#verse: you know the two of us are just young gods

[angelicgentleman]

@flameandindifference continued from here.

Before the King can even say something, a cold, soothing hand runs up his back, rubbing it slowly. It wasn't the first time Lucius woke up like this, but Pip didn't mind. With a soft yawn, he pulls himself up and slides from the bed, soon enough walking towards the door. On his way there, he grabbed one of the robes that were discarded on the floor last evening and wrapped himself in it. Too big. Definitely wasn't his, but that was not an issue.

"I'll be right back, dear," he promises and leaves, quickly making his way to the kitchen. It wasn't too close to the bedroom; the manor was huge. It took him a lot of time to memorize it when they first moved here after it was rebuilt.

Preparing the tea and returning takes a few minutes, but he makes sure to be back as soon as possible. Eventually, he slides through the bedroom door, quietly kicking it closed on his way in. Pip carries a tray with two cups of tea and a small teapot in case his beloved husband needs some more. Gently, he places it on the night stand on Lucius' side and crawls onto the bed and then onto Lucius' lap. Before he can reach out for the cup, Pip wraps his arms around him, hugging him close. Tea can wait a minute or two, he has to comfort his husband first.

[angelicgentleman]

There's a soft hum at the kiss as he kisses him back, letting it last as long as the other led. Pip pouts slightly when the kiss breaks and he's put down, but he doesn't complain otherwise. The longer they are covered in blood the more mess they will make and while he wouldn't be opposed to it otherwise, he didn't feel like it today. So he watches as Lucius takes off his shirt, and he doesn't even try to pretend he's not staring. They both knew the truth, so there was no point in hiding that. Pip remembered every scar Lucius had, he could find and trace all of them with his eyes closed. He was the one to patch up most of them.

Still, wasting no time, he moves to take off his own shirt and toss it onto the pile. There's a soft sigh as he looks down at himself and into the mirror. He stood at a perfect angle for it to reflect all of his scars; he didn't mind most of them, but the one he always disliked was spreading across his left arm and shoulder, ending on his back. It was the biggest and most visible, even though it healed properly. Pip had it since the day the manor was set on fire, but he was lucky the scar was the only thing he got from that day. If it wasn't for Lucius, he would have died that night.

With that thought in mind, he forces a smile and he looks up. The scar might be something that he was insecure about, but he knew just the perfect solution to that. Philip turned his head slightly, enough to still see himself in the mirror but just right to show his mark. He moves his hand to gently trace it with his fingers and he doesn't have to force the smile anymore. Pip wore that mark with pride.

Hearing Lucius speak, he is pulled out of his thoughts. With a smile, he takes a few steps closer to him, until he can reach him "Maybe some other day then." he teases slightly, reaching his hand to rest it on Lucius' cheek. "You know I enjoy seeing you like this just as much." he hums and bites his lip softly.

"Yes, I know."

And it's returned and punctuated by Lucius kissing his most loyal human follower softly on the lips, being sure to drag it slow and easy. A shame that there were other matters to attend to before any full relaxation or cuddling could be had. With a sigh of disappointment, the King of Hell must put Pip down in order to begin setting things up for cleaning. He would not allow his dear one to remain in this... filthy state, even if Pip did look so good covered in blood.

Soon enough the tub is running and Lucius has busied himself in peeling away the blood soaked clothing that has been hindering them for the last half hour, scoffing a little bit as he tosses it aside to be burned later.

"While I enjoy you covered in blood, dearest... I like it less when it's your own."

[ma1dita]

partners in crime

luke castellan x fem!dionysus!reader [the trouble!verse]

MAIN SERIES MASTERPOST

summary: few things are certain in this life as a demigod, but one thing is for sure— you can’t fight fate when it pulls you and luke castellan together, over and over again. two young people who hate the gods are more like them than they think, for better or worse. annoyances to best friends to lovers

things to know: dionysus!reader's nickname is trouble & most of these can be read as standalones!

here's a playlist (spotify & apple music links now available!)

child of dionysus headcanons!

trouble!verse moodboard 1 & moodboard 2 & college!trouble by the lovely @24kmar

deleted scenes from a different universe (AUs)

play the extended cuts (blurbs from in-between)

character study: luke castellan & trouble

any works, updates, thoughts, musings, etc about this series will be tagged under #trouble!verse !

key: fluff - ☼ angst - ☽ smut - ☆ jo's favorites - ᥫ᭡

[rewind to before] pre-established relationship

trouble always finds me (trouble!reader origin story) 1.7k ☼

The one where he could tell you were trouble from the day he met you. (You're an annoyance, but not an enemy)

entropy 3.6k☼

The one where you both blur the lines between annoyance and admiration. (the promise of becoming partners in crime)

buddy system 4.2k ☼

The one where he comes with you to rescue your younger twin brothers, Pollux & Castor. (this is as close to a real quest that Mr. D will give you--might as well take someone you trust!)

somebody's angel 4.4k ☽

The one where you convince him he’s pretty, even with a scar. (songfic - Die Alone - Finneas)

feed the fire 1.2k ☼

The one where his focus is not on spilled food, but on you. (Luke realizes this is more than playful banter)

bedtime stories 2.4k ☼

The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don’t mind at all. (the both of you have feelings you want to admit, but duty calls!)

crazy little thing 3.4k ☼

The one where he uses all his drachmas to make you smile on Valentine's Day. (the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite, sometimes)

anything you want 1.6k ☼

The one where you and him have your first kiss. (You've always loved teaching the story of Orpheus and Eurydice; except when your Orpheus runs away from you)

said he likes crazy 2.1k ☼ ☽

The one where only he can help you with a bad day, even if he's avoided you since your first kiss. (For being a son of Hermes, he has a way of calming your nerves)

[pause and remember us like this] established relationship

play pretend 5.1k ☼

The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren’t exactly together yet. (Drunk words are sober thoughts. Your dad just wishes Luke told you instead of him)

a wish your heart makes 1.4k ☼ ☽

The one where you share dreams, burn cookies, and it still reminds him of home. (The dryads will probably ban you from the kitchen after this)

star crossing 4k (NEWEST ADD) ☼

The one where both your dreams come to life for a night (Crossing the stars for love is easier said than done)

to see the chaos through ☽

The one where he remembers he was never a good guy, just yours. (Luke makes the ultimate deal with the devil in order to save you)

not your goddess ☽

The one where you both know the best of days eventually have to come to an end. (songfic - Goddess - Laufey)

don't blame the kids ☼

The one where you both chaperone a trip to Mount Olympus. (the Olympians are bigger gossips than you thought they'd be)

trouble's coming for you 3.7k ☼

The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. (three times Percy is oblivious (and in the way) and the time he realizes you and Luke are in love)

now that we're older 3.5k ☼

The one where he asks if you can stay the night even if all of cabin 11 makes fun of him. (Luke is tired of the routine. He just needs his girl)

if you need to be mean (be mean to me) 1.5k☽

The one where he leaves before you wake up. (songfic - I Don't Smoke - Mitski )

[fast forward until we meet again] post-tlt

lovers, or partners in crime 2.1k ☽

The one where Annabeth and Percy think you’re guilty too. (the last day leading up to Luke's betrayal)

love like a blister: the five stages of loving losing luke 4.7k ☽

The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they’re still alive. (the five stages of grief after facing a loss)

to catch a thief 3.7k ☼ ☽

The one where duty calls at Camp Half-Blood. Again. (Your reunion with Luke isn't quite what you expected.)

solipsism 5.3k ☽

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. (the four times Luke uses Backbiter to visit you during college ft. the first time you trust a god to help you)

forever falling: luke castellan & his four great loves 4.3k ☼ ☽

The one where he falls from grace and still thinks of you. (the four great loves of Luke Castellan’s life and how it will end up killing him)

love me dry 4.5k ☼ ☽

The one where he meets you at his mother's house, though both of you didn't expect the other to be there. (a glimpse into May Castellan's idea of a perfect day)

when the curtains close 5.3k☽

The one where you lose two people in the Labyrinth that day. All strings are cut. (Annabeth and Pollux find out the biggest difference between you and Luke.)

asking for trouble ☽

The one where Luke's final wish is to see you. (He's himself again, and all he wants is to find out if the trouble was worth it all)

as above, so below ☽ ☼

The one where you plead your case with the gods of Olympus. (The one thing the fates didn't expect was how much you'd both be like your fathers; in a way, you and Luke didn't see it coming either)

ask to be added to luke/general taglist 🥹

[sanemisstalker]

Incel! Gyutaro, but it's a modern western college! au and you whip him into shape real fast. My ex won't talk to me, so I'm very much fantasizing about a man that will be obsessive over me ---> gyutaro NSFW

CW// Fem reader / AFAB genitalia / Breasted Reader / INCEL MENTALITIES : Sexism, Poly Hate / BDSM dynamics/ Implied ED (Gyutaro is a gym junkie who should definitely be eating more) / SH / Men's Mental Health / Inconsistent POV because I'm writing this with my hand down my pants (I am joking)

PART TWO <-

-You go to community College with him. He's some fucking dude in your necessary math course they wouldn't let you drop. He sits next to you in the booths.

-He's not awful looking. He's got some weird scars across his face, but like, they're kind of artsy. They add a flare the guy would be lacking otherwise.

-His vibe is a little... weird. He doesn't talk in class ever. You see him around campus and he doesn't seem... at all versed in social interaction. You once watched him get into a fight, which was a little sexy, but since it was with Tengen Uzui, your eyes were much more interested in the latter.

-Gyutaro is used to that though. Never being the one looked at. Typical of women like you. You're always frothing at the mouth over fucking Chad's like Tengen- He got it. Tengen was built, strong jawed, and just reeked of sex appeal wherever he walked. He always had the glaze of one of those five sluts he hung out with on his lips-

-Tengen was lucky. He's apparently been training since he was young- to look like a Greek God and all. Gyutaro spent the first years of his life fighting to survive in a hospital, and then every year after fighting to live in his home safely.

-and girls like you- sluts like you were always going to favour Tengen. Always assholes.

-After that fight, you began speaking to Gyutaro. You didn't come onto the topic immediately- you didn't want to pry- So You'd mention his shirt.

-'Is that Death Cab For Cutie?' His heart dropped when you spoke. He didn't even register you were talking about his shirt.

-'Are... Are you talking to me?' He'd croak. His voice was quite nice. Soft, but low.

-'Yeah- Your shirt? That's... That's death cab for cutie, right?'

-'Y-Yeah.'

-As classes rolled by, you came to understand that Gyutaro was a very... disturbed individual. Aside from being generally jumpy and odd, his moral opinions specifically toward women were less than desirable.

-You came to know of his opinions toward Tengen as well. The level of insecurity dripping from every word was palatable... even through the venom.

-He called women 'femoids' and constantly tried to express that Tengen had been given a bigger genetic stick in life. You could never decide if he was referring to Tengen's dick or not.

-You were different, though, He'd assure. You always got what he was saying. Even if you were just letting him mindlessly ramble about his awful, borderline questionable mentalities.

-with said mentalities, you began to realize that Gyutaro was a very easy man. An incredibly easy man. Who was incredibly attracted to every woman he met- but especially you.

-'Gyutaro, have you ever slept with anyone?' You'd ask one day, on the way to the cafeteria. On the few days he chose that over the gym, he'd walk with you. You worried about him, occasionally.

-The question would visibly startle him.

-'I-No. I'm - ha- I'm not... Why?' He'd cut over his own words, face burning.

-'Just curious. You seem all cool, like you get around.' You'd melt a little at that prideful look on his face. How absolutely smitten.

-Maybe the power went to your head, but you began to seek little moments of affirmation from Gyutaro. You'd bend over, a little too close to him- The chronic porn addict. Knowing what it did to him.

-You'd always compliment his shirts- All of his bands incredibly main stream despite his insistence that they weren't.

-You remembered the noise he made when you grabbed his arm in class, once. The teacher had decided to round up the class grade- just barely passing you- and you turned and clung onto his arm, and it was almost like he choked.

-'Hey, Gyutaro, can I come over and study?' You'd pose one day. His face would turn red, a hand flying to his scarred wrist. He itched the skin off- almost always raw.

-'To my- my dorm?'

-'Mhm.'

-'My room isn't-' He'd pause. 'Why? What do you want?' His emotions would flit, unsure of your reasoning. You'd roll your eyes.

-'To hang out? You know? On the one night a week we don't have homework?'

-'Aren't you going to go... party? You do every other weekend.' You found the tang of malice on his tongue adorable. Irritating, but adorable.

'One, I don't party every week. Two, I think you'd be fun to hang out with. What, am I not pretty enough to bring back to your roomate? Am I not allowed in the great and powerful lord Gyutaro's room? ' You'd taunt.

-'N-no. You're pr- no I-'

-'Cool! You live in the good dorms, right?'

-Gyutaro did live in the good dorms. He was also very lucky to be in a one man dorm. Apparently his old roomate, Akaza, had moved out to join a frat.

-Not that you could tell it was a good dorm. The thing was filthy. It smelled like hell, too. Like Gyutaro.

-'I'm sorry for the mess.' He'd grumble. 'I get really busy...'

-'You're fine. Are you a PC gamer?' You'd point to his massive set up.

-'Y-yeah.'

-'Thats cool- ooooh, a Scott Pilgrim poster. I love that movie.' God, you just knew everything, didn't you? All the things girls weren't supposed to like. Gyutaro had been fantasizing about this very moment since you bothered to open your mouth at him. He guessed his work outs had been paying off.

-'Yeah its a good comic, too.'

-The conversation would sway too and frough. Not every really finding a groove. A girl in his room, and he could barely speak to her- you decided to take drastic measures.

-'Hey, Gyutaro, do you want to like do something? Like... a game.' You'd ask, turning to face him.

-'I- um- I have some two players-'

-'Not a game like that.' You'd laugh. He'd quirk an eyebrow. 'I'm like... horny. Like a party game'

-If you'd suddenly fired a gun next to his ear, the effect those words had on Gyutaro would've been the same. He gaped at your bluntness.

-'You're horny?'

-'Yeah... I want to do something... Dirty, I don't know.' You jerked the air off.

-'A-are you gonna leave?' He'd ask, sounding pathetic. 'Do you need me to leave?' What a dumb question, he realized, the second it left his mouth. This was his home, why would he let you jerk off-

-'Do you want to watch? It'd be rude to make you leave.' You completely understood the absurdity of the words coming from your mouth. Every word made Gyutaro's face twist into something akin to... excited disgust. It was fascinating.

-'W-watch?' He didn't understand why he stuttered so much around you.

-'Yeah... Watch? We don't need to like- play like... strip poker or anything. I just want to do something raunchy.'

-'We-we're not dating. You should do that with your boyfriend.'

-'Gyutaro, you know I don't have a boyfriend.' You'd remind. 'Are you scared?'

-'I'm not scared- I-'

-'We're adults. We can do what we want.' His traditionalist mindset was wanning by the word. He wanted you something awful, and here you were, offering to... touch yourself infront of him-

-He'd been leaning on his bed, and you began to creep forward.

-'Do you have any toys?'

-'You mean like vibes?' If his voice wasn't cracking, it was dry. Painfully so. 'I-'

-'Any you haven't put in you?'

-'I'm not into that.' He'd defend. A lie. A painful lie at that. 'I-'

-'Into what?' You'd bring your hand toward the edge of his shirt. He'd begin shaking under your touch. 'No bandaids over your nipples?'

-You'd been so kind and casual to him thus far. Always appreciating his bands and asking about his games. You're eyes had never even fixated on his birthmarks- He never expected you to actually like him-

-'I-I'm not some... some freak.'

-'You think I'm a freak for being into that?' His heart would ache at the sigh in your voice, guilt growing in his stomach as your hand left. 'Sorry, I guess I'll just go back to my dorm.'

-As you turned to leave, Gyutaro would scramble off the bed, eyes blown wide. His foot would knock into an empty can on the floor, and He'd probably tip over some of the comics on his nightstand.

-'Wait-wait!' He'd step over a pile of clothes, and begin rummaging around in the drawer behind his bed.

-His thin hand would come back with a small pink vibe- attached to a thin white wire. You could barely fight back the evil grin on your face as he resurfaced, face just as pink as the vibrator.

-You feigned needing help onto his bed, just so he'd pick you up and set you there. His tenseness was comedic. As you fully situated yourself, Gyutaro just stood, hands in his pockets-

-'Well, come on?' You ushered, nodding to the space between your legs. Gyutaro looked to the spot and then back to you.

-This couldn't be real. You couldn't be fucking real. Even as you spread your legs infront of him, revealing your dripping fucking pussy-- it could not be fucking real. It was too pornographic. You couldn't be serious- Any second you'd snap your legs shut, realize how fucking disgusting he was- how worthless and weird- and you'd spit on him, get up, and leave-

-But you didn't. You pressed the vibe to your clit and Gyutaro watched in awe as your pussy clenched around nothing. Begging, pleading for a cock to fill you, just like all the forums said it would.

-You swore you heard him whimper- gasp- Feeling all powerful under his watchful eye. You were very pleased to find he was bulging through his sweats, a small wet patch already forming.

-He wouldn't be able to get over how fucking wet you were. How good your pussy responded to the vibrations, how good you looked when you craved dick-

-'You should... Your hard on looks like it hurts.'

-Fuck, everything hurt. Your voice made his balls ache, begging for release. He didn't want to cum so early- Didn't want to be a minute man infront of you.

-You wanted him to cum early so bad. His dick had already soaked through his sweats with pre- you knew you could get him worse.

-'Gyutaro, can you- Can you finger me?'

-So fucking cruel. So fucking evil-

-You knew he'd be no good. Too rough and fast, but to your surprise, he shook his head. Very admant.

-'Why not?'

-'I- my hands are gross.' He'd whisper. The poor thing sounded close to tears. He wanted to finger you so bad, but he was all to aware of the cracks and scabs along his knuckles. 'I don't want to get you dirty.'

-'Do you have gloves?' You were surprised by the desperation in your own voice. Fuck.

-'L-like latex?'

-'Mhm'

-Gyutaro had cleared the bed and rush to his bathroom, yanking the gloves from the medicine cabinet. You heard the faucet start, and then a crash and a bang-

-And then Gyutaro was back infront of you, one hand covered with a glove. And he smelled like cologne. You held back a laugh.

-He shivered at the way your pussy sucked his finger in. And then a second not even a minute later.

-'It hurts... You should get on top of me. It'll help.' You reasoned.

-Gyutaro watched you with wide eyes as he bent down next to you, the curve of his wrist allowing him to begin an all too gentle thrust into your pussy.

-His face was right by yours, drinking in the sight of you growing heavy eyed and huffy with awe.

-He picked up his speed. Fuck- you were a real doll, alright. So fucking perfect. All for him. All his- you were his, he decided, deluded by the intimacy of the situation.

-You weren't going to be allowed to go anywhere with any other man- ever again. Nobody else could see this. Nobody was going to see you cum other than him, make you cum, other than him.

-'You keep going just past it-' You'd groan with frustration.

-'Past- What?'

-'I need you to- my g-spot you keep hitting everything but it-'

-His face would turn bright red at the critique.

-'Your g-spot?'

-'Of course you wouldn't know what that is.' You'd snark, reaching down to grab his wrist. His jaw would tighten as you began to guide his hand in and out of your pussy, back arching as he grazed a textured part of your walls.

-He felt like a dildo, an object for you to chase your high-

-Gyutaro came before you, his free hand rushing to try and prevent it, but you'd feel him shiver and hear a soft-

-'Fuck- fuck!'

-And you' look to see a wet patch on the crotch of his sweats. It looked like he pissed himself, the stain starting at least midway down his thigh-

-You imagined such a gigantic load being forced past your cervix. His cock had to be huge- fucking huge- with enough cum to spill for days after.

-'I'm-I'm cumming-' You'd squeak as the vibrator paired with Gyutaro's shame sent you spiraling. His head would snap up to watch-

-You'd leave with nothing but a thanks, and a small comment on how he needed to clean his room - The look of shock on his face borderline second orgasm worthy- He'd already gotten hard again. He wanted to go- wanted you.

-But he'd get a text from you later that night. You'd be at a party- like he knew you were supposed to be.

-'Lol' would accompany a photo of you in a slutty little dress next to Tengen Uzui and those three bimbos always by his side. It would dock his confidence, send him spiraling- panicking-

-But it'd be there...a thin little wire peaking out from between your thighs.

-You'd send him your address and hope he'd have the balls to do something about it.

[harunovella]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ love language (verse iii); s.g.

synopsis: a first date with gojo satoru? maybe... or maybe not... content: canon divergence (still teen!gojo era!), fem!reader, hopeless romantic gojo, best bros satoru and suguru bickering as always, gojo has given you a nickname (and I will now claim reader and gojo as "gojo and his mochi"), unimpressed nanami, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: another addition to my gojo anthology series! I'm having sm fun writing these lil things for myself and you all! also... should I start a tag list? lmk in the replies!

"Nanami Kento, Haibara Yu, and," Yaga Masamichi introduced before gesturing in your direction, speaking your name. "You may know the first two already but we've got another sorcerer to the school roster." Continuing his speech towards his three students that sat before him, Suguru and Shoko listened closely, eyeing a brooding Kento and a smiley Yu... while Satoru gazed at you with the biggest heart eyes. He didn't seem to care if he was obvious, after his first interaction with you ever (possibly the best moment of his life), he made it his goal to see you at least once a day. If you were away on missions, or busy during a lecture, he'd find a way to see you... even if it was from afar. "I want you three to mentor them from now on. Each of you teaming up with one of them and spending at least an hour a day to help them boost up their technique—"

"I'll be partnered up with mochi!" Gojo exclaimed, interrupting his teacher with a hand in the air.

"What's the point of raising your hand if you're gonna interrupt anyway?" Geto teased, earning a look from his best friend as he stuck out his tongue.

"Who... is mochi?" Yaga asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, never quite getting used to his white haired student. 

Pointing at you and speaking your name, you stood there with wide eyes and a blush. You weren't new to Gojo's behavior, after you first met him (helping you rescue your now kitten off a tree), you had plenty of... interesting interactions. At first, it was a lot to take in, seeing as he was very eccentric and grew really comfortable with you so easily, but after some time, you grew comfortable with it. With him. However, him calling you one of his favorite treats was a first. "She's cute like a mochi—"

"Oh, god..." Shoko shook her head as Suguru raised his eyebrows.

"That's a first," Yu spoke up, covering his mouth as he couldn't help but chuckle.

"No," the shared teacher spoke. "You will not be paired with her—"

"What! Why not?! We're best friends!" Satoru whined as you looked away with a subtle blush.

"Psht, that's harsh, am I now forgotten?" Suguru crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat. "What if I want to team up with mochi?" The young man smirked, earning a scowl from his best friend.

"Never call her that again," Gojo hissed, earning a laugh from Geto.

"Enough, you two, she will be partnered up with Shoko. Knowing you two, you'd end up getting her hurt somehow," earning a gasp from the two boys, you couldn't help but smile, biting your bottom lip at the way they reacted. "I trust Nanami and Haibara will be fine in either of your care."

"Ugh," Gojo groaned.

"I suppose that's fair," Geto shrugged, earning a shove from Gojo in which he shoved back. "Who are we teamed up with, then?"

"Geto, you'll be paired up with Haibara," hearing a faint cheer come from Yu, Kento only sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Which means Gojo, you'll be paired up with Nanami."

"Well, if I can't have my mochi, I guess Nanamin is fine!" Gojo crossed his arms behind his head. "No offense, Haibara! Nanamin is just great company to tease," he grinned, earning an eye roll from the young, blond man.

"Perfect, today will be your first day. Report back here in an hour. Get to know one another's abilities better." At that, Yaga dismissed the class, Shoko rushing up to you and interlocking arms as she pulled you out with her. You couldn't help but look back at Satoru, seeing his grin towards  Kento turn into a frown as he looked at you. Sending him a small smile and wave, he waved back, happy that he at least got your attention for the time being.

Weeks then passed after Yaga paired everyone off, though it didn't change how things went—specifically missions—Gojo found another reason to see you. At least, another way to see you. Shoko's RCT required her to be in specific places, so he was well aware of where to find you when he wasn't with his own classmates. Nanami, on the occasion, was dragged along. Forced to watch his senior poorly flirt with you when you (shockingly) didn't seem too bothered by it. Instead, it made you flustered. You seemed to have enjoyed Satoru's attention. Of course, it never lasted long with Ieiri kicking both boys out (or just Gojo if he was the only one there) because she was busy being a good mentor and teaching you.

"I'm bored," Satoru whined as he sat on a bench, eyeing Kento as he trained on the open field. "This pairing up thing isn't all that fun."

"That's because you're not doing your job as my senior," Nanami spoke with a lack of enthusiasm.

"What's there to teach you? You're good as it is," he waved a hand as he sipped at his milk box. "I just wanna see my mochi..."

Sighing, Nanami shook his head before lifting it from his palm as he massaged his temples. A faint smile grew on his lips at the sight of you approaching, it seemed as if Shoko had lead the way before parting to go on her own route. You waved happily as he waved back, only to look at his senior to see that he hadn't noticed you. Grinning, Nanami quietly made his way towards you, his fellow classmate. To anyones shock, the two of you actually grew close. You saw one another like siblings, getting along quite well and actually maintaining interesting conversations. No one would've figured, he was a quiet boy and only really spoke when spoken to, but you brought something out of him. You always found something to speak about. Maybe it was your shared love for baked goods, or the possibility that you weren't annoying like most of the people around him. You were timid, but you were also very kind and social with those you were comfortable with. "How'd it go today?"

"Good, Shoko is very skilled, it's a shame we don't focus much on her technique. RCT is very important, no one does it like her." Smiling up at him as the two of you bumped fists, you then peeked over to Satoru, who was now lying on the bench, completely unaware of your presence. "Is he okay?"

"Being lazy as always," Nanami shrugged, but you slightly frowned. "Don't worry about it."

"What are you two babbling about?!" Gojo called out, not realizing who he had been yelling at. 

"I'll catch you later..." the blond said before patting your head, then walking away.

"Hey, I asked you a—" Sitting up and realizing who he had been yelling at, Gojo's eyes widened as he gulped. "Mochi!"

"Hi, Satoru," you greeted with a kind smile, causing him to blush. "Long day?"

Instantly standing up, nearly tripping over his own feet, he shook his head. "No! I was just... taking a break! Y'know... training others can be so tiring," he frowned while slumping forward as you let out a small laugh. "Especially someone as skilled as Nanamin!"

"Right," You nodded. "I hadn't seen you all day. I was thinking..."

Blinking a few times as he watched you approach, Gojo gulped, "yeah?"

"We should get an early dinner—"

"Now?" His eyes widen as he stood straight, earning another laugh from you.

"Mhm, or later, whatever you prefer—"

"Now! Now is good," He nodded, meeting you halfway before he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "I know the perfect place! Plus, right next door, they sell some delicious mochi..." He grinned as you smiled up at him.

"Is this our first date?" Gojo teased as you sat on a bench, sharing a box of mochi. The dinner was as great as he had promised, a cute little restaurant that Gojo frequented. Satoru tried his best to impress you with his cooking skills, only to burn half of what he ordered. You couldn't help but laugh it off, deciding to cook the rest—in which he praised your skills (and promised to improve his own for the next time). For someone trying to do some impressing, he's constantly teetering between being shy and letting his confidence kick in (even if it was false, trying to win you over).

"Hmm, I was the one who asked to go to dinner," you said, biting into your mochi. "Shouldn't I decide that?"

"Wait!" Gojo lifted his hands, pulling the box of mochi away as you tilted your head. "I took us here to get our dessert," he nudged his head back, towards the stand. 

"So..." you trailed. 

"So... this could be our first date!" He beamed, earning a look from you as you playfully lifted an eyebrow.

"Maybe."

[mariacallous]

Salman Rushdie has just published Knife: Meditations After an Attempted Murder. In August 2022, he was giving a talk at the Chautauqua Institution in New York. Hadi Matar, a 24-year-old from New Jersey, rushed the stage and stabbed him 15 times. It was astonishing that Salman survived. He lost the sight in one eye and sustained terrible injuries, but he’s still with us and he’s still writing, and unlike Hadi Matar, he’s still worth hearing.

We think of fanatics as stalkers with an obsessive knowledge of their targets.  Like the antisemites who compile lists of Jews in the media or the homophobes who so focus on the details of gay sex they might almost be closet cases

Most terrorists and bigots are not like that. They are like soldiers in an army who kill and hate for no other reason than tradition or men in authority have told them to kill and hate. If we were less fascinated by the pseudo-glamour of violence, we would see them for what they are: dullards and jerks.

In Knife Salman is almost as angered by the sheer lazy stupidity of his wannabee assassin as his violence.

“I do not want to use his name in this account. My Assailant, my would-be Assassin, the Asinine man who made Assumptions about me, and with whom I had a near-lethal Assignation … I have found myself thinking of him, perhaps forgivably, as an Ass.”

The ass “didn’t bother to inform himself about the man he decided to kill. By his own admission he read barely two pages of my writing and watched a couple of YouTube videos”.

That was enough, apparently, along with a little light indoctrination in the Levant.

We know from Matar’s mother that her son changed from a popular young man to a moody religious zealot after visiting her ex-husband in the Hezbollah-controlled town of Yaroun in Lebanon, a mile or so from the Israeli border.

“I was expecting him to come back motivated, to complete school, to get his degree and a job. But instead, he locked himself in the basement. He had changed a lot. He didn't say anything to me or his sisters for months.”

Salman quotes a wonderfully perceptive line from Jodi Picoult

“If you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.”

Rushdie is openly contemptuous, as he has every right to be.

“I see you now at twenty-four,” he writes, “already disappointed by life, disappointed in your mother, your sisters, your father, your lack of boxing talent, your lack of any talent at all; disappointed in the bleak future you saw stretching ahead of you, for which you refused to blame yourself.”

This has always been the way. Readers old enough to remember 1989 when the Ayatollah Khomeini ordered Salman’s execution for writing a blasphemous satire of Islam’s origin story in the Satanic Verses,will know that Khomeini had not read it. Nor had the furious demonstrators in the streets or the regressive leftists and Tory ministers who upbraided him for the non-crime of causing offence.

Those of us who had read the book pointed out that it was a magical realist fiction which contained sympathetic accounts of the racism Muslim immigrants in the UK suffered. Indeed, the Tories of the day loathed Salman, we continued, because of his confrontations with official racism.

But after a while we fell silent. Pleading with his enemies felt demeaning. It gave them undeserved credit, as if they were reasonable people, who could be swayed by evidence rather than just, well, pillocks.

In Knife Salman attempts an imaginary conversation with his persecutor.

OK, he says, Islam, unlike Judaism and Christianity, holds that man is not made in God’s image. God has no human qualities, it says.

But isn’t language a human quality? To have language, God would have to have a mouth, a tongue, vocal cords and a voice, just like a man. The terrorist’s understanding is that God cannot be like a man, however. So, God could not have spoken to Gabriel in Arabic. Gabriel must have translated his message when he came to the prophet.

The angel made it comprehensible to Muhammed by delivering it in human speech which is not the speech of God.

Thus, the version of Islamic instruction Matar received in his basement when he switched from playing video games to listening to Imams was an interpretation of a translation.

“I’m trying to suggest to you that, even according to your own tradition, there is uncertainty. Some of your own early philosophers have suggested this. They say everything can be interpreted, even the Book. It can be interpreted according to the times in which the interpreter lives. Literalism is a mistake.”

For a while, Rushdie says he wants to meet Matar again at the trial, as if he wants to have the argument in the flesh.

He tells a story about Samuel Beckett, which could only have happened to Samuel Beckett.

Beckett was walking through Paris in 1938 when he was confronted by a pimp named Prudent, who wanted money from him. Beckett pushed Prudent away, whereupon the pimp pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the chest, narrowly missing the left lung and the heart.

Beckett was taken to the nearest hospital, bleeding heavily. He only just survived.

You will never guess who paid for his treatment. James Joyce, of course, he did.

Anyway, Beckett went to the pimp’s trial. He met Prudent in the courtroom, and asked him why he had done it. This was the pimp’s reply: “Je ne sais pas, monsieur. Je m’excuse.” (I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry.)

But the more he thought about it, the less Rushdie had to say to his enemy. The idea that you can have theological arguments with a man who wants to kill you for writing a book he hasn’t even read felt ridiculous.

Although popular culture is full of stories about murderers, and true crime podcasts top the charts, killers and fanatics are nearly always less interesting than their victims. More often than not they are just thick. Nasty and vicious, but thick first of all.

We are about to see the stupidity of fanatics deployed on a mass scale. Two thirds of Republican voters (and nearly 3 in 10 Americans) continue to believe that the 2020 election was stolen from Donald Trump, and that Joe Biden was not lawfully elected. They think it because that is what Trump told them to think.

Islamists told Matar that Salman was an apostate, and that was all he needed to know. Trump told Republicans the election was stolen and ditto.

If Republicans were consistent people, they would not vote for Trump in 2024. What would be the point? They would have every reason to fear that the deep state would rig the 2024 presidential election as it rigged the 2020 presidential election.

But they will vote for him because, once again, that is what he tells them to do.

In the end there is a limit to how much attention you can pay the vicious and the stupid.

They are not interesting enough, as Rushdie concluded with marvellous disdain as he contemplated the life sentence Matar will face.

"Here we stand: the man who failed to kill an unarmed seventy-five-year-old writer, and the now 76-year-old writer. Somewhat to my surprise, I find I have very little to say to you. Our lives touched each other for an instant and then separated. Mine has improved since that day, while yours has deteriorated. You made a bad gamble and lost. I was the one with the luck… Perhaps, in the incarcerated decades that stretch out before you, you will learn introspection, and come to understand that you did something wrong. But you know what? I don’t care. This, I think, is what I have come to this courtroom to say to you. I don’t care about you, or the ideology that you claim to represent, and which you represent so poorly. I have my life, and my work, and there are people who love me. I care about those things.”

[katakaluptastrophy]

Goodbye, Palamedes, my first strand - goodbye, Camilla, my second... One cord was overpowered, two cords could defend themselves, but three were not broken by the living or the dead. (HTN ch 21)

Dulcie here is quoting Ecclesiastes 4:12:

Though one may be overpowered by another, two can withstand him. And a threefold cord is not quickly broken.

And I was curious about what the patristic (i.e. early church) take on this verse might be, so I cracked out my Catena app and looked it up.

There was only one patristic gloss on this verse, from Ambrose of Milan:

Paul fled too, that he might pass out through a window and be lowered in a basket. Yes, he knew that the triplestranded rope could not break, but he fled so that he might preach the gospel of the Lord in the entire world, and consequently he was taken up into paradise.

Ok, ok, someone called Paul escaping the fate that would otherwise have awaited them thanks to a threefold cord. That's probably just a coincidence.

Then I looked at the 'related verses' section. There were two: Daniel 3:16 and Ephesians 4:3.

Daniel 3:16 features some young people who've fallen afoul of a powerful king and are thrown into a fiery furnace as punishment:

If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.”

Huh, ok. Well, the refusing the follow the false god/king thing is probably also a coincidence....

Anyway, Ephesians 4:3 isn't relevant:

endeavoring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace

Or at least, it doesn't seem to be until you look at the patristic commentary on it... Here's John Chrysostom:

Again he uses the metaphor of bonding. We have left it behind, and now it comes running back to us. Beautiful was Paul’s bond; beautiful too is this [bond of peace among Christians], and the former arises from the latter. Bind yourselves to your brethren. Those thus bound together in love bear everything with ease…. If now you want to make the bond double, your brother must also be bound together with you. Thus he wants us to be bound together with one another, not only to be at peace, not only to be friends, but to be all one, a single soul. Beautiful is this bond. With this bond we bind ourselves together both to one another and to God. This is not a chain that bruises. It does not cramp the hands. It leaves them free, gives them ample room and greater courage.

At this point, I can only assume Tamsyn is using the same app...

[best-overplayed-song]

As someone who never understood the hype around Take Me To Church and keeps forgetting that song even exists, can I ask the fans what exactly it is you like about that song? Because my current hypothesis is that yall were around 14 when it came out and music just hits different when you're 14. What else is there to like, genuinely

I try to stay unbiased here but Hozier is one of the only musicians I allow myself to be pretentious about, so before i info dump about why i love take me to church here's some other hozier songs you should give a shot:

francesca [i'd go through hell again just to hold you one more time], nina cried power [song about activism and black activists], swan upon leda [about the violence of colonialism, misogyny, and religious bigotry], eat your young [about the violence of war, capitalism, and generational trauma], movement, to noise making (sing), shrike, NFWMB [sexy], sunlight

anyway take me to church is so much more than just “loving you is like church”. he starts off by telling us how happy his lover makes him, despite constantly being told by The Church he was born sick and his happiness is a result of sinful behavior. he rejects the religion being forced on him, because unlike christianity, his church doesn't force him to accept absolution to reach heaven ("my church offers no absolutes / she tells me, 'worship in the bedroom' / the only heaven I'll be sent to / is when i'm alone with you"). the last two lines of the first verse-- "i was born sick, but i love it / command me to be well"-- questions why a god would create us to be inherently sick only to punish us for being sick.

i see the the chorus as a smart-ass comparison of his relationship to christianity. The Church expects him to blindly worship their lies and confess his sins, which he knows will be used against him ("take me to church / i'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies / i'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife"), but he's supposed to accept this and devote his life to God so he can get to heaven ("offer me that deathless death / oh good god, let me give you my life"). by offering to do this for his lover, he's equating their love to religion.

in the second verse, he reiterates that he worships his lover with a metaphor ("if i'm a pagan of the good times / my lover's the sunlight"). the subtle remark of referring to the ancient practice of paganism as "the good times" comments on the colonization and forced conversion of ireland by christian england, which criminalized paganism. immediately after stating how his lover demands a sacrifice, he hungrily eyes the high horse The Church sits on, and questions what power they have over him and his people ("that's a fine lookin' high horse / what you got in the stable? / we've a lot of starving faithful"). this could also be a reference to the irish potato famine, which was not a result of drought, but of english lords forcing the irish to turn over their entire crop to send to england.

then we get the most poetic description of sex i've ever heard: "no masters or kings when the ritual begins / there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin / in the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene / only then, i am human / only then, i am clean". fuck man

a lot of gay people with religious trauma love this song bc of everything i described above. also, it's a fuckin banger.

and yes i was 14 when it came out. what about it

[niko-sasaki-dbd]

I'm still thinking about Death's words in Episode 1, and the way I think she was not just talking to Wilfred (the soldier), but indirectly, she was talking to Edwin and Charles too.

Let me explain...

"You've been fighting old battles for too long (...) you died over a hundred years ago"

"I came for you then, but you were so confused, so filled with anger and with hate, you seem a lot better now"

I wonder if they overheard her, if that's even possible, or if it was something purely directed to us, as an audience.

It just makes me think quite a lot, because her words were so on point for the way the boys' arc was going to develop. In one side, Edwin fighting against his own mindset in order to face his own identity and his feelings, and then Charles, facing his trauma, and the frustration and anger that he had been carrying since he died.

Oh, and then there's the poem:

They will come back - come back again, as long as the red Earth rolls.

He never wasted a leaf or a tree. Do you think He would squander souls?

[Source: The Sack of the Gods, Rudyard Kipling]

This is not the whole version, only the last verse that Death recites in that scene. I would like to mention the story behind it too, because I find the connections curious.

The Kipling Society refers that this poem—most probably—was written as a form of celebration, "in lofty cosmic terms" of Kipling’s partnership with his friend Wolcott Balestier, who died unexpectedly in December 1891.

Together, it passionately asserts, the two young comrades had fought to conquer the heights, an endeavour which seems long ago now that Wolcott is dead.

[Source: The Sack of the Gods – Background (notes by Jan Montefiore and John Radcliffe)]

Also, about the lofty cosmic terms, these are found in the following verses of the poem:

Under the stars beyond our stars where the new-forged meteors glow,

(...)

Dust of the stars was under our feet, glitter of stars above—

Wrecks of our wrath dropped reeling down as we fought and we spurned and we strove.

Worlds upon worlds we tossed aside, and scattered them to and fro.

I don't know if the connection between the poem and the song that plays in the background of Charles' memories in Episode 7, was intentional or no.

And it's something quite peculiar,

Something shimmering and white

It leads you here, despite your destination,

Under the Milky Way tonight.

[Source: Under The Milky Way - The Church]

But I think is beautiful, if you take into account that the meaning of that poem revolves around the idea of deja-vu, "hearking back to an experience in an earlier life, based on reincarnation"; and that there's always that possibility.

Is this something? Am I even making sense?

[howlingday]

ruby-jaune-gun-convention

While Ruby, along with the Blade Girls (including a humanized Crocea Mors), was away and looking at some of the other stalls, Jaune had found himself drifting over to a stall with a man covered in bandages from head to toe. He found himself striking up a conversation with the man, talking about the weapon upon the table; it, like all the others, was a .45 1911 Colt that seemed to be like all the others, but what stood out was not the snake skin grip, but the Latin, which he could not read, engraved onto both sides of the gun. These were two parts to same verse, and it read “And the light shineth in darkness and the darkness comprehended it not.”

Jaune did not know why, but he felt his chest constrict, but unlike all of the times before that were painful and agonizing, this one was simply somber, as off the verse that had been engraved onto the gun had struck a cord with him, and made him truly think about what he has been through up to this point.

???: “Have you found something that has caught your attention?”

Jaune: “Oh, uh, nothing much sir. Just these two lines engraved onto the gun, what do they say?”

???: “Ah, those are two parts of the same verse. They read ‘And the light shineth in darkness, and darkness comprehended it not’. Is there something about it that bothers you?”

Jaune: “N-No sir, it’s just…” Jaune tried to find the words to say, something, anything that could describe just what he is feeling right now but every time he thinks he has something, it slips away from him. Just like Pyrrha had.

???: “You are troubled by something, a loss of the very light that had helped to guide you for so long, now gone and you feel like there is no way out of the darkness around you? Yet, you move forward, trying to find the light you had lost in the hopes of one day finding it and feeling it’s warmth once more.”

Jaune didn’t know why, but the bandaged man had perfectly worded his feelings that he was currently going through after such little time the two had talked for. Before he could say anything, the man continued.

???: “You are not the first person that I have encountered that has felt like that before. They have, just like you currently are, have lost the one thing that gave you more then just a sense of purpose; you have lost something, or someone, that can never be replaced and have searched for it out in the darkness, hoping that it may still be out there, waiting for you to find it again. This has often led many of those, much like yourself, down a darker path. One they could not find their way off of.”

Jaune looked up towards him, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

Jaune: “Then, what am I supposed to do then? I can’t just give up and let myself be consumed by the darkness. I can’t just give up on those who need help.”

He then turned to Jaune, as of expression on his face

???: “Tell me young man, do you believe in God?”

Jaune: “You mean the two brothers?”

Jaune wasn’t sure just why he would be asking him this? What could belief in the Brothers possibly help him with?

???: “No, I mean God, from the Bible of the Christian faith.”

That caught Jaune for a loop. There was a divine being out there simply known as God?

Jaune: “I’ve… never heard of him before. Besides, what good would me praying to another god do if all of the others have left me with no answers? It’s hard to believe in someone that won’t answer you.”

Rather than being upset, the man simply chuckled.

???: “It does not surprise me that you have not heard of him, and I can understand why you would feel that way. There is much to be skeptical of in this world, so it no longer surprises me, to learn how many people don’t really believe in anything. “What’s the point?”. For many of us, the road is a difficult one, but the path is always there for us to follow, no matter how many times we may fall. The good news is that we can help you find your way back.”

He then looked out towards the crowds of people, and Jaune looked with him, seeing the many people that were going about the convention, though some appeared to have a more jaded look to theme

???: “Naturally, some days are… harder than others, but I must try. We all have doubts. The light of the mind alone cannot burn away all darkness.”

Jaune: “If there really is no way to keep the darkness away, then why do I keep trying to keep it away? What’s the point?”

Tears could then be seen welling up in his eyes, threatening to fall at any moment as he continued to wonder why he even kept fighting if the darkness would eventually win out in the end. What was the point of all his struggles if he would always be destined to wander the darkness.

???: “Think on it, and look in your heart. It will be for the best. When the come tumbling down, when you lose everything you have, you always have family.”

Jaune then looked at him, a single tear running down his cheek as his eyes never left the man. Family. He had always been fighting to bring honor to his by becoming both a huntsman and a hero, but he had not once been able to get into contact with them for so long after the CCT went down, only ever being able to talk to Saphron, Terra and Adrian after reaching Argus. Was the rest of his family okay, though?

Jaune: “What keeps you going?”

???: “The fire that kept me alive, was love. Their love. Gods love.”

Jaune looked down again, the tears flowing freely as he saw them fall to the floor.

Jaune: “What if it’s not enough, though? What if I can’t get out of the darkness that I find myself in now? What then?”

To his surprise, the man let out a good natured chuckle.

???: “Right. You’re not so certain. Fair enough, we all go through periods of darkness. Of course… in a world filed with misery and uncertainty, it is a great comfort to know that, in the end, there is light in the darkness. In such times, we turn to the Lord, but it’s good to have friends. And the Good Lord knows there’s much to be done here.”

Jaune stopped holding back his tears at that point, letting them flow freely as he felt as if a burden had been lifted off of his chest. All his time spent contemplating the what ifs, the unknowns, the unpleasant unpredictability of the world around him, he finally felt some form of peace.

When they eventually found Jaune again, he was sitting in the food court in new gear, a cross necklace around his neck, a strange book that he was reading in his hand, and the .45 1911 Colt on his hip.

While Crocea didn’t know what Ruby was feeling, from the look in Jaune’s eyes, she could see that he had finally found some form of closure to the pain he has gone through, and he has come out stronger because of it. It looked as if he was finally, after so long in a dark tunnel, finally reaching the light at the end.

This was nice story. Glad to see Jaune get closure. Can't really see how I could improve on this, so I'll just leave it as it is.

[angelicgentleman]

But do you feel like a young god? You know the two of us are just young gods

[stellarspecter]

stwg daily prompt 4/10/24: guitar

1.8k, steddie, modern au, guitar teacher eddie/guitar student steve (+ dustin as steve's brother)

so this is literally just me giving eddie my exact job and letting the plot bunnies do as they may. will be up on ao3 in a day or two once i've had time to look it over and think of a title but here it is! divider graphic by @saradika-graphics

“Let’s try that verse again, okay? 5, 6, 7, 8…” 

The little girl in front of Eddie plays with the utmost concentration, her little brow scrunched up as she tries to switch to a D chord. 

“It’s our little triangle, remember? On the — good, exactly,” Eddie nods and keeps strumming. “And to C, slide down to the first fret… 1, 2, 3, to E minor, yep, 1, 2, 3, 4.” The last notes fade into the slightly stale air of the practice room. “Good job! You did a lot better with your chord transitions this time. We’re about out of time for today, but try and practice that verse and chorus at home, okay? And then we’ll see about that bridge next week,” he tells her.

She nods with a big gummy smile. “Okay!” Eddie helps her put her guitar back in its case and walks her back out to the little waiting area they have behind the lessons desk. It’s honestly a little cramped, but before they hired him, he hadn’t even known that Guitar Center offered lessons at all, so it makes sense. He sends the girl off with her parents and a promise to practice every day before he slides behind the desk to check his schedule for his next student.

Usually he has a half hour gap on Wednesdays that he uses to practice for his band or chat with his coworkers, but today there’s a new name on the schedule: Steve Harrington.

“Huh,” he mutters. His manager hadn’t mentioned any new sign-ups to him. Maybe it was from online? With a shrug, he settles in to wait for the guy to show up. It’s 5:57, so he’s still got a few minutes.

After a minute or two of dicking around on his phone, someone calls out, “Hey, Eddie!”

He looks up to find his 6:30 student standing in front of him, an excitable kid named Dustin Henderson. He’s fun to chat with, and Eddie looks forward to his lessons — especially since it’s an opportunity to get yet another young mind hooked on metal. Sure, he’ll play and teach whatever is required, but he’ll never forget his one true love.

“Henderson,” Eddie responds, standing up and leaning against the pillar bracketing the desk. “You know your lesson is in half an hour, right?”

“I know!” He replies, chipper as ever. “I’m after him!” He jerks a thumb back behind him, and Eddie finally notices the most beautiful man he’s ever seen standing behind Dustin.

Dear god. If this is his new student, he’s absolutely fucked.

“Hi,” the man says, extending a hand when it becomes clear Eddie is incapable of forming words. “I’m Steve.”

Eddie forces himself to act normal and grabs his hand, shooting him a smile that he hopes comes off as confident. “Eddie,” he replies. “Munson. I play guitar.”

“I’d sure hope so,” Steve jokes, eyes dancing, and Eddie is fuuuuucked. Completely and absolutely. How is he going to be able to be alone with him in a tiny practice room for a whole half hour? 

“Well, you’re in luck,” Eddie says, kind of operating on autopilot while his brain reboots. “It’s. Guitar Center.” He mentally facepalms and claps his hands together, spinning and walking them back towards the practice rooms. “So, Steve, what brings you here on this fine day? Are you Dustin’s… dad?”

Usually, his mom is the one to drive him and wait in the lobby, but it’s not out of the question that Steve could be his stepdad or something, with their different surnames. He seems around Eddie’s age, but maybe he’s just into milfs or something? 

He can’t be single. The universe is never that kind to Eddie.

Dustin bursts out laughing. “My dad? Dude, he’d had to have had me at like, twelve!”

Eddie flushes. “Well, I don’t know!”

“He’s my brother.” Steve swoops in and saves him from embarrassment. “The Hendersons took me in when I was sixteen, that’s why we have different last names.”

Eddie nods. “Oh, cool. So I assume Dustin got you to take lessons too?”

Steve laughs a little, just when Eddie thought he could finally cope with his unearthly beauty, the dick. “Yeah, he’s dead set on us starting a family band or something. I told him I could just dust off my piano skills, but he insisted. Little twerp.” He goes to ruffle his brother’s hair, and Dustin expertly ducks — clearly a common occurrence in their household.

“Cool,” Eddie says again. “Well, you ready to get started?” 

Steve nods, and Dustin goes to look around the store and mess with the DJ equipment. 

“So, you said you played piano? How long ago was that?” Eddie asks as he ushers him into the practice room.

“Oh, years and years. My parents made me take lessons when I was a kid, stopped in middle school, so it’d have to be… ten years or something now? Eleven? Jesus, I’m getting old,” Steve answers.

Eddie laughs. “Oh, trust me, I get it. Every time I say I’ve been playing guitar for over a decade a little part of me dies.” They share a laugh as they both get situated on their matching stools and guitars on their laps. “So that’s a little bit about me, that I’ve been playing for over a decade. I didn’t go to school for music or anything, but I’m in a metal band in my free time, and I like to think I have a pretty good understanding of music theory and techniques after all this time, so don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” It’s easier than he’d expected to slip into his practiced first lesson spiel, but he’s still hyper-focused on Steve’s reactions, taking in every hint of a smile. “I’m actually self-taught, so I learned basically by just watching YouTube tutorials and spending a lot of time on Ultimate Guitar,” Eddie explains with a wry smile. 

“That’s really cool,” Steve says, impressed. “I could never do that.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, right?” It’s a familiar back and forth to Eddie. Maybe he can do this. “I like to run my lessons the same way — instead of learning some random two-measure exercises from a book, we learn songs that you want to learn, and through that we can learn some new chords and strumming patterns and techniques. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Steve says. “That was always the worst part of piano lessons. The music was so boring.” His nose wrinkles in distaste.

“Awesome,” Eddie says, and pulls out his phone, already open to his notes app. “So, what kind of music do you want to learn?”

“Uh.” Steve pauses. “I, uh, I listen to a lot of, um, pop? And, like, indie? Kind of just top forty radio type stuff.” 

Eddie nods as he writes that down. “Cool, cool. Any artists or songs in particular? Or just pop as a whole?”

“I dunno,” Steve admits. “I like most of the popular stuff. Oh, there’s this one artist my friend has been getting me into — Chappell Roan?”

“Nice,” Eddie responds, somehow managing to keep from jumping with joy that he might actually have a chance with this guy if he listens to gay people music. 

“You don’t… mind?” Steve asks hesitantly. Eddie looks up at him, confused. “I just mean, you don’t exactly look like you would love all that girly pop music.” He waves a hand at Eddie’s Metallica shirt, ripped jeans, and patch-covered vest. 

Eddie shrugs. “Well, maybe, but it’s my job. You wouldn’t believe the amount of Swifties I’ve got, I couldn’t avoid it if I wanted to. And I mean, it is pretty catchy,” he concedes, if only to see Steve smile again. “And,” he continues, “even better, really easy to play.”

“Oh, good,” Steve laughs.

Eddie pockets his phone and reaches for his folder, taking out a sheet of empty chord diagrams. “So usually for a first lesson, we just learn a few basic chords, and then get started with our first full song next week, sound good?”

Steve nods. “Yep.”

“Great.” Eddie sets the sheet on the stand in front of them and pencils in two little dots on the first diagram. “Here’s our first chord. This is called an E minor. You wanna put your first finger on the second string…”

He goes on to teach Steve an E minor chord, then a C chord, then a G chord, and by the time they’re done learning D, Eddie thinks that Steve’s fingers are going to haunt his dreams. He’s not mad about it. Just sad that he won’t be able to see them in person again for a whole week.

They make their way through the lesson, stumbling from one chord to another, but by the end of the thirty minutes, Steve is already doing pretty well with his chord transitions. Eddie’s honestly impressed. He drops him off in the lobby and exchanges him for Dustin, who is bouncing up and down with excitement.

“How was he,” he bursts out as soon as the door is closed.

Eddie snorts. “He was good. Just learned a few chords.”

Dustin waits expectantly. “And?”

“And what?”

“And how was he! Like, was he excited? Did you have a good time? Are you guys gonna be friends now?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly and takes a seat. Technically, he’s not supposed to be actual friends with students, or even talk with them outside of work, but with Dustin and now Steve, they don’t feel like paying customers so much as friends he’s doing a favor for. “He was good. I’m sure he’ll tell you in the car on the way home.”

Dustin groans. “Come on.”

“You come on. You better have been practicing, show me what you’ve been doing.”

With that, Dustin drags himself to his seat, and the lesson goes great from there, both of them distracted from Steve by the intricacies of Stairway to Heaven.

When he brings Dustin out, he’s almost taken off guard by Steve waiting for them. In just half an hour, he’d already forgotten his stunning resemblance to a Greek god. It’s honestly unfair for his memory to do that to him. 

“Hey,” Steve greets them. “Had a good lesson?”

“Obviously,” Dustin scoffs.

“He did great today,” Eddie tells him, “And so did you. Just remember to practice, alright? Gotta build that muscle memory.”

Dustin rolls his eyes, too used to hearing it, but Steve nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, of course. See you next week?”

It’s a simple phrase. He says it every day. It’s a contractual obligation that yes, he will see them next week. But when Steve says it, it feels like a promise. Eddie can’t wait to fulfill it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, mesmerized by the way the fluorescent lights bring out the green in Steve’s eyes. “See you next week.”

Steve smiles and turns to leave, picking his way through the aisles of musical miscellany. Eddie can already hear Dustin interrogating him about his lesson. He leans back against the wall with only one thought in his mind: only seven days until he gets to see Steve Harrington again. 

He’ll be counting every single one.

[duckprintspress]

My June Reads

Storygraph introduced auto-generated graphics for sharing our reads by the month, which makes it much easier to do a review, and here I am! Sorry it's kinda pixelly, the settings on Storygraph aren't perfect yet but they're planning to add functionality.

I've been posting on the Duck Prints Press Book Lover's Server for a while, so everyone knows there that the answer to "how do you read so much?" is the library, but just to be clear, if it's a graphic novel, I got it from one of three libraries - either my local system, @queerliblib, or the Japan Foundation Library. The last two are both free-throughout-the-US Libby libraries and they've both been awesome.

Prose books, I usually own.

Anyway. Onward! My June reads:

How to Love: A Guide to Feelings and Relationships for Everyone by Alex Norris (graphic novel, short self-help stories about how to be in relationships, how to be alone, etc., all very inclusive.

Blue Flag Vol. 1 - 2 by Kaito (manga series about modern high school and a young man and his best friend - who has a crush on him - and a young woman and her best friend - who has a crush on her. poly vibes.)

The Tea Dragon Festival and The Tea Dragon Tapestry by K. O'Neill (graphic novels, very fluffy fantasy slice-of-life with various queer rep)

Squad by Maggie Toluda-Hall and Lisa Sterle (graphic novel, modern with magic, wlw high school student discovers that fitting in with the cool kids means becoming a murderous werewolf)

Clementine vol. 1 and 2 by Tille Walden (graphic novel, post-apocalyptic set in the same 'verse as The Walking Dead about a wlw amputee surviving against the zombies.

A Thousand Hopes, A Thousand Risks by Kelas Lloyd (short story, fantasy, pre-mlm between a young merchant and a god)

Ride On, Shooting Star by J. D. Harlock (short story, science fiction, a space courier wants to retire)

Deadendia vol. 1 by Hamish Steele (graphic novel, modern with magic/horror elements, about a trans male teenager who runs away from home and moves into a haunted house at an amusement park)

Giant Days vol. 2 by John Allison and Whitney Cogar (graphic novel, modern college setting, about the somewhat silly lives of the main characters)

Yona of the Dawn vol. 1 by Mizuho Kusanagi (manga, fantasy, about a young princess whose kingdom gets taken over by someone she thought a friend)

In the Dark vol. 3 by Jin Shisi Chai (danmei novel, mlm, last of three volumes - I read the other two in May - about an undercover drug cop who returns home after six years undercover)

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation manhua vol. 6 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu (manhua version of the MDZS novel, mlm, historical cultivation about a fraught political situation)

The Fox Maidens by Robin Ha (graphic novel playing on story of the fox maiden Gumiho in Korean mythology, with a side of wlw)

My Hero Academia vol. 9 - 12 by Kohei Horikoshi (manga series about teenagers at a high school for superheroes)

Frontera by Julio Anta and Jacoby Salcedo (graphic novel about a young man crossing the border between the US and Mexico illegally, and about the mlm ghost who helps him)

My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness by Nagata Kabi (autobiographical manga about a young lesbian in Japan trying to figure out her identity and find companionship)

Solo Leveling vol. 1 - 2 by Chugong (a manwha series set in modern fantasy Korea, about a young man is terrible at "hunting"...until he isn't)

Haikyu!! vol. 5 - 6 by Haruichi Furudate (manga series about young men who play high school volleyball)

Little Birds by Anaïs Nin (a collection of short erotic stories with lots of trigger warnings applicable and a few dashes of wlw, originally written in the 1930s and 1940s)

To Strip the Flesh by Oto Toda (manga collection of short stories, with the longest/most involved being about a young man's journey coming out as a trans man)

Shubeik Lubeik by Deena Mohamed (graphic novel exploring three stories of Egyptians getting first-grade wishes in a modern-with-magic world, includes NB rep)

Limerence by Jiang Zi Bei (danmei novel, mlm, about a young college student who breaks up with his boyfriend and ends up falling for his ex's roommate.)

Our Colors by Gengoroh Tagame (manga about a young Japanese gay man coming our of the closet and making friends/finding a mentor in an older gay man)

Silent Hearts vol. 1 by Jing Shui Bian (danmei novel, mlm, modern high school setting, lots of disability rep though not for either member of the main couple)

Rainbow! vol. 1 by Sunny (modern, maybe with magic, about a young woman with a tough life and the people around her; wlw implied in the future?)

Out of Left Field by Jonah Newman (real-life-inspired graphic novel about a young gay man navigating high school)

Escape From St. Hell: My Trans Life Levels Up by Lewis Hancox (autobiographical graphic novel about a young trans man with severe anxiety)

This was the most pages I've read in a month all year, and the second most individual books. There's actually one more book not pictured, as it wasn't on Storygraph and I opted not to add it.

Happy reading, y'all.

[airyravenmaid]

As someone who's been secretly teetering around the SAGAU (that's "Self-Aware Genshin AU" for those who aren't aware 🥁) tag and works while thoroughly enjoying a lot of them, I think today's finally the day I put my own two cents in on it. Particularly, my two cents about how a certain redheaded owl stud would act in that verse. By all means, no hate to anybody who's written him any differently in their SAGAU stuff-- we're all here to have fun and junk; this is just how I personally think he'd be. You are free to disagree with any and everything I have to say under the cut, but I will have no badmouthing or the like.

Being perfectly honest, I haven't really seen much of Diluc in a ton of SAGAU works outside of him either being part of the "get the 'Imposter'" mob or individually attacking us if he comes across us solo and isn't in the know that we the reader are the real deal. Basically, he's more or less just kinda lumped in with the other highly devoted followers of the Creator without really standing out much in the plot. And, nothing particularly wrong with that, no, no, no, but here's where my hee-ho funny hot take comes in:

I don't actually think Diluc would really worship the Creator. In fact, I don't think he'd even like us at first. *Sojiro voice* Let me explain!

Diluc Ragnvindr is, in every sense of the word, a disenchanted young man. Now, we know he wasn't born as such, but we have the Knights of Favonius disgracing Crepus' death while the wound was still fresh and the falling out between Diluc and Kaeya upon the latter's revelation as a Khaenri'ahn spy to blame for that. Blah, blah, blah, that's right, we heard the story, over and over again, so, where does this tie into my personal interpretation of his thoughts on the Creator, you may ask? Well!

In the happier, more idealistic years before all hell broke loose on his 18th birthday, Diluc most likely did worship and revere the Creator per his upbringing since I think Crepus also worshipped them like a good chunk of Mondstadt does. No problems there. But, where was the "all-powerful, ever-benevolent" God of Teyvat when he'd lost his father and brother on that same, horrible night in different ways? What did they do when the Knights of Favonius openly spat on his father's name just to save their undeserved reputation? What did they give him during that four-year suicide mission he spent indiscriminately hunting Fatui agents before promptly getting the ban of a lifetime from the entire Nation of Cryo?

Nowhere, nothing, and radio silence.

Just another unreliable let-down added to the list, and another knife to his back.

(Imposter AU-wise) So, come present day, when the Great Big Phony™ drops and takes a throne that very much does not belong to them, everybody's over the moon and pulling out all the stops for their beloved God... except Diluc. Now, he's not so stupid that he openly badmouths the apparent Creator since that would get him some pretty unpleasant looks and land him in rather hot water, so instead, he shows no open reaction while rolling his eyes and scoffing at them wherever people can't see or hear. And, if we're going with the traditional portrayal of the Imposter being an uncaring tyrant, his already diminished opinion of the Creator's image is only further soured. He does nothing to damper or criticize anybody's faith since it's far from his place to, but they certainly won't see him joining in any day of the week, either.

And then comes the "Imposter", who's actually the true Creator that's been jiffy-popped into Genshin's world from the real one. Now, while he thinks it's beyond ridiculous that the people of Mondstadt and the Knights of Favonius (though, not as much surprise for the latter-- always so inefficient...) find it just to hunt down and torture somebody solely for looking like the Creator especially since nobody in town gives a shit that Venti and Barbatos look disturbingly alike for reasons only he (plus Jean and maybe Kaeya, if his Hangout implies anything) knows without actually presenting themselves as an active threat to humanity like, say, the Abyss Order or the Fatui, Diluc still can't help but secretly hand it to the alleged Imposter for being the first to have the guts to knock that "divine do-nothing" down a peg in some way, even if it is considered quite the risky move.

Should he encounter us while we're running for our lives worse for the wear for the above reason (and truly confirming that we mean no real harm and are just a victim of very unfortunate circumstance), Diluc is open to helping us get away safely under the radar and giving false info to the KoF like he did in his Story Quest since getting caught helping Teyvat's most wanted by the mob would not end well for him, either. And, he's pretty amicable when patching us up... but then he sees the dried gold blood and scars all over our body and realizes exactly who we really are. No, he doesn't do a full 180 and start blastin', but Diluc sure is now a lot colder towards us than he already is in general. Still helps us out, but we can taste the sudden mood drop. At some point, we discover his resent towards us for (from his perspective; can't exactly explain that we didn't actually make any of the characters' backstories since we're not HoYoverse and whatnot bc that wouldn't make sense to anyone in Genshin within the confines of the Creator!Reader AU without us sounding completely crazy) being seemingly nowhere to be seen around his and others' suffering despite being the God of All Gods capable of doing literally anything to help it, but simply choosing not to. Even if the Reader rightfully says they didn't do anything, Diluc's cold rebuttal is something along the lines of "No. You didn't.", and it's not the least bit reassuring.

If he were to stick around with us a bit longer during our escape from Mondstadt/whirlwind journey, then Diluc would come to understand that we really weren't as in control of everything bad happening to him or the world as he initially believed, especially if in his misguided blaming, it causes Reader to develop one HELL of a guilt complex feeling like they are responsible for fixing everything if it means putting an end to all the nonsense and abuse some of their once-beloved characters/acolytes are putting them through. Granted, the actual Imposter does have to be stopped and dethroned for all the shit they're pulling, but that's really all that falls on us as the unfortunate hero.

Other than that condition, though, we basically have someone that's thankfully not looking to hunt us down for absurd reasons and even helps us in our need, but at the same time curses us for letting him and many others down by not acting in some way when it mattered most.

[starshideurfics]

Captive, Captivating, part three

Part Two

into the steddie-verse, omegaverse, dubcon, breeding, we’re all in the same imperial rome/war prize gutter together, mdni 🔞

Geta watches as his betrothed is ushered away to prepare for their wedding, calming his need to growl with the fact that Stepan is wearing his clothes. That he is marked as belonging to Rome.

Belonging to Geta.

“Your grace?” Junius says from his side. “Are you certain of this mating? The emperor will not be pleased.”

“The only thing I could do to please Caracalla is drop dead.”

“Geta…”

“Better to be mated to an omega with no ties to Rome—with no ties to my brother—before he can force one upon me. This way I’m not married to one of his spies.” He’s not a fool. He has good reasons for making his offer.

But that is not his focus now.

Now he must prepare for his wedding.

At least Junius knows well enough to accept that answer without any further pushing. He simply purses his lips and follows Geta when he goes to finalize the official treaty with King Rikhardt.

Geta spends the early afternoon drinking with his betrothed’s father. Then he is brought to the temple, surrounded by statues of gods that are not his gods, but perhaps another version of them.

Stepan waits at the altar for him, still wearing the blue tunica, but his hair has been braided back, with tiny, white flowers woven into a crown that sits over his veil. His lips are dark, like he’s been biting them—the very picture of a nervous, virginal bride.

The priest joins their hands, binds them together with a strip of soft, woolen cloth, and pronounces them wed. Geta presses a suitably chaste kiss to Stepan’s lips, his omega frozen at his touch, but he relaxes when Geta interlaces their fingers to hold his hand. They are expected to keep their hands bound throughout the wedding feast, until they retire for the night. At least his sweet wife will become more acclimated to his touch.

King Rikhardt is clearly the type to look for opportunities to celebrate, to enjoy good food and drink, to have music and dancing, to have his queen in his lap and whisper in her ear to make her laugh. Geta appreciates the revelry, but his attention is pulled by his tablemates. Stepan is pressed tightly against his side, their hands joined and resting in his lap, but a young alpha woman and a boy who looks just past his first rut have claimed Stepan’s other side.

It’s easy enough to tell they are his siblings, the three of them whispering in their own language as they eat, and Geta wishes he could understand them. Then Stepan squeezes his hand, pulling his gaze directly to his warm eyes. “Husband, meet my sister and brother, Ravna and Torsten.”

Before he can say a word, Ravna asks, “Do you go on campaigns often?”

The implicit question is obvious: Will you ever bring my brother back home?

“No, not often,” Geta answers truthfully. He does not know when he will have a safe opportunity to leave Rome again once he returns.

“Oh…” She tugs her younger brother close, ruffles his curls as he stares at Geta with deep blue eyes.

“Stepan says you are leaving tomorrow,” Torsten says, both a question and a challenge.

“Yes, with our terms in place here it is time to move on. We shall be moving further east.”

“So, you will come back here on your way to Rome.”

Geta considers saying they will turn to the southwest at the end of the campaign, but it was clever to ask at all and he smiles. “We will come back this way when the campaign ends.” The boy grins back, and Geta whispers at Stepan’s ear, “I’m sure your father will appreciate throwing us another feast then.”

“As long as it is not too late in the year,” Stepan agrees, more worried about wasting resources than upsetting his father.

The promise and the whispers destroy the last bit of nerve the boy has, and Torsten asks question after question of Geta: about Rome, the places he’s traveled in the empire, his horse, and if he’s ever seen a lion up close. He’s happy to indulge the boy’s curiosity, but then there’s a great pounding, as all in attendance at the feast slap the tables and stomp their feet on the floor.

“It is time!” Rikhardt calls across the great hall. “For my eldest to go to his mating bed!” He raises his mead in a toast. “May their mating be a fruitful one!”

A cheer goes up throughout the room, and Geta laughs as he and his bride are forced to their feet and hoisted into the air. The small contingent—seemingly made up of members of the king’s council and guard—carry the couple off to a private room and deposit them in a nest of blankets and pillows, leaving as quickly as they’d come.

Geta almost asks if this is Stepan’s nest, but he quickly realizes the smell is wrong. These blankets lack his scent, and even as a prince, he likely slept in a shared room.

“We may as well get it over with,” Stepan murmurs, reaching for the hem of his tunica with his free hand.

“Get it over with?” Geta growls, leaning in close to scent at his neck. “There is no ‘over’ now, mellitus. You are mine. Your pleasure and pain are mine. Your neck and your cunt are mine. And I told you: I care for what is mine.”

He licks a slow stripe from Stepan’s mating gland up to his ear, nipping at the lobe. His omega shivers.

He’s meticulous as he removes the handfasting knot from their joined hands, is just as precise as he strips the tunica from him and pushes Stepan to lie back.

Kneeling, Geta forces his legs apart, revealing his red cunt and soft little cock. He rubs his hands over Stepan’s hairy thighs, and inhales deeply, desperate for his sweetness.

“You’ll be weeping with pleasure before I even get my teeth in your neck, do you understand?”

Stepan nods, jaw held tight.

“Good. And this is only the beginning.”

🌙🏛️🌿

Stepan is frozen, the pretty flower crown his mother made for him crushed beneath his head, veil trapped under his shoulders, as his husband bends down and takes his prick into his mouth.

A gasp punches from him at the sensation when Geta sucks, tongue cradling his small member, but his hips buck when a finger slips inside to push up against a spot that makes him see stars behind his eyelids. Not that he moves at all, Geta’s strong arm holding him in place.

His legs shake and he lets out a weak moan, fingers clutching at the blankets at his sides. Geta presses a second finger inside him, the pressure incessant until he goes taut as a bowstring, warm slick flowing from his cunt. But Geta does not stop, stroking and sucking while Stepan cries out.

His hands find their way into Geta’s hair, weakly pushing him away, the alpha chuckling as he does. “Too much?” he asks, dark eyes sparkling in the low light, daring him to speak, fingers still inside his cunt. He presses a slick-wet kiss to his inner thigh. “It’s important for you to peak, mellitus. To open your womb so my seed can take root.” Another kiss low on his belly and he pulls his fingers from Stepan. “Do you feel open now? Empty?”

He nods, tears in his eyes, hoping this will be enough. “Yes, Dominus,” Stepan whispers. “Please…”

“So good, my clever little omega.” He trails wet fingers along the crease of Stepan’s thigh, swirls the mess through the short curls around his sex. Nips at the soft skin at the bend in his knee. Swats lightly at his hip. “Up. On your hands and knees.”

Turning onto his side is hard enough, limbs weak, and Geta lifts him around the middle. He tries not to go limp as he is manhandled into position, ass high, legs spread. Teeth bite into the meat of his buttocks and a strong hand squeezes his hip. “Such a lovely cunt.” A kiss over the bite. “So loose now, but I’ll still fill you to the brim.”

The blunt head of his cock notches at Stepan’s entrance, Geta gripping him at the waist as he pushes all the way inside. Somehow, he feels even bigger this time, reaching places so deep Stepan can’t get a full breath. All he can do is pant shallowly as Geta begins to move, picking up speed as he chases his pleasure, skin slapping against skin.

At least it doesn’t last long, Geta grunting as his knot swells and locks him in place, his hot spend filling every available crevice in Stepan’s very full cunt. They’ll be stuck here awhile, maybe even long enough to fall asleep, Stepan thinks. Hopes. Then they can hurry through trading bites in the morning…

“Mmm, perfect,” Geta hums, “Take me so well.” His hand slides down to rub his belly. “Gonna keep you nice and full tonight, omega. Have you peak on my knot.” That hand moves down to hold his soft prick, thumbing at the head, his other hand still gripping his hip and holding him in place.

It’s too much. Geta using his mouth on him was too much in the first place, and now he is too full and completely empty all at once, his body clenching down on the cock inside him, pulsing around the knot at his entrance. Each time the pressure sends a jolt of pleasure-pain through him, made more intense by the attention to his prick.

Stepan peaks again, a weak dribble of slick coming from his prick, his cunt locking hard around Geta’s knot, pushing the alpha over the edge with him and forcing him to spill more hot seed. “Please,” Stepan whimpers, “Dominus, I’m so-”

“Full?” Geta interrupts. “No, mellitus, you are nowhere near full enough.” He pets Stepan’s flank, leans down to kiss along his spine. “You’ll take at least two more knots tonight.” Geta spreads his hand wide over Stepan’s navel. “You’ll be full enough when you look like you’re carrying my pup.”

The very thought his husband can spill enough seed inside him to distend his belly is laughable, but it also heats Stepan’s cheeks. He may have given up much of what he wants for the good of his people and his pack, but he still desires motherhood. He wants the pups Geta keeps promising.

He also wants to lie down. His arms shake under him, and he sniffles as Geta holds him up. “I am tired, Dominus. Please.”

“Yes, of course. You need to keep up your strength,” Geta soothes as he guides them down onto their sides. He holds Stepan close, their bodies pressed together. He brings one hand up to cup a breast, but he does not tease or fondle, simply holds him and rubs a tiny circle with his thumb.

Soon enough, his knot shrinks, and Geta shifts his hips, his soft cock slipping free. “With how sweet you smell it shouldn’t take long for me to be ready again.” Geta kisses along Stepan’s shoulder, buries his nose against his neck. He squeezes the breast in his hand, presses his palm to the hard nipple, and Stepan sighs.

“I think there’s a better way to spend our time waiting.” Geta pushes himself up to sitting, smiling down at Stepan, his eyes so soft. “Get on your back, my sweet.”

Stepan rolls onto his back, stares up with unshed tears clinging to his lashes. Geta slots against his side, head resting on his chest. Then he turns just enough to take a nipple into his mouth, suckling gently, tongue flicking occasionally over the hard bud.

It feels good, so much less intense than attention to his prick, but it still makes his cunt clench. He feels bold. Wants to encourage this gentler pleasure from his alpha. Slowly, Stepan reaches for Geta’s hand where it rests on his waist, and brings it up to cover his other breast. Geta massages the soft flesh, moans around the tit in his mouth, his own arousal growing where he’s pressed to Stepan’s hip.

But he keeps suckling until each one of Stepan’s breaths ends with a hitch or gasp. Then he lifts himself off and settles between his legs. His thrusts start slow, hips rolling smoothly as his knot fills, leaving him rocking in place, body tensing as he spills and spills and spills.

Geta collapses on top of Stepan and mouths lazily at his neck. “You have to peak when I bite you,” he mumbles. “Our bond must be strong.”

Stepan does not know what to say. Geta sounds so desperate. So vulnerable. He simply strokes up and down his back, fingers trailing over his shoulders. Presses a single kiss to his forehead.

They lie together, subdued, as they wait for Geta’s knot to go down. All the teasing and bombast has cooled along with the sweat on their bodies.

Geta slips free of him again, but keeps their bodies close, tangling their legs together as he tugs Stepan to his chest. He nuzzles against his cheek, and Stepan isn’t sure whose tears he feels on his skin.

“Dominus?” he murmurs, “Are-”

Needy lips cut him off with a sharp kiss.

🌙🏛️🌿

Stepan does not know how to kiss, his mouth still as Geta holds him in place, sucks on his full lower lip. He tastes so sweet, every part of him, and Geta wants more.

Needs more.

He rolls on top, pins him down, eyes shut tight as he licks into Stepan’s mouth, his cheeks cradled in his hands. His omega is so warm. So sweet. But his attempts at kissing back are feeble, and Geta just wants to *feel* him.

Geta bites too hard at his lip, makes Stepan whimper, tries to soothe it with his tongue, and finally kisses his way down to his ear. Gentle hands hold his head in place, a pointed toe drags up his calf, and soft lips ghost against his forehead. He whines at the sweetness of it, aches with need for him.

He has never wanted so badly to worship a previous sexual partner; Geta has always been content to be fawned over, enjoyed an omega moaning or crying at being stretched on his knot.

With Stepan, he prefers his little gasps of surprise, the way his legs shake, his sighs of pleasure when Geta plays with his pretty tits. Which has him thinking of a babe suckling at one of those perfect tits instead, and a purr rumbles through him—at the thought of his pup in his mate’s arms.

But they are not mated yet.

He must bite first, have Stepan bite him. They both must peak, could peak together. A pair of bites to bind them to one another, taking the tie of a knotting and making it eternal. A fastening of not just their hands, but their souls.

Geta scrambles to get up, needs a moment to breathe. To sit alone.

“Dominus?” Stepan asks, cautiously sitting up across from him. His voice is so soft, with a rough edge, like his throat is dry.

Swallowing, Geta notices his own thirst, and glances around the room for something to slake it. He sees nothing, but knows his guards wait outside the door, and pushes himself up onto shaking legs of his own. Two quick words are all it takes for Geta to close the door again with a wineskin in hand.

He pulls the stopper, takes a sip, and hands it to Stepan as he sits beside him once more. His omega drinks, throat bobbing as he swallows, and he smiles as he hands it back to Geta. “Thank you, Dominus.”

“You shall never hunger or thirst as long as I draw breath. I told you-”

Stepan reaches out, grabs his wrist. “I know.” He raises onto his knees, shuffles forward to close the space between them, and straddles Geta’s lap. “Care for me now, Dominus,” he whispers, leaning their foreheads together, and guiding Geta’s fingers to his open cunt.

Slowly, he rubs at his sweet inner spot, gets him wet, and uses that wetness to stroke his prick. Stepan sighs, cunt fluttering around a single finger. “Please,” he begs, “Give me your bite, Dominus. Give me a pup.”

“Yes,” he moans. “Going to give you so many pups. Have you fat with twins before the year is out.” Geta reaches for his half-hard cock, fumbles to stroke himself without disturbing Stepan’s place on his lap.

Stepan nods. “Twins with your dark eyes.” He looks down between them, his hand covers Geta’s, adds more pressure, and when a pearly drop of pre-spend beads at the head, he swipes it up with his thumb and raises it to his lips.

Geta can’t help himself after that, crashing their mouths together as he gets his hands under Stepan’s thighs, raising his hips, and guiding him over his cock. Hands gripping his shoulders, Stepan builds a slow rhythm, raising and dropping as he clenches, panting open-mouthed as Geta sucks and nips at his lip.

They’re both too sensitive after all that has come before, and soon Stepan’s legs are shaking. He drops hard, grinds down as Geta’s knot begins to swell. They rock together, orgasms building, and Geta pinches a hard nipple. Stepan cries out as he cunt spasms, and Geta sets his teeth to his neck.

He bites fast, blood and sweet lymph on his tongue, and releases just as quickly. He hurries to get Stepan’s mouth in place as he cock jerks and spills.

Stepan takes longer to let go, moaning as he completes the bond, his tongue laving over his bite as he shudders through an extended aftershock, his peak cresting to match Geta’s. The bond settles as he pulls back just enough to press their temples together, breathing each other’s air.

“Let me see, mellitus,” Geta murmurs once he’s caught his breath again. “Need to make sure it is not too deep.” He thinks he did it right, that his bite on his mate’s neck should heal well once it is covered with the sacred herbs, but he needs to see for himself.

Stepan follows the order easily, tilting his head to show off the bite: a neat set of punctures in two curved lines. No torn and ragged flaps of skin, the bleeding already slowed to a sluggish pace. He drops a gentle kiss over it, then kisses up Stepan’s neck, and nuzzles at his cheek.

“We should try to rest, my sweet. I fear if we wait for my knot to release, we will not sleep tonight.”

Part 4

[cocoacat323]

Naruto Fic Recs

Since so many people liked my svsss rec list I thought I might do one for Naruto, warning all of these are either sasuke-kakashi centric so if you don't like that I recommend you don't read this! Anywho!

heroes come back Summary: Sasuke Uchiha is reborn as Timothy Drake

With Friends Like These Summary:

“I’m from the future—seven years in the future.” There’s a long, drawn-out silence. Itachi’s face is unreadable as he stares at Sasuke. “You’re what?” he finally says.

Sasuke travels back in time to stop the war. He infiltrates the Akatsuki in order to kill them - he doesn't expect to take a page out of Naruto's book and befriend them instead.

CCG Public Enemy No 1 Summary: Kakashi had a single red-and-black eye for more than half his life. Now, he has two.

twist 'verse Summary: Team Seven, in all its iterations, gets fucked over by whatever cosmic powers yet again and time travels/reincarnates/possesses bodies of the Founders. (Note: This is a series not a fic, but I thoroughly enjoyed it so it's making the list anyway.)

Frayed Truths 'verse Summary:

"What are you saying?" Kakashi demands, distress turning his tone harsh. "That you don't know when he'll wake up?" "I'm saying I don't know if he will."

When Itachi uses the Tsukuyomi on his brother that day in the hallway, he miscalculates. In the aftermath, Sakura and Naruto struggle with what it means to be a team and Kakashi sits by the bedside of a boy that might never wake.

A single misstep, and everything changes.

[NOW UNDERGOING EDITING]

(Note: This is also a series and not a fic, I'm sorry about that, but once again it's very good. The series itself has no summary so I went with the summary for the first fic in the series.)

How a Young Heart Really Feels Summary: It was absolutely the most devastating thing to ever happen to him in his six years of life. He knew Uchiha were supposed to love too deeply, but this was ridiculous! He was just a kid, for god's sake! He didn't want to be in love!

Or: Sasuke gets a crush and it messes with best laid plans.

Misrecognition Summary: During the fight on top of the hospital after Itachi's tsukuyomi Sasuke sees Naruto's rasengan and decides that was the final nail to hammer home his weakness, how he would never be able to become stronger than his brother. He was a loser, destined to fail, destined to die. So he might as well die now.

Sasuke tries to use Naruto's rasengan as a means to an end. Friend-killer Kakashi watches this.

Restore My Faith Summary: Sasuke was consumed with hatred because his family was killed. His entire family, not a single person left alive except him and their killer. It was enough to drive someone insane, or into the arms of the first maniac promising him enough power for revenge.

Instead Sasuke finds a little baby Uchiha on a meaningless mission and leaves Konoha for a vastly different reason. (Note: Very literally my favorite fic in the world, of you were to read any fic on this list I beg that it is this one.)

Never Trust Your Rinnegan (Tales of Sasuke's Travels) Summary: "Sasuke isn't in the Elemental Nations.

None of the Elemental Nations have buildings quite like this, people quite like this. Sure, Ame is weird, but this is really pushing it. These people don't have Chakra signatures, they shouldn’t be alive.

The Rinnegan has never teleported him somewhere he hasn’t already gone."

OR: Sasuke is transported to the world of BNHA and has a very hard time trying to get out.

Road to Nowhere Summary: Hitoshi knows there's something wrong with himself before he's even old enough to have a sense of self. He looks at his reflection and knows that the infant looking back at him isn't what he should be seeing.

His dreams are a maelstrom of grief and fear, his mind overwhelmed with a lifetime of emotions his brain isn't developed enough to comprehend. There's an ingrained instinct blaring that everything is wrong wrong wrong.

--

In which Hatake Kakashi is reincarnated as Shinsou Hitoshi, and he wants nothing to do with this world's so-called "heroes."

A step to the left (and right off the cliff) Summary: Team Seven starts off on a different foot and Sasuke's canonical journey to get stronger goes off the rails a bit. It all works out though. Probably.