#I think about this poem maybe… twice a week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

syneilesis · 4 months

Text

[fic] if only for a moment

if only for a moment

Love and Deepspace | Rafayel (Qi Yu) x Main-Character!Reader | T | 3.6k words | ao3 link (with correct formatting)

Rafayel waits. And waits. And waits.

A/N: Another LaD fic!! This time it's Rafayel. Several elements of this fic are inspired by and loosely based on his story anecdotes and bond story, plus that Deep Sea card line backdrop. So more spoilers in this one, I'm afraid. I think you need to be aware of them in order to follow the flow of the fic. But if not, here's what you need to know: basically Rafayel accepts a visiting professorship at the University of Linkon to reunite with the MC/you. And the prose poetry interspersed are loosely situated in the Deep Sea card lineup setting (you can search in YouTube for the scenes. This one is a brief glimpse of the scene). That princess/knight(??) dynamic is yum yum.

If possible, please read the version on AO3. I formatted the prose poems there as if they're really prose poetry, so I'd appreciate it if you check that out. (Though there isn't too much difference between the formatting here and there, I did make the effort of coding a little 🥺)

Anyhoo, hope you enjoy, and I am sO STOKED FOR THE OFFICIAL RELEASE. rip my wallet 💸😭

JUST LOOK AT THIS MAN AND BELIEVE

There’s a type of berry in a distant land that produces a rare shade of ink that matches the color of your eyes. It takes a hundred of them to create the right hue and volume for the art that he wants to make. It comes to him in a dream: endless desert, then fireworks of verdant sparks that coalesce into stem, leaf, and, finally, fruit. Rafayel remembers that land, so much different from the iridescent blue of ocean underwater, and the acrid gold of the barren desert. His mouth filled with the succulent sweetness of the dream, the lingering sandpaper roughness of the berries on his fingers. He already knows the name of the artwork even before he’s begun—Waiting, Missing. The ache in his bones gaining form, an intangible thing taking flesh.

Under the ocean surface, time is muted, a deafening thickness that surrounds you with its ambiguity. On land, however, it is linear, and fast, and in a matter of blinks, Rafayel’s visiting professorship nearly wraps up.

He’s only glimpsed you once or twice. Thrice at most. The university is big, but not big enough to warrant a dearth of fateful encounters. The first time he saw you it was at a coffee shop: walking along with your friends outside, your voice mellifluous and festive wafting through the trellis of the café entrance. You were talking about him—well, about Lemuria to be specific, but these days any talk of Lemuria inevitably draws in his name.

He’s committed your schedule to memory, and yet it just seems impossible to capture a moment with you. Even just a brush of shoulders, or of sleeves—an asymptote of contact. Just navigating around your orbit, but never truly meeting.

What would it be like—finally talking to you? You in front of him, face to face? Rafayel imagines the ache of waiting fading into the background until it’s completely gone. He yearns for that feeling, the release of it. A conclusion—or maybe even a beginning.

i. take my hand, he told you under the glow of the lustrous moon, the only source of light that contoured the secretive valleys of his face. i want to show your highness something. there was a country, he said, beyond the undulating monochrome of the desert, blanketed by lush trees and shrubberies and flowers that buildings were made in betwixt and around them—a nation of trailing and winding architecture, a marriage of the natural and the manmade. you wanted to ask why he’d planned on taking you there, and the only answer you got was a curt turn of his head and the profile of a masked man layered by shadows and distance. it would have been nice, you thought, if the moon poured light upon his hooded gaze.

Eventually he begins to frequent the café. Twice a week at first—he doesn’t want to come off strong right away, of course—and then making his way up until he’s hanging out there more than his own studio. He schedules his visits around your classes, always during the ones when the probability of you dropping by the café is high and he can ‘coincidentally’ be around the same area. It’s gotten to a point that Thomas calls him out on it, and nags at him to focus more on his painting. The next exhibit is immediately after his visiting professorship after all.

“From where I’m standing,” Thomas says, “you’re not painting at all.”

Rafayel ignores him.

Five minutes later, he says, “Not painting is part of the painting process.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, but he leaves him to it.

At the café, Rafayel attracts curious looks. A few attempt to approach him, but he pretends not to see them. They linger around the periphery, like moths to flame.

And then something happens: the entrance door chimes, and you swan into the coffee shop, earphones and denim overall skirt, the kind of rosy-cheeked image Rafayel finds on teen magazines, wide-eyed and earnest. You fall in line and order when it’s your turn, and your eyes sweep across the packed café searching for a vacant seat until they finally land on him.

Rafayel’s heart stumbles.

Up close, the baby fat on your cheeks still gives you the appearance of being younger than you actually look. You turn a polite smile his way, and his heart stutters again—but this time it is taken as a warning.

“Hi,” you say, tentative. Any hint of recognition absent. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

ii. you're counting the steps of your inevitable parting. you're at the edge of the desert, far away from your home and its familiar scents, oriented towards a direction that promised a future sad memory, the gentle warmth of his hand, the downward denial of his gaze. this longing that grew out of your bones, aching during cold, aching during heat, aching when he looked at you with such tenderness he had to hide it through the sharp tug of your joined hands, the long strides that opened up a lonely distance. intimacy was dangerous, knowing was dangerous, the bowels of his heart like a solitary flower on a high peak. what would you do to such loneliness?

Memory isn't always an infallible thing. The human brain cannot hang on to every moment of your life, though Rafayel wishes it were so. But still—to think that you would forget him, and it hasn’t even been a century. You were like a phantom thief stealing his heart in the night—no recourse, no resolution.

To wait is to be in agony, the burn of yearning locked within the heart. Rafayel has been waiting for a long time, and the only memory scorched in his heart is fire, the blaze and its blinding, all-consuming want.

What would you do to such want?

You have a blurry childhood, Rafayel discovers. After the first Wanderer descended on Earth, the incident strummed your memories like a stringed instrument that tired of the same chord, over and over. It had bothered you at first—not being in control of your own memories—but eventually you had learned to live with it.

“Grandma and Caleb—my childhood friend—helped me through the process,” you tell him, stirring your iced mocha with its straw. “I owe them a lot.”

Eyes cast down, but still the melancholy shadows remain in your expression. Rafayel folds his arms on the table, and leans closer.

Around them only a few people occupy the coffee shop at this time. How fortunate for Rafayel to catch you during your break while every other student is trapped in class lectures.

“There’s no use in dwelling upon what's already happened. Even sharks have to give up when their prey escapes. When you remember, it will be all the more joyous, no?”

The smile you give him is crooked, disbelieving.

“If I remember.”

“You’ll remember.” Because there’s no other choice, for you and for him. Rafayel cannot bear being shelved in the history of your smile and happiness. Waiting can only be endurable if there’s an endpoint.

In his studio, Rafayel begins his next painting.

iii. the berries tasted sweet, with an edge of sourness that clung to the bottom of the tongue. it had the exact shade of your eyes, a detail that rafayel brought up the moment he plucked it from the shrub. raising it to align with your eyes, comparing them with his artist's meticulous gaze. maybe when this is all over, i'll go back here again to extract ink from these berries, and paint a portrait of your highness using these to color your eyes. he never showed you any of his paintings, merely mentioned them in passing, and you constructed a dream of him from the throwaway words that left his covered lips. i'm not used to sitting for so long, you reminded him, and he glanced at you, then at the berry between his fingers. my memory is enough, then handed you the fruit.

In the few weeks of meeting with you Rafayel forgets that his visiting professorship is ending soon and he has to give out his last lecture. Thomas had asked him what his topic would be. At that point Rafayel had no answer. But now he has.

“I’ve been hearing you talk about Lemuria every now and then with your friends.” He props his cheek on his hand, tilting his head slightly and giving you a charming smile. “Interested?”

You blink. “How did you know?”

“Oh, I’ve seen you a couple of times here, and I happened to hear your friends chat about my lecture. Your points were almost accurate, I’m in awe.”

“The visiting professor—that’s you?!”

Rafayel pauses, the slosh of his drink nearly spilling on his frozen hand.

“You didn’t know?”

Sheepish, you say, “Honestly, I didn’t make the connection. Is that why plenty of people have been glaring at me as of late?”

He releases a frustrated sigh, eyes rolling heavenward.

“In any case, my final lecture is on Friday next week. It’s titled “Memory and Meaning in Lemurian Art”. Why don’t you drop by and listen, and you can tell me what you think afterwards.”

You retrieve your bullet journal to check your schedule. It’s colorful, filled with stickers and doodles that Rafayel finds endearing. Then the excited moue on your face drops into a frown, and Rafayel can foresee the next words that will come out of your downturned lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say guiltily, “but I have a major test that day, and I need to get a high score in order to pass the course.”

Rafayel exhales, long and weary, but ultimately shrugs off the apology. “What a shame, but I forgive you. Just don’t fail your exam or else my magnanimity would be all for nothing.”

He calls Thomas that night.

“I’ll disappear for a while once the professorship is over.”

“Hey, wait, what do you me—”

“You’ll be happy to know that this is for my next painting.”

A beat. “Okay … but for how long?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Then he hangs up.

He’s trying, he really does. The lecture ends to a resounding applause, and it’s mechanical how he answers the questions posed by the audience. But he’s trying, he’s trying. There’s no specter of you in the sea of faces in the auditorium. You’re at the other end of the university compound, sweating your way through your exam. He genuinely hopes you’d pass, for your sake.

Thomas had booked his flight to another country, where he’ll traverse to a land that he’d visited many times in his dreams and had woken up with a filmy, sweet-sour tang at the roof of his mouth. He’ll leave the morning after the closing dinner party the faculty has prepared for him. There isn’t time to pack much, and no time to tell you goodbye.

Rafayel guesses that it’s only fair: how would you feel waiting for him at that café, the chair across you empty, only the sunlight pooling from the window as your companion?

iv. parting, somebody once said, is such a sweet sorrow. much like those berries in that ever-green nation, a lingering sourness remained underneath, the sting of it reminding you every now and then. he was already mourned for even before he left. tell me what it's like—the ocean. he was elusive, untouchable in his grief. you'd heard through whispers, the story of his migration, the drowning before the drying, the unwanted journey. grief brought him to you and grief would steal him away from you, you knew, down to the cells of your body and the hopelessness in your blood. —and yet. and yet you wanted to have a taste of it, anyway.

The ever-green land is no longer green, or lush, or alive. Time corroded it into memory, sepia-faded, wizened. Past. The berries he’s searching for don’t grow here anymore. Everything here is empty, barren, helplessly so.

Rafayel hasn’t accounted for such development, but he should have known. Disappointment stings at his chest, and bitterly he turns away and stays at the next town over. At a family-run restaurant situated near the outskirts, he looks over the wide windows, across the highway road, beyond the jagged horizon. The painting won’t be finished, then. Another tragedy, pressed flat next to the forgetting, to the waiting, and his home.

The chef personally serves him his order and, after a shuffle of hesitation, brings up a question.

“Young man, you came from the direction of the old country, yeah?”

Rafayel meets his inquisitive gaze. “Yes, why?”

“It’s been a while since we had someone visiting that place. There’s nothing in there anymore, it’s been that way for years. Why did you go there?”

Rafayel is reluctant to say, but at the guileless set of the older man’s face, he concedes.

“I was looking for berries. The ones native there. They produce a shade that I need for my painting.”

At the mention of the fruit, the chef’s expression lights up. “Oh! I see, I see. You’re in luck, son. We grow them here at the farm. Plenty of those for everyone. How about I give you some? It’s rare meeting someone who still remembers the old country, it’s almost fate. How many did you say you need?”

Fate. Just like the time of your first meeting, as if the universe had gifted you to him. Just like the time of your parting, of your forgetting, of his waiting. Fate as a connection from you to him, red and burning brightly.

He doesn’t want to seem eager, but he knows he’s failed from the way the chef toothily grins at him.

“A hundred or so.”

The chef falters at that, jerking slightly back. But he accepts it with a nod, an avuncular smile making its way across his kind, powdery features.

“That sure is a huge number, but I think we can work something out.”

His painting takes a month to complete, inclusive of the time spent making the ink from the acquired berries. Sometimes, Thomas watches him paint, quiet in the background. His stays usually don’t last—a quick flash that Rafayel nearly misses, or deliberately ignores. But during the final stages of the painting process, Thomas hands him the exhibit details.

“I’m just thankful you’re on time for this one.” He sighs, relieved, then leaves.

Alone, Rafayel creates. Brushstroke after careful brushstroke, each varying by pressure and angle. He lets each layer of paint dry before moving onto the next. The berry ink—the color of your eyes—the solely different element of this painting. Center, central. The focal point. The beating heart. The years and years of waiting and longing. The form and the flesh. Alive.

This, too, is an endpoint.

v. can i see your face, just this once? your hands grazed his mask like a ghost wanting to touch. rafayel stayed still beneath your desirous fingers, observing, waiting, his own fingers twitching towards his dagger. even in the parting he could not let go of this distance. hopeless, hopeless. your highness would get nothing out of seeing my face. he's wrong, his eyes never left your face, and he's wrong. he didn't stop you from your grasping of his mask, and him—finally—bare and beautiful yet a little sad. you're wrong, you said, tracing his slightly parted lips with a trembling finger, you're wrong. it is everything to me.

The gallery is packed. No surprise there. It’s almost boring, in a way. Waiting, Missing hangs at the farthest hall in the floor, special and intimate as it should be. Thomas knows him well; otherwise, Rafayel would have whined at him to hell and back just so he could be granted this demand that is in reality a mandate.

He’s hiding from the throngs of journalists and art critics alike and sequesters himself in a corner that has a clear view of the painting. Loosening his collar and tie, Rafayel breathes and closes his eyes, leans tiredly against the wall. A few more minutes, and he’ll slink out of the building, reputation be damned.

He melts into the shadows whenever somebody passes by. He has neither time nor energy interacting with people today. Watching them through half-mast eyes, Rafayel stays in his secret place and studies with weightless detachment the people looking at the painting.

He’s made a bet with himself about the opinions of his followers and admirers. Who thinks what and why. It makes for great entertainment. The last time, a fresh-faced critic praised Rafayel’s technique as “innovative and a soul-rending reflection of the prodigy’s character.” He had laughed and laughed for hours until he couldn’t breathe any longer.

Another walks by, and before Rafayel retreats further into the corner, he glimpses a familiar gait and a familiar face.

His heartbeat races. He’s never told you that he’s holding an exhibit today. After the professorship Rafayel failed to maintain communication with you, convincing himself that it’s for the best that he protect you from afar that day onwards. It didn’t help that he had to leave as well. At the same time, you never made an effort of reaching out, and Rafayel thought that it was back to square one again, that waiting, that yearning.

But here you are right now, elegantly dressed, like someone gliding out of a dream. Rafayel swallows, his hands shake. You do not have someone else with you, and your eyes are brightly focused on Waiting, Missing, and for a fleeting moment your expression flickers into longing, strange and old and battered and sad, that it compels Rafayel to take a step forward—to you.

“Hey.”

The curious look vanishes; left no traces in your delighted face, as if it wasn’t there in the first place. “Rafayel!” you exclaim. “Long time no see! Congratulations on the exhibit; these are all beautiful.”

Outwardly he smirks, belying the torrential emotions he’s currently going through. He cants his head a little, works his charm on you. “Impressed? No need to hold back your compliments.”

Laughter, prismatic and crystalline. “Yes, yes. Especially this one—Waiting, Missing. What an interesting title. At the center, what paint did you use?”

Ah. Rafayel inhales before answering. “It’s actually ink. I had to make it from a hundred berries. It was a tedious process, but I wouldn’t use anything else. It has to be this, you see.”

“Whoa, no wonder you’d been radio silent all this time. You were creating this masterpiece.”

He hums, afraid that, if he speaks, he’d reveal too much.

“Well …” You throw a playful glance at him. “Shouldn’t we celebrate your success?”

His breath catches. “I—”

Before he manages to finish the sentence, a journalist calls out to him and that summons plenty more, swarming him with no chance of escape. It pushes you out of his peripheral vision, and Rafayel wants to shout your name, but you smile and gesture at him to entertain them first. You mouth, I’ll be back, and wander around other paintings some more.

When he finally succeeds in shaking the journalists off, he seeks you out and stumbles upon you near the exit, where there’s fewer people to pile on him.

“Excellent,” he says, sidling up beside you. You turn to him and smile, and there’s that lightning-flash of something again. For one unbelievably surreal instant, Rafayel thinks that despite your hazy memories, maybe you’d been waiting for him all this time, too.

And that thought emboldens him, moving closer and closer until your bodies almost touch. An asymptote of contact. But this time, he has mustered the courage to close that unbridgeable gap.

Rafayel offers you his hand. “Let’s get out of here?”

You stare at his hand then at his face, his eyes, and a meaningful moment stretches between you and him. But even before the idea of retracting enters his mind, you grab his hand joyfully, grinning ear to ear. His heart warms, full with everything.

You squeeze his hand, ready to go. “Lead the way, then!”

vi. a kiss is a greeting and a goodbye, and rafayel tasted of ferocious tides even if you'd seen them only in dreams. his eyes closed, as though savoring his last moments with you, guarded till the bitter end. would that i could ask you to stay—with me. but he shook his head—a final rejection. maybe in another life. there was nobody to watch you cry, in the after.

Rafayel is working on a new painting—a portrait this time. The model squirms on his couch, obvious about the discomfort of posing for too long. He huffs a laugh to himself, hidden by the canvas strategically placed between them.

“I heard that,” you grumble.

“Shush, you’re breaking my concentration.”

“If that already breaks your focus then I pity the rest of the art community.” A beat, then: “Is it done?”

“Patience, my dear muse. You need endure it a little more.”

“Hmph, fine. But after this you’re treating me to an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“All right, all right.” He shakes his head, fond. “My muse, so demanding.”

Something sweet touches the edge of his tongue, succulent with a hint of tartness. Like longing. Except now, it’s layered with something new and exciting. Something like a new beginning.

In the far distance, the sea murmurs, lit fire by the setting sun.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #lad rafayel #lad qi yu #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace qi yu #fic #my fic #rafayel x reader #qi yu x reader #lad rafayel x reader #lad qi yu x reader #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace spoilers #it's near midnight again i shall now sleep

439 notes · View notes

messycunt · 11 months

Note

can we please have a part two of mer version of malleus

tbh I wasn't thinking too much about it so this is a bit all over the place

cw: blood, double merman dicks,

when I was younger I used to be obsessed w this mermaid poem so that kinda shapes the way I see this au I suppose. it was about catching a mermaid and keeping her in your sink(tub in this case cus malleus is so big) feeding her lemonade and snails so she would do the dishes and sing in turn, even though she was sad and wanted to go home, or something like that

anyway

merman malleus stays in the tub day in and day out, where else is he supposed to go. he likes splashing around you found, esp when he's excited, so filling the tub all the way is not an option. his gills are on his neck you've noticed but he cam breath air somewhat fine, as long as his lower body is moist, maybe he's somewhat amphibious? you wouldn't know.

his shiny black scales have a pretty green opalesce to them, pretty enough to pluck and wear almost. not that you would think of doing that… right?

your relationship with him is fine after the first few weeks and then months and then years. he learns how to drain and refill the tub on his own pretty early on and while unable to speak to you he learns a few words and to nod and shake no as well. in turn of course you pick up on a few of his vocalizations, happy chirps and curious shrills and so on.

he has stockholm syndrome i think, dont feel like elaborating sorry.

you take showers and baths with him still in it because of course you do. he likes being close to you it seems. skin to skin contact soothing to his senses.

taking him to the bed with you isn't a reasonable option so at night when you're feeling needy you make your way to the bathroom. he likes kissing but has a strange way of going about it, licking at your mouth desperately not caring much for the actual lip to lip contact it seems. be careful not to let your lips or tongue get nipped by his sharp teeth, not that he would mind; he loves the taste of your blood and would bite if you'll allow it.

his slit is barely noticeable usually but at times like this it's puffy with arousal. he wants you to touch him. slide your fingers down and lick or kiss until the two tendril like members present themselves. you're still not certain exactly how they work, but he chirps happily and cums lots at your touch so does it matter? cums twice in your mouth and once against your thighs then again inside of you.

you fall asleep atop him that night, it's not the most comfortable thing in the world but you're much to tired.

#twst #ask!#mer au!#twst smut #wrk!#malleus x reader #malleus smut

446 notes · View notes

augiewrites · 6 months

Text

"secret admirer" - dead poets society (part 5)

summary: y/n receives a curious invitation from meeks and has a surprise encounter with neil and todd

pairing: anonymous!dead poet x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.2k

previous | next

It was finally Friday, and Y/N was looking forward to spending the weekend recovering from a week of non-stop exams, cramming, and a nonexistent sleep schedule. The morning’s classes had been a drag so far, and they were looking forward to the reprieve of Keating’s class. Knowing they'd be in close proximity to their admirer aside, Keating’s class gave them an opportunity to activate another part of their brain—one concerned less with grades and formulas.

No, this part was more concerned with matters of feeling. Matters of love, art, expression—everything crucial to finding true meaning in life.

Meaning.

Something that Y/N’s life—and the students of Welton’s lives—was severely lacking.

Y/N shoved the existential crisis to the back of their mind, shooting Todd a smile as he occupied the desk at the front of the class.

Their desk compartment was empty aside from their textbook and notes. Y/N felt their heart drop. It had been empty for days.

Did I make a mistake leaving that poem?

Y/N did their best to not look disappointed. The only thing more embarrassing than their poet’s lack of response was the thought of him observing their discontent.

Keating’s class didn't give them much reprieve that day.

_________________________________________

Against their better judgment, Y/N found themselves in the library during common hour. In all truth, Y/N just wanted to go back to their dorm and bang their head against the wall until they fell asleep. Alas, the expectation of a 4.0 GPA was looming over their head.

Thankfully, Meeks was the only other person to show up. Y/N didn't think they had the strength to deal with Dalton.

“So are you just going to keep side eyeing me, or do you have something to say?” Y/N set down their pencil and turned to face Meeks.

“Y/N, you've sighed three times within the last minute,” Meeks quipped, "seems like you're the one with something to say."

“But I'm right, though. You have something you want to say."

“I'll share with the class if you will.”

The two stared at each other for a moment—Meeks' expression much lighter compared to Y/N’s frustrated features.

Y/N gave in first.

“I’m tired, Meeks."

“Of?..."

“Everything.”

“You’re going to have to give me a little more here, Y/N.”

“…”

"I'm waiting."

“My GPA dropped to a 3.7," Y/N’s gaze was fixed to the table, “my parents are not happy. I feel like all I ever do is try, but it's not enough, and it never will be. My social life is practically nonexistent, I don't remember the last time I had fun, and I can feel my spirit dying. Some days it feels like I'm dying."

“You’re more than your grades, Y/N. You have to know that."

“I know that, Meeks. They don't,” Y/N let out a bitter laugh, “they ship me off to this prison, don't let me come home for breaks, and they call me maybe twice a semester if I'm lucky. They see my grades more than they ever see me."

Meeks was silent for a beat as Y/N cradled their head in their hands.

“Tomorrow night. Meet me outside the East wing at 10PM.”

“Meeks, what are you—“

“Just trust me. If you care about your spirit, anyway."

“Fine,” Y/N began packing their bag and stood up, nodding absentmindedly, "yeah, okay."

Because everything was cosmically determined to go wrong, Y/N crashed into Charlie as they rounded the corner out of the library. Their armload of textbooks crashed to the floor.

“Don’t you know to look both ways before crossing the street?" Charlie joked as he knelt to pick up Y/N’s books.

Y/N kept their head down as they gathered the mess of note paper that exploded out of their trig book.

“I mean, really, Y/N. If you want to feel me up you don't need to be so aggressive about it—“

Charlie’s sly smile melted into concern when he noticed the tears in Y/N’s eyes.

"Hey, are you okay, Y/N?” Charlie passed the books to Y/N and placed a gentle hand on their upper am.

Y/N gave the boy a tight lipped smile and stepped away from his touch.

“I'm fine, Dalton," Y/N was already moving down the hall.

“Y/N—“

“If you're looking for Meeks, he's still in there."

Y/N disappeared around the corner, leaving Charlie staring at the space they just occupied.

_________________________________________

Y/N wasn’t one for skipping class, but it was the last period of the day and Y/N thought their head would explode if they didn’t get away from everyone as soon as possible.

They triple checked that the hallway was empty before rushing into the storage room filled with students’ empty luggage.

But the room wasn’t unoccupied like they expected.

Neil Perry and Todd Anderson were in the middle of the room, locked in a gentle embrace.

They jumped apart when they heard Y/N’s soft sound of surprise, and the trio looked at each other in shock for a beat.

“We were just—” Neil took a step away from Todd before the other boy cut him off, surprising everyone, seemingly including himself.

“We’re together.”

They all stared at each other for another moment before Neil stepped forward again.

“You can’t tell anyone, Y/N.”

“I won’t,” Y/N blinked, suddenly coming alive again, “I would never.”

Relief washed over the two boys. Todd was more red than Y/N thought was humanly possible.

“Okay, I’m just gonna,” Y/N took a step back and jerked a thumb over their shoulder at the door, “go…”

They turned quickly to leave.

“Y/N.” Neil’s hand enclosed their wrist as they reached for the doorknob.

They looked up into Neil’s soft gaze, a faint smile on his face, “thank you.”

“Of course,” they returned the smile and waved to Todd as they slipped out the door, rushing to their dorm to avoid being caught for truancy.

_________________________________________

Y/N had been laying in bed for all of fifteen minutes before they heard the familiar sound of paper sliding under the door.

They were out of bed and rushing to open the door before they could think twice. Truancy be damned.

The empty hallway mocked Y/N.

Frustrated tears welled in their eyes as they slammed the door and grabbed the envelope off the floor before ripping it open.

Beloved Y/N,

In your eyes, a storm silently brews, Emotional tempest, tears it strews. I stand close, a silent observer, Love entangled in your pain, a fervent preserver.

Your hurt, a whisper in the quiet air, A shared burden, a weight to bear. In the shadows, love stands strong, A balm for wounds, a solace lifelong.

In the heart's tempest, emotions entwine, Love persists, a steadfast lifeline. I may not heal all that pains your soul, But together, in love, we find a way to be whole.

x, Yours.

Y/N let the tears flow freely as they sunk down onto the bed.

They were certain of who wasn’t their poet, but they were in denial about who it could be.

~~~

part six

a/n: any reality where neil and todd aren't in love is a crime against nature

taglist: @vvnbxz @edb954

207 notes · View notes

gayerthanevertbh · 2 years

Text

say your prayers - one.

pairings | dark!priestess!natasha romanoff x reader

– summary: your school have church service once every week. of course, as a good little schoolgirl you are, you attend to it. which means you always have to see your priestess, natasha, who you are secretly infatuated with. until there was an unexpected turn that made you feel something else other than good. but maybe, even better.

– warnings: smut/dark taboo themes - 18+ YOU’VE BEEN WARNED! non-con/dub-con, religious themes, sacrilegious acts, blasphemy of religion, biblical references, rough sex, loss of virginity, dark!natasha, oral sex (r receiving), Mother kink, heavily detailed smut, natasha being a creep, and more.

– notes: this was so well written i’m actually kind of happy about this chapter. there will be more in the future, for now this. enjoy! <3

series masterlist | navigation | taglist for this series

I attend the chapel every week. The school requires you to, so I don’t really have a choice. Usually, my choices are: to drop my scholarship and move to a new school so I don’t have to do all the religious routine or suck it up. And mostly, I do suck it up. Mainly because my parents are believers of God and would be a saint when it comes to him. I’m like that too, I pray and confess my sins and sometimes even ask for help when I do need it. I’m a good girl, as they say. And I am a good girl.

It just simply goes away once I see my priestess once a week.

Ruther Catholic College has been my high school life, I’ve been in boarding school ever since I turned fifteen years old. My parents, who are religious people, think that Catholic schools do good for schoolgirls like me. I am a good schoolgirl, I just have issues that I’d rather not talk about. I have never been vocal about it either, not finding a sense in it since I don’t talk to a lot of people. I do have friends, but I skip my time with them so that I could read my books. I’m an aspiring writer, a journalist. I write the simplest stories that are book worthy and it makes me think that I am talented and educationally smart–since I was raised that way. I’m a Rogers, for Christ’s sake. Of course, being academically smart has to be on the charts.

But I cannot shake off my infatuation with my priestess, Natasha, who is twice my age. She has the kindest eyes that I’ve ever laid my eyes on, all my teachers are bastards and have soggy jawlines. But Mother Natasha has a face of a babe with the maturity that comes with it. Her lips are subtle and thick, and her hands are quite long and neat. She wears this attire every Friday and does the chapel, preaches the word of God, and makes us go to the confession room to reveal our sins with no shame. I still have to wonder who was behind that divider, because there are many women in that church that could possibly be forgiving my sins. I’ve blatantly confessed to many women, not knowing who they are.

Anyway, the humanities building is the largest dorm of all in New York. We have our own rooms, our own food too. But we are still required to go to the cafeteria to say our prayers, to bond with other schoolgirls. I, personally, do like having my own space. The context of someone being in your room can be very intrusive, which I am not fond of. I have a desk that has most of my writings, and poems that are short. On the other side, my single bed was there as well as my long rectangular-shaped window. Beside the door are my bookshelves which have the cross of Jesus Christ above the wooden shelf. I’d invite a friend or two to have a book date, but never less sleep there. There would be a couple of nuns on the watch, especially at night. That means we aren’t allowed to even get out of the building without permission and say where we are headed. Only our parents can pick us up from our school.

Today is Friday which is my luck to see Mother Natasha again. I hiked my white long socks all the way to my knees and got into my black shoes that felt hard on my heels. Though, I have no choice but not to wear them. When I was in the hallway, I could feel the cold breeze of the air. It’s September and it’s the start of my year, I turned eighteen a week ago and spent it with my parents. Some of them say I still act like a fifteen-year-old kid, but I don’t think that way. With how smart I am, I felt like an adult once I reached this age. I see Wanda with her hair tied up that shows off her brunette locks, she smiles at me and brings her arm inside mine.

“Guess what?”

“What?” I asked while trying to stop the itch from my feet, making my face scrunched in a weird look.

“I’m getting a laptop soon!” she says joyfully, squealing with her arms tightening around mine. It hurt, but it didn’t matter. I smiled to silently tell Wanda that I was happy for her, truly I was.

“That’s nice,” I responded with a huff because of the cold wind. “I was wondering when I’m going to get mine. I could write better stories there.”

“You’re always writing and reading, don’t you ever get bored?”

“No,” I huffed again. “Not really. It only keeps me away from reality, I get to choose what it feels like to be loved and unloved. I also get to choose whether I’m religious or not.”

I was a good girl but never came to terms with my religion. I believe in God, though. I truly do think he’s capable of all of us sinners and people, it’s just hard to believe when your teacher says something about the world ending. Revelation is not the best chapter in the Bible, it never was. Truly because I think it’s fictional and hypothetical for these things to happen, it has been said for many years. I still don’t see it happening.

Maybe that makes me a sinner of not being afraid of death. I'm not afraid of the underground world once I die, because I know that it’s a place for me and other people who go through my struggle. I’d rather not admit it, it makes me feel ashamed of myself.

When we reached the big wooden doors that lead to the chapel, I gulped. I could feel my throat restraining as if I’m not allowed to talk–which was the case, you aren’t allowed to talk in the chapel. Once it opens, all of us schoolgirls come rushing in quietly. Of course in line. I see my teachers being in the back row while there are a few nuns in the front row, and the section of my class sits in the right row in the middle of the church. So I sat there quietly with Wanda, who had her feet pressed together. A nun was at the altar playing the piano that was ringing in our ears beautifully, and I do find it relaxing. And once everyone was in the chapel, the priestess made her entrance.

Mother Natasha.

I could hear Wanda mumbling, “I wonder if she has a husband. She seems lonely, I mean look at her stance. It screams I want a husband. Do you think she wants one? Or does she have one already?”

I imagine Mother Natasha bringing her husband, who is possibly a priest. And I almost made a grimace look because of that imagination. I’d like to think Natasha is a lonely person who has her personal space and has a wonderful mind. And even if I don’t know her, she radiates that kind of mood. Especially how well-spoken she was, even if they are scriptures from the Bible. I responded to her quietly that I don’t think that she wants a husband, and Wanda just shrugs saying with another mumble: “That’s sad, I don’t want that. I would like a husband someday.”

Why do everyone has to think about marriage? Why can’t we just be happy with ourselves? I do personally think that marriage is a waste and something impulsive to do. There’s nothing forever in everything, even with stupid marriage. The thought of the word forever cringes me, it makes my body feel tingly with that word. I hate it, I hate it more than my dad.

“Please stand up for our prayer,” says Mother Natasha with a broad voice, everyone else closing their eyes. I had to do it as well but urged them to open again just to see her, to take a glimpse of her. After a long prayer, the service began. I was holding onto my Bible while still listening to her preaching, appreciating how there was so much power in her voice. I wish I could easily do that, to attract people with just my voice.

“For rebellion is as the sin of divination,

And insubordination is as iniquity and idolatry.

Because you have rejected the word of the Lord,

He has also rejected you from being king.”

When she says those words with such vulnerability, we make eye contact. It was brief, yet it meant so much to me. She looked at me. And I could see her creating a small smile that was so fainted, you could barely see it. My body tensed from the way her eyes were looking at mine, it was like I couldn’t breathe. My heart stopped. How utterly infatuated I was with something sinful that I cannot despair. She was a woman, a grown woman. I was a kid, practically a teenager still. Yet, she still looked at me without meaning.

After the service, we were asked to go to the confession room as always. It had to take a while since there were a lot of students and it took at least a minute or two. I was waiting in line with my fingers playing on the edge of my skirt. I bit the inside of my cheek, wondering about the possibilities that could happen later once I confess. But mostly, I thought about how Mother Natasha looked at me and almost gave me a smile. Was it sinful enough for me to want it from her?

“Y/N Rogers,” a nun calls me. I lifted my head up in response. “You’re up next. Don’t take too long.”

I mumbled a thank you for being polite and walked inside the small booth, closing the curtains. It felt intimate to be here again, to sit on the warm wooden chair and be faced by a divider. I start by saying with a light voice: “Bless me, Mother, for I have sinned. My last confession was about watching sexual films that my friend and I did, and I have thoughts about it. And for my next confession, I began to research abortion so that I could be prepared for the future. I know that it’s sinful to kill a child inside of your womb, but I was very curious. I will never do something like that again. And for my last one, I’m having an infatuation with someone that they do not know me. They barely made eye contact with me, and I’ve been thinking about them for the longest time.”

There was a short pause until the priestess asked, “Is this person a schoolmate?”

I began to shake my head. Lies, full of lies. I can’t confess something like this, it would be sinful enough to commit to it. It was just a stupid girl crush, no big deal. Wrong, it was a big deal–especially at this church. Homophobia is the real issue here, and they ban any homosexual acts from this school. So, I lied through my teeth.

“No, Mother. Someone else outside of school.”

“By the authority vested in me by the church, I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost. May your confession be a reminder of you, child.”

I then realized how feminine the voice of that woman was. It sounded younger, and not some haggard old voice that you’d usually hear from another priestess. No, this sounded different. It sounded exactly just like Mother Natasha, although more feminine. Much lighter. I overthought this conversation until I made my way back to the room, where I had to do my project in English Class. My teacher, Mrs. Davis, is an outstanding poet. I love learning from her, but she seems too old for me to like. I’m assuming she’s in her sixties or maybe late fifties, but who am I to care about her age? I just simply love her class.

I kiss the small cross from my bracelet as I do a little prayer by the window, apologizing for my sins. It’s a daily ritual, a routine where I knelt down peacefully and talked to God. Whether he’s hearing me or not, I could tell how disappointed he was with my simple infatuation with a woman who was in her forties. I was ashamed, but never truly understood with the exception of being homosexual. Perhaps, I was. But I try my best to push it away, and it’s working.

“Forgive me, Lord Father, for I have sinned today. I know I may have disappointed you, and I will do my best to remain pure to your eyes. In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

—

Saint as she was on the outside, the devil she was on the inside. Natasha has urges, sexual urges. Maybe infatuation too, but more on the concept of fucking someone has been on her mind. Especially to me, specifically to me. How she’s trying to condemn herself whenever I'm around, how to try not to notice my eyes whenever she preaches. She prays to the Lord every day to push the feeling off, to be a saint in front of his eyes. But her urges continue on as if it was hunting for prey.

Mother Natasha is now inside your room with the door being quietly closed. She holds her clerical collar around her neck, trying to hold off the animalistic self to not grow out immediately. She takes in the coolness of my room, hearing the sounds of the clock ticking as well as the lights outside from the window are yellow. She looks at my desk and places a finger down, swiping across from the wood. She brings her finger to her tongue and licks it–rolling her eyes back at her head at the image of me on her desk. It’s getting worse day by day whenever she sees me by the halls of Ruther College, she wants to bite me. To simply take me that no one else could. Mother Natasha takes a few steps to my bed and simply admires my slumbered body, smiling to herself and whispering: How beautiful you are, my little lamb. How effortlessly pretty you are.

She takes out her hand and ran her knuckles against my soft cheek, afraid enough that she’ll wake me out of my slumber. Relief left her body when I didn’t stir awake and continued her actions. Mother Natasha has always admired me, especially whenever the teachers would talk about me to her. They would say how well disciplined I am and how much they love my writings, saying that some of my essays could be poetry. She admires that very deeply and takes it in by heart. Before she could do further action, she goes to my desk and starts opening drawers quietly. Something catches her eyes, it’s underwear that has never been washed.

“Perhaps this is yours, little lamb,” she murmurs to herself while touching the cloth of my old juices, running her thumb against it. She brings it to her nose and smells it, almost making a euphoric sound out of it. She’s insane, utterly and completely insane to me. “How beautiful you are, how much you make me crazy.”

Mother Natasha shoves the sheer pink panties inside of her pockets and maneuvers toward me once more, looking down at my body. She takes the ridge of the blanket and moves it down slowly, her eyes staring at my face to see if there are any reactions. None. So she continued until the blanket was at my feet. I was still asleep, deeply in fact. My eyes were so shut that I didn’t even know she was already behind me, her hands remained untouched from my hips. It was as if she was afraid to even hold my arms, to smell my neck. Forgive me, Father, she thought to herself and takes a good amount of smell of my hair. Strawberries. She began to be obsessed with me at this moment and thought about numerous acts that she could do to my body.

I was awoken with a strong pair of hands on my mouth, making me scream from the top of my lungs. Above me, there was a familiar sight and I will never forget this day when I found out that it was Mother Natasha who was on top of me. I was bewildered, scared, and distraught. But scarier if that made sense. I tried pushing her off with my hands fighting against her, but she was unbelievably strong. Was this happening? Am I dreaming? I was infatuated with her and wanted her to notice me, but never like this.

“Shh, baby, please,” her voice sounded like a beg, her eyes are now kind but I could see much evil that was inside her green eyes. “Please stop, quiet down. Shh, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you. I just want a little taste from you, okay sweetheart? Just a little taste…”

Once she put her hand away, I wanted to scream. But her lips were attached to mine and I simply almost passed out because of it. Is this what it feels like to be kissed by your priestess? Her lips were so soft, so plump. My eyes went from terror to closing them, almost giving in to how well she pressed her lips on mine. My hands went immediately on her chest and pushed her as hard as I could, but her hands were caught on my wrists and her eyes are no longer kind. Her eyes were in pure anger.

“Stay down,” she demanded, hovering over my small body as I tried fighting against her. Tears are starting to form in my eyes, but she didn’t care. She needed to let it all out. “Baby, you’re breaking a poor old woman’s heart. Please stay still. I need to take you, I want you so much.”

I wanted to be freed from her arms, away from her lips. I didn’t want it, I told myself not to want it. It was a sin, an awful sin especially when it comes from another woman. Would’ve it been better if she was a man? Hell, that’s even worse. If I do admit that I like it, I might as well be as sinful as she was. Her hands were absolutely everywhere, she was holding my hips with a grip–making me think there would be a mark as well as her kisses on my neck. She was desperate. So so desperate for me. My face was pressed against the soft pillow as she assaulted my helpless body, smiling faintly to herself when I was only wearing a pink tank top along with white cotton panties.

“How beautiful you are, my little angel…” she whispers to my ears and hooks her fingers to my underwear. My eyes bulged out and I was quick to say something before she could even pull them down.

“I’m not experienced, I don’t–can you please stop what you’re doing to me, Mother?”

She clicks her tongue and juts her lower lip as if feeling bad for me. I started to whimper when she shakes her head a “no”. Meaning, that she doesn’t want to stop. She was about to hurt me and I’m going to like the hell out of it.

“Jus’ be a good girl for me,” Mother Natasha mumbled while kissing the corner of my lips sloppily, trying to pull away from her mouth but she makes a threatening voice: “Stop moving or I will hurt you.”

I quivered from the voice that she erupted, I trembled vigorously when she put her hand on my right breast–her mouth near my ear as she shushes me down, threatening me some more. I wanted her to stop, I wanted her to leave. Because knowing myself, I could lose control once she doesn’t stop. I was inexperienced, I don’t know how to touch a woman or even a man. My lips are no longer a virgin, they have been manipulated by her lips instead of a precious one. But maybe, she is the precious one. Maybe, I was just stubborn to realize that.

“Forgive me, Father,” I whispered to myself while her lips were biting on my neck–hissing myself with a loud whimper and immediately covering my mouth once more. From the corner of my eye, I could see her smirking as she whispers hotly on my face: “There’s no Father here, my little girl. It’s just me, Mother. I will take good care of my precious baby.”

She brings down my panties with a grunt, her other hand still on my mouth as she throws the discarded undergarment onto the ground. Mother Natasha quietly gasps to herself as she sees my unshaven core, her mouth-watering from the sight. I could feel more tears trickling down from my eyes as she touches my cunt, knowing how dry it was.

“I’m going to get you so wet, little lamb… You shall see the ecstasy from the Lord. This is his gift, bringing me to you, kitty.”

With those nicknames, it made me wet. Those words are so foreign in my ears like I’ve never heard of them before. And I never did, so the way her sultry voice speaks to me makes me want her to touch my sensitive parts until I was eaten by her. How much I wanted her and how endlessly I denied it. I continued to cry and so on, letting her dominate my poor body while she was smiling at how much has been revealed to her.

“Recite the whole Hail Mary for me,” she quickly says with a domineering voice, turning me until my back is pressed against the mattress. I looked at her and pulled my tank top upwards with effort. “Detka, stop fighting it. Eventually, your virginity shall be mine. We were meant to be this way, accept it.”

I couldn’t. I thought this was supposed to be different, I thought that she’ll only be my priestess and nothing more than that. But I was so driven by her stamina and her harsh kisses that I’m making myself give in, I must give in to not disappoint her. So I did. She smiled widely once I took off my tank top, throwing it across the room and I was fully naked beneath her. I covered my chest with my arms and shyly said, “I think we’ve had enough, Mother. I–I think we should stop.”

“There’s no stopping here,” she harshly whispers and kisses my lower lip; biting it even, which made me let out a tiny whimper. “Give yourself to me, little lamb. I’ll make sure you’ll be filled with so much love from me, I promise.”

She pushed my legs wide and gasped quietly once she saw the full view of my vagina, I could see her hungry eyes far from here. It’s a sight that I’ll never forget, that I’ll imagine once I go to sleep every night. Her mouth lands on my stomach and makes swirling kisses with her tongue, whispering biblical words that I cannot comprehend due to the fact that I’m a mess. Tears are coming out like a river, as well as my whimpers of mercy. She gives open-mouth heated kisses on my pelvis and finally, her mouth was on my cunt. I arched my back in response, my hand went flying to her hair to grip it; she didn’t mind. To her head, she loved it.

“Please,” I begged and took a deep breath, releasing the tension inside of me. “You have to stop, Mother. I–I can’t do this with you, this is wrong.”

She shakes her head in disagreement with her eyebrows scrunched together, but her eyes are still glued to my clitoris. She whispers with a deeper voice: “This is never wrong for the both of us, my child. It’s meant to be.”

Her tongue squirmed all over my folds as I covered my mouth with my mouth, moaning when her lips were attached to my clitoris. She sucks on it, making a sipping sound while her hands are roaming around my stomach to calm me down. Her mouth was rough, as well as her tongue. Especially her tongue. It’s like she knows what she’s doing with it, and I don’t even understand the techniques that she’s releasing from within her. Mother Natasha continued to eat me from down there as I prayed to the Lord for my sins; quietly.

“You taste divine, my angel…” she praises, her eyes closed as she licks and licks my departed folds, the tip of her tongue prodding against my cunt. “So fucking good, this pussy is so beautiful… Want you to shave it for me.”

I still had my hand gripping her hair tightly and let her assault my cunt with her mouth and her tongue that would draw me from my orgasm. She still had her chapel outfit on, which kind of made my body feel hot. I could still see the clerical collar around her neck, as well as her cross necklace that was made out of wood. But none the less, I was in true heaven while she ate me out like a starved animal.

“I’m so–Lord, Forgive me,” I begged, and I pleaded. My chest starts to heave deeper as my pants become more ragged. “Stop, please stop! It’s too much–I can’t take it…”

“You taste so fucking good,” she groaned against my cunt, admiring my clenching hole. “Look at that, you are nothing but my child. I’m cleansing you away from your sins, I’m the one who listens to them. Don’t be a dumb baby.”

I let out a whining moan at the sound of her voice and how she says them with so much sexual power within her body. I began to whine more once I felt two fingers dipping inside of my vagina, and I immediately lifted myself away.

“No, please. Anything but that. I’m saving myself for the Lord,” I whimpered in pleading but she never wavered. She just kept her arms around my hips as her fingers rubbed my clenching hole. I said with a louder voice, “I said stop, Mother! You’re going to hurt me with your fingers…”

“No, no, baby…” she coos, smiling at me gently while still rubbing smoothly against my hole. She could see how terrified I was, could see how pure I was. And she was grown enough to know that she was taking advantage of me. Should I let her? If I was going, to be honest in the vein of the Lord, yes I wanted her to take my virginity. “Don’t be scared, my child. I’m here to take care of you, remember?”

She thrust two fingers inside my womb without warning, making me scream from my hand. It felt like something broke inside of me, like a river flowing out of my vagina. And to my thoughts, it was my juices. She loved the way I screamed, the way my body squirmed to get away from her. But really, I just wanted more. I needed more even though it stings, it hurts.

“That’s it,” she kisses my clitoris again while pulling out slowly to just pump in again, with more force this time. She could see the way my hips arched and with that, she pushes my lower stomach down with a growl. “Be a good angel, little girl. You’re giving yourself to me, what a saint. Beautiful, just like that… You’re so tight.”

She completely lost her temptation over me, she was a whole new person. And either way, she didn’t care. She wanted me as much as I wanted her–now that I have figured that out. She curls her fingers inside of me with a vigorous moan, latching her mouth once again on my clit while flicking that blud. I start praying once again, asking for forgiveness. Telling to God how much I’ve disobeyed him, it was a sin to commit an affair with a woman0–especially a priestess. I can’t help myself, I’ve fully grown to the feeling of her inside of me. I wanted it, even though on the outside I didn’t.

“Stop,” I whined while I still had my eyes closed, trying to get away from her hungry mouth. But her arms were so strong that you’d think twice if she’s a woman. Maybe she’s just a very strong person. “Please stop, I can’t take it! I’m sorry, forgive me, Father… For I have sinned. Oh god, please–I’m feeling so–”

“You’re loosening up,” she chastises, pulling herself up to smother her wet lips against mine. Our teeth clad together and made a clink, which hurt a bit. But I was so lost from the pain and pleasure that she was giving me, that I couldn’t help but let out a desperate moan. She smiles against my wet lips, almost tasting me. “I broke you in, huh? I love your pretty little body so much…”

She gropes my breasts while thrusting inside of me hard, her fingers curling to hit my special spot. My eyes were shut completely as my mouth gaped open, giving her access to kiss me. I could feel her dark redhead locks against my sweaty skin as she pumps her fingers, feeling my walls not as tight anymore. She loved the feeling of her taking my virginity, the one where she gets to taste a girl first. And god, I have made her crazy. Utterly insane.

I moved my head away from her lips and held onto the headboard steadily, almost coming from an orgasm that I’d never had before. She still has that smile on her face, it was as if she had won some trophy. And then I realized I was that trophy, I was her prize. I could feel the cross dangling onto my face as she whispers harshly, “Good little girls like you make me feel alive, lamb. You have no idea how attracted I am to you, how obsessed I am whenever you pass by. I know your little stares, baby. I’m not dumb enough to not see them.”

Immediately, I was embarrassed. But that feeling was at the corner since there are multiple emotions that I’m going through in just one night. I wanted to hate her, to never see her again. She was a saint that I always praised, but a demonic human being at night. Though, I love her. I love the way she manipulates my body, how she could control it–knowing what she wants. I was just some little girl in her eyes and felt innocent. Maybe those were her type, good little innocent girls like me. Except that, I was at the right age. It would’ve been an awful turn if I was a bit younger.

Our kiss was like an unforbidden fruit, like how Eve finds a beautiful apple from the snake. She was Lucifer, I was Eve. She knew how to manipulate me into some kind of sick action that I really loved, and I hate myself for it. I loathe thinking that this was not destiny because it felt like it did.

“I have so much desire for you,” her breathing becomes hard and I don’t know how to respond to her desperation. Her eyes are closed now, but I felt her forehead against mine as she gropes my right breast with a tight grip. “Forgive me, my child. I just couldn’t help myself any longer… I had to take you.”

Come for me, angel. Come around my fingers.

Those words repeat in my head as her mouth latched now on my nipple, sucking it while still rubbing my clitoris with her thumb–her fingers still inside of me. I felt disgusted. Yet, alive. My cunt was now abused with her power and I wasn’t ashamed of it, but I could still feel my tears falling down from my eyes endlessly, it was as if I am truly ashamed of what is going on. Eventually, I came on her fingers and she had her mouth on me to muffle my screams. She knew what she was doing, she damn knew. I was so lost with the feeling, the mixture of pain and pleasure. My body trembles from her fingers inside of me as my body sweats like crazy.

“That’s it,” she whimpers, kissing my lips harder with her rough mouth. “That’s it, come on… You’re so good to me. You’re such a good little schoolgirl, huh?”

I nodded relentlessly and continued to come around her fingers. Once I am done, she pulls out slowly and brings her lips to her mouth–sucking my come with her eyes closed. I watched the way she lathers her other all over her fingers as if she was starved. And truly, I was too. I panted loudly and laid my head back onto the pillows, sobbing after our sinful encounter.

Her eyes soften and touch my cheek with her knuckles, whispering: “You did good, my child. You did very well. I hope to see you again next week. Will I see you again?”

Why was she acting desperate? She knows she has more power over me, why is she giving me the control to see her? Mother Natasha has the willpower to control me, to make me feel like a bad person. It all felt different, too different. But I gave her a slight nod and tuck myself away from her, still whimpering from the sex that we made. I hear her say: “I made love to you, my child. Don’t act like you don’t like it. You came around my fingers, I hope you get to do that with my cock too someday.”

Someday? And what does she mean by that? Was there something else that I did not know? I felt scared now but wanted her to hold me close. Eventually, I felt the bed dip and watched her as she fixed herself, mumbling a few words that I could barely hear. She turns over her shoulder and gives one last smile before she leaves my room, closing the door quietly.

I cried during that night, feeling ashamed of what I’ve felt or thought. I hate to admit that I loved our sex, I loved the way she took me. But it felt so sinful that I could feel my body as a dirty thing; a dirty creature. I never want to show up in her chapel again, I never want to see those eyes.

But I do, so badly that it aches me.

taglist: @blckwidowsbf @olicity-boo @nickalpatel @sayah13 @inluvwithfictionalwomen @daddynatasha @natnutkuy @mrs-johansson @ageofolsen @easybxy @natasharomanoffswifeyyy @ayyy-lety @wandsgurl @rt--link @pancakefan7529 @korekiyoss @natash7456574657646645 @riveravalonsage

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #dark natasha #dark!natasha romanoff x reader #dark!natasha #black widow x reader #black widow x you #dark!natasha x reader #say your prayers series

982 notes · View notes

broomsick · 1 year

Text

Hey norse pagans! *Leans close and whispers*

Reconstructing historical festivals and holidays is especially tough for us, isn’t it? Because there’s just so little evidence of anything, and even though Håkon the Good gave us a pretty good idea of some historical practices, it’s far from enough to have a clear idea of the actual celebrations, right? Plus, I bet your schedule’s tightly packed and that at least twice a year, you find yourself going: “Is it already [insert holiday]???”, and “crap, I forgot to prepare this or that for [insert holiday]”. Well my friend, let me tell you two important tips I’ve learned from years of trying to keep up with the proverbial wheel of the year. The first: holidays aren’t mandatory, especially not if you practice paganism alone, and especially since we know so little of holiday celebrations within germanic tribes, and during the Scandinavian Iron Age. Second *leans closer*: there’s nothing keeping you from making up your own festivals! If history hasn’t left us a lot of evidence on how your main deity/deities was worshipped, who’s to keep you from picking a spot on the calendar and going: “this day is all about [insert deity]”. You’ll have the possibility of listing out pre-determined rites and offerings. Are you going to sing songs? Recite poems? Decorate? Is there a symbol that’s prominent on that day? There are many ways to honor deities, and it’s fun to give oneself a chosen structure to follow when it comes to deity worship. Plus, it’s all the more rewarding to celebrate the seasons according the weather in one’s own area! I’m usually not in the mood to celebrate the coming of spring when it’s still -30 Celsius outside. In that regard, I give myself the leeway to diverge from historical practice and to celebrate the coming of spring when its does actually start to feel like spring! The crops are reaped a bit earlier than the 31st of October, in my area. For this reason, my Álfablót usually happens halfway through that month, and is spread out onto three days (the first for the ancestors, second for the álfar, and third for Freyr). So don’t hesitate to think up your own little holidays, and play around with the freedom it gives you! Just to give you guys a few ideas of where to start with this, I’ll add a little “holiday starter pack” right below!

Step one: choose the date! Is there a day of the week that’s associated with your chosen deity/deities? A season, or type of weather in particular? Maybe a time of day?

Step two: figure out the general “mood” of the holiday. Do you want it to be a time to party? To be grateful? To connect with loved ones? To be at peace? Or a time of self-reflection and silent introspection? (Every year, I dedicate a full day of silence to Víðarr.) What’s the goal of the holiday? What are you celebrating?

Step three: think of some ritual offerings! It’s no big deal if, for whatever reason, you can’t actually offer them up: the idea of these offerings will suffice to help you define this holiday better. Will you be offering a specific food, or drink? Or a particular craft, or a depiction of an animal?

Step four: will you be decorating? If so, what’ll serve as the theme for decorations? Are you going to buy them or make them yourself?

Step five: is there an activity, or activities that you would want to engage in to honor the deity/deities on this day? If so, what’ll it be? I love to cook to honor Freyr, for example (this year, I made a seasonal pumpkin soup in His honor)! You could also go swimming for Rán and Ægir, or take a walk in the woods for Jörð. What do you think would please the deity/deities this day is dedicated to?

Step six: will you be inviting someone, or people over? It doesn’t matter if they’re pagan or not: if you want to celebrate with friends or family, any excuse is good to invite people over! Still, even if you celebrate alone, you’re certain to have lots of fun! So don’t worry about this last step if you feel uncomfortable with it.

#heathenry #norse paganism #norse gods #deities #deity work #spirituality #polytheism #norse polytheism #tips #paganism #festival #pagan holiday #rituals

310 notes · View notes

ikanasocking · 9 months

Text

A new realtionship

So here is another tf story. This one contains straigh to gay content, some weight gain and socks tf. If one of this is not to your liking, you should not read it. I hope you enjoy it and can read over all the spelling mistakes.

A new relationship:

There was not a lot going on between the two guys. Or so they thought at least for a long time. Until their relationship was moved to the next level. But let’s start from the top.

They guys in question are Jake and Leo. Leo the nerdy looking scrawny guy who liked to spend his days gaming away, but still taking care of his body. Going for a jog every day and twice the week into the gym to keep his body maintained. Mostly he did cardio but sometimes he even tried to build some muscle. But his biggest quality was his smarts. With a degree in computer science. He love programming and creating his own gamey and challenges to keep his mind fit and working.

Jake on the other hand struggled a lot with his studies. He tried to obtain a degree in the same as Leo, because his parents wanted him to do it. But even from his looks would not think of him as a smart guy. He was more interested in art, sports and more creative things. Sometimes he sat down and began writing poems or texts to keep his mind from all the misery that was around him. His well toned and defined body gave him the look of a stereotypical jock. And this was what people actually saw in him. A dumb guy who did nothing else then working out. But that he did all of this, because he could not keep up with all the expectations from others, no one saw or even cared to see in him.

No one besides Leo. He noticed all the poems and texts Jake forgot to put away sometimes. Even his diary was sometimes lying in the living room. Opened up on the last page, where Jake made his last entry. Even though he knew better, Leo began reading through all the pages. And that was when he learned something about Jake. He loved men. Often Jake was asked why he was still single. With his looks he should be able to get all the ladies. Jake laughed it off, mostly and responded that he did not found the right girl. So this was not a lie. He did in fact not found the right girl, which happens to be a guy. Leo wondered why Jake never talked about it. Was he too scared? For a few months Leo ignored all the facts and did not talk to Jake about it, building up courage to get into this topic with him. But even after all these months he did not come up with something good. Then one night, he had an idea. He created an online survey just for Jake. He would have to enter different answers which would help Leo to get to know him better and maybe get him to a point where he got all information he needed. He got to work and a few hours later he was ready.

The next day he gave Jake the link and made up a friend that was in need of help with a social survey that she needed for her studies. All his answers would be handled confidential and all the stuff. Sceptical at first, Jake agreed to it and took some time to fill out the survey. He was a little bit surprised on what this friend was working actually. It looked more like a survey for an online dating platform. Asking for his orientations, what a partner would need to bring into a relationship. Even a whole bunch of free text to talk about his kinks. Not knowing any better and thinking that Leo would never make him do anything that would embarrass him, he filled it all out with the honest truth. He shot Leo a message, informing him that he had filled out everything that was asked of him. Leo thanked him and began browsing through all the answers.

“All right let’s see”, Leo said to himself and began scrolling.

He was shocked when he saw that Jake had filled everything out. Even the whole section about his kinks. The first answers were nothing interesting. Jake just confirmed that he was gay. Looking for a guy that would be honest with him and stuff like this. Nothing out of the ordinary. But then came a few things that Leo was surprised to see. Jake mentioned that he had a guy he had feelings for and the description was fitting on Leo. Impossible for Leo to believe that Jake would consider having feelings for him he kept looking deeper. And there was a part in the kink section that took him completely off guard. Jake was writing about loving to have a guy taking care of his socked feet. Living to serve him and having no other place then on the ground at his feet. The other kink was more about being not the athlete he was right now. He wanted to be lazier and fatter. And a partner should respect and even encourage that. Leo had read through all this and was stunned by the answers. When he created it, he thought that Jake would never be so open with this.

“So, are you satisfied with my answers?” Jake asked and Leo spun around.

His friend was standing in the doorway to his room. His arms crossed in front of his breast looking at him. Leo noticed no hostile look in Jakes eyes. Was he mad?

“I just wanted to make sure everything is in order” he said and Jake laughed.

“That is one way to put it.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, that I thought for no second this was for someone else then you. I knew you were reading my diary. Even if you tried to put it in the same place as it was before, I could tell it was moved. And guess what? I left it there to see if you would be curios. So can we drop the act now and talk about, what you want to talk about?”

Leo was completely overwhelmed with the situation. Jake had known all along that Leo was spying on him?

“But if you knew, why did you not tell me to stop?”

“Why should I? I mean the boy I have the hots for is reading through my diary, going to extends to create a survey to get to know me better. I would call this a success on the whole line. But now I want to know something. Why? Why did you go through all the trouble?”

Leo sighed and stood up.

“I knew you were not who you showed the world. And I wanted to know why. Why did you not show the real Jake to the world? Right now I am seeing a talented man in front of me, struggling with his studies, living in the closet all his life. I just want to know why.”

Jake smiled coming closer to his friend.

“So you want to know the reasons? This might take some time. Let’s sit down.”

He pointed at Leo’s bed and both sat down. Jake began to talk about his parents. The daily struggles with all the people around him that might turn their backs on him if he would come out. And all the other stuff that was on his mind. It was like a weight was lifted on him after he finished. Leo listened through all of it and taking it all in.

“That is a lot going on in your mind” Leo said and Jake nodded.

“Yeah. The daily struggle of your jock roommate.”

“I can totally understand how you feel. But I got another question. Do you really have a crush on me?”

Jake sighed and looked Leo right in the eyes.

“I did not lie in the survey. So yes, I have feelings for you” he said with a kind of heavy tone in his voice.

Leo did not know how to respond. He was not gay. Never even thought about a relationship with another man. Let alone his roommate.

“I did not expect this” Leo said and smiled.

“I guess no one would. So now you know it. You know a lot of my secrets now and I hope they are being kept secret. Can I count on that?”

“Totally. I just had no idea how to approach you. Therefor all the nonsense with the survey.”

“I trust you, Leo. If you are not keeping your word, trust me, it will get ugly.”

With that Jake left the room, not without giving his roommate another smile. Leo was left behind trying to get all the things together in his head. The time went on and the next night, Jake was browsing through the internet for some sweet release. His usual sites did not show him something new. But one ad caught his attention this night.

“Live out your kinks to the fullest. Just make a wish and it will happen.” Stated the app.

What bullshit, thought Jake but clicked on it anyway. His screen turned dark for a few seconds before there was single text field with one single question. What do you desire? Not taking this seriously Jake began entering his desires. After he was finished he pressed Enter and then a bright light hit him.

“Your desire will be fulfilled”, whispered a voice inside his head.

“Weird. But hey nothing will happen anyway.”

With that he decided to go to sleep. The next morning he woke up and looked around his room. Nothing seemed to have changed. He got up and went into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and was surprised to find everything was filled to the brim with sweets. Confused he searched for something healthier but could not find it.

“Hi there, my gay roommate”, Leo said and approached him.

“Morning, Leo. What is up with the fridge?” he asked and Leo took a look.

“What about it? Filled with all the things you like. Like normal.”

With that Leo turned to him and gave him a big kiss on the mouth. Surprised Jake wanted to fight it at first, but decided that this had to be a dream. This could never be real. After Leo broke the kiss he looked at him seductively.

“What has gotten into you?” Jake asked and Leo laughed.

“I had no idea that you had feelings for me, and last night I discovered I have some feelings for you, too. So I decided to take it to the next level. What do you say, we go to your room and have some fun.”

“No thanks, not this early in the morning”, Jake said and Leo nodded.

“As you wish. Well then, see you later.”

With that Leo went back to his room and Jake was still dumb fold with what happened. But still he decided to go on with his day. He went to the gym and began to work out. He met one of his friends Tyler. Another jock who did nothing else then working out all week. When they were finished with their workout Jake took a shower. And when he came back, his workout socks were not where he left them. In fact they were not there at all. Thinking he might have put them already away he went home. He forgot about the things that happened at the gym. Back at home he was alone. Leo was in his room gaming. So he grabbed some snacks went to his room and then straight to bed. So the next days went on, with the same routine. After a week he began to notice that Leo’s scrawny body was taking a toll with all the sweet overload that was hitting him. His belly began to grow. The pudge was very noticeable. When Jake asked about it, Leo just stated that he was enjoying it and loved the way he was feeling now. Jakes own belly had taken on some of the weight as well. But due to his workout sessions it was slower. But since he started more and more socks went missing after the workout. And then there was a day, when Tyler wanted to visit him. He arrived at the flat and they went to Jakes room.

“So you wanted to talk about something, Tyler?” he asked and Tyler was nodding.

Jake noticed that Tyler was not able to take his eyes of Jakes feet.

“I have a confession to make” Tyler said and grabbed something from his backpack.

When he pulled it out, Jake finally knew where his socks went. They were all in Tyler’s backpack.

“Oh so there are all my socks”, he said and Tyler nodded.

“I could not explain why, but for the last weeks I was totally drawn to your feet, Jake. After every workout I took your socks, taking them home, taking in all your scent. I love it, Jake. I totally love it. There is nothing I like more than your manly scent. Please let me be your foot slave. Let me live for your feet.”

Jake was taken aback. He never imagined one of his friends would share this kink with him.

“Tyler, are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?”

“No, Jake. I am completely honest with you. May I show you that I am honest?”

Jake nodded and Tyler went over to him. He took on of Jakes feet and began rubbing it over his face. Over and over again. Taking in all the sweat and what else was on Jakes feet. Tyler buried his nose in them and began licking them, when suddenly Leo came into the room.

“Oh sorry I did not know you had a guest.”

Tyler looked at Leo and the same lust as for Jake could be seen in his eyes.

“No problem. Come here, little boy. I want to have you, too”, he said and Leo went over to them.

He sat next to Jake and Tyler began to play with his feet as well.

“He is talented” Leo said and Jake just looked at him.

This whole situation was totally crazy. His workout buddy was playing slave at his and Leo’s feet, while Leo was sitting there being completely cool with it.

“What has gotten into you?”

Jake asked and both guys looked at him.

“What do you mean?” Leo asked.

“Just a few weeks ago none of you knew I was into this stuff and now you act like it was the most normal thing in the world. Heck Tyler you even want to be my slave. Why not be our socks? Then you could be at our feet all day, while we are stuffing our faces with food.”

“Oh that would be lovely”, Tyler said and Jake lost it completely.

Before he could say something he noticed something with Tyler’s hands. While he was holding both of their feet, the fabric of the socks was starting to spread over his body. Confused Jake watched and saw how his friend was more and more engulfed in the fabric of his and Leo’s socks. Tyler moaned during the whole procedure from his view he was experiencing something satisfying. He was hard as a rock.

When it started Tyler was noticing nothing then a slight tingling at his hands. Like they would have fallen asleep. That was when he noticed the fabric that was spreading with the sensation. Everything seemed to go numb after it was taken over by fabric. More and more of his body was engulfed and he loved every second. His clothes were also trapped under the socks fabric. One half of his body was overtaken by Leo’s socks and the other by Jake’s. He loved every second of it. Even when the fabric spread over his penis, it was the most pleasurable feeling he had in all his live. Now the only thing left was his face. The fabric wasted no time beginning to eat up his head. First from the bottom of his head until his mouth. His tongue turned into a sock and he had the taste of both boys in his mouth. And this would be like this for the rest of his live. The thought alone made him even harder. Then his nose got covered and the scent of them both was now in his nose, no it was on all of his body. With that the fabric decided to take up the rest of him, covering up everything.

“Oh yes” was the last thing that Tyler could say.

He came with the biggest orgasm he had in all of his live before was reduced to Jake’s and Leo’s socks. He fell to the ground and Jake blinked twice.

“Wonderful.”

Leo said and got up. He picked up the two pairs of socks.

“Guess he chose his own fate. It was so nice of you, that you granted his wish”, he said and smiled.

Slowly he began to strip off Jake’s socks and put Tyler on him. He was an exact copy of the white Nike socks, Jake had been wearing. Even though the logo was changed out for Tyler’s head. A sight of bliss was seen on his face. Leo’s socks showed the same. But he had been wearing grey Puma socks. He wanted to put the socks on himself, when Jake stopped him.

“Let me do it” he said and Leo nodded.

So Jake got up, moved Leo to his bed and sat him down. Slowly he began to put Tyler on him and looked at the result. He began to rub Leo’s feet, when he stopped him.

“Oh no, darling. No touching there. I am ticklish. But I can do it for you.”

Jake just nodded succumbing to the effects of the strange website that he had shared his kinks with. The weeks went by and both boys moved to one room. They needed to get a bigger bed since they grew too big for the old one. Their workouts were getting less and less until they rarely left the house. None of them noticed that the fridge never was empty. It was filled up every night. Tyler was adjusting well to his new position at their feet. Tough he was rarely taken off and washed. But all the boys were happy as it was. Jake and Leo were together and gave no second thought about their old lives.

“Another happy costumer”, showed a message on Jake’s computer.

#inanimate transformation #socks tf

51 notes · View notes

monstaxdirtywonk · 1 year

Text

Heaven is a place in hell with you pt. 5

Member: San as Hades X Persephone reader

Synopsis: it's based on the myth but I've done some changes to fit my narrative for the story.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, eventual smut

The moment you saw the stairs opening you had a love struck expression and ran down to the bottom. Without a second thought, you hugged him and didn't let go until you realized you should keep your distance. But as you were about to leave his grasp, his arms wrapped around your shoulders and he kept you there for a bit more. He missed you. In comparison to his endless life 3 days were supposed to be mere seconds but they felt so long to be apart from you.

"How are you feeling, love?" He asked and started playing with your hair.

You looked up at him through your long lashes and felt like melting from his touch.

"Very excited to learn more"

He laughed and let your hair go.

"I have something in mind I'd like to share with you but first I have to spend some time with Thanatos because he is addicted to being around me at least twice per week".

He isn't the only one.

"It's not a big deal. I was a bit hostile when I first met him and I'd like to apologize for my manners".

"I'm sure he doesn't mind but you can do that yes. Thanatos is a bit of a prankster and I honestly don't know where he gets his positive energy given his...position. He might be a bit too upfront and friendly with strangers and some find this rude but ultimately he is a sweet friend".

You nodded. It wasn't his fault nor yours. You were a bit more grounded with strangers since forever but after getting to know Hades better, you felt more safe in meeting new people and getting to know them.

"Let's go to the throne room, he's gonna meet me there"

You followed him and took a seat on a couch near the throne.

"Can I ask what do you have in mind when you said you want to show me something?"

"Poems. I won't tell you anything more than that but I'm sure they will touch your heart with their lyrical nature and inspiring words".

Oh no, he is going straight for your feels. How are you gonna keep yourself collected, you have no idea.

You heard someone knocking and he told them to come in.

"Why are you even knocking to begin with?"

"I knew Persephone would be here so I didn't want to interrupt in case something was going on".

You took your hands and hid behind them. Maybe it'd take you more time to forgive him now that you're thinking about it.

"Stop making her shy". Hades looked at him dead in the eyes. He looked very scary when he wanted to.

"Sorry lord but teasing others is a habit I find very hard to get rid of".

"Just pull yourself together. What did you want to tell me that you couldn't wait and had to shorten the already little time I have with Persephone?"

"Ah yes...about that. I'm gonna leave for some days".

"Women hunting....per usual".

Hades sighed and he was gonna turn from passive aggressive to aggressive in no time.

"You take advantage of my love for you to live your womanizer life and on top of that you interfere with mine?" Just leave already! I give you two days. TWO DAYS. No more than that. You are lucky I even entertain the idea in the first place".

Thanatos smiled and came closer to Hades to kiss him and hug him but he had none of that.

"Don't be mad at me. I'll mature some day".

"Don't worry. One day a woman will get you for real and that will do it. Till then, I'm living with a teenager."

Thanatos laughed.

"I hope that will ever happen but we'll see".

"Thank you too" He said and you couldn't understand why he thanked you as well.

"You make him softer and easier to manipulate".

"Hey!" Hades yelled, blushing ever so slightly.

"I've always been so understanding, you have no room for complaints".

"That's true. But the last two weeks you've been even better".

Hades gestured for him to go because he had enough of his annoying yet adorable friend already.

"Byeeeeee"

"Two days, okay?"

"Yes, sir"

Just like that, he was gone.

"He is very energetic, I have to admit".

Hades laughed at your observation. His friend was very energetic and he couldn't keep his mouth shut either. He almost exposed Hades. Now that he thought about it, he had to keep him from going as a punishment for having such a big mouth.

"Talkative. Energetic. Dramatic. But very pure and gentle when he wants to".

"It seems like Thanatos isn't the only gentle guy around here". You eyed him in a "You know about who I'm referring to" way.

"I'm not that gentle. I cam be fierce too!".

"You did look scary when you got all serious with him before".

"I don't want you to think I'm scary" Hades was worried. He knew his looks made others have pre judgments based on his cold demeanor but he wasn't scary, especially for you.

"I'm not thinking such a thing don't worry. All I've seen from you so far is a wise, kind of grumpy but sweet man."

He smiled at that and he felt relived he seemed approachable to you.

"Now, should we do our little reading session?"

"Yes. I'd love that".

Hades went to the corner of his room and searched for a particular book in his bookshelf.

Sappho wrote many books about love and I wanted to share some with you.

It's not just poems, it's romantic poems too. You were panicking to say the least. It's so easy for a thing or two to spill when you least expect it.

"Let's make this a game. You're gonna go around the pages randomly, and the one you're gonna choose-without looking-is the one we will read first."

You loved the idea. Lottery with poems.

"Don't cheat! Look elsewhere".

You closed your eyes to make sure that you weren't cheating and your hand stopped on the 33rd page.

"This one" you said and gave it to him.

He cleared his throat and started reading out loud.

"Thank you, my dear

You came and you did well to come,

I needed you; you have made love blazed up in my chest--bless you

Bless you as often as the hours have been endless to me while you were gone".

Oh this was written just for him.

"That was beautiful" you clapped your hands in excitement.

"I made a good choice". You chose a good poem that spoke to you more than your own words could. Sometimes we don't want yet to admit how we feel for someone, but other people's words can be a happy middle ground to express how you feel without the added of vulnerability of forming sentences with your own words.

"You did. Every single poem of hers is a piece of art. It's like music, dancing and singing combined."

"Which one is your favorite?" You asked.

"There is a line that really speaks to me the most".

"Someone, I tell you, in another time, will remember us

Mortals don't have everlasting lives but they can have everlasting loves. Isn't it better to become immortal for what you've done, how much you loved, what you created, rather than live without purpose like in my case?"

His eyes got hazy and they seemed to become increasingly emotional. Without a second thought you moved closer to him, completely overstepping all boundaries and hugged him. He broke down in tears, feeling relieved he was in your arms and had someone next to him that could withstand his emotional weight.

"We make our purpose. It's all about how you view what you're doing, even a simple task can be meaningful to you if you change its meaning."

"That's true and I'm not complaining about that. I just want to find love too. Remember when I asked you what makes you long for the most when we met?"

You nodded and wiped away some of his tears.

"For me it's that".

You wanted to kiss him, you really did. But there was no going back after that so you hugged him instead. It was your time to cry now too, because you had to confess your longing for love. Your longing for his love.

"I feel the same way. I felt the same way two weeks ago too. But I couldn't admit that, not even to you, I'm still in denial about it myself. I shouldn't be like this as a nymph. But why is my nature so contradicting to my heart's desires?"

"I have the overwhelming desire to kiss you that I can't control. You shook my world upside down in such a short time span."

You wanted that more than anything too. You already felt entirely hopeless with your love. But you couldn't, it was too dangerous.

"If Artemis finds out about this, she's gonna kill. I'd die for you because I'd come here again but I don't know if you'd let me go through the most traumatic experience".

Hades started petting your hair again, erasing all those catastrophic thoughts from your head.

"As long as I'm here, no one will ever hurt you"

"That's not true and you know it. Remember what happened to Kallisto, when Artemis found out about her relationship with Zeus?"

Kallisto was a princess and she joined the nymphs and swore to maintain her virginity just like every girl that stayed in Artemis' circles. But when Zeus corrupted her and she bore his son, Artemis nearly killed her and she was ultimately turned into a bear. You knew Artemis was particularly fond of you, but you also knew how important her principles were and she wasn't making exceptions for others easily.

"But I will protect you. As long as you want me to, of course".

What is he even saying, you wanted him more than anything but

"I'm not doubting your power or glory. She'd never hurt you after all, but I am just an insignificant mortal and I will feel all her wrath for the both of us".

"Are you implying that I only care about my safety? If that was the case we wouldn't even have this discussion in the first place, I would just sweet talk you to bed and then be gone like Zeus does. But you are more than that, you are someone I will protect whether we end up together or not. I know most have selfish motives, even when it comes to love, but mine aren't. I'd sacrifice even my life for you , if I had one".

You felt really sorry the words you said sounded like that. You never doubted his ability to love, you only doubted his ability to love you, specifically. You felt entirely worthless of receiving his love, but ultimately he decided who was worthy of that.

"I'm sorry if I offended you in any way. I'm not scared of death, because it'd bring us closer, but I don't want to betray my mistress, my mother figure, who gave me so much love, a house and warmth. But at the same time, I don't want to live life based on others expectations, I want to choose my destiny and make my own path."

"I know about that. Artemis is admirable for adopting you and providing for you but I can see how you feel frustrated over the entire situation. I don't wanna say anything on this matter because I don't want to influence you in any way".

You were very grateful he had a neutral position regarding the whole ordeal. You needed some time to yourself to think about it before telling him what was gonna happen between you two.

"I don't want you to take a quick decision or feel pressured about what to do. I wasn't planning on confessing to you today. But I couldn't hold myself back for voicing one of my desires. What I said is only a small fraction of my feelings for you. But I feel like I'm gonna scare you away if you'll know the depth of my love so I'm gonna remain silent for the time being".

Your heart was beating so fast from the second confession that happened back to back. Your chest was raising and falling faster than usual, feeling flattered and aroused by his words.

"I'm scared to tell you anything for now, because I don't wanna admit how I feel yet. But if I will ever end up with a man, I swear to Zeus, you will be the only man I'm gonna be with. If that is what you wish for, of course".

You were tearing up again, unable to keep yourself together after coming so close to spilling out the depth of your desires. Hades laughed when he heard the last sentence.

"There is nothing in the whole world, the whole universe, the vast sea or the underworld that I want more than to be with you. So don't even question that for a second".

Now it was time to start weeping because he made it so much harder for you. You didn't have the will power to hold yourself back from ending up in his arms.

"Please don't cry love. We're gonna find a solution, alright?"

You nodded your head but didn't move from his embrace.

"You know you are really not that scary at all".

Hades laughed and you heard the vibrations through his chest. You were so happy you were able to lighten up the mood a bit and make him feel some relief for a second.

"Can we stay like that for the last ten minutes of my visit?" You asked him with pleading eyes.

"Yes sweetheart. Whatever my girl wants".

His girl. You wanted to be his girl more than you wanted to see the light of the next day. Being his girl didn't include a lot of sunshine to begin with, but he was the brightest star in the night sky.

Next chapter:

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfiction #ateez san #ateez san smut #ateez san fluff #ateez san angst #ateez angst

83 notes · View notes

sabo-has-my-heart · 9 months

Note

Congrats on the 1000 followers. You deserve it. I’d love an ending to failed fic 10 please? It was really really cute. I don’t know if you need any details like in the usual rules, but if I do need to do that I had a cute idea that Sabo finds a letter in his locker similar to the letters he wrote that’s signed “the person you admire” and he turns and sees her waving to him and he gets more courage and ends in a smooch. But feel free to ignore that idea entirely because you probably have an idea that is like 100 times better. Thank you 💙

Yay, my first event request! I hope you enjoy this, I used your idea but changed it up a little. As a note, I did actually make the poem in this myself. I spent probably half an hour or more just trying to rhyme a couple of words!

Word Count: 1600

Sabo watched you from across the classroom, head resting in his hand. How long had he admired you from afar? Normally he wasn’t a shy person, taking action, making his move, and often getting what he wanted, but with you, it was different. He couldn’t ever seem to find the words, his plans fell apart, and if he didn’t trip over his own feet, he ended up tongue tied. It was infuriating as he attempted time and again to tell you how he felt, he could tell you how he felt in letters, he’d sent you dozens of ‘secret admirer’ letters. Sticking them in your books when you weren’t looking, placing them in your purse while your back was turned, or bribing the coffee shop you frequented to stick them to your drink. He’d considered signing his name a number of times instead of writing ‘from your secret admirer’, yet always felt his hand shaking. What was wrong with him? How were you doing this to him? How was it that you turned him into a bumbling, stuttering mess.

Sabo closed his eyes, standing up and starting to walk over to you. He had to do this, he needed to tell you how he felt. Taking a deep breath, he tapped you on your shoulder as you packed your things up, getting ready to head home.

“Hm? Oh, hi! You’re Sabo, right?” you said, giving him a friendly smile.

“I uh, y-yeah.” Sabo said, sticking his hands in his pockets in an attempt to hide the shaking.

“So what can I do for you?” you asked, head tilting adorably to the side. Sabo could already feel his cheeks heating up, how did you manage to be so cute without even trying?

“W-well we have a few classes together and I’ve seen you around campus, so I-I uh, I was thinking, well, I mean, I know we don’t really know each other, but uh, I was hoping that maybe, that is, if you’d like to, perhaps, I could uh, t-take you to get some coffee? O-or maybe study together, s-since we’re in a lot of the same classes, that is.” Sabo stuttered out, feeling the blush start to crawl across his entire face. You smiled and giggled, making Sabo’s heart skip a beat.

“I’d love to. How about we do both! I know of a great cafe where we can study. They’ve got really great coffee. Here, let me give you their address.” you said, quickly pulling out a piece of paper and writing the address and name down before handing it to him, “Think you’ll be able to find it alright?” you asked, giving him another stunning smile. Sabo’s heart skipped a beat as he looked down at you.

“Yeah, yeah I can find it. I think I might have been there once or twice.” he said with a ‘nonchalant’ shrug. Once or twice? Try at least once a week when you got coffee. They were the coffee shop you almost always visited, the ones he bribed to stick notes onto your cup. He never went there while you were there, but he knew the place.

Taking a deep breath, Sabo checked his appearance in the mirror for probably the tenth time this morning. He was meeting you at 2 and he really wanted to look his best without looking like he was trying too hard. If he looked too nice, you’d probably wonder what was wrong with him and start backing off. Similarly, if he was unkempt, you wouldn’t want to be with someone who was that much of a slob and leave.

“Dude, will you chill? You’re gonna be fine!” Ace called from his place on the couch, leaning his head back to look at his brother.

“First of all, I am chill. Secondly, you don’t know that. And third, you don’t know this girl, she’s far too amazing, I have to look good.” he said, giving his brother a light glare before checking his clothes again, smoothing them out and checking for anything that might be on them despite the fact that they were basically pristine. Ace just rolled his eyes at his brother but didn’t say anything further. If Sabo wanted to panic about his date, then fine.

Putting on a calm air and a smile, he sat down with you at one of the tables, setting his coffee down as the two of you pulled out your books.

“Thanks for buying my coffee. You really didn’t have to.” you said with a sweet smile, one that had his heart racing.

“Of course, a g-gentleman should always buy the lady a d-drink.” he said, doing his best to remain cool. He had to remain cool! He couldn’t let you see what a stuttering, blushing mess you made him! Looking at you, the blond began to panic, noticing your brow furrow like something was wrong.

“Everything alright, Y/n?” he asked, still trying to come off as calm and collected.

“Yeah, I’m just thinking, it’s not really easy to study like this. Hold on.” you said, quickly pulling your chair next to his and sitting back down, “Much better. We’ll have an easier time looking at each other’s notes and books this way.” you said with another smile. He was pretty sure you’d be able to hear his heart with how close you were. The young man could smell what kind of shampoo and conditioner you used at this distance. All he could do was nod as he started studying with you, taking a short break after about half an hour to splash some water on his face. He needed to calm down! Taking a few deep breaths, he managed to calm his pounding heart. He could do this, he was Sabo, brother to Ace and Luffy, best in his martial arts class, and top scores for pre college politics! It was one date! Drying his face off, he headed back out to your table, sitting next to you once more.

Walking back into the school building, Sabo sighed. The study date had gone really well, you’d both gotten a lot done and you seemed to be happy to have his company. That being said, when he’d written you another short love note, he still couldn’t bring himself to sign his name. He was hopeless! At least, he felt hopeless. Approaching his locker, his brow furrowed. The edge of a light blue card stuck out the top. Quickly opening his locker, he easily caught the small card. It was fairly simple, a cute, blank card he must have seen in a thousand stores. Looking at the card in confusion, he opened it, his eyes darting across the page.

“Roses are Red,

Violets are blue,

I have an admirer,

I know that it’s you.

You didn’t think that I’d notice,

you think that you’re clever,

from the corner of my eye,

I caught you, however.

These feeling you have,

They’re really endearing,

Rejection from me,

You need to stop fearing.

Please meet me under your favorite tree.

Signed, the girl you admire.”

He wasn’t sure if his heart had stopped or was just pounding too hard and too quickly to register. Was… was this what he thought it was? Slamming his locker door, he took off at a dead sprint, skidding around corners and nearly crashing into walls as he sped through the halls. Sure enough, standing under the tree he always ate lunch under, was you, looking as cute as ever and holding something in your hands that he couldn’t quite make out. Another deep breath and he was walking up to you, a little sweat dripping from his temple from running, his chest heaving as he gasped for air, and his hands shaking.

“I-Is this really from you?” Sabo asked once he reached you, watching a smile spread across your face.

“I was starting to wonder if you’d actually gotten it.” you said, making him swallow hard as he glanced back down at the card.

“Your um, your poetry is really good. I didn’t know you had so many skills.” he said, unsure of what else to say.

“Oh, not really. That took me all night to figure out. I have a thousand crumpled papers in my trash.” you said, making him chuckle.

“It’s still cute. You mentioned I should stop worrying about rejection. Does that mean… that you like me back?” he asked tentatively, looking back up at you. You nodded, your cheeks dusted pink as you unwrapped the item you were holding. Inside was a box of his favorite sweets, his eyes widening. The bakery was on the other side of town! You would have had to wake up an hour early to get there, wait in line, and get back here in time! Sabo gently took the box, lifting it out of the way before caressing your cheek and pulling you into a kiss. You weren’t sure who melted more, him or you, both of you a bright pink when he pulled away.

“So, then… Can I… does this mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” Sabo asked.

“I wish I could say something poetic as a yes, but all my poetry went into that note, so how about just an ‘absolutely’.” you said with a small giggle, making the blond chuckle. “I’m framing this, by the way. The first thing I ever received from the best girlfriend in the world.” he said before giving you another soft kiss. Normally he didn’t get such sweet gifts, his heart didn’t pound like it was, he didn’t get flustered but you were different.

#one piece #one piece sabo #op sabo #sabo x reader #revolutionary sabo #sabo the revolutionary #chief of staff sabo #chief of staff sabo x reader #flame emperor sabo #flame emperor sabo x reader #sabo the revolutionary x reader #revolutionary sabo x reader #1000 followers event

32 notes · View notes

golbrocklovely · 3 months

Note

people on twitter are being so loud about things that aren’t correct.

1. people are saying that k and kat were friends up until k and sam got together but that’s not true. a shocking amount of people think that. kat was “friends” and i say that loosely because they were never close friends, with singer girl not k.

2. people are still going off on colby because of the poem mlp posted. they’re saying that colby always pretends to date these girls like mlp, stas, and amber. also not true. the only one of those girls that he genuinely pretended to date was amber for the video they did together. he did not pretend to date mlp. they all just played into what she was feeding them behind the scenes. same thing with stas, they were never more than friends but they let themselves get convinced by her that they were together. if any of those girls are hurting it’s because they did it to themselves. im so over that damn app lol.

and you’re right with the k live making fun of kat situation. it could be about singer girl (i forget what you guys call her haha) but because people are so mad at sam moving on they want her to be evil so bad. and people are already coming out saying “i never trusted those girls anyway” 🙂 laugh out loud. first of all, m has nothing to do with if k was making fun of kat on live bc she wasn’t live with her it was a different friend. and second of all, if every single time that snc has a girl around you have to say you had a bad feeling about them maybe you should look inward. maybe you should do some soul searching because there’s a pattern there that is toxic as hell. not every girl around snc is out to get them.

sorry this is so long i’m just so over this year and it’s literally only mid january😄 i never knew so much could happen in such a short time

honestly anon, you are absolutely right and i agree with you a million percent.

1. kat and k were never friends. i don’t even think they followed one another at any point. the only way they knew each other was bc of ms singer and kat being on the same label. but none of them were close or really even friends, besides k and ms singer.

and as we know now, k didn’t really even make fun of kat. fans were jumping to conclusions because they don’t like that sam has moved on to k, and colby has moved onto m, and so they take it out on the girls. i mean, they also take it out on colby because sam never does anything wrong and he’s the golden child but you know… same difference lol

2. this argument is one i don’t understand truthfully. even him and amber barely pretended to date. they teased the fandom like twice and that was it. they constantly reiterated that they were just flirty friends.

when it comes to mlp and stas… i could literally fist fight someone over the shit that was said lol jk

mlp has been airing out colby’s shit for the past two weeks bc he rejected her, finally. and ppl are trying to paint her like she is some innocent victim that got played by the evil colby brock. and look, i get that being rejected can suck and not having your feelings reciprocated hurts deeply. i know those feelings very well. but she claims that they were each others’ rocks, that they relied on each other for support and always came running to one another when things got tough. but now she’s casually telling fans in her live streams that colby has had multiple mid life crisis and he has secrets she can’t talk about. and then in her poems, which all have basically been confirmed to be about him, she talks about him having a darkness in him and that his shadows keep them apart and she was the light he needed and it’s just like………. for the longest time, my issue with her is that she has never been satisfied with just having colby as a friend. that she always needed more. but in the time frame of trying to get to that other side, they grew a deep bond. but now, bc she’s hurt, she’s just saying everything he told her. and that’s just disgusting behavior to me. you want to talk about the pain you’re in? that’s fine. but to air out shit he’s never even told us?? how fucked in the head are you to think that’s what one person should do to another? especially someone you called your twin soul? your rock? not to mention, but you’ve made it seem like he needs to be fixed and you’re the one to do it…

if he does have something dark inside of him, which to me just reads as her saying depression, you’re absolutely fucked in the head if you think someone like that needs fixing. especially by a horse girl like yourself. you still act like a high schooler and you’re 30. how about you get your shit together first, kiddo.

and then with stas, that shit just never happened lol she did the same thing as mlp: tried to plant seeds in the fandom that something else was going on with them. liked comments shipping the two of them, constantly answered questions about him. she did what mlp did but in a shorter time frame. and when malishkagate happened, and fans started congratulating the two of them for finally being together (even tho it’s very obvious that she took his phone after he filmed her and wrote “malishka” as the caption since clearly that man doesn’t know russian), that was the beginning of the end for anything they *could* have had. and then she went on her subscription service after they came home from europe and hung out with colby and friends one more time, only to tell her fans that she was going on a date and then posted colby. so… no wonder that man iced her out. i would too if you were going around and bragging to friends that you got posted on my snapchat 👀

also what i find the most annoying is that there are some fans that blame the downfall of the core four as colby’s doing……… as if a major component of the core four wasn’t a LITERAL couple that broke up. like bffr. and wasn’t stas literally complaining about being abandoned during one of kat’s streams and when she was asked about it, she just kept ignoring anything that had to do with stas?

but i guess that’s none of my business….

#ask #personal #sg ll #cb ll

10 notes · View notes

renaroundarosie · 4 months

Text

Was It Over Then? (Is It Over Now?)

We need more Mello content so I spat this out guys sorry. Let me know if I should continue?

September 24th, 2005

Lorelai Grundel wrote in her diary. She sat in the Bar of her Apartment Complex trying to figure out something to write down before her therapy appointment. She didn’t like writing very much, she was always better at numbers. Doctor Lambardi told her she could use it to write down anything she wanted.

Doctor Lambardi clicked her pen once…twice…three times before she said, “Ms. Grundel, if you aren’t going to say anything I’m going to have to ask you to communicate with me in another way.”

Lorelai furrowed her eyebrows, “How so?”

“Well you could always draw how you feel?” Lorelai made a questioning face while Doctor Lambardi continued, “I didn’t think so, how about this…”

She stood and pulled a journal out of her desk drawer and handed it to her. “You could write. It is obvious you do not wish to speak about what happened and I’d hate to have to sit here in silence once a week. Write whatever you want in it, how you feel, poems, song lyrics; hell you could even write your grocery list in here. Just something, anything to help me help you. Can you do that Lorelai?”

Funnily enough, she had agreed and that's why she's at a bar with a notebook in hand.

It’s not like she didn’t say anything during her therapy appointments on purpose. She just couldn't get out what she had to get out. Every time she tried to talk about what happened, nothing came out. The journal method seemed to be working better compared to the previous meetings. From just two entries her Therapist was able to discover that, since the incident, Lorelai went out once a month and saw her family even less.

Lorelai was about to write another to-do list when someone sat two seats down from her. A man with sunglasses and blonde hair threw himself into the seat and ordered a drink she didn’t catch. He didn't seem to notice her there because he continued to talk on his phone.

“Just make the deal Tony, I want it done by 6.” He hung up the phone and glanced her way. “Can I help you with something?”

“No.” She said dryly before turning back to her notebook.

He turned to face her a little and took a sip from his drink, “You a writer?” he asked.

At first she had no idea what he was talking about. Then she glanced down at the open notebook and her disheveled hair that she had been tugging on the entire time she was sat there. “Oh. No this is something else, I’m much more of a math person.”

He nods before turning back to his drink. She took this as an opportunity to study him. He wore a leather jacket and trousers. He had blonde hair to his shoulders and was wearing sunglasses. She guessed the sunglasses were an attempt to cover the obvious scar on his face. Or maybe to hide his identity.

She couldn’t help herself from asking, “Do you live in this building?”

He smirks before picking up his now empty drink and shaking the ice around, “Who wants to know?”

Unimpressed, she sighs and rolls her eyes. Staring at the empty journal in front of her she starts to panic. Why couldn’t she write anything down? She had so much to think about. So much to say and there isn’t one word she could use to begin to describe it. In frustration she slams the book shut and stands from her seat.

She hears laughter, “Whoa,” the blonde laughs out, “What's the matter with you?”

Lorelai shoves in her chair before saying, “Stuff it Blondy.” And leaving him at the bar.

“I feel like we’re moving backwards with these meetings, Lorelai. Which I didn’t think was possible, but here we are.”

Lorelai did feel bad. It’s not like she was doing this out of some vendetta against Doctor Lombardi. She just couldn’t think of anything at all to write.

“Here’s what I think we should do.” She adjusts her glasses, “I think you need to reconnect with the world again. Go to a bar–a real one–meet a friend for some drinks, something to get you out of your apartment.”

The Brunette scoffed, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I don’t have that many friends.”

“You don’t talk to Paisley, from University?”

“I do, but–”

“I know this isn’t what you want. Especially right now but I really think this will help you. It’s one night, why don’t you just try it?

—

Paisley Tomphson was a blonde, energetic girl who had majored in Finance. She and Lorelai met in their sophomore year of school at Columbia. Unbeknownst to Lorelai, Paisley had missed her dearly. She never knew why the girl stopped reaching out to her after they had graduated.

Of course Paisley hadn’t known what happened to her. So Lorelai sat on her couch in her place staring at her phone. For some reason she just couldn’t pick it up. Fifteen minutes had passed before she finally thought what the hell.

“Hey Stranger!” The sweet sound of Paisley's voice rang in her ears.

“Hey How’ve you been?” It came out a lot drier than how she had wanted it to but it was better than her first thought which was to hang up.

“I’ve been good, I missed you though. I haven’t spoken to you in three months.”

“I know, I’m sorry time got away from me.”

“Yeah it did. It’s ok I’ve been busy too, I moved back home for two months.”

Another thing that Lorelai had liked about Paisley was that she was very low maintenance. They each had their own lives and things to deal with and they both respected that. “You still in New York?”

“Yeah. I was actually thinking about meeting up for drinks? Maybe tomorrow?”

“There’s nothing I’d want more. I’ll meet you at your place at 8 tomorrow.”

Lorelai sighed, “I’ll be here.”

#mello

#mello death note #mello x reader #Mihael kheel #death note #death note x reader #mello

12 notes · View notes

moonjxsung · 2 months

Note

Okay I have a weird ass question for you, but I’m so curious after seeing one of the writers I follow using dark mode to write 🥲 also it’s been a while so this is gonna be unnecessarily long sorry.

You already said everything is light mode for you (AS IT SHOULD BE) but what font do you use when you write I feel that’s also really important to know like are you an Arial girlie or a Times New Roman girlie

I’m also so curious about your writing process aaah I was just remembering some things I learned during this creative writing class and how everyone has a type of writing style. I myself create a separate document with everything I intend on writing for the story, so like a brainstorm of the plot, then I go on to write on the main document. And I thought everyone was like that but this guy in my class just went into the document and wrote with no plan and I????

Another thing I do is because I have mild dyslexia, I have a TTS voice read my story back to me so I can notice any mistakes. It is incredibly weird to have an AI voice reading you some shit but alas.

Do you have any weird quirks like that? I find your writing is always so good and polished, I always wondered how you managed that without a beta reader (especially on your longer fics!)

Anyway, sorry for the long ask 🙃 I’ve been super busy at work so I still haven’t read your new fic, but I’m planning on sitting down this week with my cat in my lap and drowning in your words 🩷

Hope you’re doing well Star 🧚‍♀️

~🌷~

HI BABY I MISSED YOUUUUU !! 👼🫶

I AM SOOOO SCARED TO ANSWER THIS U GUYS ARE GONNA CLOWN ME SO BAD 💔💔

Okay number one I use light mode for literally everything and my phone is always on full brightness and usually full volume. As it should be 😔 and I am ALSO a default settings girly at heart, which means I just use whatever the document opens up to. Arial font size 10 I think? I just open the document and rawdog everything like nothing gets adjusted it just…. Is there 😔 and I start typing 😔 I ALSO wrote Reckless Convictions with absolutely no plan, I just went based off a poem I wrote for my ex and the rest was stream of consciousness 🏃‍♀️ when I publish my fics I just read them over maybe once or twice and then check for errors when I copy over to here. I should probably develop better habits but I’ve just been doing it this way since my One Direction wattpad days so it is what it is 😭 my sister is always saying she doesn’t know how I can still stand to look at my phone with the god awful settings I have everything on LMAO

(Hope everything’s going okay at work bby!!! Sending you all my love!!!!!!! Xoxoxox 🎀💓🩷💕🫶👼)

#🌷 anon #ask

4 notes · View notes

motownfiction · 5 months

Text

bare

Daniel taps his pen against the top corner of his notebook. He can’t believe he’s found himself here, now, trying to write a damn poem.

It was bad enough when a clerical error placed him in Honors English back in ninth grade. Now, as a senior in high school, he still hasn’t given up. He’s in AP English Lit with the rest of the Pisces (except Sam, who should really be there in Daniel’s place, at least according to Daniel), and Mrs. Burczyk is making them write poetry. They all have to write free-verse poems about themselves – who they are, who they’ve been, who they think they’re going to be. That, in itself, sounds like a terrible song written by a guy in his garage. Daniel still can’t believe it. In a class about analyzing literature, they actually have to create it. Sounds like bullshit.

Sadie, of course, thought the assignment was brilliant. She’s been done with her poem since before school let out today. Things like that just come naturally to her. Being creative. Wiping her heart on her sleeve and letting it soak up all the blood there. Daniel knows there’s a metaphor in that, probably, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not about him. He thinks about himself and his feelings so much, it’s like they don’t even have words. They barely even have pictures.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Sadie says as Daniel crosses out yet another shitty line. “This shouldn’t be stressful. It’s a good opportunity to bare your soul.”

“Bare my soul,” Daniel says. “In front of Mrs. Burczyk for a grade. If I could pass without failing, I think I would.”

Sadie sighs. Daniel can’t be mad at her. She tries harder than anyone he knows, and there’s something to that, something wonderful. It’s why he loves her so much, even though he can’t always bring himself to say or write love, love, love anytime or anywhere. He taps his pen a little more and lets Sadie’s words echo in his head.

“Bare my soul,” he says again. “Hey, Sadie, when you say that … is it B-E-A-R or B-A-R-E?”

“The second one,” Sadie says. “Though I kind of like the idea of submitting myself for judgment before a hibernating animal. Sounds cute, in a terrifying way.”

Daniel laughs. Cute, in a terrifying way. He doesn’t know else to describe the last year as Sadie Doyle’s boyfriend, so he’ll just go with that from now on.

Really, he doesn’t know how to describe being anyone’s boyfriend at all. Since the end of his freshman year, he’s been Daniel DeLuca, the guy you meet up with if you’ve got a problem and you want to get over solving it. For about an hour, maybe once or twice a week if he was really lucky, he got to pretend like it meant something. Like they were seeking him out because he was Daniel, lover of Elvis and Gene Pitney, not because they heard he’d be a good time, an easy time. There was a rumor going around that the reason all the girls wanted Daniel to solve their problem was because he was so quiet, you could pretend he was anybody when you were in the middle of things. There was a rumor going around that Vicky St. John pretended he was Ralph Macchio, and Andie Sullivan pretended he was Charlie, as in Doyle, as in Daniel’s own best friend.

Bare his soul.

What’s stopping him? After baring everything else, what’s the matter with a soul?

He stops tapping his pen.

He’s got it figured out.

(part of @nosebleedclub december challenge -- day 13!)

#drabble #writeblr #ch: daniel deluca #ch: sadie doyle #ship: still the same #year: 1984

3 notes · View notes

icybreaths · 1 year

Text

Rules, tag 10 followers you want to get to know better!

Tagged by: @burdenedreverance (thank you~)

Tagging: @sunniestshark , @nildov , @characternerdocs , @ichigokurosaki , @sylvctica , @territorialii, @fallesto , @desuetmort , @midnightactual , @galeforged (no pressure tags, feel free to ignore!)

Name: Just call me Chicky

Star Sign: Taurus sun (Virgo moon / Scorpio rising winkwonk)

Height: 5'8

Middle name: Nicole

Put your itunes/spotify/youtube on shuffle. What are the first 6 songs that popped up?

Crazy in Love – The Eden Project Feat. Leah Kelly

Death and Humanity – Sewerslvt

Psychonaut – Mr. Gnome

The Key – Black Stone Cherry

Dark Clubbing / Dark Electro / Industrial Bass Mix 'TECH NOIR' – Aim to Head Mix

Krwlng – Linkin Park (Reanimation)

Ever had a poem or song written about you: No, I don’t think so.

When was the last time you played air guitar: I don’t remember :’D

Who is your celebrity crush?: Hmmmm James Marsters, esp circa BTVS era. Hamsome

What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?: I cannot stand the sound of gritty textures, especially on metal. I always feel like I can taste it as I hear it and it makes me want to 4th dimensionally reel into myself I fucking Hate It lmao. I looooove the sound of rain. I feel an instant sense of calm and peace when it’s raining.

Do you believe in ghosts?: 100% I have stories!

How about aliens: Bro. We’re aliens bro.

Do you drive?: Noooo. It’s not out of a lack of trying either! I’ve failed the driving test twice and just barely failed last time. I think I was two points from passing it? My anxious ass was like, right maybe this isn’t for me I never wanted to do this anyway bye forever, and cried a little. But I’m over it now. Almost 30 btw, love that for me.

If so have you ever crashed: There were a couple of instances when I was younger but they were minor incidents luckily (also no I was not driving lmfao side-eyes previous question.)

What was the last book you read?: Couldn’t tell ya.

Do you like the smell of gasoline: No.

What was the last movie you saw?: Pretty sure it was Men in Black 2.

What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?: Several years ago I got really drunk and accidentally stepped on this creepy dude’s teapot with my bare foot, shattered it, and wounded my ankle. I Could Not walk on it omfg it hurt so bad. I was so drunk though that I was laughing about it, and then crying because I ‘couldn’t get the wound or shards out of my foot’ no matter how much I dug at it. There were no shards it was just a bloody pit and I was dumb drunk, don't perceive me.

Anyway skipping ahead a little bit because that was an awful night-- couldn’t walk on it properly for about two weeks, had to use crutches and people's shoulders as leverage so I could hobble around, and now I have a little crescent scar on my ankle to this day.

Lied to my family about it and told them it was from stepping on glass at a spring (because I was on vacation in another part of the country at the time. Didn’t wanna worry them. What a way to start off my 20s LOL) I don't drink anymore btw. I don't enjoy the feeling of being drunk.

Do you have any obsessions right now?: Getting My Shit Together while also roleplaying on tumblarg, and doodling.

#[ ooc. ]#[ dash games ]#//tldr i'm embarrassing and kinda lame but my taste in music is alright

10 notes · View notes

theharrowing · 2 years

Text

Deep Spaces and Unsteady Explorations

Seokjin thanks his lucky stars that Yoongi is his destiny. Yoongi may not be sold on astrological alignments but he won’t deny Seokjin’s hold on him is akin to how the moon controls the tides

🪐 Yoongi x Seokjin

🪐 word count: 6.9k

🪐 strangers to lovers, smut, fluff, melancholy with a happy ending, slash, nsfw, 18+

🪐 warnings: top Yoongi and bottom Seokjin, this Seokjin gives me manic pixie dream girl vibes. fluff (acrostic poems, falling in love, astrology), smut (frotting, anal fingering, anal sex, crying during sex), heavy on space & astrology imagery.

🪐 written for the BTS One Line Wonders Fest!

🪐 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🪐 posted june 2022 | read on ao3

🪐 story jumps between past and preset with each break

"He was like the moon, part of him always hidden away from the world; the side filled with darkness and hate, the side he wanted no one to notice," Yoongi says with a grin. "But the lighter side, the side he did show, full of love and wisdom—the side that pulled me in and controlled my tides—that side was brighter than the sun."

"Not gonna lie, I expected it to be something about my dick, and you surprised me with all this deep, poetic shit," Seokjin mutters with a scrunched nose and shy smile, and Yoongi can feel his cheeks burn red hot. "I think you're biased, though; I don't show much love or wisdom at first. I tend to push people away."

"You don't push people away," Yoongi says, "you just struggle to let them in. But that's not the same thing. You're kind to others."

Seokjin hums in acknowledgment, but it is flat, suggesting he disagrees. Maybe Yoongi is biased—maybe he does forget how hard it was to get Seokjin to let him in at first. Yoongi tends to forget there was ever a time when Seokjin didn't speak to him openly because once he did, he went from just being a twinkling star in the night sky to an entire universe.

"What would you say if you had to give my eulogy, then," Yoongi mutters defensively.

"I wouldn't have to; you'd outlive me," Seokjin says. "It's always the grumpy ones who live the longest."

"I fucking hate you," Yoongi grumbles, which turns into a giggle as Seokjin's fingers press into his ribs, right where he's ticklish.

Seokjin nuzzles into Yoongi's neck. "That's the spirit."

It is true that getting to know Seokjin was no easy task—he was always so elusive and quiet, tucked away in oversized sweaters with his grown-out dark brown hair hanging in his eyes. During the times when Yoongi would get close enough to him to strike up a conversation, the walls built around Seokjin were always too tall to allow for any exchange beyond vapid mentions of whatever was relevant to where they were at that exact moment. Whenever Yoongi would try for more, Seokjin would resist.

"Line's long today," Yoongi would mutter from next to Seokjin as they stood in queue for a coffee, in his equally oversized hoodie and over-grown dark brown hair hanging in his eyes.

"Mmhmm," Seokjin would respond, never tearing his eyes off whatever point they were fixed on ahead of him.

"What are you getting?" Yoongi would ask, hoping to learn about Seokjin's likes and dislikes.

Seokjin would shrug. "Same as always."

And although that should have been the opposite of helpful information in the grand scheme of things because, Yoongi should not have known that Seokjin's same as always was just a medium black hot coffee, he had heard Seokjin order it countless times before and heard the barista call the order out for him just as many times. But it did not stop him from asking, mainly because he was not sure what else to ask—just needing to ask something. Yoongi couldn't resist the gravitational pull he felt in Seokjin's presence, and he always fought the urge to lean into the force, searching for more.

And for months, once or twice a week, in between his second and third classes, Yoongi always tried.

"Line's not too bad today."

"Sure."

"What are you getting?"

"Same as always."

And although it made Yoongi yearn for more, he always stayed within the same line of questioning, never going too far or asking for too much. No matter how many times Seokjin shrugged him off, Yoongi always tried.

"Weather's hot today."

"Yeah."

"What are you getting?"

"Same as always."

Until one day, Yoongi deviated, and it caused some kind of unspeakable rift between them that even Yoongi probably should have foreseen.

"Hotter than usual outside today."

"Yeah, sucks."

"Are you getting a hot coffee, same as always?"

Seokjin didn't respond—didn't even so much as look in Yoongi's direction, and Yoongi could feel that the air had shifted because it felt heavier than usual in his chest. And when Seokjin continued to stare ahead and say nothing, it made Yoongi anxious. He could not understand why Seokjin shut him out without giving him a chance, and although the question of why spun around his head in countless phrases and iterations, he could not force his mouth to fucking speak—he could not bring himself to ask.

When it was Seokjin's turn to order, he got his medium black hot coffee, same as always. And when the medium black hot coffee was in Seokjin's hand, he left the café without looking back, and for weeks after the incident, Seokjin was nowhere to be found.

There were plenty of spots on campus to get caffeinated beverages, and sometimes Yoongi would go to those locations around the same time he would expect to see Seokjin getting coffee before, but he never caught sight of him. Yoongi felt foolish; he felt borderline obsessive and ashamed of himself. What good was it to stalk the whereabouts of some guy who clearly wanted nothing to do with him? Yoongi knew he should just give up.

"No wonder you're so persistent," Seokjin mutters, playing with Yoongi's fingers while they lie on their backs on the dirty mattress which sits in the center of the abandoned pool that is tucked away in the woods just off-campus. The sun is starting to fade just enough to make pollution cast light streaks over the darkening sky.

"Why?" Yoongi mutters. His hands have begun to sweat, but Seokjin does not seem to mind.

Seokjin turns his head, eyes wide. "You're a Pisces."

Yoongi meets Seokjin's eye but can't hold contact too long, looking between his face and the graffitied pool wall behind him.

"So?"

"So you're emotionally deep. Sensitive—maybe overly sensitive. Do you feel lonely a lot? I wonder what your moon sign is."

"I don't know."

"You don't know if you feel lonely a lot?"

"I don't know what my moon sign is."

Seokjin hums in understanding, turning his eyes back on the sky.

"What are you, then?" Yoongi asks, even though it all means nothing to him.

"Sagittarius," Seokjin responds with a smile.

"I'm also year of the water rooster," Yoongi offers with a shrug.

"Perfect balance to my water monkey, I'd say."

"What does all of it mean?"

"Well, for one, it means I'm a fucking mess, Min Yoongi," Seokjin grins, turning his head once more to meet Yoongi's gaze. There is a sadness to his smile; it does not quite reach his eyes. "And it means I was destined to love you."

A month after the café incident, Seokjin appeared, though not in the queue for coffee. Rather, he was outside the café with his arms crossed, eyes watching the sky, and he seemed to be waiting for someone inside the café, maybe—it was hard to tell. He wore a tan sweater that went all the way past his knees—impressive at his height—and ripped blue jeans beneath. Yoongi listened to everyone in queue before him for a person placing Seokjin's order, but the words medium hot black coffee were never uttered.

So, feeling brazen, Yoongi ordered his drink and a medium hot black coffee and waited. He told himself that if, in between the time he ordered and the time he got the drinks, Seokjin was no longer outside the café, Yoongi would just ditch the hot black coffee on the counter and pretend it was never his, to begin with—pull his black hoodie over his face enough to cover his eyes and slip out like a bandit in the night. It would not be the most honorable course of action, but Yoongi had never been one to be concerned with things like honor, especially when adrenaline kicked in and took over, like right then.

Yoongi was also never one for complicated orders, always getting the same iced americano, so when his order was called rather fast, he took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly before picking up his and Seokjin's cups. Although his hands were already beginning to sweat and have a tremble to them, he felt determined to at least attempt to right his wrong.

As Yoongi made the short walk to Seokjin, he considered all of the things that could transpire. Like Seokjin taking the coffee, sneering at Yoongi, and dumping it onto the ground. Or Seokjin laughing in Yoongi's face and not accepting the drink at all. And although those things seemed terrible, Yoongi steeled himself, ready to handle whatever Seokjin did. Come what may, and all that.

So when Yoongi walked up to Seokjin and held out the coffee with, "Sorry for being invasive; I shouldn't have asked you so many questions," on his tongue, he wasn't expecting Seokjin to look him in the eye before he could say anything and mutter, "Yoongi?"

Yoongi froze, arm still outstretched. How did Seokjin know his name? Yoongi knew Seokjin's name because it was common to know the name of someone you were unabashedly in love with, even from a distance, but how did Seokjin know Yoongi's name?

"How—" was all Yoongi croaked out before Seokjin cut him off.

"Of course, the new moon is in Taurus; no wonder I was drawn here."

Yoongi said nothing. Tears welled in his eyes, and he tried to blink them away. He had no idea what Seokjin was talking about, and was too overwhelmed anyway to try to parse it. The air in his chest, once more, felt heavy in Seokjin's presence.

"What class do you have?" Seokjin asked.

Yoongi knew that he had astronomy next because he had astronomy twice a week every week for several months. And yet, at that moment in time, he had no clue what class he had next. At that moment in time, Yoongi could not tell you what fucking day it was; Seokjin eclipsed everything in Yoongi's mind, shrouding it in shadow. Before then, Seokjin had never looked at him while they had spoken—had never given Yoongi any information about himself—and suddenly, he was asking an innocuous yet personal question about Yoongi's schedule and his brain short-circuited.

"Can you skip it?" Seokjin asked, probably deciding that he was not going to get an answer to the first question any time soon.

"Y-yeah," Yoongi muttered with a nervous nod, mouth hung open and eyes glued to Seokjin though unfocused and only really seeing a Seokjin-shaped blur.

The coffee that Yoongi still held outstretched was pulled from his grasp, and immediately his fingers felt cold. But not for long, as Seokjin took Yoongi's hand, engulfing his fingers and tugging him through campus. Yoongi stumbled along like a petulant child who did not want to go because—despite very much wanting to go; he could not get his legs to work like normal, and Seokjin was not slowing down for anything. Yoongi wondered if that was a Seokjin trait, to not slow down for anything.

Yoongi had been drunk before, had even done drugs before—nothing too hard, just enough of this and that to catch a body high and melt for a while—but nothing could compare to the spinning, chaotic euphoria that Yoongi experienced while being pulled away from their school, through a small nearby forest, by Seokjin.

Body, mind, and soul felt ablaze by a warmth that started in Yoongi's hand and spread through his limbs, licking in molten flares throughout his body, festering into something Yoongi could only identify as a side effect of Seokjin holding his hand. He had been to the forest several times before but never deep enough into it to suddenly lose sight of what was outside of it. And certainly never deep enough to find the abandoned pool.

"W-what's out here?" Yoongi muttered.

Seokjin looked back with a smile. "There you are. Welcome back, darling."

Yoongi didn't ask what Seokjin meant because Yoongi knew that he was not fully along for this ride, mentally. But he did wonder how Seokjin picked up on it. Yoongi wondered if Seokjin could read his thoughts or feelings through the palm of his hand—Seokjin had to have had some kind of super powers to make Yoongi feel so fucked up, after all.

"This was a pool, and now it's just a chill spot," Seokjin said, tugging Yoongi along to where the jump into the old pool was only three feet.

Seokjin sat on the edge, still holding Yoongi's hand, so Yoongi sat too, and when Seokjin slid his ass off the edge, Yoongi followed suit, letting himself go over and onto the cracked cement. It hurt his ankles when he landed, but Yoongi did not complain. It was only then, when the jump made some of his iced americano spill out of the lid, from the hole that the straw stuck through, that Yoongi remembered he had been holding something in his hand the whole time.

"I change the sheet from time to time," Seokjin said as they approached an old mattress in the middle of the empty pool.

Only then, when they stood next to the mattress, did Seokjin let go of Yoongi. Yoongi immediately balled his hand into a fist and watched as Seokjin sank down, took a drink from his coffee, then set it on the floor and laid back. Yoongi did the same—sat on the edge of the mattress, took a large, cold, bitter swig through his straw, then set the drink down on the floor and laid back.

"You disappeared," Yoongi said.

"You scared me."

"Why?"

Seokjin exhaled deeply. "Getting close to people is a gamble. You can never guarantee how it will work out—if the person will always be good to you, if you'll always be good to them. I thought about a future where I would get to know you and come to love you and then squander the chance to be good to you, and it made me sick to my stomach. It made me run."

Yoongi stared at the clear blue sky above them and tried to make sense of everything, but everything was too much, and he could not quite comprehend it. What did Seokjin mean about wanting to love him and be good to him?

"The sky is so blue," Yoongi muttered.

"B," Seokjin announced. "Believe it or not, I've always liked you."

"What?"

"L. Looks like there's nothing more to hide from you."

Yoongi snickered. "Are you seriously doing an acrostic poem right n—"

"U. Yoongi, you're so fucking pretty."

"Hey, that doesn't technically work—wait, what?"

"I. I tried to run and hide, but everything reminded me of you."

"What?" Yoongi's heart pounded in his chest, and the flames inside his body burned red hot—so hot, Yoongi sat up, gasping for air.

"Too much?" Seokjin asked, his voice coming out nervous.

"N-no, I just," Yoongi turned to Seokjin.

"You thought I just so happened to be ordering overpriced shitty coffee twice a week at the same time as you? Always in line right before or after you?" Seokjin chuckled. "I was hoping for a chance to mutter about the weather with you. But thanks for the coffee today, anyway."

"B-but you—" Yoongi's gaze fell to the chipped blue paint and graffiti scrawlings around them, and he wondered if he was dreaming.

"I'm sorry I let you scare me away."

"You think I'm pretty," Yoongi muttered, looking down at his hands. Tears welled in his eyes once more.

"So fucking pretty," Seokjin said, sitting up beside Yoongi.

All thoughts left Yoongi's mind as he turned, straddled Seokjin's hips, and draped his arms around his wide shoulders, stopping just before their lips could meet, silently asking for permission. Seokjin wrapped his arms around Yoongi and met him halfway, nodding and turning his face just enough to allow Yoongi to slot their lips together without their noses squishing. Yoongi licked eagerly into Seokjin's open lips, and when Seokjin moaned, Yoongi sniffled.

"Are you crying?" Seokjin asked softly.

Tears poured from Yoongi's eyes as he pulled Seokjin closer—kissed Seokjin deeper. Seokjin was not just a gravitational pull, he was a supermassive black hole, and Yoongi collided with him and exploded, making a huge fucking mess.

Gently and sweetly, Seokjin pulled Yoongi closer, ran fingers through Yoongi's hair, and Yoongi cried and cried and cried.

"Is it more significant for me to be ruled by Jupiter or Neptune?" Yoongi asks, eyes on the sky as always.

Seokjin turns, propping himself on an elbow. "Are you a traditionalist or a modernist?"

"I don't know."

"I mean, Neptune is literally the god of storm and sea," Seokjin mutters. "And Pisces is the double fish sign, so it makes sense that your planet was changed."

"What does Roman mythology have to do with astrology?"

Seokjin grins. "In western systems, the Greeks and Romans reign."

Yoongi sighs. "Loving you is complicated sometimes. There's a lot to remember."

"I would say Neptune for you since you prefer practicality over spiritual abundance."

Yoongi furrows his eyebrows. "I just told you I love you."

"I know, Yoongi, and I love you too," Seokjin mutters sweetly, taking Yoongi's hand in his.

The third time they went to the abandoned pool, Yoongi didn't wait to get to the mattress before he had his hands on him—shoving his body into Seokjin's, pressing Seokjin against the wall in the three-foot end, standing on his toes to reach his lips with the amount of force required to kiss him the way he needed to. The last two times they were there, nobody had gone to disturb them, so Yoongi felt certain that nobody would that time either as his hands dropped to Seokjin's belt loops.

"Want to touch you," Yoongi grumbled into Seokjin's jaw, sloppily kissing and nipping at every inch of skin his mouth could reach.

"Then touch me," Seokjin responded as if it was a challenge.

Yoongi reached under Seokjin's baggy pink sweater and grabbed his belt loops. He drug Seokjin along the pool wall, watching the perplexed, excited look on Seokjin's face as he let Yoongi eagerly pull him along. Today there were no coffees in hand, not since Seokjin admitted to only ordering them to be close to Yoongi—not since he gained access to Yoongi without pretense. At the slope where the pool went from three feet to five, Yoongi walked slightly up the incline before stopping, pulling Seokjin into him now that he was ever so slightly taller.

"On higher ground?" Seokjin teased. "That's cheating."

"Shut up and fucking kiss me," Yoongi whined, pulling Seokjin into a sloppy, needy exchange full of teeth and tongue.

Yoongi rubbed a palm over Seokjin's tight black pants, giving his half-hard bulge a squeeze, and Seokjin whimpered in Yoongi's mouth.

"This okay?" Yoongi asked, sounding breathless.

"More," Seokjin responded, nibbling on Yoongi's lower lip.

Quickly—desperately, even—Yoongi undid Seokjin's fly and shoved his hand into his briefs, fisting his tip to rub precum on his palm, and stroking his thick length.

"Fuck, Yoongi, you're so needy, darling."

"You have no idea," Yoongi groaned as he tugged Seokjin's cock until it was fully erect—until the precum had all but evaporated between their skin, and Yoongi had to bend and spit, catching it between his hand and Seokjin's shaft as if he had been practicing that move. "You have no fucking idea how long I've wanted to touch you."

Seokjin's hands moved to Yoongi's pants, pushing up his oversized black sweater and undoing Yoongi's fly. "Oh, but I do," Seokjin muttered, stopping at the waistline of Yoongi's briefs. "May I?"

"Yes, please. Touch me before I fucking die," Yoongi begged, losing his footing and slamming his hip into the wall of the pool, panting as Seokjin brought their lips back together and pushed past the fabric to collect Yoongi's precum on his palm, sending a flood of arousal crashing over him.

Yoongi moaned and whined and felt like he might cry again, and Seokjin swallowed every sound whole, licking into Yoongi's mouth as if drawing the sounds out of him with the tip of his tongue. Yoongi used the hand not jerking Seokjin off to tug Seokjin into him by the back of his neck, and Seokjin snaked the hand not jerking Yoongi off around Yoongi's waist to bring their hips flush until their knuckles knocked into each other.

Seokjin grabbed both of their dicks in his hand and rubbed their shafts together in his palm, and Yoongi quickly followed suit—Yoongi's hand down at the bottom and Seokjin's up at their heads.

"Holy fuck," Yoongi whimpered as his legs trembled beneath him. "This is so good I might blackout."

"Better not," Seokjin panted into Yoongi's mouth. "You could get a concussion if you fell in here. I'm too fucked out already; there's no way I could catch you."

Seokjin spun them until Yoongi was against the wall and gently bent at the knees, up and down and up, fucking his length into their hands alongside Yoongi's shaft, both of them spilling just enough precum for the friction to feel like heaven. Pleasure built and built, and gradually Yoongi felt like a taut wire ready to snap.

"Your dick is so big," Yoongi whined, feeling his high building and building.

"Are you into that sort of thing?" Seokjin groaned into Yoongi's mouth, sucking on Yoongi's lip. Yoongi whimpered loudly, hips bucking uncontrollably—he was close.

"Y-yes. I don't have a preference for topping or bottoming, but if I bottom, I want to get fucked hard. I want it to punch the air f-from my lungs and make me feel like I might die."

Seokjin groaned, pressing Yoongi's body into the wall hard with his bodyweight. "Oh, fuck, Yoongi; I'm gonna come."

Yoongi was already delirious. "Me too."

Seokjin did his best to collect his come as it spurted from his cock, holding his hand over it while Yoongi continued to stroke them. He did not make much noise, but his hips shook, and his breath came out ragged and torn on the edges as he sucked a sensitive spot into Yoongi's neck.

"I like to bottom the most, but I would fuck you till you're cross-eyed," Seokjin groaned as Yoongi stroked both their cocks despite Seokjin being spent. "I would love to. I bet you make the prettiest sounds."

Yoongi threw his head into Seokjin's shoulder so hard Seokjin hissed and hugged Yoongi close—held him so tight as he came in Seokjin's sticky, come-covered palm. Yoongi mewled and sobbed out choked, pitchy sounds as his hips shook and he saw stars.

"I like it slow and sweet, but I can give it to you as hard as you need," Seokjin panted.

"I can fuck you slow," Yoongi muttered into Seokjin's neck, leaving soft kisses against the skin. "I would love to take my time with you. I would be so good for you."

"Why do we come here still?" Yoongi asks, pressing Seokjin against the pool wall.

The clouds are dark, and they don't have umbrellas.

"You're a sentimental Pisces, and coming here helps you hold onto the hope that we'll always exist as long as this place exists."

Yoongi rolls his eyes and ruts his hips into Seokjin, pressing their clothed cocks together. "We have apartments. With beds that are kept in rooms. I can't fuck you out here."

"Why not?"

"Seokjin, I want to have you to myself in private. We're not students anymore; we don't need to keep coming here. And you can't blame all of this on my birth chart when you're the sentimental one, you know?"

Seokjin pulls Yoongi close and slowly licks into his mouth, pouting. "But if we go to each other's apartments, then all of this becomes set in stone which will make it bigger than it's ever been yet, and it'll just crash down all that much harder and heavier when—"

"It was set in stone when you told me you love me."

Seokjin sighs, "I know, but—"

"Stop fixating on the end and let yourself be happy now. Please."

"I don't know how to do that," Seokjin says through a smile, but it's the sad smile Yoongi knows too well.

Yoongi sighs, pressing his body into Seokjin. "We can't keep frotting in an abandoned pool and stumbling home with come stains on our hoodies like horny teenagers. I want to fuck you properly. Make you feel good. You deserve better than—" Yoongi waves his arm out, motioning to their shabby surroundings, "—this."

Seokjin kisses along Yoongi's throat and neck, shoving his hand into Yoongi's pants. "I'll think about it."

"C," Seokjin muttered, staring at the sky.

"Can you believe there was ever a time before I knew you?" Yoongi responded, squeezing Seokjin's hand tightly.

"L," Yoongi said, reading Seokjin's next move as always.

"Loving you is easier than breathing," Seokjin sighed. "O."

"Oh, Jinie, are you becoming sappy on me?"

"I've always been the sappy one, darling," Seokjin grinned.

"U," Yoongi said as his lips brushed over Seokjin's knuckles.

"Unable to comprehend my own thoughts when you're near. D."

"Do you ever wish we could freeze time and stay like this forever? Y."

Seokjin sighed a heavy, deep huff of air and squeezed Yoongi's hand tight. "You have no idea how badly my heart will break when this is over."

Yoongi chuckled softly and shook his head, placing soft kisses against Seokjin's knuckles. "Good thing I would never let you go."

There is nothing particularly special about Yoongi's apartment; it is just not an abandoned pool in the middle of the fucking woods that rests next to a campus he recently graduated from, so in that context, it is pretty fucking nice.

Yoongi tidies up anyway, hoping to make a good impression on the guy who insisted for several months on dragging him to a dilapidated, deserted, remote location...as Yoongi thinks about it, he realizes how ridiculous it is for him to even care about the state of his place—probably Seokjin would feel more at home if Yoongi pushed all his furniture to the walls and threw a comforter on the floor.

When Seokjin finally arrives two hours late, holding armfuls of snacks for their intended movie date, he enters the apartment almost skittishly, like a nervous animal that has had one too many run-ins with shady apartments, or something of that nature. Yoongi can't help but feel self-conscious; Seokjin says he loves him, so why can't Yoongi have access to him? Why is he always worried about the future when the present is so promising?

"Baby, relax," Yoongi mutters, taking things from Seokjin's arms and dropping them onto a small nearby table. "There's no pressure; it's like we're hanging out anywhere else."

Yoongi has never called Seokjin baby before, and he expects Seokjin to react in some big way, maybe to scoff it away, but Seokjin softly smiles for just a split moment.

"I should be open to flexibility. Maybe it's my Capricorn Venus holding me back."

Yoongi approaches and places his hands on Seokjin's cheeks gently. The apartment door still hangs open, but Yoongi doesn't want to startle him by kicking it shut.

"Baby, please. Regardless of which planet rules your passion, it is natural to let trauma cause you to be unsure. But it's me—it's my place. I'll keep you safe, okay?"

Seokjin gently grabs Yoongi's face and leans in to kiss him. His tongue and voice say so many things without the use of words, and Yoongi understands them all loud and clear, melting in his hold.

"I need you, Yoongi."

"I got you, baby."

Yoongi licks playfully over Seokjin's lips, and Seokjin stares at Yoongi with wide eyes. "I need you right now."

"Okay, baby, let's go," Yoongi says, leaning around Seokjin to push his door closed, relieved when it shuts a little too loud and Seokjin doesn't seem to mind. "Let's go; I'll take good care of you."

Yoongi leads Seokjin through his small apartment and into a bedroom that's dim, save for the sun peeking through his blinds. Everything is various shades of grey with black and hints of blue, and Yoongi guides Seokjin over to his dark blue comforter, sitting him on the edge of the bed.

"Tell me what you need," Yoongi says as he kneels on the floor in front of Seokjin, watching patiently, holding his hands.

"Just you," Seokjin mutters. "I just want to be taken out of my headspace for a while."

"Would it help if you came in my mouth first?"

Seokjin shakes his head softly and smiles. "Just take your time prepping me. Let me come from your fingers so that I'm overstimulated and sobbing when you finally fuck me."

"I could do both."

Seokjin whines. Yoongi stands, still holding Seokjin's hands. "I'll take good care of you; fuck you nice and slow, baby. Can you undress for me?"

Seokjin nods softly and drops Yoongi's hands, then pulls his sweater over his head. It's bright blue with white stripes on the sleeves and a giant white whale on the front, and Yoongi already plans to steal it and wear it like a dress. Yoongi has caught glimpses of Seokjin's tummy before, but seeing him shirtless in all his broad-shouldered tiny waist glory makes Yoongi's head spin.

While Seokjin works his fly open, Yoongi gently places his hands over Seokjin's chest and dances them down over his pecs and the expanse of his abdomen, tracing every line and curve he can see with his eyes as if to commit Seokjin's body to memory.

"Are you gonna fuck me fully clothed?" Seokjin asks with a smirk, and Yoongi chuckles.

"You're saying you don't usually fuck people with your clothes on?" Yoongi teases as he pulls his large black sweater over his head.

Seokjin drops his pants to the floor. "Is that what you kids are into these days?"

Yoongi's mouth falls open at the sight of Seokjin's long, muscular legs. He wants to chide Seokjin and remind him that they're practically the same age, but he can't form a coherent thought, so he does not try.

"Damn, you got it bad for me, don't you?" Seokjin teases, approaching and gathering Yoongi's long white tee in his hands, tugging it up and over Yoongi's head—Yoongi at least has the wherewithal to lift his arms.

"Sorry I think my boyfriend is fucking hot," Yoongi grumbles, looking down and reaching for his fly.

When Seokjin does not respond, Yoongi's eyes dart back up. Seokjin watches him with some kind of soft, almost unreadable reverence. Yoongi continues to open his pants and push them down, taking his briefs with them, then steps out of them, pushing them aside with his foot. He reaches out to Seokjin and grabs him by the arms, pulling him close.

"We already say we love each other," Yoongi mutters. "Please don't fret because I called you my boyfriend."

Seokjin smiles, and this time, it makes his eye shimmer. "I like it. Call me more things."

Yoongi wraps his arms around Seokjin's neck and pulls him into a kiss. Against Seokjin's lips, between flicks of his tongue, Yoongi groans, "Gonna make you all mine, baby. Do you want that? Do you want to be mine?"

Seokjin whimpers and tugs them back toward the bed, and Yoongi releases the kiss to let Seokjin sit against the mattress. Yoongi leans forward for one more chaste kiss and says, "Get comfortable for me, baby."

Yoongi moves to his bedside table to collect a bottle of lube. Meanwhile, Seokjin pulls his briefs down and lays on his back in the middle of the bed. Yoongi cannot help but check Seokjin out, scanning from his smile to his toes and back again. With Seokjin on his back, Yoongi grabs the t-shirt he was wearing and drapes it over the end of a pillow like a makeshift towel, then wedges the pillow under Seokjin's lower back and ass to give him more access to him.

Once Seokjin is in position, Yoongi crawls onto his knees on the bed and leans in to suck kisses into Seokjin's thighs, making him moan and writhe. Yoongi thinks it is a shame that he cannot easily see Seokjin's handsome face, but he revels in what he can see.

Yoongi lubes up two of his fingers and circles Seokjin's hole. Seokjin pants—quick short breaths and quiet whimpers fall from his lips. With his middle finger, Yoongi slowly pushes past Seokjin's rim. His mouth falls open from the warm, soft feeling that engulfs him, and he gently kisses and sucks on Seokjin's thigh as he slowly pulls and pushes, deeper and deeper until he's past his thick knuckle, until Seokjin is whining in choked vowels.

"So tight, baby," Yoongi groans against Seokjin's thigh. He cranes his neck to see Seokjin's face and smiles at the sight of wet, bitten lips and rosy cheeks.

"More," Seokjin whines. "Please."

Yoongi pulls his finger out and flips the lube open with his free hand, pouring more onto his fingers and using the pad of his thumb to warm it, setting the bottle aside. Gently, Yoongi pushes his middle and pointer fingertips in and out, listening to Seokjin whine, watching as his legs shake. Yoongi is slow and patient and takes his time, paying attention to cues to tell him Seokjin is overwhelmed and when Seokjin is relaxed into the feeling and ready for more.

"F—ah—feels so good," Seokjin whimpers.

"You do feel so good, baby," Yoongi praises, voice deep and raspy. "So tight but so eager.”

"Want you," Seokjin begs as Yoongi slowly pushes both fingers past the knuckles.

Yoongi bites back a moan at the feeling of Seokjin's ass swallowing him so eagerly, watching his legs continue to tremble. "You're not ready for me yet, baby. Gotta fall apart on my fingers first, remember?"

Slowly, Yoongi pulls out and pushes in, twisting his fingers and opening Seokjin. Yoongi scissors his fingers to stretch him a little more before slowly pressing in a third. Seokjin trembles and gasps but says very little, only squeaking out a deep whimper from time to time and whisper-begging Yoongi not to stop. Yoongi takes his time and finger-fucks Seokjin slowly, and when Seokjin seems adjusted to the stretch, Yoongi seeks out his prostate and gently rubs over the small, sensitive gland, making Seokjin whine.

"That feel good, baby?" Yoongi asks as he sucks another pink spot into Seokjin's thigh.

"S-so good, please don't stop."

Yoongi doesn't stop and he doesn't speed up. And slowly, gradually, he turns Seokjin into a mess of moans and stuttered breaths. Slowly, gradually, Yoongi turns Seokjin into putty in his hands, making Seokjin his. All his.

"Touch me, please," Seokjin sobs. "I'm getting close."

Yoongi angles himself up enough to grab Seokjin's cock in his free hand, and the touch makes Seokjin seize and his ass squeeze Yoongi's fingers. Rather than stroke Seokjin's cock, Yoongi leans down and runs his tongue up and down the shaft, then takes him into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and gently sucking on the tip while his fingers continue to rock in and out of Seokjin's tight hole.

Seokjin squeezes Yoongi's fingers and trembles harder than before. He tries to warn Yoongi that he is going to come, and Yoongi groans in response, sucking his thick cock a little further into his mouth. When Seokjin finally comes, whimpering quietly, Yoongi moans and swallows his release. Seokjin's come tastes heady—tangy and sweet—and Yoongi gently sucks every drop he can.

"F-fuck," Seokjin whines, thighs shaking once more.

Yoongi releases Seokjin from his mouth and gives his shaft one last long, slow lick. "Too much, baby?"

"So sensitive, fuck," Seokjin mutters with a gasp. "Need your cock."

"I got you baby," Yoongi grumbles sweetly, flipping the lube open with his free hand while he slowly pulls his fingers from Seokjin's ass.

Yoongi takes no time squirting lube onto his palm, repositioning on his knees, and coating his cock. Seokjin has barely had a chance to catch his breath before Yoongi is rubbing his blunt tip over his hole.

"F-fuck, yes, please," Seokjin whines.

"Tell me if it's too much, baby."

Slowly, gradually, Yoongi pushes his tip in, breaching Seokjin's rim with a moan—the tight, soft warmth already making Yoongi lightheaded with arousal. Seokjin's legs shake, and Yoongi wraps his arms around them to try to hold them still as he pulls out and pushes forward, just past the head, just enough to make Seokjin squeal.

"F-fuck, it's too much," Seokjin sobs. "Don't stop, please."

"Are you comfortable, baby? Want me to move the pillow?"

Seokjin nods his head, eyes squeezed shut, letting out a whimpered response of affirmation. Yoongi pulls out and gently tugs the pillow out from under Seokjin's ass, then repositions and pushes his cock back in, just an inch further than before. Seokjin's arms are above his head, his hands are bunching the pillowcase in their grip, and he looks absolutely sinful. Yoongi leans down as he rocks his hips and touches Seokjin's chest, then rubs his fingertips down the expanse of Seokjin's torso.

"So handsome, baby," Yoongi moans, watching Seokjin lips tremble. "So fucking perfect for me."

Seokjin opens his eyes, which are glazed over with tears, and he squeezes his brows together, panting while Yoongi slowly fucks him open, holding his legs spread wide. Seokjin lifts a leg, and Yoongi takes it, resting it over his shoulder, leaning forward a little more. The new angle makes Seokjin's eyes squeeze shut and pulls the delicious sounds from his mouth as his back arches.

"Fuck, Jinie, your ass feels like fucking heaven," Yoongi praises. "You swallow my cock so eagerly. Such a greedy boy."

Seokjin's dick is hard and leaking against his tummy, and Yoongi runs his fingers gently up the shaft, collecting his precum in his palm and giving the tip a gentle squeeze. Seokjin moans loudly, and his cock twitches in Yoongi's hold, encouraging Yoongi to squeeze a little harder and rub his thumb over the slit.

"Wanna come again baby, or wanna wait for me?"

Seokjin shakes his head. "I'll wait."

Yoongi lets go of Seokjin's cock and focuses on keeping his pace steady, rocking his hips at a rate that pulls slow, sweet whimpers from between both men's lips. Yoongi's body tingles with arousal, and although the build of pleasure is becoming stronger and stronger, it is never intense—never bordering on too much or making him dizzy. Yoongi likes taking his time on Seokjin—he likes the way Seokjin's skin blooms with red and his tummy clenches and releases.

Seokjin's breathing comes out harsh and ragged, yet measured, and Yoongi wonders if his body was made just for his; if the sweet, soft collision of their bodies is enough to create entire galaxies between them.

Yoongi wonders what the constellations in the universe between his thighs and Seokjin's ass might look like; how compatible their new zodiac charts would be. I was destined to love you, Seokjin's voice says in Yoongi's mind, and Yoongi feels the familiar urge to cry.

Tears are streaming hot and slow down Yoongi's cheeks by the time Seokjin cries that he is going to come. His croaked, desperate sob has Yoongi's arousal swirling fast and tight, and as Yoongi reaches forward to gently tug on Seokjin's cock, Seokjin squeezes Yoongi's so deliciously that Yoongi bursts bright and hot, exploding quickly, threatening to turn him to dust. Seokjin's body jerks and trembles as he comes, and their moans fill the room in tandem, in a euphony of lust.

When Yoongi's brain reboots, and he comes to his senses enough to pull his spent cock from Seokjin's ass, tears continue to fall. He rubs at his face with the palms of his hands, and Seokjin reaches out, taking Yoongi's wrists and pulling him forward.

Yoongi had not noticed Seokjin sitting up, but he leans into him and lets Seokjin lick his lips, and he taste the salt from his own tear streaks that have gathered there. Yoongi moans into Seokjin's mouth as he smiles and runs his fingers through Seokjin's thick, sweat-covered hair.

"Let's shower, darling," Seokjin mutters against Yoongi's lips, and Yoongi whimpers and pulls Seokjin closer. "Unless you want me to fuck you until you spill even more hot tears down those pretty, soft cheeks."

Yoongi gasps, opens his eyes wide, and nods, feeling his cheeks warm. He wants Seokjin in and on and around him in every way imaginable. He never wants Seokjin to ever let him go. He is sure of it.

"I love you," Yoongi sobs. "I love you so much, baby."

"I love you too, Yoongi," Seokjin smiles. Yoongi moves his head back just enough to see the stars that shine in Seokjin's eyes, brighter than any in the night sky.

"You were destined to love me."

Seokjin chuckles and rubs his nose against Yoongi's nose. "Yes, darling. I was destined to love you."

love this story with all my heart & i hope you love it too! 🪐 tag list: @dasexydevitt13 & @giriiboyy

#yoongi x seokjin #yoonjin #yoonjin smut #btshoneyhive #btswritersclub #yoongi smut #seokjin smut #fic: deep spaces & unsteady explorations

18 notes · View notes