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#fanfic: absolution
sleepysebris · 4 months
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:) 🖤
@mlsecretsanta gift for @thequeenofspace! happy belated holidays and apologies for the delay, had a serious family emergency followed by sickness! I had so much fun making this though, was so excited to finally draw these two 🖤 hope you enjoy!!!
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ao3-crack · 1 year
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(x)
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Do any of you ever wonder if Camp Half-Blood accidentally brought in a demigod of a different pantheon before?
This would be especially hilarious if it happens sometime after The Last Olympian/Heroes of Olympus, where the gods are required to claim their kids quickly.
A whole day passes, and the new demigod needs to sleep in the Hermes Cabin and Percy is furious. Meanwhile, the Greek Gods are pointing at each other and shouting, contacting the most obscure of mini gods. Chaos erupts on Olympus as every deity in Greek Mythology is called upon and interrogated. Hermes hasn't run around so much in centuries.
Hecate sits in silence, fully aware of what's happening, but enjoying the show too much to intervene.
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jewishrat420 · 3 months
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No one has ever flirted with Steve the way Eddie flirts with Steve.
And it's not like no one flirts with Steve. God, no, it's not like no one flirts with Steve. Steve can't walk into the grocery store without at least three sets of heads turning and focusing all their attention on him.
And he's not even trying to be cocky about it. That's just the reality he was gifted when he came out of his mother's womb looking like the world's freshest Adonis. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if they changed the colloquialism to "Steve."
Regardless. For as many people like to flirt with him, make themselves known, filtering in and out of his orbit like willing planets, no one knows quite how to get him going like Eddie. Maybe it's that they're not as confident as he is, maybe they're scared of the rejection Eddie was born facing and will die knowing.
Maybe they're scared of ruining their chances. Maybe Eddie isn't.
For whatever reason, Eddie doesn't seem like he's scared. Even though there was a long time before he knew Steve was bi, was just as into the flirting as Eddie was, even though there was a chance (not like it'd ever happen, but the unknown was there) that Steve could have beaten him up just for calling him "sweetheart," he did it anyway. He got right up into Steve's space, close enough that Steve could get high off the remnants of the joint he'd smoked earlier, and gave him a look that offered everything.
And, God, Steve wanted it. He wanted it all.
And so that began months of what Steve has so aptly referred to as torture. Apt, because he knows what it's like. He has the scars and the fear of ice cream and needles to prove it.
But this... this is a different kind of torture. Mental, emotional, spiritual, whatever you call it-- this is meant to tear him apart from the inside out, meant to make him want to rip his own bones out from his body and offer them to Eddie if it meant the other man making a fucking move.
And Steve would, is the thing. He would absolutely make the first move-- it's what he usually does, anyway, and he's got a pretty damn good success rate for it.
But, for whatever reason, this feels different. This back and forth they have, the constant teasing, the sliding in and out of each other's orbits, unable and unwilling to refute the most fundamental laws of gravity... it's something special, at least to Steve. Something sacred.
Which is why, when Eddie calls Steve "Harrington" for the first time in months, his first response is to pout.
They're about halfway through splitting a joint, the sweet smoke curling around wisps of hair and parted lips and filtering in and out of the holes in their sweaters. The air outside is getting colder, thinner, sharper, as the winter months dreg on. But inside the trailer, it's comfortable and warm. Safe.
Steve's being a bit of a hog, and he's man enough to admit that. But he had a shitty day at work and all he wants is to feel nothing other than the weightless relaxation of a good high buzzing through his bones. Sue him for taking a little more than his fair share of the good stuff, even if it is Eddie's.
"Steve," Eddie whines, reaching his hand out and curling his fingers in request. "Give it over."
"No," Steve responds, just on the edge of whiny. He brings the joint to his lips and takes a long, slow, deep drag, feeling the sweet heat of the smoke burning in his lungs, taking up the space where oxygen should be. He goes a little dizzy with it, feels his eyes lower. "Mine."
Steve can't see it, but he knows Eddie's rolling his eyes. Can sense the shift in the air, can sense every little fucking thing about Eddie at any given moment.
"C'mon, Harrington, you're being a brat."
And, normally, Steve would find another aspect of that sentence to freak out about. Would zero in on the word brat and relish in the flare of heat it sends shooting up his spine like firework sparks. Would squint his eyes at Eddie and tilt his head in the way he knows makes him look good, would give him his cutest little smirk and say, "Who, me?" and would preen in the response it gets.
This time, though, he's much too focused on the other name Eddie used for him. The one he hasn't heard come out of Eddie's mouth since before he realized that Steve was, as he put it, "actually a good dude."
He doesn't realize he's pouting until the sudden silence in the room starts to creep in, make a home in the buzzing in his ears. He didn't realize that he didn't say anything, and neither did Eddie, and now they're sitting in a mess of their own making. Of Eddie's own making, really.
His next words come out without effort, without intent.
"Don't call me that."
He chances a look over at Eddie, at the risk of appearing as vulnerable as he feels, and to his distress, he can't get a read on the man. His dark eyebrows furrow, brown eyes squinting slightly, and his lips part like he wants to speak. He licks them. Steve's eyes follow the motion unintentionally.
"Call you what?" Eddie says on an exhale. "A brat?"
Steve shakes his head. "Harrington. Don't like it when you call me that."
Eddie kind of softens, then, and Steve didn't realize he had stiffened until he isn't anymore. He sort of sinks into the couch, spreads his legs imperceptibly wider, and Steve wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the way his left knee brushes against Steve's just barely. Just enough for those heated sparks to send a couple pinpricks across his skin.
"No?" he says, looking over to meet Steve's gaze. His cheeks are flushed, whether from the weed or the heat of the room or the heat between them, and Steve's sure that his look the same. "What do you want me to call you, then?"
Steve's definitely blushing now. He looks away from Eddie, tucks his chin to his chest, lets the joint between his fingers burn away. Eddie takes it from him, gently, and brings it to his lips. Steve hears the paper crackling as he inhales.
His voice is quiet, almost meek, when he speaks. It's completely unlike Steve, completely unlike the persona he used to so proudly take on-- but then again, Eddie is completely unlike anyone that Steve has ever met. He's more real, more human, and in turn, Steve is too.
"...You know."
Eddie makes a little noise, then, something in the back of his throat that was born and died within the very same second it was released. Something soft, almost pained, like his body couldn't help the reaction it had to that sentence.
Steve watches the thin, long line of Eddie's arm reach forward and press the joint into the glass of the ashtray. He follows the motion until Eddie's hand settles into the rips over his knee, fingers intertwining with the thread. His pinkie is dangerously close to Steve's own sweatpant-covered skin, and he feels the contact as if Eddie were touching him.
Eddie's hand twitches like it wants to move, and Steve resists the urge to grab it, hold it within the warmth of his own palms.
"Do I?" Eddie says, his voice quieter than it was a moment ago. That thick silence fills the trailer once more, settling in between the soft buzzing of the lightbulb in the kitchen and the muffled humming of the crickets outside. Steve hears Eddie take a stuttering breath. "Tell me."
Steve sighs, feeling his chest burn as his heartbeat picks up. His throat pounds with the pulsing of it. He places his own hand on his right knee, pinkie finger edging closer and closer to the space where Eddie's meets his. Eddie's hand twitches again.
"Like it when you call me sweet things," he says on an exhale, as though getting it out all in one breath would make it easier. "Like how it makes me feel."
Eddie lets out another one of those noises, then, something more like a cut-off groan. His hand curls into the fabric of his jeans for no more than a second before he releases it, and Steve gets to watch as the blood blanches and then returns to his knuckles.
"Sweet things, huh?" he muses, voice only slightly strained. If Steve didn't know any better, he'd say Eddie is nervous. "Like... Stevie?"
Steve hums. "Yeah. I like that."
Eddie's pinkie moves closer. Barely. Imperceptibly, if not for the way Steve is tuned into his every movement, like a dog to the sound of their owner's keys.
"Yeah?"
Steve hums again.
"What about... sweetheart?"
Steve closes his eyes. Lets out a shaky breath, inhales a smoother one.
"Yeah."
Steve feels something brush against his pinkie. Something warm.
"Honey?"
Steve nods, biting his lip. "Mhm."
Eddie lets out a quiet little laugh. "Even big boy?"
Steve returns it helplessly, feels the edges of a smile pulling at his lips. The air feels cold on his teeth, as though he's burning up from the inside out and anything outside of his own body is a cooling salve.
"Especially big boy."
Eddie laughs a little louder, and the jostling of his body brings his pinkie even closer to Steve's. Completely pressed against his own, now.
Steve swears he can feel his heartbeat through it. Or maybe it's his own.
"What about..." Eddie takes a breath. "Love?"
Steve's own breath hitches. He opens his eyes, looks at where their skin is touching in more than one place. He feels it, feels every point of contact where the cells that make Eddie are existing with the cells that make Steve. Wonders, maybe, if they stay here long enough, if they'll merge and mold over time. Become one.
"Yeah," Steve breathes. "I like that one a lot."
Eddie hums, and the room falls back into silence for a moment. Steve's skin burns where their fingers are touching. He moves his hand to the right, just barely, just enough to let Eddie know that he feels it. Just enough to ask Eddie if he does, too.
His response is overwhelming.
Eddie moves his hand to the left, solidifies all the points of contact between them, and Steve feels like he's exploding. Feels like a bubbling pit of lava that's set to burst, to overflow, like it can't hold back anymore. Like it's tried for so long that it's hurting, now, pressurized and boiling and hot, way too fucking hot.
And then, Eddie crosses his pinkie over Steve's, and Steve thinks he's dying.
He takes in a sharp breath like it's the last one he'll ever get, and he doesn't even have it in him to be embarrassed about it. He knows Eddie is right there with him, knows he's not the only one feeling this irrefutable pull like gravity between them. Knows, hopes, it's only a matter of time before they collide.
Eddie hums again. He taps his pinkie once over the smallest of Steve's knuckles, almost like he's making a decision. He takes a long, slow breath before he speaks.
"You know which one's my favorite?"
Steve's throat clicks. "Which?"
"Look at me."
Steve turns his head to the right for no more than a second before Eddie's lips are on his.
It's hungry, it's indulgent, it's immediately addictive. It feels like breathing.
Eddie presses his whole body against Steve's, and he can feel the way his tendons flex where his hand is covering the back of Steve's. Where their pinkies meet, their fingers intertwine and cross over one another like the roots of a tree, their bodies the whole mycorrhizal network.
The next word is spoken against Steve's lips, and Steve can feel the way his mouth forms around it. Decides, from this moment on, that he never wants to hear it another way.
"Baby."
Steve's exhale is more of a moan, a dying sound that, like Eddie's before, lived for only a moment in his throat before pushing through the wall of his lips. Eddie takes it, holds it in his own mouth, swallows it down hungrily and slides his tongue against Steve's as though asking for more.
"That's--" Steve pants, getting his hands on Eddie's hips and pulling until he's seated in his lap. "Mine too."
"Yeah?" Eddie asks, his lips still pressed against Steve's. Their words are muffled against each other, but they don't need to hear them to understand. They only need to feel the outline of them, the shape of the consonants and vowels against and around each other's tongues. They only need to press their bodies together and know, intimately, the meaning in each other's hearts.
"Yeah. Want you to call me that forever."
This time, Steve feels Eddie's laughter against his lips. His chest. Feels it bubble up in the space between his ribs, feels it flow into his mouth like a river, swallows it down like the first glass of water after a run. Feels his own creep up behind his teeth in return, gives it back to Eddie like an offering, who takes it greedily. Hungrily. Gratefully.
"Think that can be arranged, baby."
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tedkaczynskiofficial · 6 months
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I love Zutara as much as the next girlie, but I think people romanticizing Zuko catching Azula's lightning in the Final Agni Kai are doing Zuko's character a massive disservice. He would have done that for anyone. Not just anyone in the Gaang, anyone.
He did it for the division he ended up getting burned over. He did it for his subordinate that was going to fall to his death after the ship was struck by lightning. He did it for Lee, when he was kidnapped by Gao. He did it for Iroh, when he confronted his dad and tried to break him out of prison. He did it for the whole Gaang at the Western Air Temple. He did it for Sokka, Suki, and Hakoda at the Boiling Rock.
His whole character revolves around saving everyone else first. Hell, he tried to save Zhao of all people! There's no way that would have gone well for Zuko if Zhao had actually taken his hand. He always does what he thinks is right first before considering his own safety.
Zuko always saves other people. Even if, especially if, he can't save himself.
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rennenaway · 26 days
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I mean
I'm not wrong?
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sopuu · 2 years
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WHAT TIMELINE AM I ON
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goddess-of-silvers · 9 months
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I know everyone’s mad at Aziraphale right now because of how the season’s ended but I don’t think we’ve talked enough about the fact that Aziraphale has been keeping a diary for centuries (based on the fact the entry we see is from volume 603) and he literally starts his entries with “dear diary, last month Crowley and I both happened to be in Edinburgh”.
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bimbobaggins69 · 4 months
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𝟏𝟖+ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈
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Eddie is being driven up the fucking wall and he’s at his wits end. He can’t take it anymore, not when you’re prancing around the apartment with a tiny, see through, white nightie. The material is so thin he can see your nipples and the way they’re peaked, right through the fabric. It’s like you’re doing it to be cruel, although Eddie knows this is your everyday usual sleep attire, he just wishes for the sake of his newly pierced cock that you wouldn’t do all the things that turn him on so fiercely, which is quite literally just you being yourself. He couldn’t help that he thought the mundane shit you did; like the way you slurped up your spaghetti or flipped through the television channels, was so effortlessly sexy. But he’s aching for your touch, so when his good friend/piercer Nate gave him the go ahead to masturbate, he concocted a devious little plan, one that would involve you and him getting off, together.
So that’s how you found yourself laid back on your shared bed, legs spread wide as you plunge your fingers deep inside your creamy cunt, wet squelches reverberate off the walls making Eddie groan as he watches you at the foot of the bed. His hard, leaking cock in his hand; pumping up and down to the image of you pleasuring yourself so beautifully for him. The glint of the jewelry catches your eye, finding Eddie’s big brown orbs before trailing down his tattooed and pierced body, taking in the image of his newest piercing and how you couldn’t wait to see what it felt like buried deep inside your walls, hitting your spot until you eventually squirted all over Eddie and the mattress. That image has you immediately clenching around your fingers and biting your lip as you stave off yet another orgasm, edging yourself to near painful levels.
Eddie immediately gets a better idea and crawls up the bed, now hovering above you as his hair forms a perfect curtain, secluding you both off from everything else around. “Fuck, I need to feel some part of you princess.” He confesses as he begins to glide his lube slick cock over the entirety of your slit. The jewelry rubs against your clit so perfectly, your legs begin to tremble and your back arches off the bed in an almost exorcism like fashion. The way the cold, wet metal rubs over your swollen bundle of nerves; ever so gently, has you closer to the finish line quicker than anything ever has before. Everything is so slippery with perfect friction, making your pale pink polished toes curl as you raise them higher in the air. Trying to open yourself as wide as possible, selfishly taking everything you can as your high hits you like a ton of bricks. Body spasming as your walls clench tightly around nothing and your eyes snap shut, stars dancing across your eyelids. Eddie continues rubbing the underside of his cock over your cunt until he’s shooting spurts of his warm, sticky cum all over your stomach; most of it pooling in your belly button. Eddie eagerly slurps it up, then spits it into your awaiting mouth before his soft, sodden lips find yours as you both swap his cum in a greedy, tongue filled kiss.
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Part two
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coryosbaby · 5 months
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i need sejanus to cum inside me and coryo to eat it out of me bc he wants to taste sejanus so bad but hes too stubborn to ask to suck him off directly
Content warning . 18+, mdni
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When Sejanus pulls out of your raw fucked cunt, cooing to you about how precious you are, Coryo’s mouth waters at the sight of the fresh puddle of cum pooling out of you. He can’t seem to explain it, really, but he begins to drool at the sight of the white, creamy fluid. He doesn’t say anything at first— can’t say anything. It would ruin him and Sejanus’ arrangement for sure. Besides, he doesn’t think the other male swings that way.
Until he sees the look on the boy’s face.
He looks smug, a small smirk playing on his lips as he bares those puppy dog eyes into Coryo’s own icy blue ones.
The blonde’s face turns a dusty pink, and he shyly averts his eyes. He tries not to stare at the other man’s softening cock hanging heavy between his muscle-ey thighs, tries not to think about how badly he wants it in his mouth. He feels his own wave of insecurity slicing through him. It would take away his pride to be owned by another man.
But Sejanus slowly but surely rests his hand on the other boy’s smaller back, and smiles.
“It’s okay, Coryo,” he assures him, and Coriolanus doesn’t know what he means by that until he elaborates. “Cmon, why don’t you use her tongue on her?”
You look up at him with pleading eyes, still a desperate cockslut waiting for any type of touch to your sweet, aching cunt.
And fuck it. Coryo’s not doing anything remotely gay, right? After all, he’s only eating pussy.
His tongue nips at his bottom lip, and he slowly crawls in between your spread thighs. Seeing you up close, he can take note that your pussy is swollen and wet, and not just from Sejanus’ cum.
Oh, god. Sejanus’ cum. It isn’t even close to emptying out, still a thick, steady stream coming out of your used hole. Coryo can’t take it anymore— his tongue licks a long, lucid stripe up your throbbing pussy. He groans, your taste and Sejanus’ driving him crazy. He begin to lap at you eagerly, like a puppy getting rewarded a tasty treat. He can hear Sejanus chuckle behind him, amused. He’s too busy satisfying his hunger to care about Sejanus’ fingers slowly trailing up his back. They curl around his golden blonde hair, push him harder, deeper. His tongue slips into your hole with ease, and he slurps up Sejanus’ spend with a hunger he didn’t know he had. As Sejanus guides him up and down, he notices that he’s speaking to him, now.
“I bet you’d like more of my cum, wouldn’t you?” He teases, nearly against the shell of the boys ear. “Cmon, Coryo. Admit it. Wouldn’t it feel so good, having me in your mouth?”
And Coriolanus can’t control himself— he whimpers. Fucking whimpers, as he takes your clit in between his teeth, the heady scent of you and Sejanus and everything between making his head feel fuzzy. Sejanus presses a kiss to his shoulder blade, then, and it’s strangely soft. Strangely comforting.
“We could do that, if you want,” the brunette continues, humming. “I could get you down on your knees, all cute and pretty. Could get Y/N to suck your cock, too…”
Coryo shoves a finger inside you, groaning, rubbing his dick up against the sheets. He gasps when he feels a hand slither underneath his body and palm his bulge. He pulls away from you, ignoring your whine of disappointment.
“Sejanus..” he warns, his eyes nervous. He looks down, sees the hand resting on his crotch. He shivers.
The other boy just smiles at him, squeezing the bulge in his hand. Coryo lets out a tiny moan, and desperately humps into it. Cum drips down his chin, lips, neck. Your knee bumps his, and he sees your pleading face. Sejanus’ hand moves up, towards his waistband. He slips it in, feels the engorged skin there. Coryo lets out the most guttural noise.
“Keep licking her,” Sejanus grunts, beginning to stroke him. “Keep licking her, or I’ll stop.”
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great day for the reminder that fandoms are ruined by those who comment hateful things on fanfic
writers don’t owe you anything
writers make fics for free
there is a back button for a reason
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chiliger · 2 months
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Comic page commissioned by @the-bad-batch-baroness of her fanfic “Suckers”
This page was such a delight to draw and the fic is hilarious, so everyone go read it 🤩
Commission Info
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usedtobecooler · 6 months
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"daddy, sit still, you gonna ruin it!" the frustrated little huffs from your three year old echo down the hall as you step foot into the apartment, toeing off your shoes next to the door after a long day.
"i'm trying, baby girl, it's tickly," eddie's soft dad voice makes your heart melt, the tender way he coos to her like she hung the moon and the stars.
you walk in through the door to see one of your old eyeshadow pallets balanced haphazardly on the edge of the sofa, your baby girl in her fuzzy pyjamas sat atop eddie's stomach as she runs an old fluffy brush over his eyelids.
"baby love, what're you doing to daddy?" you laugh, sneaking up behind her to check out her handywork. when she notices your presence the widest smile appears, little dimples poking in as her face scrunches up.
"pupple!" she grins, little curly pigtails swaying as she turns around to look at you with her big brown eyes, full of mischief and pride as she shows off the masterpiece.
eddie looks like he's been punched six ways from sunday, dark mauve and vibrant lilacs dusted along his eyelids, right up to his eyebrows. fanning out over his temples, down his lower lash line and onto his cheeks.
"sure is purple, baby," you smile back, sticking two thumbs up in her direction, which she copies with enthusiasm, "you look so pretty, daddy!"
eddie peels one eye open, wild curls fanned out over the sofa pillow from where he's slumped, hands on your daughters back to keep her upright, "pretty enough to take on a date?"
"absolutely," you beam, leaning over to give him a small kiss, grinning against his lips, "maybe to the movie theatre... or on a late night stroll... or anywhere dark."
"ha ha," eddie responds dryly, rolls his eyes, before putting his attention back on your little one, "and what do you think, princess? where should we go to show off your gorgeous artwork?"
her little chubby finger points towards the door, "park!" she giggles, high pitched and screechy, as she clambers off of eddie with great enthusiasm.
you end up in the park, in broad daylight, amongst giggling mothers and other small children who look mixtures of mortified and awe struck.
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percheduphere · 6 months
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CONSIDER:
The only one powerful enough to defeat all the Kang variants and stop the multiversal war is Loki.
Mobius looks for Thor and begs him to help him free Loki from Yggdrasil.
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Thor asks him who he is. Mobius replies, on different occasions during their adventure:
"We used to work together ..."
"He's my friend ..."
When at last they arrive at Yggdrasil and weave their way into its center, Mobius insists that Thor should go in first.
Thor and Loki have a tearful reunion. They embrace long and hard. Thor can't believe it. His brother looks and acts so different from the Loki he knew.
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After explaining everything they have each been through, Loki peers over Thor's shoulder and discovers the most precious person in his life that he never thought he'd see again. He whispers:
"Mobius...?"
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Mobius smiles. True to form, he cuts the tension with humor, "Didn't think you'd get rid of me that easily, did you?"
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Loki runs to Mobius and sweeps him into an intimate embrace. His nose buries in Mobius's silver hair. Mobius presses his eyes into the slope of Loki's neck.
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Thor watches the two of them, the way they talk to one another (his brow arches), the way they make each other laugh (his eyes narrow), the way they touch one another with profound familiarity (his jaw drops).
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In shock, Thor drops mjolnir at his feet and clears his throat.
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Loki turns to him. Shy and blushing, he stumbles over his words.
"Thor, this is ... This is Mobius ... My, uh ... my..."
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Mobius intervenes, saying, "Partner. I'm his partner."
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unfinishedslurs · 1 year
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hoh steve (steddie)
“Steve,” Robin calls right as he’s preparing to jump. He turns and looks at her, head tilted, and she taps her ear. Eddie watches as Steve’s face goes through several emotions, annoyance, trepidation, resignation, before reaching up and pulling something from his ear. He drops it in her hand with a sigh, and Robin makes some kind of motion with her hands.
He gives her a reluctant thumbs up back, and dives. 
“So, what was that?” Eddie asks after a few seconds, while they all peer into the water. 
“What’s what?”
“The…“ he pokes his own ear, “the thing he gave you.”
“Oh, it’s—“ she starts, but then Steve comes up for air and everything is forgotten. 
“—unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen,” Eddie finishes with a flourish. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, except that Steve seems like he’s actually a good guy, and deserves to be happy. Eddie knows it will never be him that does that. So matchmaking it is. 
Steve doesn’t say anything, just stares blankly at his lips, brow furrowed. He looks up at the girls, and Eddie assumes he’s looking at Nancy, contemplating their future together. 
“Hey Robin?” Steve calls out a little too loud, dashing all of Eddie’s assumptions on the rocks. 
She turns around, tilting her head and jogging back to them. Nancy keeps going on, because she’s got the biggest balls of anyone Eddie’s ever met and will not be stopped by man nor hellbeast. 
Steve points to his left ear, the one Eddie’s on the side of. “Do you have it?” 
Robin moves closer to his right, hitching her voice a little louder. “I couldn’t exactly take it into the lake with me, Dingus.”
“Great,” he groans, “lost my hearing aid and my favorite sweater. Fuck this place, seriously.”
Eddie’s eyes widen. Hearing aid? He would have noticed a hearing aid, right?
Steve turns to him with a grimace. “Sorry man,” he says, “I caught, like, maybe half of what you were saying. Something about trying to fix my friendship with Nancy?”
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soup-in-my-fly · 1 month
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I just finished Fervent Care of Dying Things and BOYYYYY I am NOT ok
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Also inspired some domestic ren x law fluff <3
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(With accompanying lyrics from Dom andra by Kent)
Fic link
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