babies are formed? Let’s just chalk it up to: at some point during his time in Ogygia, Odysseus dreamt of meeting Poseidon and then fucking him, not realising that it is the god himself that he was fucking (in Ody’s defense, it is in a dream).

Why did the babies died? Demi-gods turning out to be immortal seems to be a rare occurrence, not 50/50 (like I thought it was at first.) Achilles isn’t immortal (in some versions he is but because of Thetis’ attempt to change Achilles’ fate.) Not only that but also, Ody did used Poseidon’s own divine weapon against him.

#epic the musical #odysseus x poseidon #odyseidon #cw miscarriage #anon #ask

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just-some-random-blogger · 22 hours ago

Note

ONCE AGAIN A VICTIM TO MY OWN INABILITY TO CONSUME MEDIA FOR GOODNESS KNOWS WHY. A TRUE SHAME I HAVEN'T READ THIS SOONER BECAUSE IT IS BOP A BANGER A SHOWSTOPPER A STUNNER AND I AM IN NEED OF A NEW SET OF PANTS

The sun crested the horizon, shades of violet, clementine, and rose, and still, Bill and the others hadn't returned from Hogwarts.

Oh my GOSHHH 😫😫😫😫😫😫😭😭😭😭😭 I say this all the time but GOSHHHH you can really tell if a fic is gonna be good from the first sentence and how they open the story. I so fucking sorry for breathing the same air are you my goddess. Am I bothering you? Also wtf bill in Hogwarts???? Did he leave his homework or smth?

The full moon lingered at the edge of the sky, obstinate in its refusal to dip below the trees. You'd begged Bill not to go out while the moon hung bloated in the sky, an unusual, ominous shade of red.

If there's one thing a man does best is the exact opposite of what you tell him to. How many stories would be rewritten so drastically, how many lives would be saved if you just listened to women 🙄🤚 choke

But he'd gone anyways. Which was fair, you supposed; he wasn't yours to order about. You weren't a couple, despite the simmering tension between you, heightened by the deep connection you’d forged through over a decade of friendship and work and suffering and joy.

Situationship headass 🙄🤚 miss me with that bullshit. NOT THE WE ARENT A COUPLE I WOULD DEADASS ASK BILL WHAT ARE WE THE MINUTE HE LAUGHED AT MY JOKES ID RATHER BE PRESUMPTUOUS THAN BRAIN DEAD *STARTS CHAINSAW*

It was Harry, Lupin, and Tonks that arrived back first, bloodied and beaten, singed by the glancing blow of curses.

WAIT I KNOW THIS i don't BATTLE AT HOGWARTS? OK WE ARE SO ON TO SOMETHING (I've seen edits HAHAAH) it's fine it's ok I don't need background I understand perfectly

Molly ran out to them, screaming for her children, but Remus was quick to assuage her.

.... I know I shouldn't be thinking this but all in thinking is 🫦🫦🫦 hi rem... How are you... Want a baby?

“We don't have a choice,” Remus said, gently nudging Tonks aside and cupping your face. You forced your eyes to focus on his forehead, his crooked nose, his scars, his eyes. “Can you do this?” Remus asked.

OMG TONKS 🫣😅 HI NOT THIRSTING OVER OUR- EH- YOUR HUSBAND also dkskskksksn IDK WHAT I HAD TO SAY BUT HOT. IM TOO BIASED. REMUS I LOVE YOU WE LIKE DIS 🤞 but also tonks 🥺 shes so mother so caring and gentle. Remus being frantic and hot in my head is clouding whatever I wanted to fucking say about this part

No one was sure if he'd been bitten. There was one wound on his right thigh that looked suspicious to Remus, but Bill was in too fragile a state for them to test anything.

... Remus so smart.... 🫦 ITS NOT MY FAULT IM SO DISTRACTED

So you waited, and waited, and waited. Four days of burning fever. Four days of changing head-to-toe bandages. Four days of ladling broth between his chapped lips. Four days of praying to anyone that would listen to spare him. To bring him back to you.

Ok but this was beautifully vivid albeit torturous for YN... Is ok... It's for the plot shhhhh *pushes finger onto lips*

You knew he'd be different, no one suffered an attack like that and remained the same, but you knew that you'd love him anyways. The scars on his skin would pale in comparison to the scars left on his psyche, and you would find whatever strength you needed to help him through it.

Embutido core. Also 🧐🧐🧐🧐🤨🤨🤨🤨 FUCK YOU MEAN ALWAYS LOVE HIM???? UR NOT TOGETHER. GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS SITUATIONSHIP TRUTHER

You'd stitch him together with your own muscle and bone if you needed to.

Oh my gosh

But now that I'm remembering the situationship context.... Cringe as fuck

“Where is she?” He bellowed.

Its giving

MARTHA WHERE IS SHE LOL. I think supes says it tho

He groaned low in his chest, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and heaving a deep breath. His knotted muscles immediately went lax, and he looped an arm around your waist, hauling you into the bed with him. You were shocked at how much strength he still had after a week of bed rest.

First of all. HOT. second of all. SITUATIONSHIP AHHH FUCKIN

“There you are,” he whispered, a throaty purr against your pulse. He drew another deep inhale, nose pressed against your jugular, and you suppressed a shiver.

SNSIIDJSJKS SNIFFING??????????????

“Don't care,” he said, his lips charting a scalding path up your neck, days of stubble scratching mercilessly against the tender skin.

WKSKKSKKKSN WHAT ^^^^^ LAST GIF X2

“It can wait,” Bill snarled, glaring at Remus over your shoulder. “Now get the fuck out.”

IS IT THE WOLF JUMPING OUT OF HIM.

OH WAIT I FORGOT TO ASK COS THE TAGS IS LIKE EARLY STAGES OF WEREWOLF FOR BILL I WAS LIKE HE CANONICALLY BECOMES A WEREWOLF??????? OR IS IT A FIC THING I'm realizing as I type this it's probably a fic thing.

ANYWAY BILL BEING JEALOUS? OF REMUS 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 OK BUT DID YOU WRITE THIS FOR MEEEE TWIRLS HAIR SMILES LIKE SPONGEBOB WAIT ILL GET THE PIC

UHM THIS WASNT THE ONE I HAD IN MIND I WAS THINKING WITH A RAINBOW but I realized it was probably an amalgamation of a bunch of different spongebob images so yeah

Tonks caught you at the end of the hall, grabbing you by the arms. “He's asking for you, but you have to—y/n, listen to me,” she snapped, and you stilled, coiled and ready to flee. “You have to be careful—that kind of trauma…he might not be the Bill you love.”

🥺😭💔 NO CUZ IM CRYING FOR TONKS SHES SO GENTLE AND KIND AND CONCERNED AND WHAT WAS THAT LIKE TO LOVE REMUS LIKE THIS FKJDUDJDJDJ FUCKING HELL *smokes cigarette* (DONT SMOKE)

An uneasyness settled over the house. No longer a question of will he wake up, but what will wake up.

😃 nice 👍

On the seventh day, Bill woke up screaming.

POOR BOY. also I know some of these are out of order. I can't be bothered to reorder them let me slide ily

“Bill,” Remus said, hardening his voice.

🫦 he can join

You weren't sure what it meant, this sudden clinginess. If it was the trauma of almost dying, a head injury making him forget you weren't actually together, or something…else.

🙄🤚 u being hesitant is so telling of ur situationship. AT LEAST YOUR SELF AWARENESS

His family came in next, a cacophonous, emotional ordeal that made your heart ache with relief. With them, he seemed more like himself; the good-natured, charismatic man you'd fallen in love with, and some of your uncertainty ebbed.

My boy

But clearly not 🫵YOUR🫵 boy 🙄🤚

You hadn't hated the intensity from earlier though, quite the opposite, actually. You just wished you knew what caused it, and why you.

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🤚 SITUATIONSHIP FINAL BOSS

Eventually, Bill declared that he wanted to properly shower, and everyone filed out to give him some privacy. When you stood to leave though, his hand tightened around your wrist.

BRUHHHHH SOMEONE PLAY SILVERSPINGS BY FLEETWOOD MAC. PLS SHES NOT STEVIE NICKS BILL IS 😭😭🤚 LORDIE

“Oh, I am. For probably the first fucking time,” he growled, patience wearing thin. “I’ve loved you for ten fucking years, and I almost lost you. So forgive me, darling, I will not be letting you go again.”

Ngl I'm a petty ass who's into schadenfreude and masochism I'd be like AKSHALY NO FUCK OFF 😭😭😭 (I need a lobotomy)

“Bill, we aren't…together,” you argued weakly, a rabbit negotiating the terms of its release from the jaws of a catamount.

IM SAYING WE BEEN KNEW and my gosh my gosh RABBIT ANALOGY???? INSANE WORK DAFAQ OK QUEEN SORRY FOR EVEN TRYING TO WRITE

“Something I'd like to remedy, if you'll have me.” His other hand ensnared your waist, pulling your body flush to his.

NO. EW YUCK. WHAT AM I EASY?

“Are you going to make me beg?” His breath fanned across your lips, balmy and disorienting. Headier than any hit you'd taken from a roll or a pipe.

Yes. I would make you wait and carve your heart out because you need to work for it this is happening too quickly (I SAY AS THEIR SITUATIONSHIP HAS BEEN FORGED A DECADE AGO 🙄🙄🙄🙄🤚🤚😭😭😭😭😭)

“I love you too,” you breathed, and he smiled, bumping his nose against yours before dragging it down your cheek, his hair tickling your lips.

Weak piece of shit 🫵 make him beg

“I know,” he hummed, —

POMPOUS PIECE OF—

— the hot muscle of his tongue laving over the pulse point beneath your ear. “I can smell it on you.”

— SIR IM JUST A HOLE

You gasped, arousal hitting you like a clap of thunder, your thighs squeezing together against your blooming cunt.

SUDDENLY IM NOT MAD AT HER AT ALL I AM HER. I DONT KNOW WHY IM LIKE THIS EITHER WHY AM I MAD AT HER FOR FOLDING FOR BILL SO QUICKLY WHEN I WOULD HAVE THROWN MYSELF AT HIM LIKE SNAP WHAT THE FUCK

He chuckled, the sound low and viscerally pleased. “Can smell that too, baby. Little heart’s racin’ like a rabbit.”

ITS FINE IM FINE HAHAHAH

“You're trembling again,” he said, softening a bit as he pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Are you afraid of me?”

YES I CAN'T BE ATTRACTED TO A MAN THAT DOESNT SCARE ME A LIL I WILL JUMP YOUR BONES

You shook your head. “Should I be?”

🥺 they're so gentle BUT IM OVER HERE LIKE 🫦🫦🫦🫦 BARK WOOF GRRR

“No, love. Of course not. I'm still me.” He smoothed the hair from your forehead, palming the side of your skull with his long-fingered hand. “But Remus should be if he tries to get between us again.”

🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 REMUS MENTIONNNNNNN HE CAN JOINNN DONT BE A KILL JOYYYYYYY HAHAHHAAHA WHYS HE SO PRESSED OMG YOU WROTE THIS FOR MEEEEE DIDNT YOU YEEEEEEEEEEE WEEEEEEEEEE RAHHHHH

He leaned down, catching your laughter with a lissome press of his lips. The last of your reservation dissipated, dripping out between your thighs as the kiss deepened. His lips were pillowy, tongue tinged with iron and herbs, you leaned into his embrace, content to let him devour you whole.

BILL WEASLEY IN MY ROOM RN CHALLENGE: FAILED 😔😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😫💔

CONGRATS ON HITTING 1K, you deserve all the love you're getting and more <3333 for your celebration could i get a thousand stitches with bill? Your writing of him has been completely brilliant, i love the way you characterise him <333

hi my darling!!! thank you much!! I'm so grateful you're here and I hope you enjoy 🫶

1000 stitches | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x reader

cw: MDNI 18+, injuries and blood, near-death experience, early stages of werewolf!Bill , love confessions

1000 things prompt list (closed!) | masterlist

The sun crested the horizon, shades of violet, clementine, and rose, and still, Bill and the others hadn't returned from Hogwarts.

You'd loved him all your life, and he wouldn't be Bill Weasley, the man that held your heart hostage, if he didn't plunge headlong into danger, especially where his family was concerned.

Always eager for the hunt.

It was Harry, Lupin, and Tonks that arrived back first, bloodied and beaten, singed by the glancing blow of curses.

Molly ran out to them, screaming for her children, but Remus was quick to assuage her.

“They're right behind us—Molly, you must—Molly listen to me,” Remus snapped, shaking her gently. “Ron and Ginny are fine, but Bill—Greyback got a hold of him.”

You clutched the rusted porch railing of the safe house, limbs going numb as the blood drained from your brain.

“He's alive, but barely,” Remus continued, keeping Molly upright by sheer force of will. “And we don't know if he was—”

“Bitten,” you finished, your voice little more than a whimper. Remus looked up at you, nodding solemnly.

He looked like he was going to say something further, when the others suddenly apparated into the clearing. Ginny ran straight into the house, shouting for the medic assigned to the safe house. Ron and Neville held a body between them, the figure limp as a freshly killed stag and twice as bloody.

Bill.

Your ears began to ring, a monotonous, consuming sound, drowning out all of the shouting. You couldn't breathe.

Was he breathing?

You took a sip of air, lungs burning. You'd breathe for him.

Remus grabbed hold of Molly, keeping her out of the way as they carried Bill into the house. Up the stairs and towards you, five steps away, three, one—Ron caught your eye as they passed, looking for too guilty for a boy of only 18, but he quickly looked away, struggling under the weight of his much larger brother.

More members of the Order ran out to help carry him, relieving the boys of the burden, and you could only stand there, staring down at the twin smears of blood where Bill's feet had dragged across the threshold. Staining the stone forever.

Tonks was speaking to you, her hands on your shoulders, but you couldn't hear her, could only stare at the red, red, so much red. Too much red. How could he have anything left?

“We need more hands!” You heard someone call, the words filtering in through the din in your mind.

Hands, hands. You had hands, you could help.

“Tonks—”

“I don't think that's a good idea—”

“I-I can,” you affirmed, your voice sounding far away. Like someone else had spoken through your mouth.

“Good, let's go.”

It took more than five hours to stitch all of Bill's wounds. He'd been savaged, butchered, by Greyback. Almost unrecognizable under the swelling and bruising and gore.

The fact that he survived was nothing short of a miracle.

No one was sure if he'd been bitten. There was one wound on his right thigh that looked suspicious to Remus, but Bill was in too fragile a state for them to test anything.

You'd stitch him together with your own muscle and bone if you needed to.

On the fifth day, many of his wounds had finally healed down to pearlescent, puffy scars thanks to the medics magic. Deep gauges littered his torso and arms, creating new dips and valleys along the lean muscles of his body, a topographical map you could study for eons. The slashes across his face was healing better than anyone dared hoped, and he finally was beginning to look like Bill again.

But the wound on his thigh remained stubborn, pulpy as rotten fruit and refusing to knit together, growing more putrid the more magic that was thrown at it.

An uneasyness settled over the house. No longer a question of will he wake up, but what will wake up.

On the seventh day, Bill woke up screaming.

You were in the kitchen, helping Neville prepare the evening meal, when a roar shook the cedar bones of the old house.

You dropped the dish in your hands with a crash, roast and root vegetables exploding all over the grubby tile floor, and leapt over it, flying up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“I don't care.” You yanked free from her hold and dashed down the hallway. You burst into the room Bill was being kept in, a white-washed guest room on the quieter, darker end of the house, and found Ron, Arthur, and Remus desperately trying to restrain a frantic Bill on the bed.

“Where is she?” He bellowed.

You shoved Ron aside and flung your arms around Bill's neck, throwing your weight on him in the hopes of keeping him down.

“I'm here, I'm right here,” you soothed, not bothering to hold back the tears of relief streaming down your face and into his ruddy hair.

“There you are,” he whispered, a throaty purr against your pulse. He drew another deep inhale, nose pressed against your jugular, and you suppressed a shiver.

“Are you alright? You didn't tear anything open—”

“Don't care,” he said, his lips charting a scalding path up your neck, days of stubble scratching mercilessly against the tender skin.

“Bill,” you argued, a fire sparking in your lower belly. You tried to push back a bit from his hold so you could inspect his bandages, could escape the intoxicating effect of his newfound affection. His grip tightened, bordering on painful, and a rumble resounded from the barrel of his chest. Something carnal, possessive, and you immediately dissolved back into his arms. Helpless to resist him.

“A ripped stitch isn't going to kill me,” he mumbled into the downy space behind your ear, his voice so much softer than whatever beast had been roused moments ago.

“Bill, we really need to do a full examination,” Remus interrupted gently. “What you've gone through—”

“It can wait,” Bill snarled, glaring at Remus over your shoulder. “Now get the fuck out.”

You gasped, shocked by his crude language, the aggressive edge to his voice. Bill was hardly the delicate sort, but you'd never seen him be outright hostile. Especially not towards his friends and family.

“Bill,” Remus said, hardening his voice.

“Please, just let them check you,” you whispered, stroking his cheek. “It'll give me and your family peace of mind.”

His eyes fluttered closed as you soothed him, his breathing leveling out. From bestial to docile in the span of a few heartbeats. “Only if you stay,” he answered finally, opening his eyes to look at you.

“I'm not going anywhere,” you assured, and he finally let you untangle yourself.

The medic came in first, checking all of his stitches and his vitals. Besides the wound on his leg, he was mostly healed, just some soreness and a slightly elevated temperature and heart rate.

His hand only left your body when the doctor needed it for something, otherwise he maintained contact through the entire examination.

You weren't sure what it meant, this sudden clinginess. If it was the trauma of almost dying, a head injury making him forget you weren't actually together, or something…else.

You hadn't hated the intensity from earlier though, quite the opposite, actually. You just wished you knew what caused it, and why you.

Eventually, Bill declared that he wanted to properly shower, and everyone filed out to give him some privacy. When you stood to leave though, his hand tightened around your wrist.

“Don't go,” he said, drawing you back towards him. He was standing, propped against the bedframe for support.

“But you said you wanted to shower?” You blinked up at him, completely perplexed by this dramatic shift in his demeanor. Bill had never been very physical with you, besides platonic hugs and shoulder bumps.

“Help me,” he murmured, tilting your chin up.

Your heart stopped. “W-what?”

“Are you going to make me beg?” His breath fanned across your lips, balmy and disorienting. Headier than any hit you'd taken from a roll or a pipe.

“Bill, we aren't…together,” you argued weakly, a rabbit negotiating the terms of its release from the jaws of a catamount.

“Something I'd like to remedy, if you'll have me.” His other hand ensnared your waist, pulling your body flush to his.

“I'm not sure you're thinking clearly—” you tried to take a step back, but his grip turned to iron.

You liquified, muscles and bone turning to simpering goo in his arms. You didn't care if it was the pain medicine, or a head injury, or lycanthropy. All you'd ever wanted was to hear those three little words.

“I love you too,” you breathed, and he smiled, bumping his nose against yours before dragging it down your cheek, his hair tickling your lips.

“I know,” he hummed, the hot muscle of his tongue laving over the pulse point beneath your ear. “I can smell it on you.”

You gasped, arousal hitting you like a clap of thunder, your thighs squeezing together against your blooming cunt.

He chuckled, the sound low and viscerally pleased. “Can smell that too, baby. Little heart’s racin’ like a rabbit.”

Oh, fuck. You swallowed thickly, throat closing as fear pumped through your blood, mixing into a strange ichor with the ever-present desire for him.

“You're trembling again,” he said, softening a bit as he pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Are you afraid of me?”

You shook your head. “Should I be?”

A laugh bubbled up before you could stop it, inundated with both dread and delight.

#bill weasley #harry potter fanfiction #bill weasley x reader

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callmemonster68 · 2 days ago

Text

between heaven and sin - sunghoon

He dedicated his life to God. She made sure to try it. Between whispers of guilt and groans of redemption, the altar became the stage of his ruin.

paring: !sunghoon x fem!reader 18+

wc: 3,779

warnings: nsfw content, unprotected sex, crying, religion, sin, tears, teasing

Y/N moved to a small town, seeking to escape a troubled past. The place was peaceful, different from anything she was used to, but perhaps the calm was what she needed. His aunt, a devout woman concerned about his "lost soul", insisted that she accompany her to mass on Sunday. Not that Y/N had faith, but she gave in just to avoid an unnecessary argument.

It was there, sitting among the faithful in their prayers, that her eyes fell on him. Father Sunghoon. Young, handsome, with an almost hypnotizing serenity. Different from the priests she used to see around. His face had an angelic beauty, but his eyes hid something she couldn't decipher. There was an aura of purity and prohibition about him that awakened something in his chest. Curiosity. Interest. Maybe a little mischief.

After mass, he approached with a gentle smile.

Sunghoon: Are you new in town? (he asked, his voice soft and polite)

Y/N smirked, crossing her arms.

Y/N: My aunt thought I needed redemption. (she gave him a discreet look before adding, with a slightly playful tone) I didn't imagine the priests here were so... young. And beautiful.

For an instant, she saw Sunghoon's expression waver. A slight blush colored his ears, but he soon recovered his posture, maintaining a gentle smile.

Sunghoon: God's house is always open to everyone.

Y/N raised an eyebrow in amusement. Ah, that would be interesting.

Over the next few days, she began attending church more frequently, but not by faith. She liked watching Sunghoon, testing his limits. She dressed in a subtly provocative way—nothing scandalous, but enough to make him look away.

Sunghoon tried to convince himself that it was just an ordeal, a test of his devotion. But each encounter, each prolonged look, each mischievous smile from Y/N made him doubt more. He found himself thinking about her when he shouldn't, feeling things he shouldn't feel. A weakness that terrified him and, at the same time, attracted him.

Then came the rainy day.

Y/N arrived at the church soaked, her hair stuck to her face, her wet clothes revealing more than they should. Sunghoon saw her alone on the bench and, on impulse, grabbed a towel and walked over to her.

Sunghoon: You'll end up sick. (he said, offering the fabric)

Y/N looked up, holding the towel but not taking her fingers away from his. The touch was brief, but the electricity that coursed through Sunghoon made him stiffen. It was wrong. Too wrong.

That's when she leaned slightly towards him, her lips curling into an indecipherable smile.

Y/N: Tell me, Father, (whispered) Have you ever wanted something you couldn't have?

He spent the night awake.

He repeated her words over and over in his mind, trying to erase them, but they had seeped in like sweet poison. The heat of her touch still burned his skin, even though it had been so brief. The desire that began to well up within him was an affront to everything he believed.He shouldn't feel that way. He couldn't.

He knelt before the altar, praying until his knees hurt. He asked for forgiveness. He pleaded for clarity. But the only thing he found was her face hovering in his thoughts. Lips slightly curved in provocation. The eyes filled with something indecipherable. And the voice whispering inside him, clawing at his sanity.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing ragged.

She was an ordeal.

Or maybe something worse.

The ancient texts talked about the Devil disguising himself as beauty to test men of faith. And at that moment, with his mind numb with temptation, Sunghoon began to wonder if Y/N was a fallen angel. A demon sent to make he succumb to desire

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

The confessional was silent, except for the soft sound of Sunghoon's breathing. He clasped his hands over his cassock, trying to maintain his composure as he heard Y/N's delicate footsteps approaching. She slipped inside, and for a moment, there was only charged silence.

Y/N: Blessing, Father. (her voice was soft, but with an almost playful tone)

Sunghoon took a deep breath.

Sunghoon: The Lord be with you.

Y/N: I have sins to confess.

He adjusted himself in the seat, keeping his gaze down, even though she was on the other side of the perforated wooden panel.

Sunghoon: Listen to me, my daughter. God is merciful.

Y/N let out a sigh.

Y/N: Is it a sin to desire the forbidden, Father? (his voice had a hint of innocence that didn't match the intention behind the question)

Sunghoon swallowed.

Sunghoon: Desire can be a test. A call to discipline.

Y/N: What if it's impossible to resist? If every thought is consumed by this? (she made a dramatic pause, before continuing, her voice lower) If every night, when I close my eyes, I find myself touching my own body, whispering a name that I shouldn't?

The air escaped Sunghoon's lips with an almost imperceptible tremor. His heart was beating too hard.

Sunghoon: My daughter...

Y/N: What if, (she interrupted) that name belonged to someone who could never want me? Someone sacred, unreachable?

Sunghoon's fingers tightened the fabric of his cassock. Heat shot up her spine, burning her skin. He didn't know whether he should run away or face that moment with the devotion he had left.

Sunghoon: You need to resist temptations. The flesh is weak, but the soul must be strong.

She laughed softly.

Y/N: What if I don't want to resist?

A dense silence hung in the air. Sunghoon's body was rigid, his mind spinning in a whirlwind of forbidden sensations.

Y/N: Tell me, Father... is it a sin to want to see desire in the eyes of someone who can't have it?

Sunghoon closed his eyes tightly. God help him. For, at that moment, he knew he was lost.

Y/N: Maybe I should pray for that... (she murmured) Or maybe... show the priest what torments me so much ?

Sunghoon's body became even more tense.

Sunghoon: Go home, my daughter. Pray for your soul.

Y/N: And you, Father? Will you pray for me... or for the desire you're trying to hide?

She left, leaving behind only the sweet smell of her skin and the ragged breathing of Sunghoon.

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

The sun was already setting when Y/N decided she would make her next move. The small village had a custom: every Thursday, at dusk, the priest served the faithful individually in the parish hall. It was a practice for spiritual counseling, a moment of confession without the rigidity of the confessional. And it was the perfect opportunity to test how much he could take.

She dressed in a light, white dress, made of fabric thin enough to suggest more than it should in the soft candlelight. Her shoulders were exposed, her hair fell in lazy waves around her face. Simple but planned.

When she arrived, she saw that there were still some people there. She sat on the last bench, waiting. When the last worshiper left, she slowly got up and walked towards him.

Sunghoon looked up when he saw her, and for a moment, his expression seemed to waver. He soon composed himself, giving a small wave for her to come closer.

Sunghoon: Good evening, my daughter. How can I help you?

Y/N smirked, closing the door behind her.

Y/N: I think I need guidance, Father. About how to… calm certain desires.

Sunghoon's fingers tightened around the book he held. He cleared his throat, looking away.

Sunghoon: Prayer is always a way to strengthen the spirit against temptations.

Y/N: Hm... (she leaned over slightly, resting her hands on the table between them) But what if it's not the spirit that needs relief?

Sunghoon closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath. When he opened them, he met her gaze, filled with something that made him swallow hard.

Sunghoon: You need to resist, Y/N.

She smiled, running a finger across the wood of the table, drawing lazy circles.

Y/N: And you, Father? Can you resist?

The silence was thick. Sunghoon seemed to hold his breath. Y/N then stood up and took a step forward, closing the distance. He pulled away instinctively. Her gaze darkened in amusement.

Y/N: (whispered) Tell me, Father… how many nights have you spent praying for me?

The answer didn't come. But he didn't need to. The blush on his cheeks, the look in his eyes and the way his fingers trembled as he pressed the pages of the sacred book said it all.

She smiled, satisfied, before finally walking away.

Y/N: Good evening, Father. I will pray for both of us tonight.

And he left, leaving behind a man torn between desire and guilt.

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

The other day, she went to the confessional again. Sunghoon already knew it was her as soon as he heard the soft footsteps approaching. His presence was a sweet poison, a sin that took away his sleep and devastated his faith.

Y/N slipped into the small space, her scent permeating the air. He closed his eyes, feeling his body already prepared for the battle between devotion and perdition.

Y/N: Blessing, Father. (her voice was silky, almost a whisper of temptation)

He took a deep breath.

Sunghoon: The Lord be with you.

Y/N: You know... (she started, playing with the perforated wooden panel between them) I prayed for us. So that God would help me forget this. But it seems like He didn't hear me.

Sunghoon swallowed, keeping his hands clenched on his cassock.

Sunghoon: The Lord always hears our prayers.

Y/N: So tell me, Father... (Y/N leaned slightly against the wooden railing) What did you ask of Him?

There was a heavy, charged silence. Then, in a whisper, he confessed:

Sunghoon: Yesterday… I dreamed that I was kneeling.

Y/N smiled slowly.

Y/N: Praying, father?

Sunghoon finally looked up, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse, filled with suppressed desire.

Sunghoon: Between your legs.

She gasped softly, the pleasure of victory shining in her eyes. Sunghoon's body was tense, his fingers clenched against the fabric of his sacred clothing. Guilt pulsed through his veins, but it was a sin he could no longer expel.

Y/N: And when did you wake up, Father? (she whispered) What did you do after dreaming about me?

He closed his eyes, his face burning with shame and desire. The words came out before he could stop them.

Sunghoon: I knelt down to ask for forgiveness… (his voice trailed off, and he took a deep breath before completing it, almost inaudible) But when I closed my eyes… do you know what I saw?

Y/N licked her lips, taking in every tiny detail of his internal torture. His own body reacted to that, heating up dangerously.

Y/N: What did you see, father?

He opened his eyes, breathing heavily.

Sunghoon: I saw you opening up to me. Your legs parting, your lips whispering my name, begging me...

The air escaped Y/N's lungs in a shuddering sigh. Father Sunghoon, his symbol of purity and chastity, finally breaking. Finally falling into the temptation she offered him.

Sunghoon: When I try to pray (he continued, his voice filled with despair) I only hear your voice… moaning. You are the devil.

Y/N: Then expel me, Father... (she whispered) Deny me. Condemn me.

But he didn't.

Instead, his body gave in, betraying all his vows, all his promises. Sunghoon didn't stop her as she entered the space reserved just for him in the confessional, Y/N's delicate fingers touched the hard volume beneath the sacred fabric. He shuddered violently, breath ripping from his throat.

Sunghoon: Y/N… (he whispered, like a man on the edge of a cliff)

She smiled, feeling the power she had over him.

Y/N: Just tell me, Father… do you want me to stop?

The silence that followed was the answer that sealed his fate. Sunghoon didn't respond. He didn't push her away. And at that moment, between guilt and desire, he knew that he no longer belonged to God.

She smiled, leaning in a little more.

Y/N: If you want, I can help you ease this burden.

Sunghoon closed his eyes for a moment, his breathing uneven. When he opened them again, Y/N was already closer, so close that their lips were almost touching.

Sunghoon: This is wrong. (his voice was weak, almost a whisper)

Y/N: Then push me away.

He didn't move. I didn't say anything. He just lay there, vulnerable, as she slowly lifted her cassock, her fingers gliding over the warm skin of his thighs.

Sunghoon swallowed hard when he felt the soft palm rise dangerously, until he found his member already awakening under the fabric. He closed his eyes, his lips parting in a silent prayer.

Y/N smiled, satisfied, as her hand wrapped around his hardness.

Y/N: Tell me, Father… do you still want me to pray?

Sunghoon panted, his hands clenched into fists.

Sunghoon: God... forgive me.

It was the last thing he said before he felt Y/N's warm lips envelop him, leading him straight into sin.

Y/N's tongue slowly slid over the tip of Sunghoon's member, eliciting a muffled moan from the priest. His breathing was ragged, his eyes closed in an internal struggle between giving in completely or clinging to the last thread of resistance.

Her hand slid down the rest of his length, following the movements of his mouth, while he pressed his fingers against the seat of the confessional, trying to contain himself. He couldn't look down, he couldn't admit what was happening there, inside the house of God. But the pleasure was overwhelming, and he no longer knew where the guilt ended and the desire began.

It was then that an unexpected sound cut through the air: footsteps. Someone approached the confessional.

Sunghoon's heart skipped a beat.

Faithful: Father Sunghoon? (a woman's soft voice echoed from the other side of the wooden fence) I need to confess...

Y/N stopped for a brief moment, but when she looked up at him, her gaze was filled with pure malice. Her lips opened in a slow smile, before going back to swallowing his member, even deeper. Sunghoon shuddered, feeling completely overcome by sin but unable to shake it off.

Sunghoon: P-please… continue… (his voice sounded shaky, but the faithful on the other side took it as an invitation to speak)

Faithful: I… sinned. I have been feeling inappropriate desires, Father (she confessed, her voice full of hesitation) And I don't know how to get rid of it...

Sunghoon clenched his teeth, trying to contain the sigh that threatened to escape when Y/N sucked him harder, her tongue swirling around the tip in a torturous way. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to focus on the penitent.

Sunghoon: Desire is… proof… of our faith… (he managed to say, his voice breaking, as a drop of sweat slid down the side of his face)

Faithful: But I dream of a man every night, Father... with his hands on my body, his mouth on my skin. That's wrong, isn't it?

Sunghoon's fingers pressed against the wood of the confessional as Y/N moaned around him, sending intense vibrations through his body. He felt his peak approaching dangerously.

Sunghoon: A-We all… face temptations… (he said, his breathing ragged)

Faithful: Even you, Father?

The final blow came when Y/N swallowed him whole, her throat tightening around him so intensely that Sunghoon lost all control. His body arched, his hand instinctively clenching in her hair as pleasure ripped through him in violent waves. He had to bite his lip to keep from letting out a loud moan as his climax pulsed against the hot mouth that enveloped him.

On the other side of the fence, the faithful waited for an answer. Sunghoon opened his eyes, panting, trying to catch his breath as Y/N slowly pulled away, swallowing everything without taking her eyes off him. The smile on her lips was living proof of her victory.

Swallowing hard, he cleared his throat and, with his voice still shaking, finally replied:

Sunghoon: Faith… is a constant test… but God always forgives those who repent.

The faithful sighed, relieved.

Faithful: Thank you, Father… I feel better now.

If she had known what had just happened on the other side of that fence, perhaps her confession would have been very different.

Sunghoon still felt the remnants of sin throbbing in his skin.

Y/N: Ask for forgiveness, Father. (she said smiling as she left the confessional)

Sunghoon trembled, his breathing shaky as his entire body screamed to run away, to recite prayers and hide in the altar. But your soul? His soul longed for her. For his heat, for his possession, for his damn wicked grace.

Sunghoon: Forgive me, Lord… (mumbled)

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

The next night arrived bringing with it a silent storm. The parish room was lit only by the dim light of flickering candles, shadows dancing on the walls as Father Sunghoon knelt before her, his forehead resting against Y/N's bare thigh.

Sunghoon: This is wrong… (his voice trembled, eyes moist with guilt as his lips brushed against her warm skin) God… forgive me.

Y/N cupped his face, fingers digging into his dark hair.

Y/N: Then pray to me while you suck me.

His eyes closed tightly, a sob caught in his throat. But he obeyed. His mouth opened, his tongue tentatively sliding against the wetness exposed before him. The first touch was timid, as if he expected to be consumed by divine flames at that moment. But when Y/N moaned softly and pulled her hair, the hesitation dissolved into sin.

He licked her fervently, each movement desperate, as if trying to absorb redemption through her. His breathing was ragged with murmurs of prayers, a conflict between devotion and lust.

Y/N: Harder, Father. (Y/N's voice was pure dominance, and Sunghoon moaned against her, burying his face between her thighs. He no longer knew if he was seeking pleasure or penance)

Little by little, his resistance completely gave way. Desire consumed him, guilt burned and excited at the same time. When Y/N finally arched against him, holding his head in place, Sunghoon cried – tears of pleasure, of despair, of total surrender to what he should reject.

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

The next day, the weather seemed heavier. Sunghoon avoided Y/N as much as he could, but when night fell, he sought her out again.

Sunghoon: I can't resist anymore... teach me. (his voice was a whisper full of anguish)

Y/N smiled, pulling him onto the bed.

Y/N: Then let me show you what desire really means.

She guided him slowly, exploring her virgin body with patience and pleasure.

Sunghoon: This… this is so wrong…

Y/N moved over him, her mouth at his ear.

Y/N: Then cry to God while I ride you.

And he cried. Tears flowed, sobs mixed with his moans as his body surrendered to the woman on top of him. He asked for forgiveness, but didn't stop. He would never stop again. Y/N stood over him, her eyes lit by the fire of temptation, while Sunghoon held the rosary between his trembling fingers.

Y/N: Do you still think you can be saved? (Her voice was a venomous whisper, her lips brushing against his sweaty skin.)

Sunghoon closed his eyes tightly, feeling the cold rosary beads pressed against his warm skin. His chest rose and fell in despair, his moans choked between meaningless prayers. He wanted to resist. I needed to resist. But when Y/N pulled out the rosary, sliding it down his body before wrapping it around his neck, something inside him snapped.

Sunghoon: This is wrong… (he whispered, but his hands were already holding her waist tightly)

Y/N: Then stop (Y/N teased, rubbing against him) Show me that you still have faith.

But he didn't stop. Instead, he moaned in pain and ecstasy as Y/N rode him, the rosary laced between her fingers as she controlled his movements. The sacred object grazed his skin with each thrust, a cruel reminder of what he was destroying.

Tears streamed down Sunghoon's face, but he couldn't stop. Each time his voice rose in a plea for forgiveness, his hips responded with more desperation, burying himself in her as if seeking redemption in his own sin.

Sunghoon: I... I'm lost... (he whimpered, clinging to her)

Y/N smiled against his ear, lightly biting the earlobe.

Y/N: Then accept this, Father. There is no turning back for you.

The chapel was in darkness, lit only by the flickering candles before the altar. The smell of incense mixed with the warm aroma of sin, permeating the heavy air around them.

Sunghoon had the rosary laced between his trembling fingers, and every prayer he tried to mutter ended in restrained moans.

Y/N: Pray, Father... (she whispered, sliding the cold object over his hot skin) Beg for forgiveness that he knows he won't get.

He gasped, lips parted, eyes moist with the turbulence of his shattered faith. His soul debated between heaven and hell, but his body had already chosen it a long time ago. Y/N pulled him by the chin, forcing him to look at her as she lowered herself onto her lap, letting him feel every inch of her destruction.

Sunghoon: Oh... God... (his voice was a broken wail, a plea for mercy that was lost when she started to move, slow and cruel)

Y/N held the rosary and wrapped it around his wrists, pinning his hands behind his back. He writhed beneath her, a mix of resistance and surrender, his eyes closed as his moans became distorted prayers.

Y/N: Continue (she ordered, lips brushing against your ear) Ask for forgiveness while I make you burn with me.

Sunghoon tried to obey, tried to keep his mouth busy with the sacred words, but each thrust made him lose his breath, each roll of hers erased a verse from his mind. He was no longer a servant of God. There was no turning back.

Sunghoon: I… I'm a sinner… (he sobbed, hot tears streaming down his face) I can't… stop…

Y/N smiled, bringing one of her hands to his mouth and pushing two fingers between his trembling lips.

Y/N: Then swallow your sin, Father. And enjoy every drop of it.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

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bitchinbarzal · 2 days ago

Text

Home but not Whole | Just Fine AU

Kess had been playing Uno with Elodie for over an hour.

Weston was curled up on the couch beside him, dozing off with a sippy cup and Lucky snoring at his feet.

At first, it had been easy. Normal.

He’d babysat for the Kellers plenty of times before.

Elodie had bossed him around like usual, forced him to eat two pretend plastic muffins, and tried to convince him she could stay up until midnight because it was a “special day.”

But as the hours stretched on, something shifted.

Elodie started glancing at the door every few minutes.

Started looking at the clock and chewing her thumbnail.

Finally, she asked the question Kess had been dreading.

“Why aren’t Mommy and Daddy back yet?”

He tried to keep his voice light. “Sometimes babies take a long time, Bug. I’m sure they’re just being careful.”

Elodie furrowed her brows. “But last time, Daddy sent a picture from the hospital. And this time he didn’t.”

Kess swallowed. “Well… maybe they’re just really busy. Doctors and stuff.”

“Can we call them?”

The question was so soft. So hopeful. Her hand was already reaching for the iPad.

Kess gently moved it aside.

“Not right now, kiddo.”

“Why not?”

He didn’t have an answer.

Clayton hadn’t texted. Not once since they left that morning.

Kess wasn’t panicking. Not really. But his gut had started twisting about an hour ago, and now he was just… waiting. Praying nothing was wrong.

Elodie’s face scrunched. “Something’s weird.”

Kess crouched beside her, resting a hand on her back. “I think your mom and dad are just taking their time. Maybe the baby needed a little extra help.”

“Is my baby okay?” she asked quickly.

He froze.

Elodie’s eyes were wide, suddenly watery. “She’s okay, right? Daddy said she was gonna come today.”

Kess exhaled through his nose and did the only thing he could — he pulled her into his chest and hugged her tight.

“I don’t know yet, Bug,” he whispered, heart breaking at the way her little hands clung to his hoodie. “But I do know your mommy and daddy love you so, so much. And when they can, they’ll call.”

She didn’t respond.

Just stayed pressed against him, quiet.

Weston stirred beside them, blinking blearily before reaching for Elodie.

Kess gathered them both up, one arm around each of them, and they sat there—cocooned in soft blankets, in the not-knowing, in the quiet.

And when his phone finally buzzed hours later, it wasn’t from Clayton or Kaia.

It was from one of the other guys.

Just a short message.

Tell the kids their parents will be home in the morning. Don’t say anything else yet. Just keep them safe.

And Kess nodded to no one.

He could do that.

He could keep them safe, for now.

Even if everything else was about to fall apart.

The sun was barely up when Kess heard the car pull into the driveway.

He looked up from where he sat on the couch — Weston in his lap, drooling on his shoulder, and Elodie curled into the other end of the couch, staring out the window like she had willed that sound into existence.

She sat up instantly.

“That’s them.”

Kess didn’t say anything. Just gently helped Weston slide down and watched as Elodie ran to the door, barefoot and still wearing the oversized jersey Kaia had let her sleep in last night.

She opened the front door before they even knocked.

And stopped.

Because there were no balloons.

No pink blanket.

No car seat.

Just her parents — quiet, tired, and holding each other’s hands so tightly it looked like it hurt.

Kaia dropped to her knees the second she saw her.

“Hi, baby,” she whispered, voice already breaking.

Elodie ran into her arms, throwing herself against her chest like she’d been holding it in for days. “Where were you? Why didn’t you call? Is the baby okay?”

Kaia held her tightly, face buried in Elodie’s hair, and Clayton dropped down beside them, arms wrapping around both of them like he needed the contact to breathe.

“Bug,” he said softly, “we need to talk.”

It was quiet. Not dramatic. Not loud.

But Elodie knew.

She pulled back just enough to look up at them, eyes wide and wet.

“…Is she not coming home?”

Kaia shook her head slowly.

“She couldn’t stay, sweetheart.”

Elodie’s lip trembled. “But she was moving. I felt her. She kicked my hand.”

“I know,” Kaia whispered, tears spilling freely now. “We felt her too. She was perfect. She just… wasn’t ready for the world.”

Elodie folded into her again, sobbing. “I wanted to read to her.”

Clayton held them both, face in Kaia’s shoulder, letting himself cry too.

Behind them, Kess quietly picked up Weston and slipped back to the kitchen, giving them space. A few minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door.

It was Doaner, with a paper bag of groceries.

Logan, holding coffee and a bag of Elodie’s favorite muffins.

Dylan, who didn’t say a word — just came in and cleaned the sink full of dishes.

No one made a big deal about it.

No one tried to offer the right words.

They just came.

They filled the fridge. They folded the laundry.

One of them walked Lucky.

Another quietly set up a food train in the group chat.

Later that morning, Kess sat on the floor with Elodie, Weston in his lap again, while Kaia and Clayton curled up on the couch behind them — exhausted, grieving, but home.

“Is Hallie still my sister?” Elodie whispered.

“Always,” Kess said gently.

She nodded. “Okay. Then I still have two little siblings. Even if one’s up in the clouds.”

And Kaia, hearing it from the couch, just closed her eyes and let herself cry again. Because even in heartbreak, their daughter never stopped making space for love

#just fine au

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frostedsugarcookiehearts · 2 days ago

Text

♱ the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it? (jeremiah 17:9)

the library was your refuge, your safe haven. everyone was quiet there, and you got to indulge in literature without anyone harassing you or calling you names, commonplace at st. ephrem academy. you wished the teasing was stop; but you comforted yourself with the lull of john 15:18: "if the world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it hated you."

the librarian, miss helen, was a kind woman, she kept books for you in the back (mainly religious texts) and often gave you little updates on how her two cats, holden and atticus, were doing. sometimes, she even let you stay after closing or go into the teacher's lounge room to pray while she grabbed a coffee.

the library wasn't exactly bursting at the seams, but it was a little more full than usual. there were free seats, but those were at tables where kids were chatting and using the library as a rec room. the only seat next to someone who didn't look overly social or that they'd make fun of you was a brown-haired boy hunched over a book. perfect. he wouldn't bother you. right? (oh, how you were wrong.)

you took a seat next to the boy, slipping your backpack onto the back of the creaky wooden chair and taking a seat. you opened your bible, turning the page to 1 peter. the words had become second nature to you, and you were on your way to memorizing each chapter in order. it was a slow process, but fun for you.

what snapped you out of your devout focus was the sound of a wrapper crinkling. you turned to your left to see the brown-haired boy shoving a chocolate chip cookie in his mouth. he caught your gaze and sheepishly started to chew a tad bit slower.

"you're not supposed to have food in here." you lean towards him a little, hissing under your breath as you chastise him and point to the sign that said no food or drinks! right next to miss helen's desk..

he blinked up at you, eyes wide like a little kid who was getting in trouble for eating playdoh. which was actually a pretty good metaphor for the situation. then, he shrugged casually. "well, a cookie never hurt anybody." he chirped before taking a bite out of the cookie again.

you scoffed. "that's not true."

"oh, really?" he deadpanned, raising a brow. "who has it hurt?"

got me there. you furrowed your brow, your tongue poking your cheek. "...someone," you managed, staring at the cookie in his hand intently. ignoring the growling in your stomach— you'd decided to fast today— you debated the options of snatching it out of his hand. what would jesus do? you pondered.

"do you want a bite?" glancing up, a pair of blue eyes blinked at you through his glasses. gently, he offered the cookie out to you.

you blinked. that was kind of him. but you shook your head gently and replied, "i can't. i'm fasting."

"why?"

it was such a simple question. it sounded eerily like your three-year-old cousin, always asking why to everything. but he asked it in a genuine, curious tone— not when other kids asked you questions about religion just to tease or make fun of you. he genuinely wanted to know. "to overcome temptation. it says so in matthew," you inform.

his brow furrowed, face scrunched up in concentration. "but... aren't you hungry?"

"i suppose," you mutter under your breath, tugging on one of your ponytails.

"so, have a bite." he instructed gently, holding the cookie out again. a few crumbs fell into your lap, and you quickly scrambled to brush them off.

"i can't."

"but what if you get too hungry and you turn into a zombie and start eating people instead?" he pried, voice as serious as ever, yet his words were absurd.

you stared at him blankly. "you're insane."

"no, i'm charlie." a dumb, dopey grin spread across his face, like a proud dad who'd successfully executed the perfect dad joke.

for reasons you couldn't explain, you sighed and played into his little joke. your tone deadpan, you replied, "hi, charlie."

the boy's— charlie's— smile grew wider as he leaned forward, propping his elbow up on the table, cheek resting in his palm as he stared at you with a warm look on his face. "what's your name?"

"elizabeth-anne," you glance around the room to see if anyone was paying attention to your conversation. they weren't.

"you have a nickname?" charlie chirped, looking pleased with himself (and right at you.)

you shake your head gently, ribboned ponytails flapping against your back. "no. i respect the name my Lord gave me."

he pauses, tapping his chin. "i know! lizzy would be a good nickname for you."

you recoil slightly hearing the nickname on his lips. "that's not elizabeth-anne," you say slowly, trying to hammer in the ideals of keeping the name the Lord gave you. but then again, you couldn't help but feel a little fuzzy in your heart that someone wanted to give you a nickname. there was a subtle intimacy to the act. slowly, charlie's expression started to fall, and you quickly scrambled to add, "but... it's better than beth."

"lizzy it is then." he beams. "and if i give you a nickname, that means you're my friend. and as your friend, i'm telling you, you should eat." he slides the cookie towards you for the third time, gesturing for you to eat it. you were hesitant, and charlie could tell, so he decided to see if the dog would bite the bone. "if you don't know how, i can teach y—"

"i know how," you snap, glancing around and making sure miss helen wasn't looking before biting into the cookie slowly and as quietly as possible. it was good.

"see? not so bad, is it?" charlie grinned proudly. "my mom's a baker."

"no..." you replied slowly, surprised on how good it tasted. "it's not."

he looked pleased. "i'm glad." then, he turned back to the thick book he was reading— you glanced to the book's spine and read dungeon and dragons: master's guide. a chill ran through your spine. that was one of the games they warned you about at church.

"that game promotes satanic activites, you know," you couldn't help but blurt.

charlie looked up from his book, brushing the brown locks out of his face. "...huh?"

you gesture wildly to the book, a look of horror on your face. but charlie just lets out an amused chuckle, a guffaw, and asks in an incredulous voice: "you think i'm summoning satan in the school library?"

"well, when you put it like that..." you frowned, turning back to your book.

charlie peered over your shoulder, and after a few seconds of silence, chirped, "do you only read the bible?"

you paused. "not only, but mostly."

"you should try reading something else. like a palette cleanser." he glanced over to see the look of horror on your face and quickly added, "b—because it'll make reading the bible more fun after! it will be like re-reading it for the first time all over again."

that sounded plausible. so you let charlie lead you over to the romance section (you made charlie walk behind you as to cover you from the prying eyes) and pick out a book for you.

a book with a cover of a boat and light blue forget-me-nots. huh. it looked alright, you supposed, and no one could guess it was a romance book. "my mom likes this one," charlie added gently, placing the book in your hands.

you looked up at him and smiled. "thank you, charlie." and to charlie, hearing his name on your lips sounded the same as the angel's song when you were to enter the pearly gates.

#fanfic #fluffy fanfic #celeb crush #charlie slimecicle fanfic #charlie slimesicle x reader #charlie slimecicle x reader #charlie slimecicle fluff #charlie slimecicle x you #charlie slimecicle x y/n #slimecicle fanfic #slimecicle x reader #slimecicle fic #charlie slimecicle fic #slimecicle x you #⋆⑅˚. ࿐࿔ oc x slimecicle #♱ ࿐࿔ devout!reader #slimecicle fluff

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luciavrseblog-com · 2 days ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐒 ; A King's Burden

— King!Heeseung x Queen!Reader

⠀ ⠀. ⋆ ･˳ ⠀⠀⠀⠀. ⋆ . ⋆･. ⠀⠀˳ . ⋆⠀⠀.

Summary: For months, the Queen of Light has been nothing but a ghost, her kingdom lost to a curse that shattered the world’s balance. Now, even the Dark Kingdom suffers, and its newly crowned king, Heeseung, sets out to claim what remains. But when fate leads him to the missing queen, their reluctant alliance forces them to face a deeper truth—light and dark were never meant to exist without each other. The question is: can they fight fate, or were they always meant to fall together?

A/N: Hello~ this is my first chapter of this fanfic… and I'm a little unsure whether it's engaging or not, which is why the second chapter will be uploaded not too long after this chapter. My schools first unit ends on the 4th next month, so I will be trying to do more updates as I have some break off of school! Please let me know if you're wanting to be a part of a tag list and if you're liking the story so far!

Wc: 4134

Warnings: Mild language use, mentions of death and destruction, light horror themes, supernatural elements

⠀ ⠀. ⋆ ･˳ ⠀⠀⠀⠀. ⋆ . ⋆･. ⠀⠀˳ . ⋆⠀⠀.

The ink that bleeds through the paper gets harder to read everyday, the cursive writing in the journal leading up to the hour slowly becoming more incompetent as the light from the flames start to die out.

‘The light.’

He writes.

‘The light that has once welcomed our world is slowly leaving. It’s been seven months since the last letter from the light kingdom and three months since we’ve come scarce on our light sources. Karina insists that it’s fine and that the Queen is just having her misfits again. I tell her not to use too much and to not say such foolish things, but she insists she can only do her routines when night has officially fallen. It ‘set’s an atmosphere’ she says.’

His quill stills on the paper, his lips pursing together at the thought of his wife’s inconsiderate actions. It has been four years since their coronation, and it is expected after this journey that they will have kids. Heirs.

His fingers tighten on the quill and he takes a breath before continuing to write.

‘I pray she is fit enough to run the kingdom by herself these next few months. She’s been nagging me about an illness she might inherit from her mother, which I highly doubt. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, but if much changes, I will immediately switch it back to how I like it. I will leave this journal here and take a new one to track my mission, if anyone finds it, they will know of the exciting adventures I experienced with the six of my soldiers.

Please, keep Karina in check. And don’t let her change anything too drastic.’

He watches as the ink dries in the journal, as if much will change, before he shuts it, letting it rest in the middle of his desk. Besides the book, the candles dwindling light flickers, and for a moment, Heeseung thought it grew stronger, as if it was fighting for it’s life. He thinks about what the Light Kingdom’s final days were like – broken, in flames, one last flash of light before darkness falls.

He doesn’t even notice the presence of his wife until the smell of Jasmine greets his nostrils, scrunching his nose momentarily, he leans comfortably in the chair and tilts his head backwards, lazily. “How long have you stood there?” He mutters, watching her upside down.

“Long enough to see you watch the ink dry,” her sharp tone speaks, causing him to tilt his head up so she doesn’t see the roll of his eyes. The slide of her hand on his shoulders distracts him from the annoyance as she leans over him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m still unsure on why you wanted to do this. You’re king of this Kingdom. Whatever happens over there, is their problem.”

He fights the urge to scoff, reaching his hand up to intertwine their fingers, shifting his body and guiding her to stand in front of him, “If it causes our fall, then it is.” He whispers, properly addressing his wife by pressing a soft kiss to the knuckles of his fingers. “You changed the colour of your nails.”

“You sound exactly like how your father did,” she scoffs at his attempt of changing the topic, rolling her eyes and situating herself on his lap, she wraps her arms around his neck and leans into him, “So dramatic and nosy. If it’s really that serious, then as queen, I should be going beside you.”

“No.”

She stiffens as she hears his immediate disagreement, her eyebrows furrowing as she tilts her head to look at him, “Excuse me?”

“You’re not going,” Heeseung says, voice firm as he trails his fingers in small circles on her lower back while his other hand rests on her thigh to keep her secure. He watches the annoyance in her eyes flare to something of anger, lips curling upwards softly before he leans in and presses soft kisses to the plump skin of cheek, her jaw, and her neck. “You’re too precious to me. I don’t want you dirtying that stunning face of yours, my love. Who will keep the kingdom in check if we’re both gone?”

His shift in tone – from cold to indulgent – seems to please Karina as her usual smile is back on her lips, giggling and tilting her head to press a happy kiss to his lips. “I suppose you’re right. A kingdom needs their queen afterall.”

A squeak falls from her lips as Heeseung suddenly lifts her up, carrying her bridal-style and spinning her around in a small circle before he makes his way towards their bed, pressing kisses along her skin to keep her satisfied.

“Just lay with me for now, rina,” he whispers against her skin, “I leave tomorrow.”

He keeps his promise until just before the sun is meant to rise, barely little light coming in as he double checks his items, fingers brushing over his journal one last time before he heads to his horse. His last potential words dismissing his wife.

The morning air is tense as his guards part, making way for their King. Mounting their horses at once, their hooves strike the ground as they strut through the streets. The sounds are deafening in the early morning, as everyone else lays in bed alongside their loved ones while the seven men ride out to a location that may be just fine. That would mean he was overreacting, as Karina has said one too many times these past few weeks.

Yet, he knows. That gut feeling that something is not okay.

It’s like he can hear the nagging tone in her future letters, the way she’d slowly degrade him more and more, listing the ways she changed the kingdom to fit her wants, not even bothering to take into account Heeseung or the villagers. She’d be wearing that insufferable, condescending snarl on her face and she’d flip the pages through his withered journal.

He can hear his main guard, Jay, shouting out directions to his other men and guiding the horses along the rocky roads that soon turn into dirt. The further they venture, the more dry the air comes and the higher the humidity rises. He wonders how his father rode down this road when he was still King. How tall had he stood, going into battle, while knowing that he would return safe? To his people. To his Queen. How did he fight for so many years and return as strong as when he left? He wonders if Karina would jump into his arms when he arrives home, cooing and doting over him the whole way back to their chambers before laying with him and feeding him the food he’s been wishing for.

Or if she would nag him when he came back, murmuring how it was a waste of time and draping herself on him to distract him from the changes in the Kingdom. Maybe, if the trip was useless, then he’d have Jay and Sunghoon rough him up a little – just enough for Karina to slip into the nurturing role their parents wish she’d have.

That night, after grueling, long hours of travelling, watching as tumbleweeds drift past, they set up camp. The fire burned in the middle of the group, the six guards sharing their stories of their lives outside of battles and protection. Heeseung smirked as Sunoo shared the gossip about his older sister cheating on her husband with a fishmonger. He lets his gaze rest on the stubborn flames that flicker even on the still road.

“And then,” Sunoo said, shaking his head and laughing softly, “Her husband found out, came to me and stated he has to train beside me– to ‘be stronger’. Mind you, he works in the bakery for a living and the lover cuts up salmon for a living.”

The men around him bark out laughter at the thought of his in law training alongside him, the thought itself being ridiculous. They continued like that for a few more minutes, the guards sharing stories of each other like how Sunghoon almost got trampled by their horses because Jake was too busy ogling a pretty woman to secure the reins properly.

As their stories died down into more simple words, Heeseung kept his gaze locked on the dancing flames. He watched them dance around each other as if they were whispering words to him.

His mind wanders back to his castle that his ancestors walked through for decades – centuries even. He imagines Karina draped across the beautiful, emerald green chair near their bay window, dressed in her finest silks, barking orders at the servants.

For a moment, he saw her in a way that he almost forgot existed.

Beautiful and airy, giggling and making jokes alongside him in the morning light. Her skin is smooth, and her cheeks are slightly flushed in embarrassment as he teases her and presses kisses along her skin. The image of his wife. His Queen.

His thoughts eventually shift once more. To the bigger picture at hand.

The Light Kingdom.

He wondered how their Queen and King had fallen, what managed to take over half the world and keep the imbalance stable for such periods of time. What were their final thoughts before they were wiped out? How were they wiped out? Did they prepare for what happened?

He wanders back to the time he met their King, standing strong as he and his wife greeted Heeseung and Karina, the air immediately lifting.

Soobin was a wonderful man, he remained standing tall, his broad frame creating whiplash to his bright personality. His toned arms were constantly adorned by the decoration of his wife’s beautiful, ringed fingers – who never stood too far from her husband. His smile was as bright as the sun in the sky, as if it was a relic in his name. A relic of the light he was meant to protect.

Heeseungs jaw clenched, his eyes falling to his lap as he takes in a deep breath.

That light was gone.

All that’s left is the flames in place of his ashes.

The sound of the horse’s neighing and stomping on the dirt drags him out of his thoughts. He tilts his head up, blinking as he sees that everyone is staring out to the distance. The horses, too, stood rigid as they looked towards the horizon. The air runs thin, and even the crackling of the fire grows silent.

Heeseung’s throat runs dry as he looks to where his guards watch, ignoring the way their horses snort and shift uncomfortably.

“Jay.” He mumbles, keeping his voice firm despite the hesitancy he’s feeling.

They shouldn’t be worried. Darkness is where they’re from, their calling, their destinies. They can face anything that’s in the darkness. Except, this time, with no answer from his head guard, Heeseung feels uncertain of what lurks in the distance.

“Jay.” He repeats again, his voice slightly louder than before, narrowing his eyes as his hand twitches towards his sides. Finally, Jay turns his head, slow and carefully as if trying not to startle the thing in the distance.

“We’re not alone.” He whispers, his own hand reaching for his sword.

His words spoke enough.

Something was out there.

The other guards had never looked more tense or terrified, frozen in place as their eyes dart between each other and the horizon.

Then – there was the slow gurgling noise. Distance and high pitched.

Heeseung didn’t even notice when he moved, standing into a simple fighting stance and gritting his teeth together, getting ready to sheath his sword. “We must leave,” He says slowly, narrowing his gaze and slowly shifting it over the horizon. “Now. Move it.”

The six men didn’t need to be told twice, instantly standing and mounting their horses, calming them down quickly in hopes they wouldn't get kicked off. Heeseung hears Jake cooing to his stallion, telling her to calm down and stroking her mane.

As Heeseung’s eyes shift to his horse, away from the horizon for a singular second, a rotten smell reaches their nostrils. Heeseung immediately covers his nose, looking back up to find the source of the smell, but all he can see is darkness. Nothing moves and nothing creeps forward.

Niki clears his throat, speaking up for the first time all night. “Your honour, we need to leave. Please.” His voice wavers and the realisation of everyone's fear settles in. Heeseung nods his head, motioning with his fingers to move forward.

The adrenaline starts to shoot through the King’s veins, pressing for his horse to move at a high speed to get far away from whatever lurks. Despite his evident fear, he stays behind the others, constantly counting them to make sure nothing has pulled them aside and they’re all safe.

It’s only the first night and dangers are coming. He prays that this journey was worth something in the end.

They spend the whole night moving East. There were no break periods, no matter how tired the horses were and how sore the men were. There were no stretch periods and there was no time for water breaks. Just 12 hours of riding through dirt roads.

As the sun started to rise, there was still no humanity in sight. They didn’t encounter anything else throughout that night, but the smell lingered on for miles and Heeseung was sure he could smell it in the early mornings.

Pure exhaustion weighed on the men, and no matter how far they traveled, it still felt like they weren’t even at the edge of the Dark Kingdom.

By the time they saw some sort of life forms, it was a rice farmer travelling between his farm and the riverbank nearby. He called himself a foreign name that was unfamiliar with all of them, Vernon. He offered them a place to sleep and for their horses to rest.

Heeseung didn’t wake till the next day.

After that fearsome night, Heeseung made sure that wherever they set camp was safe and protected. He made Jungwon draw sigils and place any protection spell on each of them, their horses and where they slept. He refused to let something unknown hurt them.

On the fifth day of travelling, they arrive at their fourth town. Except this time, it was empty and cold, ashes taking place where people stood. Heeseung strolls leisurely through the town, keeping his guard high as he scans the surroundings. The soft sound of rustling makes him come to a halt.

He raises his hands to stop the others, listening into the deafening silence of the ruins. Just as he goes to motion to continue forward, the sound of crying and footsteps make them freeze. A figure slowly makes their way towards them, their feet walking quickly and their heavy breaths coming into their line of hearing.

“The chapel!” The figure cries, waving their hands as their steps speed up slightly, “Everything is ruined… but the chapel! The chapel has the books… and the… Light… Kingdom…”

Heeseung’s head perks up at the mention of the Light Kingdom, his stoic expression faltering for a moment as he watches the figure collapse into a heap on the floor.

There’s silence for a few moments before Heeseung clicks to his left. “Sunoo, Jungwon, Niki,” He says, turning his head, “You three stay with this… priest. Keep him alive. Jake, Jay, Sunghoon, you come with me. We’re going to find the chapel.”

It doesn’t take long to find the tall, decorated building, the poor sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows and shining onto the entrance, as if the building was waiting for them. Heeseung takes a mental note to mention it to Karina in the future, knowing she loves when the window pains in the castle do such things.

The horses stay outside as the three men stretch their legs, sauntering through the rubble of the broken doors. Feet are etched into the wooden floors, a memory of the people who stood before them not too long ago. Heeseung can’t help but wonder what happened to the beautiful building. He waits till he stands in the middle of the room until he pauses, lifting his head up and looking around the tall walls, stained glass windows decorating every space, telling its story of the Kingdoms.

At the entrance, stands two opposite sides, a dark and a light, in between them was a glass stain in the shape of a rose. Next to it, showed the pair in battle, holding each other at their throats as the rose starts to wither away. Beside it shows the dark side watching the light side at the river, cupping some water in their hands and taking a sip, the rose on its last petal. The rest show the story of how, despite their hatred for each other, they have to work together to store a balance in the world, their love story blooming and creating a peace between them.

Heeseung heard the story countless times: throughout his childhood, in literature classes, when he found out he was getting married, at the wedding, at the coronation, at the honeymoon and so on… It was to remind him why he should never battle with the light kingdom, to never become selfish and try to take more land than he really needs.

Heeseung hears the trio murmuring and can see them pointing at the windows as they recall the story and try to piece everything together. He scoffs and focuses on the task at hand, letting out a sigh and climbing up the steps to the podium, finding a desk off to the side filled with spilled paper and ink everywhere.

“The books… the books. What books?” He thinks out loud, furrowing his brows as he starts to look through the drawers, being met with empty spaces and cobwebs. He grunts in frustration, sliding a drawer shut and covering his face with his hands. He’s lucky enough to even hear the sound of the object falling onto the wooden floors.

He slowly moves his hands away from his face, tilting his head down and looking around. Is he imagining things? What just dropped? He looks up, looking towards the three men he bought with him and seeing the way they all looked amazed by the intricate carvings in the seats and the poles. He blinks a few times before looking the opposite direction, immediately flinching as the light goes straight into his eyes.

“Fuck–” he says, covering his face with his hands and stumbling back. When did that happen? He thinks to himself, keeping his hand covering the sunlight as he looks away, blinking away the dark spots that formed into his eyes. It takes him a few moments before he notices something glinting in the sunlight, a few seconds longer before he recognises what it is. A key.

“Hey–” He says, catching the attention of his guards as he bends down, picking up the key, “Look what I found. Do you think this’ll help us find those books?”

“We found them already,” Sunghoon suddenly says, furrowing his brows as he and Jake hold up four different books. Jake’s were a dark navy colour while Sunghoon’s were a light yellow, the same words placed on all four: A crown of light, a throne of shadows.

That night, they sat in a random building’s rubble, watching the fire flicker miserably as they try to decipher what was written in the pages. They’ve only managed to decipher the words ‘Light’ and ‘Dark’ from the cover of the books.

“So… if this symbol is ‘a’, then most of these should have ‘a’ in them.” Jungwon says, looking between the different books as he notices the same symbol used consistently. “Does anyone have some spare paper we could write on?”

Jungwon’s request is met with silence between all seven men, Heeseung’s expression turns somber for a moment before reaching out of his bag to find the journal he packed before he left. He opens up the pages and rips out a page along with a stick of granite, passing it over to the boy and watching as he immediately starts to write down the repeated symbols.

They all watch in silence as Jungwon depicts what the vowels of the alphabet are, before placing the rest of the letters in their own section. They fill each of the letters with the translations etched onto the leather bindings on each book, each having their own meaning.

Book one and three were both yellow-dyed velvet bindings, signifying the perspective of the Light Kingdom was being presented, while books two and four were the opposite. Book one had the words ‘Dawn on the fallen’ engraved on the front.

“There’s no point doing this,” Sunghoon suddenly says, furrowing his thick brows and resting a hand on his thigh, “Translating these– these– ancient texts is useless! It’s going to be daybreak by the time we’ve finished translating the first page.”

He looks around the group of people, some of the younger men looking away to avoid eye contact while Jay and Heeseung keep their piercing gaze on the man. He’s always known to be the most impatient when it comes to these things, wanting to keep going to finish things.

“This is important–” Jungwon starts but he immediately gets cut off by the brunette.

“Then how about you stay here in this shit fallen city so you can sit here and translate a bunch of old ancient shit.” Sunghoon spits, standing up in annoyance. “I’m not going to sit here and–”

“Hoon–” Jake starts, grabbing onto his hand to pull him back down but the latter yanks his hand away with a scoff. “Oi! Stop being fucking dramatic and sit back down. Where are you going to go at this time of night, huh?”

“Away from dealing with this waste of time!” He snaps, turning around and heading towards his horse, pulling on his reins and guiding him away a couple metres. The air is silent besides the footsteps of the man, Jake rolling his eyes and standing up to go chase after him.

What happens next is something you wouldn’t have been able to see if you had blinked. Someone– no, something, grabs a hold of the horse's head, dragging the animal to the floor and taking Sunghoon with him. In a matter of three seconds, the horse is gone and Sunghoon is on the ground, Jake standing over him and cupping his face.

Heeseung’s body moves before he even processes it, his feet running quickly and he can hear the footsteps of others behind him, “Sunghoon!” Heeseung calls, squatting down and checking over the man. “Are you good?”

The man below him groans in agony, slowly turning onto his back, showing everyone the gash right across his features. His porcelain features and pale skin is ruined with blood trickling down the sides of his face, bleeding into his hairline.

“Shit.” Heeseung whispers, looking over his shoulder at the other men. “Get some bandages. Go!” He looks forward again, seeing Jake holding the man’s head into his lap, brushing his hair out of his face and whispering affirmations and reassurances.

Heeseung stands, grabbing the hilt of his sword, looking around to find what mystery took his horse and slashes his guard's face, eyes only being met with darkness and the rubble of houses. His breathing quickens and he doesn’t remember much else that happens that night.

The night is fueled with exhaustion, the translation being long forgotten by everyone else except Jungwon, who distracts himself from the situation with it, an underlying guilt setting in his stomach. Jake stays seated throughout the night, keeping watch over Sunghoon and keeping the injured head in his lap, playing with his hair and soothing him when the pain starts to become unbearable.

Jay stays beside the youngest, having them sleep on either side of him in case the wretched creature comes back. Heeseung… Heeseung paces in circles around the camp, around the city. Watching as the moon hits the chapel’s stained glass windows, the symbol of harmony lighting up when it hits just right. His thoughts linger on every little thing, his wife, his kingdom, the light kingdom, the creature that just appeared and the way that the fire flickers lower and lower, straining Jungwon’s gaze.

It takes them two more days before Jake decides they can leave, too worried about Sunghoon’s safety. Since they’re missing a horse, Sunghoon sits on the back of Sunoo’s horse, much to Jake's dismay, and they set out again, the same cycle of no rest and constant travelling happening once more until they reach the border.

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dirtytransmasc · 15 hours ago

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reposting this cause I cooked with this one and it flopped so hard and I'm still mad. it honestly had some of my best writing then I've done in a while, even now.

some of the lines that sit with me to this day, rotting away my brain:

"that no amount of goodness— because his baby brother was good. flawed{, maybe. but} that's not even the right word, too harsh. he could call him flawed. no. no he was a child stumbling through life, a hard life, blindly. but he was good. always. always —could have given them a better fate."

"words left unsaid. clinging apologies. pleading— take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. please I'm begging you —words wanting to spill out at freely as the blood on the rocks"

"they only fell apart when they were old enough to understand what hate was."

"none of it should have been. had there been love, maybe Neteyam would still be living and breathing. maybe it would have changed their fate."

"What is your plan? do you see blood? will take my blood instead of his? I will bare my neck, just leave my brother unharmed. please I beg. I beg. he asked again when he was taken. take mine, not his. . . . and now he asks again, still trying to scrape his brother's blood from his nails. why couldn't you do this one thing for me? why couldn't you let him live? why couldn't you take this hated blood? why could I be your lamb?"

"there are more stars in the sky than there ever were on his skin. more light than there was in a lifetime of watching his eyes. they had gone so cold and tired so fast, just like his shoulders."

Spider prays for his brother's peace in Eywa. Neteyam plays in the creek with his brother, a wide smile on his face.

screaming and crying over Spider and Neteyam and Fable;

When I lifted his urn Divinity says, "Destiny can't be earned or returned" I feel when I question, my skin starts to burn Why does my skin start to burn? Capital loss Love was the law and religion was taught, I'm not bought Feel when we argue, our skin starts to rot Our skin starts to rot

So, share me your plan If I implore you, could I be your lamb? Understand I look for the truth in the back of your hand, and I Look into the open sky Stars blink like my brother's eyes Stars blink like my brother's eyes Stars blink like his eyes Like his eyes I dream of eternal life

Spider grieving the death of the baby brother he failed. he never pushed him away, he clung to him, he clung so hard, even if he did so quietly, because that was his first brother, his baby brother, in a way that Lo'ak was not (because first and younger are different. they matter the exact same, he could never have a favorite, but it's different in a way there are no words for). Neteyam could push and push and he'd still watch over him and love him and worry over him.

When I lifted his urn Divinity says, "Destiny can't be earned or returned"

Spider holding his baby brother one last time, even if he just sneaks into the mauri holding the dead, because he otherwise does not belong, scooping his head into his hands to kiss his forehead and whisper a goodbye and tell him he always loved him no matter what and that he's sorry. he's so sorry.

in that moment he realizes that their fate has come to end. they were always doomed. to be brothers. to fall apart. to never get a second chance. that no amount of goodness— because his baby brother was good. flawed. that's not even the right word, too harsh. he could call him flawed. no. no he was a child stumbling through life, a hard life, blindly. but he was good. always. always —could have given them a better fate.

I feel when I question, my skin starts to burn Why does my skin start to burn?

a flashback to Neteyam. maybe a memory in Eywa, when the soul of a boy who died too young with too many regrets and dreams and things to fix breaks through the idea of paradise, of peace and rest, of closure, and instead falls onto his brother.

the one he abandoned.

onto whispers— demon. he should be with his own kind. it is unbecoming of you. you need to be a warrior, Neteyam, not running of with him. he will only become his father. his blood bears his sins —that plagued him.

shame blisters his skin. it hurts. it aches. he turned his brother away over whispers? he hurt him over whispers? he put them both through so much pain over whispers?

it had always burned. the feeling was familiar. so familiar. every time he looked back to him and considered taking his hand or curling into his arms or falling into his lap, like old times, questioning why he had ever left this behind... it burned.

why did it burn? he used to think. and now he knows. shame. it was shame.

Capital loss Love was the law and religion was taught, I'm not bought

death. death and blood. death and blood and pain and...

words left unsaid.

clinging apologies.

pleading— take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. please I'm begging you —words wanting to spill out at freely as the blood on the rocks

none of it was worth it.

love should have always come before hate.

hate was taught.

they only fell apart when they were old enough to understand what hate was.

when Neteyam was old enough to understand he should— according to his mother and his people and his clan and all the weight on his shoulders —hate his brother.

when Spider was old enough to realize no one but his brothers- brother and sisters liked him. liked him enough to fight for him. in their childish ways.

none of it should have been.

had there been love, maybe Neteyam would still be living and breathing. maybe it would have changed their fate.

Feel when we argue, our skin starts to rot Our skin starts to rot

another flash. the final fall out. a blow up.

desperate pleading once more.

Neteyam begging his brother to leave him alone, because he cannot keep pushing. it is breaking him. but he can't— he is not allowed to have him.

Spider finally breaking under the weight. he cannot keep doing this.

but as they walk away, nausea eats them away.

Neteyam will cling to each second he can pretend things were as they used to be.

Spider will watch silently.

they are dying.

long before their deaths; the death of a body, the death of a heart and mind.

they are dying.

they are rotting.

fading away

So, share me your plan If I implore you, could I be your lamb? Understand

Spider seeking out the Great Mother. offering himself a sacrifice. forever the lamb.

he did it long before now. before Neteyam was gone. when the war came. when the war parties went out. when Neteyam joined them. when he came back bloodied and bruised.

What is your plan? do you see blood? will take my blood instead of his? I will bare my neck, just leave my brother unharmed. please I beg. I beg.

he asked again when he was taken.

take mine, not his.

because Neteyam might have been a warrior, but he was also his baby brother, and he would always bleed first. he would bleed the blood that tore them apart to begin with.

and now he asks again, still trying to scrape his brother's blood from his nails.

why couldn't you do this one thing for me? why couldn't you let him live? why couldn't you take this hated blood? why could I be your lamb?

I look for the truth in the back of your hand, and I look into the open sky

Spider holding his baby brother's hand. again and again and again. growjng older, larger, wider, tougher each time.

holding it one last time.

tracing where stars should be.

they aren't there.

neither are the answers.

he looks up.

Stars blink like my brother's eyes

he wishes his brother would just open his eyes. that he would see that childish brightness—

hope and love and light and blissful naivety. unknowing of hate

—once more. just one last time.

the stars hold that light.

Stars blink like my brother's eyes

tears prick his eyes once more.

there are more stars in the sky than there ever were on his skin.

more light than there was in a lifetime of watching his eyes.

they had gone so cold and tired so fast, just like his shoulders.

Stars blink like his eyes

he stares up at the stars and cries.

Like his eyes

he wants his baby brother back.

he just wants him back.

he'd give anything.

I dream of eternal life

Spider prays for his brother's peace in Eywa.

Neteyam plays in the creek with his brother, a wide smile on his face.

#this song is theirs actually #grief and guilt so strong Neteyam can feel the burn of shame in the afterlife #Spider would give his soul to soothe it #to tell him to never. ever. blame himself for it. to blame the hate shoved down his throat instead.#maybe one day he will get to.#Spider 1000% said goodbye to his baby brother. and if you think otherwise you don't know him.#he kissed his forehead. like when they were little and he made sure his brothe fell asleep first so he could kiss him goodnight.#he held his hand and held his head in his lap and told him he loved him. just for a moment.#he held his han when he was first brought to the water #just so he wouldn't be scared #he looked up to the stars and blinked back tears #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #spider socorro #miles spider socorro #miles socorro #avatar #avatar spider #neteyam #neteyam avatar #neteyam atwow #avatar neteyam #atwow neteyam #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully #brothers your honor #please don't flop

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itspileofgoodthings · 2 months ago

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had a moment today with my seniors that was so tense, I made myself stop, breathe, and say three hail Mary’s under my breath. the moment teetered and then the tension broke. I was so relieved.

#it wasn’t even like. a showdown or anything #but it’s the underlying unpleasantness that comes when a student continually and relentlessly chooses not to do the work #and they come face to face with the reality that I won’t let them not do any work #and it’s so hard for me not to aggravate the situation. to get angry almost pre-emptively to lash out at them #to be ready with my own storm of anger prepared to meet theirs #because I GET so angry #and it’s always better when I don’t #where I add nothing to the fire where I just let the consequences of their own actions play out #and let them sit in the misery they feel when they have a quiz they are unprepared for #without being instantly ready to counter their mood #which i always am! I’m so reactive. always have been.#and it doesn’t help. not when it’s negative #so I just have to breathe and pray in the face of it #I didn’t expect the mood to suddenly swing. I actually was fully prepared to HAVE to lecture them #after I said the hail Mary’s but the problem was solved in the saying of them #this makes no sense I am giving no specifics 😂#but it’s been a hard time with my seniors and this made it better #teaching tag

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aenslem · 6 months ago

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THE RAVEN Star Trek: Voyager

#trekedit #startrekedit #star trek #treksource #startrekgifs #mine*#sd*#tvedit #voy #kathryn janeway #seven of nine #kate mulgrew #jeri ryan #the lighting of this scene is awful uuuugh #i just love the way she touches her face??#like... okay it looks like seven did not just say good night #but also kissed her and left #and she is sitting there thinking about it touching her face #ma'am mA'AM!#anyway im hating the catsuit even more on my rewatch #every time seven's on screen i feel like i can't breathe it is so tight it feels so uncomfortable #yall can hate picard all you want but im so glad it gave us seven in normal clothes #praying for captain seven show to happen PLEASE PLEASE UNIVERSE I NEVER AKSED ANYTHING BEFORE #except the times i asked something #but we need seven as captain we need her have her own ship and crew and show and her girlfriend as number one #we need it WE NEEEED IIIIIT

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fromthemouthofkings · 22 days ago

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A group of far-future linguists and archeologists suddenly *poof* into existence in front of me. One is holding a tablet. "What is the difference between 'red sauce' and 'tomato sauce?'" they ask me. "The distinction is not clear in extant texts from this time and place."

"Uh, they're the same thing," I tell them. "Who are you?"

"Yes!" the being with the tablet exclaims.

One of the other researchers groans. "No! My thesis...months of writing wasted..." One of the others comforts them.

"Now, what is this object for?" The first researcher holds up a discolored, dinged-up plastic object. It's clearly been buried in the ground for quite some time, but the two holes and the scuffed plastic window are distinctive.

"That's a cassette tape. You record music with it."

"Interesting, interesting." The being enters something on the tablet.

"How are you speaking English?"

"Sophisticated translation technology," one of the researchers confides. "We are students of your society. From the future."

"What does this pictogram represent?" The researcher with the tablet turns it around so that the screen faces me.

It's the eggplant emoji.

"Sex," I say. "Why do you need to ask me this if you can time travel or whatever? Can't you just go wherever you want to go and look around and see how these things are being used?"

The beings shift guiltily and look at each other. "Technically, travel to times and places prior the advent of time travel is strictly prohibited. Paradoxes, you know."

"Oh."

"We must get back before our advisor returns to the lab. Just don't tell anyone you saw us, alright? The space-time continuity depends on it. Can you do that?"

"Uh, sure, I guess?"

One of them pats me on the head. "And don't go to Mars."

"Okay. Wait, why? Is it dangerous?"

"No. Just not worth it."

The group disappears in a shimmering light.

The cassette clatters to the sidewalk behind them.

Out of befuddlement, mainly, I pick it up. It's clearly old, discolored and scuffed, but it still has tape in it.

I carry the tape around in my pocket for a while. The curiosity builds. I want to know what's on that tape. I don't have a cassette player anymore, so I go to Goodwill and pick up the first one I can find, praying that it still works. I plug it in. It turns on.

I slide the tape inside. It's dirty, but it still seems to be in decent shape. I snap the player closed and hit play. The wheels begin to turn. I hold my breath.

A familiar tune starts up. A wobbly voice comes out of the machine.

We're no strangers to love

#flash fiction #microfiction #my writing #>:3

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prosypepper · 14 days ago

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wet dreamz

summary: it’s your (and your bf’s/husband’s/hookup’s/whatever’s) first time together. .

warnings: nsfw for all so 18+ mdni!; virginity loss on both parts, premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v, talks about virginity, college au (gojo); hookups, fingering, dominant kento, talks about virginity (nanami); unprotected p in v, rough sex, little bit of dirty talk, seduction (toji); oral, friends to lovers (geto).

pepper's notes: IT'S finally here...thank you all soo much for 1k i am so so appreciative & i am SO SO sorry it took me this long to get this out. i've been going through it so thank u all for understanding. i love all of u so much thank u all. MWAH MWAH.

satoru gojo

nervous? check. horny? check. praying to god you can’t see the huge erection in his pants? also check.

maybe satoru was an idiot for telling you he wasn’t a virgin, when he was in fact the biggest virgin in the universe, possibly. and maybe you were an idiot for talking him up and inflating his ego even more—and avoiding the conversation about whether or not you were a virgin, too.

either way, satoru’s big talk and your enabling caused you to be in this position—stradding your almost-boyfriend’s lap, desperately and sloppily moving your lips against his. silently, your pray in your mind that you’re doing everything right, threading your fingers through the white locks of satoru’s hair and trying to keep up with the pace of his enthusiastic make-out.

“do y-you—wanna…” satoru breathes out as he pulls away for a second, “you know.” he shrugs, looking off to the side out of anxiety for your answer. your own eyes flicker down for just a second, stomach flipping over at the question.

you’ve been through the innocent stages—the cute crushing and passing looks—and now, it’s time to own up to all that talking from the not-so-innocent stage you’ve built.

“mhm,” you hum, refusing to look at satoru just as much as he is to you. it’s obvious how nervous you are, palms sweating and gulping. knees digging into the soft plush of your dorm bed mattress, you’re readjusting your weight over and over because you can’t sit still.

satoru’s hands squeeze your hips, slightly pressing you down to feel the bulge that’s been prodding against his pants for about thirty minutes. eyes widening, you look at satoru—who’s about to burst. his face is all red and flushed, and his lip is pulled in between his perfect teeth.

shit, he’s about to lose it.

impatient, satoru ushers you to move off of his lap and onto the bed, swiftly rearranging your bodies to where you’re trapped beneath him. butterflies twirl in your stomach, more intense as the seconds go by, and you swear you’re about to throw up when satoru pulls his shirt off.

he’s gorgeous, obviously—but his toned torso and reddened skin from all his blushing are so pretty up close. satoru’s fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts, eagerly pulling them down before you grab his wrist as a reflex. he stops and looks you in the eye, letting you settle down for a second before you let go. it’s charming, really—he wants nothing more than for you to want this.

because satoru’s wanted this for so long. he wants it bad.

lengthy fingers work your shorts and underwear down all at once, and your thighs snap shut as to not expose yourself even more. satoru’s hands rest on your knees, rubbing small circles while his eyes trace over your body.

“you okay, baby?” he asks, voice just the littlest bit shaky.

“huh—oh, yeah, yes,” you mumble in response, “are you?”

“yeah—yes,” satoru answers, repeating after you, looking like he’s about to throw up. yet his anxiety doesn’t stop him from shoving his bottoms down, allowing his heavy length to spring free and finally be shown.

to say the least, it scares you even more knowing you’ll have to take that. satoru is huge, terribly long and painfully hard from all the teasing you’ve done to one another. you wince when satoru goes to separate your knees, and your hands immediately go to push at his chest.

“satoru,” you whisper, connecting your own hazy eyes with his, “i—i know that you’ve…done this before.” you bite your lip, blinking softly.

“um—yeah,” satoru deeply says, trying to focus on what you’re saying—but damn you look so pretty underneath him, and your skin is so soft. you’re so gorgeous and he’s once again about to lose it.

“i just…” your eyes flicker to the side, “i’ve never done this before. s-so…be gentle, please?”

oh, god.

satoru’s heart is going to burst out of his chest.

“it’s okay, i—i’ll be gentle. promise,” satoru assures you, bringing a hand to stroke your cheek. his touch makes you let out a deep sigh, and you feel so delicate in his grasp. vulnerable enough to finally separate your knees, slowly dropping them down and exposing your sinfully drenched cunt.

satoru’s face rightfully goes pale. everything he’s ever wanted is in front of him—you’re giving yourself up to him. satoru gojo. the random guy you met in class a month or so ago that was not so random now.

as the butterflies circle in his stomach, satoru sweetly trails his fingers down the inside of your thighs, forcing the pulse in between your legs to grow into a harsh heartbeat. he notices every small movement—the twitch of your legs and how intensely your chest heaves—and he believes you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“careful, careful,” satoru mutters to himself, taking long seconds in between each of his movements. he doesn’t want to startle you—and even more, he doesn’t want to hurt you.

grunting lightly, the white haired man lifts your legs and rests the back of your thighs on top of his. this gets you even closer to him, both of you can feel the raw heat radiating off of one another’s bodies. satoru takes his length in his hand and taps it against your sticky folds, teasing your sensitive nerves and himself in the process.

“i’m gonna—gonna put it in now, okay?” satoru uneasily states.

“wait—but—oh!” you gasp as the tip—and only the tip—of satoru’s cock pushes past the resistant walls of your cunt, molding the tight space to fit him snugly. the stretch burns, it’s a sharp pain that shoots through you with no remorse. “mm—satoru, it hurts,” you whine, pushing against gojo’s built abdomen.

yet when he doesn’t budge, you look up at his eyes, which are glued to scene below him. he can’t help it—because he’s not just in you, no—he’s impaling you with his girth, you’re stretched so far around him by just his tip. he felt guilty at first at the thought of hurting you, but now, nothing is in his mind except for that image.

“satoru!” you shout, snapping the man’s attention to you. satoru’s eyes are glowing with lust, his cheeks red and flustered. little to your knowledge, he’s already on the cusp of an orgasm—hell, he was there before he’d even got his shirt off.

“i’m sorry—shit—i’m sorry, baby,” satoru babbles, before dislodging himself from your hole, strings of slick lewdly connecting the tip of his cock to your folds. “fuck—i’m so sorry,” he grunts, just as a few huge ropes of translucent white cum spurt from his cock, coating your abdomen in the substance.

your eyes are wide in surprise at how quickly it all happened, not even having a moment in your mind to process that you just made the satoru gojo cum in a few seconds. all it took was a little kissing and some gruesomely lewd imagery—and he was putty in your hands.

satoru falls atop you, becoming dead weight as his post-orgasmic state forces him to give out. his chest heaves against yours, his snow white hair tickles your shoulder. as much as you want to push him away—there’s something awfully sweet about the interaction. he’s close, closer than he’d allowed himself to be previously.

shaky breaths are shared between you, as is the warmth from your bodies—the warmth from your hearts—and all the emotions overcoming satoru are all too obvious. you shuffle around one another into a more comfortable position, until satoru’s head is on your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

“are you okay?” you whisper, threading your fingers through satoru’s hair to twirl a few strands.

“yeah,” he sighs, cuddling up to you even more. there’s something hidden in the way he’s acting, but you don’t mind for now—you allow the vulnerability to sink in.

because it’s way too obvious this boy was lying about not being a virgin.

kento nanami

the world of hookups was difficult to navigate.

sure, you were technically trying to find a boyfriend—but everyone knows dating apps aren’t really the best thing for that. it had landed you a few matches and a couple of okay dates; but you hadn’t been quite as far with anyone as you had made it with your current date.

kento nanami, a rather distinguished businessman who had “just looking to relieve some stress” in his bio, had taken you out to an expensive restaurant and then to a very expensive hotel afterwards. whatever charm this man had worked a million times over on you—you weren’t sure if it was his demeanor or that rolex on his wrist—but whatever it was, it absolutely lured you all the way into a king size bed with nanami.

he was still mostly dressed, only his shoes were off and placed next to the bed, and his powder blue dress shirt was unbuttoned about halfway down, revealing his toned chest and a rather uncharacteristic gold chain that was previously hidden. nanami’s hair was still in perfect place, not having even broken a sweat.

you, on the other hand, have your dressed hiked up to just above your legs and the top tucked underneath your tits—pretty much on full display for kento besides the fact he’s behind you, strong legs prying your own open.

your thigh twitches when kento runs his fingers up and down the soft flesh, your hands resting on his biceps to keep yourself from running away. quite interested in what was in store for the night, you weren’t going to fight back—honestly, who would run away from a man as gorgeous as kento?

“do you do this often?” you shakily ask to break the thick silence, staring down at your bodies.

“do what, sweetheart?” kento’s monotone voice replies, using his free hand to reach up and grab under your jaw.

“this. take girls to hotels to…do stuff,” you allude to the same thing he’s doing now, turning your head with kento’s hand to look up at him. your soft lashes bat at the blond man as he chuckles, deep, giving just the slightest smile at your questions.

“not too often,” he simply says, kissing right next to your lips, “why?”

“uhm,” you croak, losing track of thought the moment his lips touched your face, “i don’t know. i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” kento softly chuckles, letting go of your head to rest on the side of his chest, “just relax, okay? i just want to take care of you.”

just relax, breathe, you repeat to yourself over and over again while you listen to kento’s steady heartbeat. your heart is racing but inevitably slows for the time being listening to the slow thump of your hookup’s heart. his fingers continue to trace small shapes over your thighs, every now and again moving just a little higher.

kento is painfully hard under his dress pants, yet he’s restraining himself for now—because he’s going to do what he came here to do first.

“can i touch you, love?” nanami asks, pecking a small kiss to your temple afterwards.

“yes, mhm,” you murmur, thickly swallowing in anticipation as his fingers begin to inch towards your heat. you can feel how wet you are—but you’re rather embarrassed for nanami to find out just how easily he riled you up.

“let me ask you something,” kento begins, dipping his fingers into your folds to feel the amount of slick conjured up, “are you a virgin?” and he’s not asking in a weird way like pretty much every other man you’ve known; he’s asking genuinely, because he has the gut feeling to be gentle.

“uh—i—,” you mumble, before finally admitting a small, “yes, i’m sorry.”

“aw,” kento coos, beginning to run his fingers over your aching heat, “don’t apologize, i’ll be gentle.” although you’re appreciative to his gracefulness, you begin to wonder just how rough he usually was—and those sinful visuals make you throb against nanami’s fingers.

“okay, please,” you hiss, the sensations of kento’s fingers working your cunt running through your body. hands grab at his arms tighter, your sensitivity making it difficult for you to stay still.

you’re almost sure that you’ve never been so turned on before, and your elevated responses to nanami’s simple touches are an attestment to that. his middle finger focuses on your sensitive bud, going between movements of flicking and slowly rubbing circles around and around.

“how does this feel?” nanami questions, watching every move—every twitch—that you make. he sees just how new this is to you, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him just a little bit prideful.

“good. so good,” you babble, eyes squeezing shut when kento begins to pick up his pace. the pleasure runs all through you, intense, that orgasmic feeling creeping up on you much sooner than you’d ever been able to do yourself.

kento’s like a magician. he makes your hips wriggle and your legs twitch effortlessly, he causes your face to contort in a indecent way without even trying, it seems. hell, the increasing pace of his fingers on your clit is almost making you crawl away, your nails are digging into his skin and you don’t even realize it.

“stay still,” kento commands, using his free hand to press down right on your abdomen, “don’t fight it, darling. don’t fight it.”

his words calm you down just a little, instead you just stay in place while your body jolts every other second from the sensitive pleasure he’s causing within you. breathless whines fall from your lips in the utmost pathetic way, signaling just how good you feel to kento.

“what is it, hm? tell me,” kento tells you, staying at an intense, fast pace just to make you lose your mind a little more.

“i think,” you whine, breath hitching as the feeling in your tummy intensifies, “i might cum.” as embarrassed as you may be to admit it, you simply cannot help what falls from your mouth. it’s all kento’s fault.

“you can cum, my love,” kento assures, pressing a kiss into your hair, “you can do it.”

somehow, his voice erases every anxious thought in your mind, your body responding with nothing but pathetic moans and a very, terribly, intense orgasm you didn’t even recognize as being so close. kento can feel on his fingers when you finally cum, chuckling once again to himself at how easily he coaxed an orgasm out of you.

it’s cute, really.

you lay back on him after calming down—with your hair all messy and face somewhat sweaty—you’re so adorable in his arms, kento thinks he might just have to turn this into more than a one night stand.

toji fushiguro

if toji had known what he was getting himself into with you, he’d probably accepted that deal from shiu wayyy earlier.

bossy, crude and mean—you were everything toji had ever dreamed of in a woman. the type that didn’t take shit, you’d go toe-to-toe with a man twice your size without hesitation, and there was something about it toji truly admired.

after his first time meeting you, he understood why shiu had told him not to fuck with you.

how could he not, though?

toji was about to fuck you right now.

he couldn’t help the natural charm he used on everyone, and especially women, and he couldn’t help that you fell for it, either. shiu would be pissed if he ever found out about it—hell, he’d kill him—but you only live once, right? there’s no way toji could turn down an offer such as this from a bombshell like you.

“you sure you’re not married?” you’re purring into toji’s ear, running your fingers over his chest, “you’re so handsome, toji.”

every bit of sultry poison that spills from your lips is music to toji’s ears, making his heart thump just a little harder and the tent in his pants to get just a bit stiffer. his big arm his lazily wrapped around your waist, and that sleazy grin of his pulls at his lips at your question.

“yes, ma’am,” toji says with a nod, holding up his left hand to show the absence of a wedding band on his ring finger.

with that, you throw a leg over his lap, fixing yourself to straddle toji’s lap and rest your arms around his neck. looking him straight in the eyes, you’re satisfied that your little plan had come together so easily.

toji was wrapped around your pretty, manicured finger—and he had no clue. that little charm he was so sure of was nothing in comparison to yours.

“do you want to fuck me, toji?” you ask, glossed lips forming a pretty little pout and your head cocking to the side innocently. toji’s adam’s apple bobs when he swallows thickly, a little crack in the confident and cocky façade he put on in front of you.

“fuck yeah,” toji whispers, hands gripping at your waist.

to say the least, toji really meant that little “fuck yeah,” because it only takes him a few seconds to rip your clothes—and his—off and flip you over. he’s in a daze when he pries your legs open, staring straight at your messy, wet pussy—immediately lifting one of your legs up and attaching his calloused fingers to your clit.

“jesus,” toji breathes, in utter awe at how soaked you are, his eyes never leaving your body. you hum in response to the pleasure, softly biting your lower lip and studying the broad man in front of you. toji quickly uses your slick to lube up his cock, grunting at the small chill that runs up his spine from finally allowing himself some friction.

growing ever impatient, you shimmy your hips down to signal you’re ready. the squelch that reverberates through the room when toji finally slides in is downright disgusting, and you sigh in content at the feeling of being stretched open.

toji immediately groans, loud, and throws his head back at how you feel—tight and warm around him, greedily sucking his length in the more he pushes into your walls. smiling devilishly at toji, you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in even closer, giving in to your desires and pushing him to do the same.

“stop that,” toji roughly commands, squeezing your thigh to keep his self-control in check—or at least try his best to. you know what he’s saying is only for his own benefit.

but that’s not what you want—and toji should know by now you got whatever you wanted.

“stop what?” you question, interlocking your heels behind him. a finger twirls your hair as you look at toji dumbly, as if there wasn’t a single coherent thought in your mind. yet every move you make is orchestrated to a t, pushing and pushing toji to finally snap and just give you what you want.

what you need.

“fuck,” toji’s moaning the curse over and over when he slowly begins to move, gently rocking his hips back and forth to meet yours, “you feel so fucking good, oh my god.” he praises you so gently under his breath, silently hoping you won’t hear him as to not inflate your ego anymore.

“tojiii,” you whine, a small pout forming once again on your pretty lips, “harder.”

toji shakes his head, whisps of black hair moving around in unison with it, refusing to look into your eyes. he looks anywhere else—your tits, your stomach, your cunt—because he’s afraid he’ll give in the moment he finally catches your pupils.

but fuck, are you convincing.

“harder?” toji repeats, “fuckin’ harder?”

his hips pick up speed at the same time that his hands come to grab your arms, affectively pinning you down to the mattress. you allow your legs to spread lewdly, opening up fully for toji to use.

the tip of toji’s cock prods at your cervix, the pleasurable pressure going through your whole body. he’s going at you like an animal, harshly impaling your cunt with his girth, all senses of caring and restriction thrown out the window.

though you might regret it in the morning, you’re going to get what you want.

suguru geto

“suguru, stop moving.”

the long haired man winces and holds his breath at the sting of the alcohol, gripping onto the counter you’re sat upon. your knees rest at his sides, barely holding suguru in place, nevertheless not allowing him to move due to your fussing when he did so.

he had gotten into a fight with some guy at a party, causing him to show up to your dorm battered and bruised with a few cuts over his handsome face. now, a couple clear band-aids litter his skin, and suguru’s eyes stay on yours in hopes you’ll look into his.

all the while, you wonder why suguru had come to you out of all the people (and women) he knew. there was an unsaid tension between you two, sometimes sexual and other times just tension.

the two of you were idiots in love, and yet, neither one of you had the guts to say anything about it.

“there we go,” you sigh, running your thumb over the last bandage placed above suguru’s eyebrow. finally, you look suguru straight in the eyes for only a second, catching his dreamy gaze.

“you’re so pretty,” suguru faintly whispers, giving you the tiniest little smile. he’d had the habit of calling you pretty and gorgeous in a “hyping you up” sort of way—but this was different. he meant it.

so much so, in fact, it only takes him about three seconds to kiss you. it’s a long peck, mostly catching you by surprise, before he leans back with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

“suguru—,”

“i’m so sorry, fuck,” he apologizes, paralyzed in place with his hands still gripping the counter. his eyes remain locked with yours, the fear of ruining your friendship behind them.

“suguru,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to the sides of his face. you rest them there firmly, feeling the increasing heat of his cheeks under your palms. pulling his face towards yours, you egg him on to kiss you again, this time with reciprocation on your part.

it’s hot, you’re swapping spit with the dark-haired man without a second thought, allowing your tongues to interlock and twist around each other. butterflies flutter in your tummy, but you swallow them and let yourself relax into it all.

the rest comes easily—all of that tension built up for years at this point is finally coming to a head, giving in to all of those desires you’d only had in the comfort of your bedroom. your arms rest over suguru’s shoulders, your hands tangle in his hair, while his hands come to squeeze you wherever he can grab—your waist, your ass—anywhere he can place his greedy fingers and grasp onto.

“let me—,” gasp, “—eat you out, please,” suguru begs in between kisses, barely allowing himself to heave for air.

those annoying butterflies pick up again—god, you could throw up at his suggestion—yet instead you’re pushing his head down, down, until he’s on his knees in front of you. your shorts are quickly tugged off along with your panties, leaving you in nothing but a big t-shirt on the counter of your tiny bathroom.

the room is filled with raw lust, as are suguru’s eyes when he finally gets a glimpse of your soaked heat. it’s a million times better than he could’ve imagined, no mental image could ever be like the real thing—warm, real and wet, right in front of his face; and all for him.

suguru starts off slow, littering small kisses along your inner thighs while parting your knees, until there’s enough room to fit his head closer to your cunt. he gives small kisses to your folds, barely suckling on your clit to pull small gasps of moans from your throat.

“fuck, suguru,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair and giving a light tug.

“hmm?” he hums into your cunt, vibrating against your core in the most sinister way. your words are long forgotten after that, only giving a big sigh in response.

suguru’s tongue dips from between his lips to lick a long stripe up your cunt, going just a tad slower to focus on your clit. his tongue circles around and around the swollen bud, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your abdomen and down your legs.

already, you can feel that tiny knot begin to form the longer suguru goes on, becoming more intense by the second. he’s harsh, vulgar sucking and slurping sounding throughout the room. the counter below you is soaked in your arousal, as is the lower half of suguru’s face.

you’re just that messy—and he loves it.

he’s living for it.

suguru didn’t even realize how much he loved you—how much he adored and admired you, inside and out—until this. until he was down on his knees, in front of you, begging for you without any words coming out of his mouth. until he had finally allowed himself to look into your eyes deeper than ever before.

“i love you—mmph—so much,” suguru hums into your folds, just as he’s taking that knot to the verge of snapping.

“i-love-you-too-suguru, please don’t stop,” you mutter, throwing your head back against the mirror, before you can even realize what you’re saying back—but it all comes so naturally you don’t even think twice. it’s not even orgasm brain—it’s true, just as true as when he said it to you.

suguru’s tongue completely focuses on your clit—swirling around and sucking the swollen bud until you’re almost thrown over the edge, finally toppling over with a spew of ‘i love you’s and ‘please don’t stop’s. your body goes limp against the mirror of the bathroom, chest dramatically heaving for many moments while suguru helps you ride through the feeling. he stands up and wipes his face off with the back of his hand, smiling to himself at the vision of a fucked-out you who had just confessed your feelings to him.

one of your eyes finally creeps open after a few minutes, only to be met with suguru giving you a shit-eating grin, his hand resting atop your thigh. he can feel how delicate you are at the moment; he doesn’t want you to run away and lock him out of your life just because you told him how you feel—but you wouldn’t do that anyway.

suguru confessed first, after all.

once again thank u all so much. i love u.

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