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mixsethaddams · 1 year

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Eddie and Steve were sitting on the back porch of the little two bedroom house that Owens and his merry band of government lackies gave to the Munsons in exchange for signed NDAs.

It was getting late and Steve knows he should go home, but Eddie keeps finding new conversations to strike up and it just feels too natural to keep responding. Getting up and announcing he was going home would be downright rude. The deckchair he was lounging in was confortable too, so it just made more sense to stay.

Eddie passed Steve the joint they had been nursing between them. Steve had lost track of what they were talking about a long time ago. He was too caught up in the low rumble of Eddie’s voice, quiet enough to make it feel like they were sharing secrets even if they were all alone with nothing scandalous to say. It didn’t matter what Eddie was saying. Steve was happy to just listen. The subtle fizz of the weed spread across his skin as he leaned his head back and enjoyed the light breeze that cut through the warm night.

Today was the same as every other day.

Steve woke up, showered, picked Robin up for work, and then spent eight hours rewinding tapes. He listened to her go on and on about her latest discovery of why Vickie was the perfect person, adding commentary where needed. Steve was happy for her, he was. He just wished she wasn’t so distracted. Not today.

And then he ferried Mike to Dustin’s, Will to the hospital to visit Max, brought Lucas home from the hospital so he could shower and then right back over again. He was barely through the door when Eddie called and asked how his day was, insisting Steve come over to hang out when he heard it was just ‘fine, average, nothing special’.

Steve had wanted nothing more than to fall asleep on the couch with a terrible tv movie in the background. There was something about Eddie, though. Something in the way he moved, the way he said Steve’s name and dragged his teeth along his bottom lip over the V sound. The thoughts of staring at the stars with Eddie might just be the one thing that could redeem today. Even if no one else would understand.

Steve arrived thirty seconds before two large pizzas, courtesy of one of Argyle’s buddies in the business. They each had all Steve’s favourite toppings. Which was weird because Eddie definitely didn’t like olives or pineapple. Steve had a cold beer in one hand and hot slice in the other before he even said ‘hello’.

If there was any way Steve wanted to spend the final hours of today, it was with Eddie. He knew why, of course. He bit his tongue every time he got close to saying it out loud, but he knew exactly what that something was.

“And I figured hey, if it means I don’t have to sell weed to highschoolers anymore, then why not, you know?”

Steve’s brain took a second to catch up to Eddie’s train of thought about his new job. He was going to be working in a garage with Reefer Rick’s nephew.

“Totally,” said Steve, sipping the mostly empty bottle in his hand, the liquid warmed by being held so long. “I bet you’ll be great at it too,”

“Yeah well,” said Eddie, quirking his eyebrows. “I hope so,”

They fell into silence again and Steve started to think it might not be rude to leave any more. The joint was down to the nub, the beer was gone, and Eddie’s eyelids were looking heavy.

“I should, uh…” said Steve, shifting his weight on the chair to stand up.

“Why didn’t you tell them?” asked Eddie, looking up at the moon. Steve could see its reflection in his eyes.

Steve stopped.

“Tell who?” he asked. “Tell them what?”

Eddie sighed.

“It’s your birthday, man…” breathed Eddie. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Oh…” said Steve. He could feel his face heat up. “I don’t… I guess its not a big deal for me… Not for years…”

Eddie nodded solemnly.

“You’re too good for us, Harrington,” said Eddie, shaking his head. “I saw what you did for Robin’s birthday. Did she remember, at least?”

Steve didn’t say anything. He knew he’d probably get a frantic apology and a card tomorrow. It wasn’t like he was going to hold it against her.

“Pizza and beer isn’t exactly the five star treatment you deserve,” said Eddie. “Hope it’s enough to, you know, make today not suck entirely,”

Eddie waved his hand around in a circle, as if gesturing to the very day itself.

“This actually might be the best end to a birthday I’ve ever had,” admitted Steve. “So, you know, thanks. For doing this for me, I mean,”

“Thanks for eating all the olives,” joked Eddie, draining his beer bottle. “Besides, any excuse to hang out with you, I’ll take it,”

“Yeah?” asked Steve, his voice smaller than he expected.

“Yeah,” answered Eddie gently. “I like being with you,”

Steve’s stomach lurched. He followed Eddie’s gaze to the moon. She was beautiful tonight and Steve felt safe the cool glow she cast over them.

“How did you know?” asked Steve, playing with the hem of his sweater. “Or like, care?”

“Saw it on your license a whole back,” Eddie answered, lighting two cigarettes at once and handing one to Steve. “And I cared because… Because I care. I didn’t want you to be sad on your birthday,”

“Oh,” said Steve meekly. “I’m not sad. Not now. I’m happy now, so it worked,”

Steve took the offering of the cigarette and sat back in his chair, looking at his hand and the subtle hint of ‘don’t go’.

“Did you have a birthday wish?” asked Eddie, holding up the still-lit match. It was burning quickly down towards his fingertips.

“Just one…” said Steve slowly, looking through the flame at Eddie.

“A person?” asked Eddie.

Steve gulped, and nodded.

“So make it,” Eddie said. “Don’t tell me, or it won’t come true,”

Steve blew out the flame, still gazing into brown eyes, watching them turn black when the light was gone.

Eddie’s watch beeped. It was midnight.

“Didn’t come true,” said Steve sadly, his eyes still fixed on the point where Eddie had been holding the match between them.

“Give it time…” said Eddie softly.

Steve took a long drag of his cigarette and wondered if this is what every night would be like. If his wish came true and he got exactly what he wanted, would he sit out here and smoke and stare at the stars and listen to Eddie talk every night? Was he allowed to have that?

“I wished for the person that makes me happy,” said Steve, not looking over at Eddie but feeling bolstered by weed and boldened by beer.

“It won’t come true now,” teased Eddie, his voice low.

“Even if I tell them?” asked Steve, turning to look at Eddie. He looked into Eddie’s eyes again and thought of all the things he wanted to say. He felt something shift between them when Eddie didn’t look away.

“I made a wish on my birthday too,” said Eddie. “That didn’t come true either,”

“What did you wish for?” asked Steve.

Eddie’s arm flopped between their chairs, his cigarette burning steadily between his fingers.

“To make someone happy,” he said.

“Like…” whispered Steve.

Steve slowly moved his hand so it brushed against Eddie’s, the backs of their fingers rubbing together. Steve hooked Eddie’s pinkie with his own. Eddie looked at their hands and smiled gently.

“Yeah,” said Eddie quietly.

Steve hummed.

“Guess I just needed to wish for it too,” said Steve.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #seth writes #steve harrington’s birthday

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magicxc · 2 months

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Sizes

Pairings: Survey Corps - their dick sizes

Word Count: 857

Warnings: none

A/N: this is so self indulgent, it aint even funny lol. Please enjoy what I think the bois are packing.

Eren - 9.5 inches

Phew I mean, this doesn’t take too much explaining…at least for me. Eren legit had the gall to wipe out 80% of the population so I can only imagine that he has the balls to match. It’s safe to say our boy is all bark and bite cause he’s absolutely backing up whatever the fuck he says. Needless to say, you need to be PREPPED before penetration.

Levi - 6.5

As my personal favorite of the bunch, daddy Levi is absolutely still working with sumn, okay!!! Let's not count our short king out the race. Matter of fact, I'm willing to bet my bottom dollar that Levi is giving you THEE best seggs. As fun as size kinks are, let's be real, it hurts before it pleases. And 6.5 is like the perfect length to comfortably kiss your cervix. That stamina? His insomnia? The low, sultriness of his voice? Yeahh, you can kiss a good night's rest goodbye and your pussy will absolutely thank you for it. It’s been said that Levi is one of the best in terms of ODM use because of how quick he is while maneuvering the gear and the way it’s used is by the wearers shifting a lot of their weight to their pelvis for movement. Once again YOUR PUSSY WILL THANK YOU!

Erwin - 7.5

Though the Commander stands tall above his peers, he has some muscle mass to him and therefore I consider him a girthy fellow. Keep in mind this is the same man who stared down Reiner in his armor titan form, all the while being short one arm. It's been said that the horses that the scouts ride are bred specifically to outrun titans but what they leave out is that Erwins horse is bred specifically to carry balls as heavy as his. Lmfaoo this man is BRAVE, just daring a mf to try some shit. And he absolutely carries that trait into the bedroom as well.

Connie - 7.5

Connie has always given me goofball vibes. That “huh” ass mf was sorta the comedic relief to the show and it’s like omg you brought dick too?? Funny men be getting me ngl jksjsks. It’s been said that Connie views the Scouts training almost like a summer camp and while he made the top ten his competitive edge doesn’t really set in until he sees someone doing better than him lol. I genuinely don’t think dick size matters to him all that much so when he becomes sexually active and gets so much praise, it’s like ohh wow - new kink unlocked.

Jean - 10 inches

I'm willing to physically debate this lmao. This is probably the only thing he’ll beat Eren in, but I whole heartedly believe that Jean is packing a SCHLONG. He’s always stood above his peers throughout the show and as he ages, it’s more prominent. Tall and skinny men are literally always packing and those pencils wanna write in every book. Mans would absolutely put Mikasa through a mattress if given the chance.

Onyankopon - 8.5 inches

Even though Ony doesn’t get a whole lotta screen time, I can safely assume his length here. This is the same man who fucking DARED Floch to kill him AFTER witnessing him kill a few others for refusing to fall in line. You wanna talk about standing on business? Ohhh Ony’s your man through and through. Mans is always fighting for the greater good and even willing to sacrifice his life for the cause; it’s safe to say you’d bark if he asked you to.

Reiner - 7.0

Ok hear me out, mans is GIRTHY. And 7 inches isn’t a bad place to be at all. Very rarely do those beefcake ass men have length, but that doesn’t mean they're lacking. In fact, I’ll take it a step further and guess that Reiners smeat curves left. CHANGE MY MIND. Any man strong enough to wield that heavy ass armor titan is absolutely knocking the cobwebs off that pwussy. Needless to say, prep is still a must.

Armin - 7.0

Its certainly the quiet ones that shock you the most. Have you ever interacted with a chill and laid back man? It's definitely a reason for that and Armin is no exception. Although I consider him the least experienced, keep in mind that he is a QUICK learner. Every contort of your face and shift of your body is all the notes he needs to take to properly learn how to work your body over. And soon, you’ll be able to mold him to your perfect sex partner. That, coupled with his sweet attitude and sincere personality; sigh that bitch Annie really struck gold with this one.

Floch - 8.0

If you look up unhinged in the dictionary, you’d literally find a picture of Floch. Many can make the argument that he may be overcompensating for something, but I di-fucking-gress. Even though he can be a bit off the walls, it truly was for good reason and all in the name of his country and THAT, my friends, is big dick behavior.

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thornedrose44 · 11 months

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There are so many good ones in the 100 dialogue writing prompts!

But I'll choose: 67. "What if we make a deal?" For supercorp if you will!

I love your writing so much! And hope you have a brilliant day😘

(Angst ahead, with a hopeful end)

“What if we make a deal?”

Kara turned round slowly, back pressing against the balcony balustrade as she watched Lena approach tentatively. “What kind of deal?”

“With clear terms, if I do X that means Y. We can have a standard deal in place when you need my assistance.” Lena explained, clasping her hands in front of herself, pale skin glowing as she was backlit by the bright glow of monitors through the window. “I gain access to the tower’s laboratory and it’s resources, provide consultancy on the approach to dealing with the alien but no vote in how it is handled unless I provide a key element then I get an equal stake vote to the other Superfriend team members.”

Kara’s gaze narrowed as she accused, “You want to turn ‘helping’ into a transaction?”

There was a flicker of hurt that flashed through green eyes but Lena blinked it away quickly enough, expression returning to the blank one she sported whenever she was called upon to assist Supergirll and her team. “No.” Lena said simply, the syllable shaking under the weight of all the emotion it was holding back. “I want to help. But I don’t know the parameters that I’m allowed to operate in.”

“Look,” Kara’s jaw clenched, stomach swirling with regret and shame, head dipping low, “I know things are awkward-“

“Awkward is an understatement.” Lena corrected, with a harsh chuckle that Kara didn’t bother to deny. “I feel actively unwelcome, Kara. I try to help and give an opinion and I am met with silence and you actively choosing the option in opposition to mine.”

Kara shifted her weight from foot to foot, “I just don’t agree with you.”

“No, you just don’t want to.”

“That’s not-“

Lena’s expression hardened for the first time then, a flash of Luthor might that she had buried since coming to Kara with an apology and a request for aid with her brother. “I know you were all for using a containment method rather than risking Alex’s chemical compound on that last alien until I put forward a way to do that. Then you switched because I suggested it.”

Kara winced, wanting to argue back and deny the accusation but she was trying to get better with the instinct to lie to Lena - an ingrained reaction that initially grew from a place of sincere good intentions but became twisted with each betrayal on either side.

“This isn’t working because you don’t trust me.” Lena said, shaking her head mournfully, “And I… I understand that. So… let’s remove trust from the equation.”

“With a deal.” Kara guessed.

“Exactly. With parameters and terms and conditions.” Lena asserted, taking a shy step closer - Kara leaned ever so slightly further back over the balustrade, prompting Lena to shuffle backwards in response. “You know what lines I have to operate in and I don't need to tread on eggshells since I know what I’m allowed to do and what the response to my actions will be.”

Kara sighed, glancing away and staring out over the city skyline as she admitted, “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She knew how difficult it was for Lena, knew that when she came to the tower everyone stayed away - a bubble of distance to keep her isolated, knew that Lena pre-emptively flinched when offering a countering opinion because she knew it would be met by Kara instantly digging in her heels. Brainy and Kelly bridged the gap, doing what they could to keep the tension low and make it so Lena wasn’t without any allies. Kara knew that Lena was doing them a favour by jumping to their aid, and the least they should do was recognise that. .

“Yes, you do.” Lena whispered, shattering the rose-tinted glasses Kara had tried to wear. “I know because I was doing it not long ago and you’re doing it for the same reason I did.”

“Which is?”

“I hurt you and seeing me hurts all over again.”

Kara absorbed this, her heart shriveling up into something tiny as if by being smaller it couldn’t contain as much hurt and love as it currently did. She cleared her throat, finally looking back to her once best friend, “And this will help?”

“I don’t know.” Lena confessed. “But it’s different and right now it’s all I have. If it doesn’t…” She paused, gaze going far away as she considered her options before saying, “I’ll go.”

“Go? Go where?” Kara asked, the sharp tang of adrenaline and fear flooding her system.

“Away from here. Away from you.” Lena murmured, and Kara could see Lena’s throat bob as she swallowed back a lump of emotion. “I know I’ve done wrong but I don’t think I should make myself miserable as penitence…” Lena’s brow furrowed and she added in a mutter, “at least that’s what Kelly said. And you don’t deserve to be miserable either.”

Kara’s hands shifted to her hips, fingers digging in tightly, her head feeling suddenly light like she was floating above all this - she was instead watching the events play out, a version of the future where Lena wasn’t there at all.

“Okay, then let’s make a deal.” Kara said quickly, words spilling out in an eager bid to extinguish the nightmarish vision she was seeing.

Lena looked surprised but didn’t question Kara’s decision, “I will draft a contract and send it to you for editing?”

“Okay.” Kara breathed, turning away and back to the city, unable to bear watching Lena leave. She could hear Lena’s heartbeat, and knew Lena waited a couple of seconds before making her move. “Lena?” Kara called out before she had a chance to stop herself.

“Yes?” Lena replied, her heartbeat rising in tempo to match the pounding beat of Kara’s own.

Kara licked her lips, eyes slipping closed as she whispered, “You leaving would make me miserable too.”

#supercorp

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restlessmaknae · 4 months

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freefall [beomgyu]

Every single time you and Beomgyu met, you bickered about something, and it annoyed you to no end, yet... you kind of enjoyed the thrill of it.

➳ Characters: Beomgyu x female!reader/you

➳ Genre: slice of life, fluff, mystery, kind of enemies to lovers, fantasy, angst

➳ Words: 4.7k

➳ Warning: mentions of low self-esteem, toxic workplace, reader having periods, character death

➳ A/N: This story is dedicated to @lily-blue. Merry Christmas! ❤️

➳ TXT masterlist

➳ TXT taglist: @dat-town, @s00buwu, @soobin-chois, @laaylaazyy, @kuleo26, @hyu-won, @hyunjinswife, @stories-inbetween-the-stars, @wccycc, @littlestartonightsposts, @koishua, @squiishymeow, @forevrglow

You were falling, gravity pulling you under. Your stomach sank whilst your heart picked up its pace, and you were ready for the inevitable crush. Unconsciously, you closed your eyes as if it could make it hurt less…

Three, two, one…

Then, the crash didn’t come, and your eyes flew open, alert and surprised. You blinked up at the stranger staring down at you - caramel brown locks long enough to caress the back of his neck, a few stray ones falling into his small, firefly-like eyes, lips carved like a piece of art and curving into a knowing smile. His hands were a safety net holding you up while his whole body was tense, focused on keeping you from falling down. There was determination and mischief in his eyes, something that you had definitely not expected from a complete stranger who had managed to catch you.

“Gosh, life really can’t be boring with you,” he mumbled barely audibly, but you heard him, and if his presence wasn’t surprising enough, his words were even more.

“Who… do you know me? Have we met before?” You blurted out, confused, but instead of an answer, he straightened up, pulling you with him and pulling you up, so you could stand on your feet again.

You felt lightheaded after the sudden change in balance, and you couldn’t tell whether his closeness added to the dizziness or not, but it was not helping that his gaze was that burning. As if he knew you. As if he didn’t need to take his time taking you in. As if his words were true.

“You have definitely not seen me before,” he responded mysteriously while still not letting go of your hand. You blinked at him again, and perplexed was an understatement. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to rack your brain for any memories or brief encounters with him, but you would have remembered if you had seen him before.

“A-alright, I guess,” you muttered more to yourself than to him, then looked at his hand holding yours. He immediately let go of you as if he had just remembered what he was doing, and he didn’t want to cause any misunderstandings. “But who are you?” You asked as you looked up at him, or rather… you would have looked up at him if he had still been there.

In a blink of an eye, he seemed to have disappeared, and you just stood there, frozen in place, feeling more confused than if you had just fallen down and hurt your head.

Days passed by, and that weight on your shoulders from that mysterious encounter became a little lighter, and you felt like you could move on. At least, until you didn’t manage to spot that exact same boy with the unmistakable long, caramel-brown locks and that slender figure of his.

The problem was that you were on a blind date with the son of one of your mother’s friends, and even though you wanted to focus on what Heeseung was saying, you couldn’t because if you just averted your eyes from the boy in front of you to the other boy sitting by the windows, you couldn’t stop. Your eyes were glued to that mysterious boy, and despite the fact that he didn’t seem to glance your way, you still couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was watching you.

“So… what do you say?” Heeseung inquired, looking up from his phone as if he had just been checking something, and your throat closed up because you had no idea what he had just said.

“Sorry, I couldn’t get it. What did you say?”

“Do you want to check out that exhibition that I’ve mentioned?” The boy repeated patiently, no sign of judgement in his eyes, so that was good. However, your silly little heart was still prompting you to glance in the other boy’s direction, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Heeseung either. He looked back above his shoulder, looking for any sign of anomaly, but when he didn’t find anything, he looked back, and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Is there something wrong? You keep glancing behind me as if someone familiar might be around,” he reasoned gently, and gosh, this boy was too good for you. You were just about to shush him, telling him that you must have mistaken that someone, and you didn’t even know him, but in that moment, the long-haired boy glanced your way and caught your eyes. His eyes didn’t widen like yours did, instead, he shook his head as if in disappointment, then went back to scribble something in his notebook. What was his deal, for real?

You were confused, so damn confused.

“I… I just think I need to use the restroom, and I don’t know where it could be,” you tried your best to appear confident in your words, but you knew it must have sounded awful because you were opposite the front door, and no restroom was around the front door of a café.

“It’s right behind you,” Heeseung pointed out helpfully, and you acted as if you were dumbfounded by this fact, then actually made your way to the restroom to freshen up a bit. You did some breathing exercises to calm yourself down, but it didn’t help at all.

You just didn’t like the fact that someone acted as if you had met before when you had definitely not seen him before your little incident last time, then you saw them at the same café you were at for a blind date, not to mention that smirk of his… as if he… as if he had known you, seen right through you.

A cold chill went down your spine as you were reminded of his piercing gaze, but you decided that you would deal with this - with him - like a mature person, so you went back to your table, told Heeseung that you would be up for the exhibition next time, but now, you saw an old friend of yours and wanted to catch up with him, so if he didn’t mind, you would like to go up to him. Heeseung was as understanding as ever, and actually left without making a big deal about it, which you were thankful for. It was odd enough to have the boy here from last time, you didn’t want him to feel bad about ending the date earlier either.

After Heeseung had left, you made your way to the stranger, and as soon as you halted beside his sitting form, he looked up from his notebook. He had seemed to be writing in it, and you wondered for a moment if he was writing a journal like some kind of lifestyle influencer, but then you were reminded of the reason you came up to him and threw the question at him:

“What’s your deal?”

“What do you mean?” The boy furrowed his eyebrows, but his body language didn’t give away his confusion if he had any. In fact, he looked slightly amused, the side of his lips curling upwards.

“Why are you here today after scaring me last time?”

“Scaring you? I saved you,” he corrected you, putting a hand over his heart as if he was hurt. You bit back a retort because after all, he was right, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction to say it out loud. You had a feeling that it would only boost his ego. You didn’t know why because he was a stranger, but it felt like you knew him well, or at least, you knew his type. “Can’t I be here though? I live close-by, and it’s not like you’ve reserved the place for yourself and your boyfriend,” he pointed out and shrugged his shoulders with his hands raised as if he was trying to recreate a meme.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you felt the need to justify, but the long-haired boy didn’t take it to heart. Instead, he suggested with a lopsided smirk and leaned closer as if he was telling a secret:

“Well, he could be.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I prefer the word charming, but sure, suit yourself,” his smirk turned boyish and smug as he leaned back in his chair, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. His eyes were twinkling with mirth like a child’s who’s up for nothing good, and despite the fact that you would consider yourself a patient person, you didn’t know how long you could keep up with his remarks.

“So how did it go?”

After the question rolled off his tongue, his expression became more relaxed, more solemn, letting go of his childish side, and there was genuine curiosity written all over his features. He blinked at you expectantly, his fingers playing with the pen he had been writing with, but you couldn’t find the right words to say at first because he was so different to the boy just a minute ago.

“It would have gone better if you had not shown up, but for your information, there will be a next time,” you retorted nevertheless, trying not to take his question and his sudden kindness too seriously.

However, even if you had expected him to doubt your words or mock you, he merely clapped his hands and closed his notebook, neatly attaching the pen to the cover.

“That’s great,” he commented while he started packing. You were so confused by his sudden action that you just stood there without saying a word, and that must have seemed odd to him because he looked up from his bag and raised an eyebrow elegantly.

“What? Now I can’t leave?”

“No, you can, I just…” You wanted to say that you were both surprised and not at all surprised by his antics, but that would have seemed even more odd than him suddenly packing, so you gave up on the idea. “Forget it. I hope I’ll never see you again.”

“Oh, you wound me,” the boy deadpanned, but there was a mischievous smirk in the corner of his lips when he threw the bag over his shoulder and bid his goodbye, articulating an annoyingly sweet ‘see you soon’.

Huh, as if.

You were dead wrong. You kept seeing this guy, and it wasn't until you bumped into him inside your apartment building that you realised that he was your new neighbour, the one who moved into the flat opposite of yours. Which meant that statistically you were bound to encounter him more often, but still…

Every single time you met, you bickered about something, and it annoyed you to no end, yet... you kind of enjoyed the thrill of it. The only plausible reason for that was that this tug of war reminded you of your first love because you had started out like that at an ice cream parlour - bickering about whether mint and chocolate could ever be a realistic combination -, but just the thought of Hyunwook made your heart churn as to how it had ended. How he had ended.

The guy - who introduced himself as Choi Beomgyu - was also awfully interested in your dates with Heeseung, not to mention your toxic workplace that you wanted to quit, but didn't have the courage to do so. You had a feeling that he didn't mean anything bad by asking about such topics and encouraging you to take a leap of faith and apply for other jobs as well as be open to Heeseung because you never knew how it would end, but he did act like a little know-it-all at times which yet again caused a lot of quarrels between you two. As opposed to you, he had pretty vague replies to your questions regarding his life, but compared to you, he seemed to have it all, so you didn't want to ask - just to feel even worse by your own life.

Then, one day, the cup overfilled, and after a date you had practically run away from, he was the last person you wanted to see.

"Hi!" Beomgyu singsonged cheerily as he was exiting his own flat while you were on the top of the stairs to your floor.

You grumbled something akin to a greeting, and you were ready to walk around him to get to your door, but he stood in your way. You let out a huff of air, then moved to the left. Beomgyu did the same. You felt your blood boil as you moved to the right and he did the same.

"Can't you just get out of my way for god's sake?" You exclaimed, agitated, looking up at him. The boy furrowed his eyebrows at your raised voice and the frustration in your words, then asked the obvious:

"Is there something wrong?"

Such a stupid question to ask, and you were stupid to even answer, but your feelings took a hold of you, and you blurted out the words in their rawest form:

"Yes. Everything's wrong. Now, move!"

You practically ordered him, your tone authoritative, but Beomgyu didn’t budge. He seemed like a wall that no matter how hard you tried to pound on, it didn’t budge, as he just stood there, still, his features becoming solemn. There was always that moment when the mischief left his eyes, and concern replaced his usual bubbliness, and this time too, you felt the wall around you thaw a bit when you saw that he was serious. His words did even more so.

"No. I care about you, so I can't just let you go and wallow in your self-hatred alone. Tell me what's wrong, I'll listen.”

The thing that he got totally right was that you liked to keep to yourself when you were upset, frustrated or hurt. You didn’t want to burden anyone with your rants, tears or complaints, so you usually just sat inside your room, trying to deal with it all alone, but his newfound kindness seemed too good to be true. Especially since you bickered most of the time, and you never knew whether he was trying to mess with you or you could take his words seriously.

No wonder you were pretty agitated, and threw the question at him like an accusation, finger pointed at him, the gun loaded:

"Since when did you care about me?"

"I've always cared about you even if you might not have seen it," he replied, totally calm and put together that was totally different in comparison to your messy hair, the tears pricking your eyes and the shakiness of your hands.

You could feel your emotions accumulating and expanding like a balloon, and it all came crashing down when you pulled yourself together to speak up next.

"I can't... I can't do this anymore," you admitted feebly, and once and for all, the balloon burst, your emotions spilling out alongside your confession.

You were a mess of tears, regrets and painful memories that didn’t leave your side. Your shame thrown away, you didn’t care anymore what he would think of you, you told him all about it: fearing leaving your workplace because you didn’t believe in yourself enough that you could fit in anywhere else either, losing your first love in an accident and never letting anyone else get to know you ever since, not friends, not lovers, until Heeseung came along with his gentleness and the purest form of care. Yet, you were afraid that you would break his heart both by loving him and both by possibly leaving him because you didn’t believe that you could ever love anyone as much as you loved Hyunwook.

Not to mention feeling like you were merely a ghost of yourself ever since you had lost him because now you were afraid that happy moments were scarce and temporary, and you didn’t let yourself indulge in anything - from buying new clothes for yourself to trying out new hobbies - because everything would eventually end, so why try and build something up, only to see it crumble down and be swept away like a sandcastle on a beach?

By the end of your monologue, you found yourself in Beomgyu’s minimalistic flat with a cup of camomile tea in your hand - your favourite -, your tears drying on your skin. The boy let you speak as much as you wanted, guiding you through deeper and deeper layers with his questions, and sharing his insights with you. He didn’t seem like that know-it-all boy who loved to tease you, he seemed genuinely supportive and caring, or maybe it was just that you were so under the weather that the smallest gesture of kindness seemed big enough to believe that you were cared for.

“It’s not about believing that you’re cared for, it’s about living life without questioning whether you are cared for,” Beomgyu pointed out wisely before the heaviness was lifted off your chest, and you were overcame by a wave of exhaustion, so much that you dozed off against his couch while he was making you another cup of camomile tea.

After that, nothing really changed, except… everything changed.

You were still bickering with Beomgyu, but he still gave you life lessons without judgement, and after a while, you started to believe him. First, it was to prove him wrong. Then, as you tried out more things and had more courage, it turned into proving yourself wrong. You started looking for jobs while still staying at your current company, and just when you thought nothing would come out of it, you got an offer that you felt right about, so you accepted it. You handed in your resignation, and you couldn’t wait to start working somewhere else.

You also left the house more often to do things by yourself - to go to a coffee shop, to walk in the nearby park, to check out an exhibition and so on. Sometimes, you went with Beomgyu, too. For instance, you went ice skating with him because even though you had always wanted to try it, you had been afraid of falling down and hurting yourself, so you had never gone. Hearing that, the boy offered to go with you, and indeed, when you were about to fall, he held onto your arm to steady you.

“See? Sometimes others can catch you, you just need to be brave enough to risk it,” he said so with a proud smile, one that was bitter and sweet all at the same time, and one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was genuine nevertheless.

Beomgyu also prompted you to be as open with Heeseung as you were with him because if he was the right one, he would understand that you needed time to open up because of your first love. Hence, even though it was difficult to get the words out, you told Heeseung that you enjoyed his company, but you were still not over losing your first boyfriend, and he was extremely understanding about it. Not that he wasn’t kind and caring and all that before, but he did react positively which gave you a boost to be honest with not only him but with yourself as well. You decided on not seeing each other for a while, at least not until you were ready to do so, but you could still message each other and check up on the other if it felt right.

Overall, it seemed like life was a bit easier these days. To be precise, the right word would be lighter. Life was lighter when you didn’t expect yourself to put on a happy facade all the time, and it felt like living for the first time after losing Hyunwook instead of struggling to get through each day. It used to feel like punishment to be seeing another day, and now, it didn’t. You couldn’t say that you were over the moon to get out of bed and do your stuff every single day, but you didn’t feel trapped, and that was already something.

It didn’t mean that everything was all sunshine and rainbows, and you didn’t have bad days. You did, actually, and when one particularly bad day brought you down, you tried to numb all the sudden overwhelming feelings with some alcohol. It didn’t end well as you ended up pounding on Beomgyu’s door, ranting to him about how it always happened - bad things happening after particularly good times - after he let you in, and even though it wasn’t anything big, just one of those days when nothing worked out and you felt shitty about your body and yourself, it was enough to make you emotional.

Not that it was anything new to Beomgyu because it seemed like he was willingly offering to be your emotional support trash can, so you just rambled to him on and on, drinking the water he prepared for you and taking the painkiller he gave you, obeying him like a good girl.

Your words were blurred together just like the sight in front of you, but when you bumped into him in his kitchen, everything was crystal clear - the caramel brown shade of his locks, the sharpness of his jawline, the curves of his lips and the stars dancing in his eyes.

“You know…” You started as you pointed at his eyes, almost punching him in the face with your uncoordinated hand gesture. Beomgyu reached for your hand to (probably) keep himself safe, but his touch wasn’t the one that you focused on. It was something else. “Your eyes… they are like Hyunwook’s. So bright and shiny and mischievous,” you blurted out, taking one step closer to examine his eyes even more. That meant that you were impossibly close to his face, and Beomgyu seemed uncharacteristically flustered by the close proximity.

You didn’t know what came over you in that moment, but you had this immense need inside of you to move even closer to him, and so you found yourself leaning forward and pressing your lips to his.

Only to black out later and forget about it the next day as if it had never happened.

Beomgyu knew that something was wrong when he got stuck in his human form after saving you from falling down those stairs. First of all, he shouldn’t have caught you, he had been very well aware of that, but at the same time, he couldn’t have helped it. On the other hand, he had been supposed to go back to his deity form afterwards - the one humans can’t see -, but you had noticed him in the café too which meant that he had failed.

Just like how it was in the human realm, Beomgyu had a feeling that there was a reason he couldn’t go back to his deity form so soon. Something had to happen before that. At first, he had been curious whether it had been him touching you or saving you, but neither had worked, so after a while, he had given up on it, and did what he had been supposed to: to write your destiny as he saw fit.

He wasn’t almighty though, he preferred to say that he wrote the outline of destiny for humans. He could make events happen, but how you reacted to them or if you proceeded to ponder over them were up to the one whose destiny he was writing. In this case, it was you. He could present you with favourable situations and countless opportunities, but he couldn’t make the decisions as to what you would do with them instead of you. He could make you meet Heeseung, but if you were willing to open up to him or not was your decision. He could make you come across a job advertisement perfectly suitable for you, but only you could pick up the courage to apply. He could suggest that you try out new hobbies and change your life, but in the end, it was you who had to make all that happen.

He enjoyed the process though, the process of seeing you bloom, of your world opening up, of your heart being a little lighter. He enjoyed seeing your carefree smiles and hearing your airy laughter. Hell, he even enjoyed listening to your rambles because he knew that no light was without shadow, and in hers, it was you, you were her shadow.

At first, it had only been suspicious because he had stayed trapped in his human form. Then, he had realised that he hadn’t known everything about you as he was supposed to as your writer of destiny after rotating. Destiny deities handed over their own human beings time after time because a deity couldn’t get attached to their human, and different perspectives were needed to better humans’ lives and to see their potential, so around every Lunar New Year, the deities changed. Afterwards, a human’s book of destiny was handed over to the next deity, and when they touched it, they became aware of everything the said human had been through.

Nevertheless, when Beomgyu had touched your book of destiny - that might have seemed like a common notebook to others -, he had felt an inexplicable pang, but he hadn’t been able to put his finger on its source. He should have been able to see why you had felt this way, and why he had to go through the same. Yet, it hadn’t happened.

Not until you kissed him.

Then, everything came back to him all at once: the mint chocolate debate in the ice cream parlour, the bouquet of flowers he had picked out for you for your anniversary, the never-ending Halli Galli games, the silly faces you and Beomgyu made for photos that had been put up on his bedside table, you singing an Ariana Grande song while playing on a child’s playground while tipsy, him tucking you into bed afterwards, making you camomile tea whenever you were on your period, you calling him Hyunwook oppa in a sweet tone and that pain, that inexplicable pain coming back full force after his last memory - the sight of headlights, the power of gravity crashing him.

He remembered that he had been called Jung Hyunwook, and where he had gone to school, and how he had looked like, and how his family had been like, and suddenly, it all made sense why he had stayed stuck in his human form: because he had been connected to you when he had been alive, and he couldn’t have moved on until you moved on.

And just like that, after the kiss, he was sucked into a deep darkness until he found himself back in the deity realm. It didn’t look different from the human world, but it did feel different. He felt different.

“It’s time to go, isn’t it?”

“You have done your fair share. She will be fine,” the voice that always guided him in this realm responded, and Beomgyu winced. Even though his heart didn’t beat anymore, it felt like it did when he was now reminded of you. Deep down, he had a feeling that he had been a human once, but to get to know that he had been your first love was too hard of a pill to swallow. Physically, he had been stuck for months beside you, but he was just starting to realise that he would need time to get unstuck emotionally.

“Will she forget about me?”

“She won’t, but she won’t remember everything about this night either,” the voice announced, and Beomgyu wasn’t sure whether he should be relieved to hear that or not. Not that it mattered because once he handed over your book of destiny to the next deity, he would forget about you, and there was no going back.

You might have been falling time and time again, and he had managed to catch you, but you couldn’t do the same for him. Not anymore. Beomgyu was fine with it though because he could help you mend your heart a bit after breaking it by leaving her world, and that’s what mattered.

“Fine. I’m ready to go,” he announced as he reached the book out and the wind carried it away, carried you and your memories with it, too.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for TXT or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

#txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt x you #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #txt fluff #beomgyu fluff #txt angst #beomgyu angst #tomorrow x together scenarios #tomorrow x together imagines

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killsaki · 1 year

Text

stay home ☆ you want to go out, but your step brother has other ideas.

ran haitani x f!reader

2k words | minors dni

cw / tw : stepcest, dubcon, fingering, oral (f! receiving, exhibitionism-ish, jealous/possessive undertones. — be so incredibly nice or i’ll deactivate.

“you’re not goin’ out in that, are you?” amethyst eyes peer over at you from where your step brother is sitting on the couch. it makes you stop for a second, pursing your lips while squinting at him, blinking a few times to hopefully convey your loss for words.

“now, why would that matter to you?” you tilt your head, shaking it. ran has never cared to speak on any decision you made before. not who you chose to hang around, when you chose to leave, and especially not what you wore. but ever since you came back from college, that seems to be all that comes out of his mouth.

“because ‘m older,” he shrugs. this summer is supposed to be for you, your dad and ran’s mom have vacations lined up back to back for the majority of it. so, you were going to do whatever the hell you wanted in your hometown before you transferred from your community college to the major university across the country—at least that was what you had been planning for the last two months. “and you should respect your elders.”

he doesn’t move from his seat, just spreads his arms along the back of the couch, rolling his head to look up at you, waiting for your eyes to meet his own before he gives you a small, disingenuous smile.

“and maybe ‘cause my mom told your dad i would keep an eye on you while they’re gone.” he turns back to whatever he had playing on the tv, raising his hips to adjust his seating.

“i dont need you to babysit me.” you grumble, walking towards where you lanyrd hangs by the front door to escape the conversation. only, of course, your designated hook is empty. “haitani.”

“oh, guess you need these to leave, huh?” he doesn’t look back as he holds up your keys, shaking them tauntingly before wrapping the lanyard’s material around his fingers and pocketing them.

“give me my keys.” you sigh, dragging the words out like a pleading child. you already know this is going to be useless, if you learned anything from the past six years you’ve spent as a stepsibling to the two toned haired man, it’s that he gets off on tormenting others.

“i’m just looking out for you.” he almost sounds sincere, but then you make the mistake of looking at him. and even with the distance between you and where he’s now standing beside the couch—you can make out the look of sadistic amusement written all over his face.

“you can look out for my foot when i put it up your ass.” you smile tighty, making your way towards him.

“nah, i’m not into that.” he shakes his head, clearly not bothered by your words or the intimidating look you’re trying to give him.

you give up on talking, finding no use when everything that comes out of his mouth is just to tease you. he meets you in the middle of the kitchen, as soon as he’s close enough you try to get your keys, shoving your hand in his sweats pocket, but you find nothing—well, not anything metal. you find warmth, something much rounder, softer than your keys.

“pervert.”

with wide eyes and burning cheeks, you draw your hand back, pressing it to your chest.

“i just—i want my keys.” you blink, face burning as you look everywhere but up at the deep lavender eyes you can feel staring down at you.

“i know you just watched me put them in my other pocket.” you can feel your stomach turn at how he speaks so coolly. “if you wanted to touch my dick you could’ve just asked.”

“what?!” you cringe, finally looking back at him. “you’re disgusting.”

his eyes are low, an eyebrow raised, long braided hair accentuates his face. you realize you haven’t stood this close to him since you’d arrived, only now recognizing how different his stature is. he’s always been tall, but the few inches he’d grown, plus the weight he’d put on—it’d made all the difference.

“you’re the one who grabbed my dick.” he does that stupid shrug again as he licks his lips, not bothering to fight the smirk that plasters itself on his face. no longer bothering to hide how much he was enjoying tormenting you.

“on accident.” you retort, eyes falling to his other pocket, hesitant to try to retrieve the keys again.

“aw, sure.” he nods his head, looking back towards the living room—glancing down at you for a split second before walking that way, and like a needy toddler, you pad behind him.

“i didn’t mean to.” you argue again, though you know, that he knows that you really didn’t.

“whatever you say.” is all you get back.

“just give them to me!” you nearly run into his back when he suddenly stops just before the couch.

“okay,” he turns back to you, keys in his palm, pulling them out of the pocket they definitely were not originally put in. “you can fuck me for them.”

your jaw physically drops. you can only blink up at him. he looks down at you, head tilted to the side as he wants for your answer. your lanyard stays wrapped around his hand—the metal resting in the center of his palm, just an arm away.

“eat shit, haitani.” you try to put more bite in your words—but they come out weak. your arm extending in an attempt to snatch the keys, but he pulls back that much faster.

“gross.” he sneers, “you into that?”

“you’re awful.” your face scrunches again in annoyance. “we’re related, you fuck.”

“hm, but we’re not?” he says it so cheerfully, like he’s so sure of himself. you’re sure he’s delighted you’ve been playing so far into his game.

“can i please just—” you try reaching for them again, to no avail. this time though, ran catches your wrist. you have no time to pull away before he bends it behind your back and uses it as leverage to push you down over the back of the couch.

“what was that?” you can feel his breath as he talks by your ear, body folded over your own. “please what?”

“ran—“ you cut yourself off with a gasp as you feel his dick rub against your ass.

“yeah?” he leans back, grinding his waist against yours. your tight clothing makes it easy to feel his hardening cock. “thought i was gross? you’re begging for me now?”

“as if,” you try to push yourself up, to jerk free from his grasp. but all that training has to be good for something. “just let me go ran!”

“aw, but you’re getting wet,” he notes out loud, his free hand coming between the two of you to adjust his cock so that it was pressing against your cunt with each roll of his hips. “‘can feel it through this stupid fucking skirt.”

it makes you pant, the warmth of it, the thickness—the dirty dirty thought of getting turned on this easily, and by him of all people.

“really want me to stop?” he asks softly, seemingly giving you an out. but the heat pooling between your legs, the image of his soft lavender eyes as you look over your shoulder at him, the way his eyelids hang low with lust, it clouds your mind too much for you to be logical.

you bite your bottom lip as you shake your head, keeping eye contact as the stupid god damn smirk reappears.

“yeah?” is the only thing you hear before the sound of ripping material.

“ran!”

“shut up,” he tears the skirt a bit more, right down the seams it feels, and all you can do is lie there. “hate this shit.”

you’re about to open your mouth to say something else, to chastise him more but the press against your slit steals the words from your tongue.

“now these,” he runs his finger up and back down, pressing the wet, soft lace into your skin. “i like.”

you close your mouth, biting your lips in an attempt to silence the pathetic sounds building in your throat the second ran peels your underwear to the side. but it almost immediately becomes impossible with the way his fingertips feel against the most sensitive part of you.

he takes his time, pressing small circles around your clit and making your knees wobble before retracting back to tease your entrance and watching as your hips try to push back on him.

“ran, please.” you drag out, impatience coursing through your veins right along with the small bits of pleasure he’s allowing you.

“now you are begging for me.” he chuckles lightly, but gives in and presses his middle finger into your cunt down to the knuckle. “thought i was mean? or was it disgusting?”

he adds another before you can even think to form a response. you can feel every curve of his slim, long digits as they drag out of you slowly before he presses them back in and rolls his wrist. nowy you do press back on them, trying to fuck yourself on them, desperate for what he’s not giving.

“so desperate, i thought you didn’t wanna fuck your step brother?” you hear his voice lower, feel his body crouch behind you. but the hold on your wrist, the fingers in your heat don’t move an inch. “who’s gross now?”

he nudges your legs apart with his knees, and however he does it—you can’t see anything but the black given to you by the couch cushion you've shoved your face into, you feel him lick up his own fingers, lick along your slit and attach his lips to your clit immediately sucking in pulses.

“fuck, fuck—” you can feel your legs about to give out, and he must feel it too because the hold on your arm is gone and is now bruising at the curve of your ass. he kneeds at the soft skin, as his other hand starts to rotate, fingers curling in against your soft walls in attempt to find that spot that’ll have you creaming on his face.

it only takes seconds for him to find it, even shorter for you to start chanting out his name as you grind down against him. doing all you can to hold yourself up, you can’t even think about the feeling of his stupid fucking lips smirking against your pussy as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. because even as your legs quake, your cunt spasms and gives him what he’s been working for, he doesn’t let up.

you attempt to move away but you’re far too weak in the legs, too weak everywhere to even really try. thank god your phone rings from where it somehow fell on the floor.

“yeah?” you hear him answer, though his fingers still push against your clamping walls languidly.

“no shit, this is mitsuya, huh?” he laughs darkly, pushing his fingers deeper, rougher inside you and it makes your stomach drop. “nah, my sister’s not coming out tonight.”

you hear silence behind the speaker between your overstimulated pants, and then ran is up again, fingers withdrawing from your cunt. and you try to catch your breath, but your sweet step brother doesn’t give you a chance before the phone is held up to your ear.

“go on, tell him you’re not coming out.” he says, moving behind you to drop his sweats.

mitsuya says your name through the phone hesitantly. you were supposed to drive across town to meet him and his friends, spend the night at his place. and you knew it was a bad idea the moment you agreed to it, that ran—even as nonchalant as he was about you before—would most definitely be pissed if he was to find out. and if you weren’t dripping down your thighs with arousal, your mind wasn’t fuzzy from the movement of ran loudly running the tip of his heavy cock along your slit; you probably would bite your tongue right now before giving away that you were fucking your stepbrother.

or maybe you’d question why ran didn’t have that much of a reaction to who was on the line.

but the feeling of him kissing your nape and lining himself up with your entrance pulls all thought from your head and you rush out something so you can just get the fuck off the phone and fully focus on pleasure.

“‘can’t come out—” you gasp as he presses the thick head of him past your entrance. “i have something to do at home.”

repost of a repost ! (my fic tho!)

comments + feedback appreciated !

#ran haitani smut #tokrev smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev smut #tokrev x reader #tokyo rev x reader #ran haitani x reader #ran x reader #ran haitani x you #ran x you #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers x you #tw stepcest #ran smut

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laureliciousdefinition · 2 years

Text

The Beach | Javi Gutierrez X reader

Summary: a reunion at the beach with Javi.

Rating: 18+!

Tags/warnings: smut, genitalia description, teasing, javi in that damn Speedo is a warning all of its own

A/N: this is a result of a very filthy conversation with @guess-my-next-obsession . Its silly and I’ve never written javi g before so be nice and just enjoy a lil filth on this fine Thursday!

Crossposted on ao3 <3

The waves crashing against themselves over and over combined with the warm blanket of sun was quickly putting you at ease after you settled into the plush seats of the cabana. It had been far too long since you’d had a chance to do this- especially not with Javi, since he’d been spending so much time in LA while you managed your own business affairs back in Mejorca. You were fine on your own, of course, but you never slept quite as well without his weight in the bed next to you. You peeked open one eye to your left to steal a glance at him, long, toned legs stretching out into the sun, only to find him looking at you with a grin.

You jumped slightly. “Jesus- why are you staring at me like that?” You pulled your sunglasses down to look at him fully.

His smile quickly changed to a concerned frown. “I did not mean to scare you, mi amor. Just like to look at you.”

At that you rolled your eyes with a smile, lacing your fingers together and settling back into the chair. “You’re silly.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy making him stare; you’d absolutely worn your skimpiest swimsuit to the private beach on purpose. It was nothing too fancy, just a simple black two piece, but the fabric was… sparse, so to speak. Your nipples were covered just enough to make you feel comfortable, and the bottom was a French cut thong that left little to the imagination. It was one you’d bought on a whim, but you knew you looked hot, and you’d been saving it for something special- and what’s more special than getting to tease your sweet boyfriend at the beach?

After a bit of laying on your back with your chest covered by the adjustable awning, you stood to close it and flip to your stomach. Once again you felt his gaze on you, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I can feel your eyes on my ass,” you teased lightly, voice muffled by your arms.

Javi’s voice was low when he responded. “Can you blame me?”

You giggled again. “Can you at least make yourself useful and re-apply my sunscreen?” You asked, turning your head to the other side so you could look at him.

His brows raised and he grinned like before. “Don’t mind if I do,” he answered as he scooted closer to you in the large lounge chair, reaching over your back and grabbing the small bottle out of the bag you’d packed. He rubbed a dollop of it into his hands before smoothing them over your body, moving slowly. His hands felt delightful running over your back and shoulders- he was applying more pressure than he really needed to, squeezing the muscles and relieving tension you didn’t even know you had.

He moved his hands down your back until he stopped at your bottom, rubbing the sunscreen in languidly before squeezing one of your cheeks. You heard Javi hum in appreciation, feeling him grab handfuls of you.

“Ah.. me gusta tu trasero, cariño,” he said from above you.

You’d buried your face back in your arms and were suddenly thankful you’d done so; his touches and compliments were making your cheeks turn pink.

He gave a light pat to one of the cheeks to signal he was done, and you reached out an arm for him while keeping your face covered with the other one. He lifted your hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss on each knuckle. You eventually drew it back to yourself, earning a small whine from him, but you knew he would get over it when he saw your next move.

Grabbing ahold of the bow you’d tied at the back of your neck, you pulled slowly to undo it, letting it fall down by your face. You repeated the action with the strings across your back, pulling until they rested at your sides and your back was bare.

“Don’t want a tan line,” you explained nonchalantly, knowing his eyes were trained on you.

Though nothing was showing yet, you knew how much this would rile Javi up. He always got particularly rowdy after being away from you for a long time, making sure to lavish you with kisses and attention and so much pleasure. It was as if he were making up for the lost time, begging you to use him until you were satisfied; in fact, sometimes you wondered if the man got so caught up in making sure you were enjoying it that he forgot to take care of his own needs. And of course, you loved having someone take such intense care of you, but you also loved getting to please him and remind him that sex wasn’t just about your enjoyment.

That doesn’t mean you couldn’t tease him a bit, though.

“Do you think it’s been long enough that I can flip over?” You asked, turning your head to him again.

He looked extra delicious laying on his side- his tan had faded a bit while he was in LA, but it was already quickly coming back under the hot Spanish sun. He was wearing the new speedo you’d gotten him, further accentuating his lean figure. His little tummy at the top of the suit was extraordinarily tempting, making you long to run your fingers down the trail of hair in the area. And despite being rolled to one side his chest still looked so broad- you were running out of patience with yourself.

You began to roll back over, the cup of the swimsuit falling away from your skin, surely exposing you- your suspicions were confirmed when he reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Stay right there.”

You bit back your smile.

He moved across the small cabana until he was situated by your thighs, patting one of them gently to get you to move them. You obliged, spreading them apart enough for him to sit on his knees between your legs and pull your hips up.

“So beautiful like this. So beautiful always,” he murmured, bending to place a kiss at the small of your back. “I love you.”

“Mmm… I love you too, Javi,” you purred, breathing out a sigh of content.

“Now, let’s see…” he straightened back up and looped his thumbs through the sides of the swimsuit. “May I?”

Angling your head to look at him as best as you could, you smiled. “Of course.”

He pulled the suit down off of you, taking his time watching your core slowly become exposed. You arched your back, presenting yourself more for him, then lifted your knees one and a time to allow him to get the bottoms fully off. Once they’d been tucked safely into your bag, he leaned back down and shrugged the tiny top from underneath you, leaving you completely naked before him.

“Mi hermosa amante,” he breathed out, rubbing a hand along your thigh and backside. “Move forward for me.”

You did as he said, scooting up the cabana chair until the pillow was just below your elbows.

He pressed another kiss to you, this time on your left cheek, then your right. He trailed his kisses inward, dipping down until his nose was right at your entrance. You felt him inhale, no doubt taking in your scent, and your face heated at the thought. His tongue poked out just enough to gently brush over your clit, the barely-there sensation sending a mini shockwave through you. He held you steady though, hands lightly grasping the sides of your thighs.

He pressed his tongue to you again, this time with more pressure. He repeated the motion, flicking it back and forth until you could no longer contain a moan.

“Let me hear it, dove,” he pulled back to say.

Javi dove back in, this time laying his tongue flat against your center and dragging it from your clit back to your entrance. You were already so wet for him in anticipation- he swirled his tongue around and drank down your slick like a man dying of thirst. Your back arched involuntarily at the feeling, causing his tongue to press deeper into you until he was fucking your entrance with his mouth. Your moans were coming out louder and more steadily, fingers digging into the cloth of the seat.

“God, Javi,” you groaned out.

His movements were becoming relentless, swirling over your clit over and over until you could feel the cord starting to snap. He pulled away from you and wiped his face, not quite ready to finish you off.

You whined, causing him to bend forward and stroke your hair. “Calm down, I’m gonna take care of you. Just wanna take my time.” He kissed your shoulder before sitting back up.

When he moved his face back to your center, he licked over your entrance a few times before moving further up to the tight ring of muscle above it. He laid his tongue flat against your hole, hands now grabbing onto your asscheeks and pulling them apart to gain better access.

Though it was a different sensation it was still just as maddening, and it had you letting out a string of curses. “Fuck, yes… shit- Javi, so good,” you babbled.

He hummed against you. Circling his tongue around your entrance he slipped a finger into your pussy, the double sensation bringing tears to your eyes. You were rocking back against his face, desperately chasing the orgasm you needed.

“Please, please- baby, please, I need it so bad,” you begged, voice breaking.

His grasp on your ass tightened as he spoke against you. “Take what you need. Tómalo.”

You came with a loud, gasping cry, fingers surely tearing into the seat. Javi rode you through it, gently pumping his fingers until your pulsing walls dulled to a flutter. With his free hand he rubbed soothing circles against your hip.

Once you’d collected yourself, you twisted your back til you could take in his face, eyes bright and chin coated in your wetness. You longed to kiss him, but when he adjusted the large bulge that was now barely contained in the tiny swimsuit, you knew that would have to wait.

“Fuck me, Javi.” You instructed.

His eyes widened slightly at the vulgarity of your words- as if his face wasn’t buried in you moments ago- before a lustful smile came to his face.

He made quick work of removing the speedo, adding it to the collection in your bag. A cramp was beginning to form in your neck from craning it to look at him, but you couldn’t stop- not when he pulled out his beautiful, thick cock.

“Now you take what you need, baby.” You echoed his words back to him, pushing your hips towards him.

Javi hummed from behind you, running his tip through your slick before pausing. “You will let me know if I hurt you, okay?”

Your heart ached at the tenderness of his words. He just wanted to please you so badly; he was like this in most regards. All he wanted to do was make the people around him happy. But now it was his turn- you felt the head notch into your entrance and you felt giddy.

“Yes, Javi.”

He pushed in, slowly but fully until he was completely seated within you. From this angle he wasn’t as deep as he’d be if you were on your back, but your body was creating a tighter squeeze and he was pushing against all the most sensitive spots within you. Your mouth fell into a silent ‘oh’ as he began shallowly fucking you, his hands keeping you steady with a gentle grasp on your hips.

“F-fuck,” you heard Javi mutter behind you.

You steadied yourself as best as you could to respond. “Does it feel good?” You asked sultrily.

“Mmm… you know it does, beautiful girl,” he panted, peppering his words with soft grunts that made heat spread through your hips.

He continued steadily fucking into you, thrusts becoming harder and harder- you knew he was holding on as best as he could, but he was slipping.

“Are you getting close for me?” Your voice teemed with lust, throat rough.

Javi didn’t answer, only continued his movements.

“I asked you a question, daddy.”

His hips stopped for a second before they continued at a much faster pace. You couldn’t help the loud moan that left your chest, caught off guard by the sudden jolt.

“Sayitagain,” he rushed out. “Cariño, say it again.”

You smirked to yourself before replying. “I want you to cum all over me, daddy. Make a mess of me.”

Javi groaned loudly and you felt a sudden emptiness as he quickly pulled out. He shot hot spurts of cum all over your back and ass, falling back to the cushion to catch his breath.

“I will clean you up in a second, amor, just… give me a minute. That was so amazing.”

You remained on your stomach, though you shifted back to your earlier position to give your back a break. When you looked over at Javi, you took a mental picture to remember forever; him, fully naked at the beach, sprawled out on his back with one leg bent and tucked under the other, arms spread out beside him while his chest slowly stopped heaving. He was coated in a sheen of sweat, beautiful curls going every which direction at the top of his head. He was an impossibly beautiful man, and the sight made you bite your lip with a grin.

He eventually opened his eyes to take you in again, a Cheshire smile painted across his face.

“Up for another, amor?”

Feedback and interactions always appreciated <3

Not sure who to tag in this so I’ll just put my usual taglist! Feel free to ignore it if you aren’t interested/let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any future javi g stuff!

@iamskyereads @guess-my-next-obsession @wheresarizona @jedifarmerr @grippingbeskar @kirsteng42

#javier gutierrez #javi g x reader #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi g x you #javi gutierrez imagine #javi gutierrez fanfiction #javi gutierrez smut #javi gutierrez fic #uwomt #unbearable weight of massive talent

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lunartearrose · 2 months

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Ockiss24 day 7: Dare! With that, we complete the week!

Ocs: Cobalt (inkling), Yuki (octoling) (ft. Boron in foreground)

World: Splatoon

Drabble below! Warning there are slight drinking mentions!

It was Cobalt's birthday, and all of his friends had been invited over for the party! It was a nice little gathering arranged by his closest friend Neon, and everyone else chipped in with snacks, games, and of course drinks.

Cobalt doesn't do alcohol, but plenty of his pals partake - and it seems that Taro and Yuki are about to both have their first taste.

Taro spat it out almost immediately, while Yuki considered the taste, shrugged, and chugged the rest of the bottle before he could be told maybe that wasn't the best idea!

Needless to say, it was strong stuff and Yuki got a little tipsy. Mercury was sure to supply him with plenty of home made bread in an attempt to soak up some of it.

The night rolled on, and Boron organized some games! Everyone had some fun with cards and some other stuff as everyone that does drink slowly gets down to Yuki's level of drunkenness.

But then, with a grin, Boron fished the bottle that Yuki drained from the trash, holding it over his head.

“Spin or dare! Let's do it!!” Boron cheered, giggling to himself.

“Spin or dare?” Taro asked inquisitively.

“Its spin the bottle with a way out!” Boron says, “usually you spin and kiss whoatever it spins to, but we got peeps like my sis merc who haaates to kiss at parties, and cobalt only smooches dudes! So!! If it lands on you and you're not kissin shit, you gotta do a dare that the spinner picks!! You can go back and kiss if the dares too much, but yeah! Who's in???”

Everyone was, and the game began! Of course, majority was doing dares, though Neon definitely cheated with kisses on foreheads and cheeks. Not to mention she's always wearing a gas mask, so it feels more like a puppy headbutting the recipient than anything.

Eventually, it was Cobalt's turn! He spun the bottle hard, a couple of his more drunk friends cheering about the speed. Slowly, it slowed down, until…

…it landed on Yuki.

An uproar of ooh's come from the drunk peanut gallery.

Of course it had to be Cobalt's crush. And Yuki was not only drunk, but he had a 100% dare rate so far. As much of a nice present a kiss would be, Cobalt knew his chances were likely low, if not zero.

Yuki, after he finished staring at the bottle, scooted over by cobalt, knocking the bottle to the side on the way. From a light dare from Rhodi earlier, Yuki's usual face mask was hanging off his right ear, to stay off for at least one more turn. A weak dare by Spin or Dare standards, but appreciated by Cobalt in secret. Yuki's pouty, flushed face was really cute!

A ways away, Yuki continued to stare, his thin, still-growing-back tentacles waving around in the air. Was it stress, or because he was hammered?

Taking it easy, Cobalt rested his weight on one of his arms, momentarily re-adjusting his little birthday hat before he glanced back at Yuki. “So, I'm guessin’ it's a da-”

Before he could finish, Yuki had smushed his lips against Cobalt's, with enough force that it kinda hurt a bit. They froze there for a bit, stuck in the moment. It was long enough that Cobalt heard Boron's camera go off, likely immortalizing the moment forever.

After some time, Yuki pulled back. Flustered and drunk, and strangely as breathless as Cobalt had been left. He squinted at cobalt, a warbling little octoling noise rising from his throat before he spoke.

“I ain't a coward!! I'm takin yer dare too!!” Yuki announced, sitting back on his knees and crossing his arms, “Do your WORST, Cobalt!!!! I'll take it all!!!”

“Oooh, tell em Yuki!” Neon cheered.

Cobalt… couldn't think of what he was going to even dare before.

“I- u-uh- um…” Cobalt stuttered, “i-i really don't know! I guess- i guess do whatever you really really want to do????? I dunno!! I think you win here!”

Yuki considered the words, a thoughtful tentacle touched to his chin, as his arms remained crossed. After a moment, Yuki nodded to himself.

And then, he wormed his head into Cobalt's lap, closing his eyes.

“I'm gonna nap then!” Yuki declared, getting cozy. “It's real late. Gimme your bed if you got other games!! To do! But yer not aloud to kiss ANYONE. ‘Cause… ‘cuz I won. That's why!!”

And with that, he was silent. Several friends cackled over the situation, and several more pictures were taken. The game is thoroughly disrupted, so breaks are had to eat more snacks, talk, and take bathroom trips.

“Eh, s-sorry about the brother of mine…” Taro apologized, “Taro did not think he would be a… well… drunk crazy. Would Cobalt like Taro to move him?”

“I-it's fine! Let him sleep it off. He'll probably wake with a nasty hangover, so I don't mind letting him take my bed. Everyone who's had a drink will probably be sleepin’ over anyways.” Cobalt replied with a smile, patting Yuki's head gently.

“Ok! Um, where will cobalt sleep? With Yuki?” Taro asked curiously, seeming quite invested in the answer.

“Would he really want that, you think?” Cobalt asked, “I want him to be cozy, and from what I gather about him he doesn't really like being close to people, especially while out of it. You know?”

Taro thought for a long minute, deeply considering the whole thing. “Eh… then maybe do rest near, not in bed? Yuki wakes in night sometimes. Wakes scared, and needs who he trusts. He does trust you. Yuki will need someone if a hang-over adds to this. Taro can stay with other guests - and Cobalt, you get me if Yuki asks, ok? He does like soft beds in bad times.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Cobalt replied, and gave a thumbs up.

The night went on, and ran somewhat late. Those staying settled in the living room, and those sober enough to leave bid their farewells, save for Taro. He was set up with a blanket and pillow close to neon, second earliest to sleep.

Cobalt gave Yuki his bed, digging out his air mattress to use nearby. As Taro predicted, Yuki woke up sometime in the night, and the hangover made his night-terror awakening much worse. All through it, Cobalt was there for him, and woke Taro to help.

In the end, Yuki made Cobalt stay in bed with him after the nausea settled down. Taro took the air matress Cobalt used earlier, and things settled down into a more peaceful quiet.

“... Hey, Cobalt…?” Yuki muttered softly, stirring him from the edge of sleep.

“Mhm?” Cobalt muttered quietly, arms around the octoling reassuringly.

“... I'm sorry I did that earlier… the kiss.” Yuki apologized, “E-even if it was part of the game, I feel bad for doing that without asking if you were ok with it….”

Cobalt shook his head. “Don't be. If I didn't feel like it, I wouldn't play. And… I really didn't mind yours.”

“You sure…?” Yuki asked.

“Mhm. M’ sure.” Cobalt replied, barely paying attention to his words as he drifted off, “I'd let’cha kiss me as maaany times as ya want… whenever ya dare to… goodnight.”

With that, Cobalt was asleep. Yuki stared at him in the dark for a little while longer, ruminating on his words until his looming headache made him shut his eyes again.

He cuddled up closer, moving blindly until his lips found Cobalt's again. It was much shorter, but even more enjoyable with a clearer head.

Afterwards, Yuki relaxed, and finally felt safe enough to sleep again. He cuddled as close as he could be.

“Goodnight…”

#splatoon #splatoon fanart #ocs #inkling boy #octoling boy #inkling oc #octoling oc #oc #ockiss24 #oc kiss week #cobalt (oc)#Yuki (oc)

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myriad-writings · 2 years

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late night talking - b.h.

-billy hargrove x reader

-less than 1k words

-little sleepy chit chat and out of character softness

The red digital number on the bedside table read 1:00 a.m., then 1:30, then 2:00, yet Billy can’t seem to rest. Not out of the ordinary for his sleeping patterns, though still quite annoying. He lays with his torso slanted upright against the headboard, trapped in this position by your head on his shoulder and weight against his side. Unlike him, you were knocked out cold and breathing evenly in your soft sleep, almost as if to spite him, but he knew better than that. He blew the smoke from his second cigarette that night away from your face so he didn't disturb you and snuffed out the last of it in the ashtray beside him.

Taking a deep sigh, he leaned his head back and shut his eyes, trying once again to get even one godforsaken hour of sleep tonight. Though he knew the efforts would be in vain, he focused on your even breathing to try to relax his own into slumber.

However, no sooner did he focus on your breathing did it hitch as you twitched in your sleep, evidently having a not-so-great dream. Moments later, your eyes open in a split second of panic before realizing where you are, with Billy’s hand coming up to cup the side of your face in comfort. “Hey, hey, hey,” he says, voice rough from lack of use, “what’s goin’ on?”

Settling back in your place beside him, you just sigh and shut your eyes again as he kisses the top of your head. “Just another dumb dream, not as bad as usual though.” He hums in understanding, neither of you needing to say much else on the matter.

Obviously Billy had struggled with lack of sleep and nightmares in the months following the Mind Flayer incidents, but you had also. It was a healing process with a mutual understanding of what both of you were struggling with, which was nice in a sense, because neither party had to explain themselves too much when they were having a particularly hard day. You looked up at his face finally to see him absentmindedly staring at the wall, the fresh scent of cigarette smoke telling you all you needed to know. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having trouble sleeping again? You could’ve woken me up.”

He shrugged lightly, adjusting now that you were awake so he was more so on his side now and could face you easier. “You’re sleeping regularly again, no need for both of us to be up all night. Besides, not much can be done about it.”

“I guess, but it’s probably lonely. I can keep you company, or at least annoy you to sleep,” you reply, earning a low chuckle from Billy.

“I think the phrase is boring me to sleep, babe.”

“Well I can try that, too,” you crack back at him, smiling and satisfied to at least see him at ease and not agonized over not being able to sleep. “But I’m up now, and I’m not going back to sleep without you, c’mere.” You reach out to him, inviting him to lay on your chest as you had been laying on his before, which he accepted. Once comfortable, you play with his hair the way you knew he liked, twirling a singular curl around your finger before letting it spring back into place. “Anything you wanna talk about?”

He grunts at your prompt, closing his eyes in comfort. He reminded you of a cat in that sense. “Not anything new. Just not tired, thinking about everything.”

“It’s not that you’re not tired, you just can’t relax.”

“Yeah that, like I’m always alert or some shit. I’m fuckin’ exhausted,” he grumbles, frustrated about the way his brain hasn’t let him rest lately. You rub his back soothingly to try to help.

“Is there anything I can do for you? I feel like there’s more I should be doing to help,” you offer, feeling guilty that he had made you so comfortable and calm the past few months while still struggling with himself.

He shook his head slightly, pressing a reassuring kiss to your collarbone, which was the nearest skin he could reach without moving. “You’ve done more than enough, this is actually the comfiest I’ve been all week,” he mumbles, making you giggle a little bit at the way he moves impossibly closer to you. “But seriously, don’t think about it like that. You’re doing great just by being around.”

You hum in response as his arm comes up around your torso, laying flat across your stomach like a soothing weight. “Promise?”

He chuckles at the childlike nature of the question. “Yeah, I promise. You can go back to sleep, I’m finally dozing off down here.” You smile and kiss his forehead in response, before shutting your eyes and letting your hand fall stagnant in his hair. You wait until you feel his body relax and hear his breathing even out before going back to sleep yourself. And this time, neither of you have any nightmares for the rest of the night

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy stranger things #billy hargrove fluff #stranger things x reader #billy hargrove imagine

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ioannemos · 10 months

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and the trees stand

a wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think i too have known autumn too long. e. e. cummings

day one: the universal problem / au

rating: pg

words: 900

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The wind cries around the corners of the house, rattles the windows, moans in the chimney in the room next to hers, and Lucy stares up at the ceiling. As if falling asleep on threadbare carpet in an abandoned house along a back-country road wasn’t going to be hard enough on its own, the wind had to pick up, and so despite the salt lines she laid down her ears are straining to hear something else.

She scrunches down in her sleeping bag, trying to cover her ears. Her usual method of fortifying the single room she’s in has certainly stretched out her salt supply, but it means her imagination likes to run wild. Currently it’s picturing ghosts drifting into the other rooms and building up against the invisible line, their forms melting into each other as they press against it, trying desperately to find the smallest break they can force themselves through…

Downstairs, the front door bangs open. She sits up and puts her hand on her iron bar, heart beating in her throat. Adrenaline floods her bloodstream as a real voice echoes through the huge front hall, not quite loud enough for her to pick out actual words. She picked this house partially because it was so big: they’re harder to defend. What person on their own would chance it? At least two, she thinks bitterly. Maybe they’ll stay downstairs? Or maybe it’s one crazy person talking to himself.

The door slams shut. The voice continues speaking, a rapid cadence… a frantic one, she thinks after a moment. And a young one. And then she hears, far too clearly: “No, stay awake!” Her heart constricts as her stomach goes sour.

She stays where she is for another moment of frozen indecision, and then she groans and stands. Whatever is happening, she can’t stay here and half-listen. She opens the door, breaking her salt line, and brandishes the bar. No ghosts have built up in the room beyond. The frantic voice ceases abruptly, and then calls out a blustering, “Hello?”

“Flesh and blood,” she calls back, heading down the short hallway to the walkway open to the front hall. No ghosts accost her and she makes it quickly to the walkway. She doesn’t dare put weight on the banister as she looks down.

A tall thin boy in a long black coat is standing a few stairs up raising a faint lantern, illuminating his face better than hers or the house around them. His hollow face is smudged all over with what she can’t tell, making his age hard to pinpoint, but beneath his sunken eyes it’s even more smeary. He’s breathing heavily and holding his own iron bar; it’s raised aggressively, despite his whole arm trembling with the effort. All she can make out of the person on the stairway behind him is curly dark hair on one end and muddy jeans and trainers on the other. A voice too low and uneven for her to guess gender says, “La’wood?”

“It’s all right, George,” says the boy without looking away from her. “I’ll sort it.”

“Is he all right?” Lucy asks.

“He’s-” The boy cuts himself off and swallows hard. “No. He’s-” He blinks rapidly and swallows again, shifting on his feet as if that will hide how he’s swaying in place. “He’ll be fine,” he says, trying to be firm and assured but betrayed by his choked voice and darting dark eyes. “He just-”

“For God’s sake,” Lucy interrupts, starting around the walkway for the stairs. She slides her iron bar into her belt and keeps it there with a loop of twine. “Come on, let’s get him up here. I’ve got a salt line all around a room.”

“He’ll be fine,” the boy repeats. “He wasn’t ghost touched, we had to run and he fell down a ditch and hit his head, but- he’ll be all right.”

Now that Lucy’s come down the stairs she can see the boy a little better. He’s taller than her by more than she thought, and so thin and shaky it looks as though the wind still banging the shutters could blow him over. The ends of his black coat are stiff with mud and his trousers are more mud than fabric; God only knows what color his trainers are under all the drying brown. George’s hair is matted with mud on one side and he has glasses that are currently resting cockeyed on his nose. He mutters something she can’t make out.

“I’m… not,” the boy protests feebly, only now lowering his iron bar. “I’m…” He swallows again and rubs the back of his hand across his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s… been a night.” He tries to smile. She forgets for a moment how filthy he is because it’s such a lovely smile. He sets aside his iron bar and offers her his right hand after wiping it on his coat. “I’m Anthony Lockwood.”

“Lucy Carlyle.”

He gestures to the boy behind him, then crouches and takes his left arm. “This is George Karim.” George mumbles something that might be ‘pleased to meet you’ and half-waves a hand in her direction.

“Hello George.” She steps carefully to George’s other side to take his right arm and smiles back at Anthony. “Let’s get him upstairs, shall we?”

He smiles a little wider, making her heart flutter. “Yes, please.”

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shoutout to my new job for not sapping all my energy, @dangerously-human for getting me into lockwood & co, and @lco-angst-week for setting this thing up 🤍

thoughts on this au that didn't make it into the fic: ghosts multiplied faster than in canon, children and young people are still the only ones who can sense them, and thus society has largely broken down. it's not quite a lord of the flies situation where the kids are on their own, but... it's not not that either. i imagined little pockets of people struggling along in the country and cities being mostly abandoned bc of all the ghosts, small older towns only being better off in terms of smaller graveyards to fence off. where is lucy going? why are lockwood and george out in the middle of nowhere? there i can't help you. they're just. going. and meet up, and team up, and their lives are all changed for the better no more questions please 🧡

#lockwood & co angst week #lockwood and co #tv shows #alternate universes #fanfic #mine #lucy carlyle #my favorite #anthony lockwood #you pierce my soul #george karim #all my favorites #it was very odd to have lucy refer to lockwood as 'anthony' even tho a. it's just in her narration and b. maybe he DOES go by anthony here #i mean. it's not like he has a business in This post apocalypse england #anyway #writing is hard #my muse is a monster #abbie writes a thing

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twiilys · 5 months

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love (i just couldn't let go)

Written for @lockwoodandcoff's Flash Fiction challenge #12. Link to the ao3 thing

Very little plot, mostly vibes about Lucy and Lockwood making-up after a fight while stranded.

~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~

“You’re back early,” Lucy noted.

“Yeah, well, not much to do around these parts, is there?” Lockwood shot back, dropping his armful of dry wood next to her.

Lucy grunted. There wasn’t much else to say; they were stuck in the middle of nowhere after the motor of their car had given way, with no means of communication, and the night had already fallen.

There were also the remaining shouts of their row lingering in the air, the weight of all the hurtful words they didn’t quite mean yet flung at each other nonetheless. Lockwood had stomped off into the dark before they could get really ugly, and Lucy had focused all her remaining fury in the sorry excuse of a campfire.

She felt drained now, restlessness quelled into stillness. Her head had cleared as the fire rose to life, as if it had been fuelled by her resentment and frustration.

It was going to be a long wait until morning.

“At least we have the fire going,” she said after a while. She had tried for a softer tone, but it felt too little too late.

“True enough,” Lockwood replied coolly. He added a branch to the timid flames, then stoked the fire using whatever flat enough surface he had found. “Guess we won’t be cold on top of miserable.”

They fell silent. The fire grew stronger with every offered kindle, filling the air with its merry cracking and popping noises. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. It really could have been a peaceful night, spent in good company. Maybe it would have been a long-awaited, carefully planned trip. Or at least a wanted one, instead of the clusterfuck it actually was.

Lucy shifted her gaze to Lockwood. Her unfortunate companion stared at the fire, blinking every once in a while to protect himself from the dry heat and smoke. Every time he did, his eyelashes drew long shadows across his cheekbones, who seemed even sharper than usual as a trick of the low light. The fire cruelly highlighted the slight hollow in his cheek, the deep line etched between his eyebrows, the dark circles under his eyes. He seemed older than his years, and deeply unsettled.

It was her fault, and it was not. It was the pressure of the latter months that had made her lash out, the drop of water that had made her fury overflow and wash over everything. She wasn’t proud of it; but she was too proud to take sole responsibility for this when the fault was shared.

“Are you warm enough?” Lockwood asked.

Lucy quickly diverted her gaze. His eyes were still trained to the dancing flames, but she didn’t want to be caught staring.

“Been colder,” she said with a shrug. Then, to keep a hold of the offered olive branch, “You?”

“Warming up.”

Lucy rummaged through her kit until she found the survival blanket they packed in case of emergencies. This bloody counted as one, so she wasted no time in wrapping it around the both of them.

Lockwood muttered a thanks and moved to sit closer to her, keeping a hold of his side of the cover.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Lucy felt drawn to meet his eyes, which twinkled in the firelight. “Forgive me?”

“Sure, if you forgive me,” she whispered. Lucy held his gaze just for a few moments more, then leaned her head on his left shoulder. “I’m sorry too.”

Lockwood sighed, and some of the tension in his shoulders melted away. After a beat, his cheek came to rest on the top of her head. Lucy closed her eyes. She felt warmer now, the blanket surely doing its part, and she was so tired.

Tomorrow, they’d sort it all.

#twilys writes #lockwood and co #lockwood and co flash fiction challenge #partially inspired by similar vibes in the long and winding road's next chapter #firesides are great dramatic places

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castshed · 6 months

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I dunno if it's just the mental state talking or if maybe there's some truth behind what i've been thinking about since I got off work this morning....

But it truly feels like my time on this site might be more limited than I'd like it to be. Sure, there are some people that still seem like at least somewhat interested to entertain the thought or action of writing with me, but... the majority seeningly don't. Maybe it's my rules? Am I not lenient enough? Am I too weird 'cause of a simple lousy (kind of) fetish I have for taller women? I honestly don't get it.

I've been on this site consecutively for.... I have no idea how many years now. And sure, I've taken my breaks, some rather abruptly and unannounced, but they count... This feels different.

I usually have cycles where I want to do nothing but watch YouTube videos or tons of movies or start series' i've never gotten a chance to get to, or do nothing but play video games. But in the end I would always come back to writing.

Recently, I haven't wanted to do the latter. It just seems so... grueling, like a 9-5 job you don't wanna do but need to because it appeases some sort of agenda or just 'cause you have to pay bills on time and eat.

And trust me, I'm one of those people that doesn't see this site as a job, nor do I feel like writing is a chore. USUALLY.

But the lack of people's interest in things (idk if it's my muses-- me as a person) or the lack of reciprocation to things that take all but a few seconds to lift someone's spirits... has just really turned me off. (Not to mention broken notifications, the new dashboard - y'know all of Staff's TERRIBLE choices)

People also have jobs, I get it. Or school... kids, a life. This is truly something you do in your down time because you enjoy it and may have found the time to actually sit down and relax for once without the overbearing weight of other responsibilities holding you down - I just.. I honestly don't know anymore.

Now normally I wouldn't try and sound so much like a beggar or some kind of attention-seeking child, but is it so hard to send positivity in return sometimes? - Like I get that I may not be active 90% of the time lately, but at least I make the time and put in the effort to show that I care and still enjoy seeing actual people on my dash. - I always send it in and hardly get it back. And sure, maybe within the answer to my initial interaction there's something said. But that's more of a response than an actual attempted effort. At least, to me it is.

I also understand that I haven't been the best at replying to sent in memes, or asks in general, but that's because my muse has been at an all-time-low for ALL of my muses, save for like... ONE of my OCs (Sophie; though even now, I'll admit, she's kinda gone too.), and I get sick of staring at them, irritated that I can't muster up a SINGLE word to reply to any of them with... so eventually I delete them and hope to TRY from an empty slate.

I guess I just miss having that person or small group of people that I could count on all the time for things, regardless of our moods, what time of day it was, what we were doing -- etc. I've only ever been affiliated once, and... it probably wasn't the best choice. But the intentions at the time were nothing but good, and it wasn't heavily enforced, save for MAYBE a single ship, or two. Not having that security anymore just shakes things up too much and I guess it's one change that I could never get used to.

Regardless, the thoughts of this morning have me leaning toward either some kind of indefinite hiatus, or a massive reboot to start anew and maybe find a new place to settle. Those of you that want me around can keep me on discord and continue to chat with me there. But if not, and IF I do decide to go that route, I bid thee farewell and I hope for nothing but good luck in your future endeavors.

#「 𒆨 ⸺ ; out of character . 〕#long post #moral of this very long story #i feel left out and excluded #truly like i don't belong here anymore.

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kissingghouls · 1 year

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Let the Poison Spill

Let the Poison Spill Chapter Four - HIEROPHANT (prev chapter) (ao3 link)

summary: your first ritual isn't what you expect, but the Cardinal finds a way to help you participate. word count: 5k

tags: Papa Emeritus III x female reader, Cardinal Copia x female reader, occult secret society, 18+ Minors DNI, NSFW, a little bit of smut, and a little bit of google Italian, not beta read, more tags on ao3

Chapter Four HIEROPHANT

“Okay, one more time,” Mary said through the door, conjuring the most encouraging tone he could. “What did we learn?”

What you’d learned, in Mary’s absence, was the Order must have been watching you for months. How you’d never noticed was beyond you, but the evidence was laid out across the bathroom counter. Everything you used, from the same toothbrush to the exact brand of hand soap you preferred was waiting for you in the large en suite bathroom. Makeup, shampoo, even those expensive perfumes you collected in those tiny vials but could never convince yourself to purchase lined the shelf below the mirror. Guessing your clothing size could have been easy enough, but there was no way anyone could build this collection without being in your apartment.

All you wanted was to take a shower and work out some of the feelings Copia had left you with.

Now you were faced with the unsettling reality that someone had picked through your life and reduced you to a pile of things. It made your throat itch to imagine someone, probably masked, touching parts of your private life without your knowledge or permission. What else did the Order think they knew about you? How long did they give themselves to learn before they approached you? You scratched at your arms, trying to rid yourself of the feeling of being treated like prey. Like an object of desire to be held to someone else’s standard and examined under a harsh light.

None of that was what Mary meant.

With a heavy sigh, you stared at your reflection and swallowed down the discomfort. You turned to the door and called back to him. “Smile, be polite, and let the upper clergy speak without interrupting.”

“I promise it’ll get easier after tonight. Hell, it might even be better to rip this bandage off your first night—” He stopped short and let out a low whistle as you stepped through the door, his eyes trailing down.

The gown Mary had suggested was gorgeous and it hugged your frame beautifully. But the beading made it uncomfortably heavy, and it was difficult to walk in. That, coupled with the heels already making your feet ache, made you feel like you were standing in someone else’s life. You felt less like yourself the longer you had this costume on. The things in this room weren’t yours, they were just things in a room they said is yours.

“Can we just get this over with?” you mumbled, bunching the dress in your fists. It was hard enough to move without the weight of knowing Imperator was going to show you off like a pageant mom. At least Mary had tried to prepare during his little speech about being polite.

Mary’s face softened. “There’s no need to be nervous, kitten. Just remember what I said and after 10 minutes everyone will get bored and move on.”

“Really?”

“No.” He shook his head. “You’re the shiny new thing in a Satanic church that openly worships carnal lust. Don’t be surprised if your dance card is full. But these things usually devolve into an orgy pretty quickly, so it should be easy to slip away at the end if you’re not into it.”

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Mary, I need you to be honest with me. Have I just signed up to be in some old pervert’s hell demon sex cult?”

“That’s a tricky question. I mean, no, I really wouldn’t call us a cult. No one is going to brainwash you or make you fast or sign away your family fortune. There is a fair amount of illicit activity that is encouraged, but consent is key. Everyone is really into free will here, like, it’s one of our most basic tenants. And yeah, there might be hell demons and an old pervert, but he’s pretty benign these days.

“The point is no one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. Try to look at it like the Order and Olde One as ideas. The idea of all those things you’re not supposed to like, heavy metal, horror movies, casual sex, or witchcraft or whatever. All those things that are thrilling because they’re a little bit dangerous, that temptation and the pleasure of allowing yourself something you shouldn’t, that knowledge you shouldn’t have. That’s what we worship. That’s what He stands for.”

“So…hell demon sex cult.”

“Hell demon sex cult,” he confirmed with a shrug. “But at least it’s fun. Let’s get you to your first ritual, virgin.”

Mary looped his arm around yours as you made your way out of the dorms. He was chatting away the entire time, about what you didn’t know. You were too lost in your own head, considering the consequences of your actions. That tiny cut Imperator had made reopened, the sting reminding you just how short-sighted you’d been. You had no idea what you were in for.

You took a deep breath, trying to ready yourself for what you might see tonight. Mary had been vague, save for the mention of the orgy, but you suspected that had more to do with his disinterest than trying to spare you.

The walk to downstairs took longer than expected. For the first time since you’d arrived, the building was buzzing with life. You were dodging Siblings of Sin dressed in their finest attire as they moved through the crowded hallways. Some stopped to admire and fawn over each other. Some spread bits of gossip between themselves, snippets of things about people you didn’t know that barely registered as you passed.

Beyond the busy Siblings and Ghouls littering the main hall, a stunning cathedral stretched so far back you almost couldn’t make out the end. The walls were even higher than the main hall’s, towering impossibly high above the people below. Each wall was dramatically inlaid with stained glass that must have taken years to build. The floor carried on from the main hall, all those blue, white, and gold patterns dancing their way toward the white stone of the pulpit. The room was dim, washed in candlelight from the thousands of black candles burning around you and an unsettling tune weaved its way through the cathedral, like a lullaby from a ghostly Wurlitzer organ.

It was overwhelmingly beautiful. And it all felt like way too much.

There were men stationed at the entrance handing glasses of wine to everyone as they entered. The look Mary gave you suggested it was required to take one, so you did as you were told. He had convinced you upstairs that it was easier just to grin and tolerate the evening, but you couldn’t shake that fear that had rooted in your stomach. There was no way to tell, after only a handful of hours, exactly what this organization was capable of. If they had the time to wait 10 years between invitations and the manpower required to unnoticeably spy on you for months at a time, what else were they willing and able to do?

What exactly was the purpose of this ritual?

“There you are,” Sister Imperator managed through gritted teeth, narrowing her eyes at Mary. She latched onto your arm and wrenched you away from him, nearly spilling your wine everywhere. Your one lifeline was gone before you could even think to shoot him a sympathetic look.

“Sister Imperator, can I ask you something?” you inquired quietly, the millions of questions you had bubbling up in your brain at once.

“No, not now,” she snapped, patting your hand dismissively. She pulled you through the crowd toward the front of the cathedral, eyes scanning for something or someone as she went.

It was odd to see her in anything other than that habit, but she seemed at home in her sensible pantsuit. Even in the dim light you could see she’d carefully applied a bit of mascara and eyeliner and blushed her cheeks just so. There were facets of the nun you hadn’t considered yet. She was still a person at the heart of everything. There was no doubt in your mind she had a past and stories that could fill volumes. You wondered who she shared them with, if you would come to know more about this mysterious nun the longer you were here.

But the way she tugged at you made you want to kick her in the teeth.

She seemed to relax when she spotted Cardinal Copia and another man having a heated discussion near the front of the cathedral. Leaning close to each other, their voices were lowered quietly as they appeared to argue. The second man had a heavily painted face in the vague shape of a skull, his dark hair falling over his eyes as Copia said something into his ear.

The Cardinal had changed out of his cassock, trading it for a tight black suit, tailored carefully to fit only him. The other man was in a black suit of his own, the silhouette different from Copia’s, but equally fitted to his slight frame. Ornate embroidery of upside-down crosses decorated the breast of their suits, making them look like some kind of Satanic royalty.

“Do not embarrass me,” Imperator warned through her teeth before fixing her face in a bright, fake smile. “Papa Emeritus, Cardinal Copia,” she started, inclining her head to both men. “I would like you to meet the newest member of our flock.”

The men immediately halted their discussion, failing to mask their annoyance at being interrupted. As they turned to look at you, their expressions softened considerably. You realized you’d seen the painting of Papa Emeritus in the main hall, that haunting white eye was hard to forget. But while Papa Emeritus had watched you cross the hall, Cardinal Copia’s eyes had followed you outside the library. That, you nearly missed under the over-stimulation of everything else in the abbey. Something about the portraits managed to fall flat when it came to each man’s features, the way they held themselves seemed to be lost in the translation to swirls of oils. Both men were far more handsome than the artists let on.

Sister Imperator poked and preened at you, smoothing her hand over your hair before urging you forward, like a Victorian mother presenting a daughter and a dowry to potential suitors. Without missing a beat, Papa Emeritus gracefully took your hand and brought it to his lips with a smile.

“Pleasure to meet you, agnellina,” Papa Emeritus purred. “Welcome.”

Copia followed suit, his lips lingering on your hand just a beat longer than Papa’s. “Lovely to see you again, Sorella. How is your head?”

“Better. Thank you,” you replied politely.

Sister Imperator bristled beside you, irritated by Cardinal Copia ruining her chance for a proper introduction. She swallowed hard, the muscles in her neck flexing against the effort as she switched tactics. “Papa, I was hoping you could perform the baptism ritual within the week? That is, if you’re not too busy your Eminence,” Sister Imperator asked with a tone that implied it wasn’t a request.

“Never too busy for you, Sister Imperator,” he answered tightly.

“Wonderful!”

“Eh, Sister Imperator? Might I have a quick word with you?” Cardinal Copia asked nervously, an odd look of worry spreading across his face.

“Of course, Cardinal,” she replied with a saccharine sharpness. “Though I’m afraid your words are rarely quick.”

He mumbled in agreement, wringing his gloved hands. You caught Papa Emeritus raising an eyebrow at their exchange, before burying his face in his wine glass. Sister Imperator hurriedly whisked Copia away, berating him as they went.

“That woman is a viper,” Papa grumbled into his glass, but you pretended not to hear.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, nothing, agnellina. Forgive me,” he said suavely, placing his hand on his heart as bowed. “I’m Papa Emeritus III, or Papa Terzo, for short.”

Mary’s voice popped into your head chanting be polite, be polite, be polite. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Terzo snorted. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I promise I’m no gentleman.”

“Right. Hell demon sex cult,” you mumbled to yourself.

“If only, agnellina! Then things might finally be interesting around here.” He paused to take a large gulp from his glass. “Tell me, how are you enjoying your new home?”

“Honestly? The last six hours have been really fucking weird.”

“Hours?” he asked, the shock evident in his voice. “Did you only just arrive today?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Sathanas.” He trailed off into an unintelligible string of beautiful sounding Italian phrases that were likely swears as he raked a hand through his jet black hair. He tipped his wine glass over yours, doubling the contents. “You are going to need more wine.”

It was curious how different Terzo was from Copia. While Copia had an ease about him, Terzo seemed to have no filter at all. It was slightly refreshing after a day filled with half-truths and a blood promise, but his charm also put you on edge. He wasn’t the least bit shy about touching you while he spoke or adding a suggestive connotation to everything he said. It was hard to tell if that was just his personality or the impending orgy, but you doubted it would be hard for him to find a partner when the time came.

Like Copia’s kindness, Terzo’s confidence made him that much more attractive. After five minutes with the man, you were almost certain he had never doubted any move he’d made. He wore that paint with pride, even if you still had no clue what that was about.

The sound of chimes drew everyone’s attention to the front of the cathedral. Above you, three figures moved into place on the pulpit. All three had their faces obscured, one with skull paint and the other two with shiny black mouthless masks peeking from under their hoods. As the skull-faced man approached the lectern, the masked figures knelt on either side of him as he adjusted the microphone. The room fell silent almost instantly.

Terzo placed his hand on the small of your back and leaned over to whisper into your ear. “That’s my brother, Papa Secondo. He’s a real asshole.”

You bit down on your lip to keep from laughing as Secondo began to speak.

“Children of the Order,” he started, his tone deeply serious. “We wish to thank you for joining us for this evening’s ritual. The success of the Project is one of His most unholy blessings and we can only hope to continue to appease the Olde One in all of our endeavors.”

The two masked figures stood and moved forward, stepping behind the stone altar sitting directly in from of the lectern. Each figure revealed a dagger from under their robes, metal catching the light from the surrounding candles.

You tried to hide the hitch in your throat, covering your mouth with your hand. An impending orgy was one thing, but ritual bloodletting was not something you’d prepared for. Mary had been joking about the sacrifice, right?

“This ritual is about trust, agnellina,” he whispered against the shell of your ear, his voice as smooth and warm as the hint of wine on his breath. He twisted a piece of your hair around his finger as he spoke. “Don’t you trust us?”

“No,” you mouthed. He just grinned.

“We ask that the Olde One accept this offering of flesh as a symbol of our continued devotion to the Order,” Secondo called from the lectern, dramatically raising his hands as he began to chant in Latin.

The pair turned to face each other, raising the daggers to each other’s throats.

You jumped as the couple behind the altar stepped toward each other, using the daggers to sever the braided cords holding their robes together. The heavy fabric slipped from their bodies, revealing the nude forms of a man and a woman. Beside you, Terzo wiggled his eyebrows.

The man moved to relax against the altar, his cock already at full attention as the woman climbed onto him. Mary may have told you what to expect, but they definitely left out the ritual sex.

Moans and grunts of pleasure floated up from the altar as the woman sank down onto the man and began to fuck him in earnest in front of everyone. It didn’t strike you as obscene when examined from the view of an offering. If you were honest, you’d seen people give weirder things to the chosen deities. In an organization that worshiped lust and encouraged sin, this seemed almost tame.

You couldn’t help but wonder how hard that altar was on the woman’s knees.

It didn’t take long before the Siblings and Ghouls around began to shed their clothes and pick a partner (or two or three). The room devolved into a swarm of naked bodies that quickly outnumbered clothed ones, just as Mary had promised. The sounds of sex filled the cathedral, every surface becoming home to a mass of writhing bodies chasing pleasure in each other.

“Papa,” a Sister whined nearby, making a big show of the other Sister pawing at her exposed breasts. “Come join us.”

“It appears my congregation needs me,” he offered with a little bow. “Would you like to join us, agnellina?”

Something in his tone of voice made your legs tighten just a little, the question sparking a fire in your core. He was handsome and charming enough, and under the right circumstances you could entertain him, but this was just a little too much, a little too soon. You offered him a small smile as you shook your head. “Maybe next time.”

“I will remember that,” he replied with a wolfish grin. He kissed your hand one last time before disappearing into the crowd.

Slowly, you made your way toward the back of the cathedral. As Mary said, it was far easier to slip away unnoticed now that everyone’s attention was elsewhere. The activities seemed to be focused more at the front of the room and you passed more and more empty pews as you tried to remember how to get back to your room. You doubted you could tap someone on the shoulder to ask for directions right now.

Closer to the main hall, the sounds of pleasure faded, and one angry voice rose above the others—Sister Imperator’s.

Cardinal Copia stared at the floor, his shoulders sagging as Imperator continued hurling insults at him. There was a string of childish names and words like weak and useless being thrown at the man, who seemed to shrink a little more with each one.

“—I’m not asking, Copia. Get it done,” Imperator snapped, poking at his chest with each word before storming away.

He waited until he was sure she was gone before he straightened again and tugged at the ends of his jacket, pulling it back into place. He was easier to appreciate in this light, the angles of his face unmarred by the flicker of candles. You’d thought he was handsome before, but now you took the chance to really appreciate and admire that little mustache above his painted lip and just how well the cardinal’s suit hugged his frame. Those pants could not have been comfortable.

“Sanctimonious bitch,” Copia hissed bitterly under his breath, surprising you enough to draw you out of that increasingly lustful gaze.

“Does she always speak to you like that?” you asked. You tried not to smile as the Cardinal practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of your voice.

“Lucifer below!” he yelled, gloved hands clutching his chest. “How long were you hiding there?”

“I wasn’t hiding, I was standing. And don’t worry I didn’t really hear anything, other than the sanctimonious bitch part.”

He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. Sister Imperator and I have a…complicated history. I’m afraid she is not my biggest fan, but don’t worry about me, Sorella. I’m quite used to it.”

“That doesn’t make it any less shitty.”

He offered you a fond smile. “No, but you should be careful saying such things. I’d hate to see you get in trouble.”

You shrugged. “She already said I have a problem with authority. It not like she doesn’t know.”

“All the more reason not to have her ire directed at you, dolce.” He stared off into the cathedral for a moment. “Not joining the others?”

“You know, I kinda like to get a feel for a place before I engage in group sex.” As if on cue a loud moan and the sharp sound of a smack rang behind you. “What about you, cardinal? Am I keeping you from someone?”

“No, Sorella. I’m afraid you have my undivided attention and the company of such a beautiful woman is very much welcome.”

You felt the heat rise in your face. “I don’t know about that,” you mumbled.

“Then I’ll repeat it until you believe me,” Copia smiled warmly. “Would you, perhaps, care to go someplace a little less…noisy?”

“Why not? It’s not like this day could possibly get any weirder.”

“Oh dolce, never say never,” he replied lowly. “Especially within the walls of the Order.”

You followed him to a staircase on the other end of the main hall and up several flights before finally slipping into a hallway. The paneled walls were fixed with elaborate filigree, proving once again the Order couldn’t do anything understated. About halfway down, he paused at a large wooden door and pulled a key from his pocket. With a click, the lock turned and he held the door for you, motioning for you to step inside.

“Please, make yourself at home,” he said as he moved behind you.

As soon as he said it you knew that wouldn’t be possible, but you slipped out of your heels anyway, letting your feet sink into the soft area rug. He’d brought you to his home, to a large apartment that stretched around you and begged to be admired like a peacock’s feathers. It was filled with plush Victorian sofas, heavy velvet drapes, and ornamental plaster and you wondered how much of it was his choice versus the Order’s.

“Is everything around here always so…lavish?”

“Eh, we are a coven of sin, Sorella. I’m afraid the clergy doesn’t understand subtlety,” he called from the kitchen. “Would you care for some tea?”

“Got anything stronger?” you asked as you slid into one of the high barstools at the island. “It’s been a really long day.”

“Is wine alright? I’m afraid that’s all I have. I don’t entertain often enough to stock much more than that,” he explained.

“That’s perfect.”

He gave you a small smile before turning to grab a bottle from the rack on the counter. He uncorked it with a practiced ease, biceps straining against the tight sleeves of his jacket as a knot tied in your stomach. There was something in the way he looked at you as he slid the wine glass across the island to you, that feeling of predator and prey itching at the back of your mind again. Except with him, it excited you.

Copia didn’t strike you as a particularly dangerous man, but the reality was you didn’t know him. Whatever quiet and reserved tendencies he’d displayed so far had been offset the second he brought you to his room. His intentions were still a mystery and maybe he didn’t really understand the implication of his actions. It was possible he understood all too well.

You snatched your glass and moved to one of the sofas in the sitting room, rather than dwell on what was or wasn’t. You were just two adults having a glass of wine while a ritual orgy happened downstairs. It didn’t take long for Copia to follow your lead and settle into the spot next to you. He seemed to relax a little more with each sip, the little worry lines between his eyebrows fading as the alcohol soothed his nerves. The conversation was easy between the two of you, general get-to-know-you questions flying between you. Where you were from, how long he’d been with the order, likes, dislikes, pet peeves, and absolute deal breakers. You were surprised to learn he kept pet rats and liked to sleep with his socks on; he was surprised to hear about the teddy bear that slept in your bed until well past your formative years and the irrational worry that followed as you realized the bear would not be in your room when you got back.

Maybe it was the wine, maybe he was just easy to talk to, but by the end of the bottle your knees were touching. No longer just gentle, accidental brushes, the two of you were seated so close to each other that you were in constant contact. He had an arm draped over the back of the sofa, staring at you in astonishment at your latest confession.

“Are you saying you’ve never done anything just to see what it felt like, dolce?” he asked with an amused grin.

“No, I just…” you trailed off, losing your train of thought as you looked into his eyes. The way he said it had sounded like a dare. The corner of his lip quirked up as you looked at him, trying to decide whether or not you should take it.

Fuck it.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, surprised by the gentleness with which he returned the gesture. He brought a hand to your face, easing you toward him as his soft lips brushed against yours. That knot in your stomach tightened as he dared to deepen the kiss, just barely.

“Careful, dolce,’ he murmured against your lips. “One might think you’re trying to tempt me.”

“Me? Never,” you whispered, batting your lashes innocently.

“Oh? That’s too bad. I was hoping you would,” he said lowly, his words going right to your core. Trailing his hands to your hips, he pulled you into his lap with a confidence that had begun to emerge the longer you talked. “Or maybe you want it the other way around?”

You couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped as he nipped at your bottom lip. His gloved fingers traced down your thighs, bunching your dress just enough to get his hands under it. He caught you in a heated kiss, tongue darting across your bottom lip as he grabbed at your ass to pull you closer. You were unprepared for the passion with which he kissed you, how terribly good at it he was. When his mouth moved to your neck you couldn’t help the mewling sound that left you. That feeling stirred in your stomach, the knot beginning to coil and tighten as his hands drew lazy circles on your thighs. You were embarrassingly wet, soaking through those stupidly priced lace panties the Order had left in your room. It had been so long since someone had touched you with such desire and your brain and cunt were aching for more contact.

“Copia,” you asked in a breathy whisper. “Please.”

There was a faint smile on his lips as he pulled away, just enough to watch your face as he pushed your panties to the side and ran a gloved finger through your folds. The leather was a different sensation, but you weren’t about to tell him to stop, your body too needy for anything he wanted to give. You gripped his shoulders as he circled his thumb over your clit, your hips involuntarily bucking up from him as he traced the sensitive spot. He used the opportunity of your raised hips to slide two fingers against your entrance before dipping them inside. Another moan fell from your lips as he slowly started to pump his fingers into you. The Cardinal’s smile was gone, replaced by the dark glint of blown pupils that watched you closely as he coaxed you to the edge.

You tucked your lip between your teeth as he curved his fingers, reaching for that spot inside you and finding it far too easily. His thumb sped up as you cried out and pulled yourself closer to him, whispering and pleading for him not to stop, that you were almost there. You were chasing that fleeting feeling, riding his fingers as that coil tightened impossibly until it snapped and sent you over the edge.

You squeezed your eyes shut tight, burying your face in his neck and body tensing as you came around his fingers.

“You do you feel now, dolce?” he asked softly, lips brushing against your neck.

“I…um—” You huffed out a breath, trying to remember words.

“Oh?” Cruelly, he curled his fingers against that spot again, drawing another loud moan from your lungs. He withdrew his hand and brought his fingers to his lips to taste you on his gloves. With a sigh, he spoke again. “We should get you back to your room before curfew, Sorella.”

“But—” He stopped you with a finger to your lips.

“I am a patient man, Sorella. And we are not done.”

He helped you to your feet, your legs still unsteady as he caught you in a rough kiss that suggested he’d meant what he said. You wanted nothing more than to find out just what that entailed, but he walked you to the door and said goodnight.

You were able to wind your way back through the abbey, past the gold, paintings, patterned floors and the over-the-top decadence that saturated every room. The cathedral was quiet, and the halls were empty again as curfew approached. You promised yourself to read through that guidebook a little more in the morning, but for now you just wanted to hold onto the taste of Copia on your lips.

He wasn’t wrong about the day getting weirder.

“Oh, hey. I was just checking to see if you made it back ok,” Mary yelled down the hall as he spotted you, pointing at your door. He watched you approach, studying you a beat longer. “But here you are.”

You knew what it looked like, standing there with your dress wrinkled and your shoes in your hands. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. At some point someone had freed Mary’s neck from his collar and covered it in fresh love bites, so you doubted he was going to comment on the blissed out state of you.

“You good?” was all he said.

You nodded. “Just tired. It’s…been a long day.”

“I’m sure. Well, as long as you’re ok—"

“Mary, come on. My wrists are starting to hurt!” someone yelled from inside his room, cutting off his train of thought.

“Well, goodnight!” he said quickly and darted into his room. You caught the unmistakable shape of someone sprawled across his bed before the door shut. Possibly a Ghoul.

might be posting too much for one day, but it made more sense to me as two chapters. thanks again for your time, love!

#my wriitng #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #cardinal copia x female reader #papa emeritus iii x female reader

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adelaidedrubman · 1 year

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wednesday detested

i was tagged by my beloveds @direwombat @socially-awkward-skeleton for wip day! and it is now sure a wednesday. sending out tags for any day of the week to @unholymilf (shhh i know) @henbased (shhh) @florbelles @derelictheretic @belorage @heroofpenamstan @noetikat @ishwaris @shallow-gravy @purplehairsecretlair @strangefable @confidentandgood @nuclearstorms @marivenah @schoute @a-far-cry-from-my-main @strafethesesinners and anyone else im missing, head empty no thoughts!

more of the unwieldy beast that is wildfire 16, scene that might get cut as it becomes Too unwieldy. warning extra no proof reading + liz continues choosing to incorporate all her weakest writing points.

“Say, while we’re playing catch up, that also reminds me,” Adelaide hummed, a little too thoughtfully for Jessie’s liking. She wasn’t really trying to play catch up, she just wanted some firepower. “Speakin’ of marital discord, how’s the ol’ ball and chain handling you being gone from the Valley for so long now?”

“Hm, who you mean?” Jessie asked, removing a hand from her pocket to run through her hair in that trying-to-be casual way. “Mary May?” she suggested. “Truth be told I haven’t heard much from her as of late. I guess we did have something of a little spat last time I was there…”

Adelaide shook her head and scoffed. “Nah, you know who I’m talking about —” she replied under her breath, pulling at the stiff cuff of the denim sleeve to reel Jessie closer. “John,” she whispered, raising her shoulder to block Hurk’s line of sight, her own stare unavoidable as she leaned in.

Jessie blinked, hard, resisting the impulse to avert her gaze completely, to fidget and shirk beneath the weight of her stare, the lilting hiss of the name jolting a cold shockwave of misplaced adrenaline through her veins, an odd flash of guilt. It had been the first time she thought she’d really heard someone speak his name aloud to her since —

Well, she wasn’t thinking about that.

Not that there was anything to think about, it was just —

“Huh?” She cocked her head to the side. She scrunched her nose, raised a brow in some semblance of innocent bemusement. “What about him?”

“What about him?” she repeated, dripping with incredulity. “Honey, did you forget I was there last time to see what a giant bug he got up his ass from you spending a whopping fifteen minutes away, not answering his every little call?” she questioned in a low hush. Too low, too rustling like the wind. “There must be a whole fuckin’ swarm buzzing around up there by now.”

“Well, what do I fuckin’ care if there is?” she grumbled defensively. “Not my circus, not my monkeys. Not my bugs, not my asshole.”

“Did I hear you whispering something about monkeys over there? ’Cause that’s the kinda conversation I should definitely be included —”

“Well that’s a major change in tune,” Adelaide exclaimed loudly enough to drown out the man trying to worm his way into their chat, pulling Jessie’s arm to lead her out of earshot again. Closer to the water, which glittered too brightly, flecks of light too vivid despite the thick mist that hung over it. Strange. Adelaide lowered her voice back to a whisper. “What happened to wanting to know everything you could about him?”

“Decided I knew all I fucking needed,” she hissed in reply. “He’s fuckin’ crazy. No explaining it.”

“And aren’tcha a bit curious about what kinda crazy he’s going right now?” she questioned, whisper sharpening into a playful whine. “If not on his account, then for the sake of everyone else stuck there with him.” That pesky guilt churned fresh in Jestiny’s stomach, the bile of it stinging her tongue. “By now he’s gotta be —”

“Can the two of you stop whispering secrets over here?” The smell of rotting flowers gained an undercurrent of watery beer and gunpowder. “Or at least let me in on ’em, man. I can keep secrets too,” Hurk complained.

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neonscandal · 11 months

Text

Victory's Shadow

⚠️ CW: Implied Canonical Minor Character Death (from season 6.. and 5, I think), Major Character Death

Pairing(s): Katsuki Bakugo & Izuku Midoriya; Minor Aizawa Shouta & Hizashi Yamada

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2.2K

Status: Complete

Summary: Set just before graduation, Midoriya's cold feet can only be assuaged by one person.

EXCERPT

“You couldn’t tell?” Midoriya waited expectantly for Bakugo to fill the silence with something derisive but, when nothing came, he considered the question more sincerely. “I guess I’m just wondering if this is all worth it. Was this all worth it?” More silence. Heavy and uncomfortable in the depths it spanned, Midoriya shifted his weight anxiously. He’d never given his doubts a voice lest a question become an interminable scream.

A/N: I was in a silly goofy mood when I wrote this, I am sorry. Everyone is miserable.

“For today’s lesson, we’ll review for your upcoming finals.” Aizawa’s sullen drawl slowly melted into the hum of his students as a lamenting groan swept through the classroom. “Open your textbooks to page-“

Midoriya let out a labored sigh as he leaned over to grab a book from his satchel. Its weathered spine opened easily to the segment in question. His eyes hung low as he followed along haphazardly. Sun spilled in through the large windows and pulled Midoriya’s listless attention as his thoughts began to wander.

“Psst. Nerd.”

“Psst! I know you can hear me.” A second hiss penetrated his already shoddy concentration.

Midoriya closed his eyes briefly as if weighing his options. Hardly a moment passed before he resigned himself to the whims of his childhood friend. Afterall, it was so infrequent that he’d engage him first. “Yes, Kacchan?”

“Don’t you think you should be paying attention?” Bakugo’s signature half smirk seemed to wrap around every syllable of the question that hung between them.

It was enough to force a light snort through Midoriya’s nose. “Kacchan, maybe your time would be better spent paying attention, too.”

“Tch! As if. Think there’s anything left to learn that I don’t already know?”

“How could I forget?” Midoriya could feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards, wryly.

“It feels like you’re mocking me.”

“It feels like you’re intentionally distracting me.”

“’Spose you have a point.”

Midoriya didn’t have to look to know that Bakugo’s eyes were rolling into his head. One of the benefits of knowing someone all your life was the ability to match their inflection to a signature gesture without even a sidelong glance. If only this sensitivity to Bakugo’s mannerism’s had any sort of value to his studies or any other area of his life. “I’ll take ‘Kacchan’s Tic’s for $200’?” he imagined himself saying.

“Yea, whatever,” even Bakugo couldn’t hide his piqued amusement. “’Fourteen Years Together and All I Got Was This Shitty All Might T-Shirt’…”

“You loved that t-shirt, Kacchan,” Midoriya shot back indignantly.

“Yea, nerd. When you gave it to me when I was six. You’re the only fanboy who cleared puberty without growing out of any of your embarrassing hobbies….”

“Kacchan, you seem to be forgetting that you have attended every single midnight release of every All Might documentary to date.”

“Psh. Well, we see where that gets you. At least I stopped decking my whole room out in All Might gear when we got here.”

“Another eye roll complete with a gathered stretch of his hands,” Midoriya surmised. He would probably crack another smile if he didn’t feel like he had to be on the defensive. For what, he didn’t want to explore. “Kacchan, did you need something?”

A beat passed before Midoriya wondered whether Bakugo had actually heard him.

“Yea, yea. Just noticed you staring off. Wondered what you were thinking.”

More silence. Heavy and uncomfortable in the depths it spanned, Midoriya shifted his weight anxiously. He’d never given his doubts a voice lest a question become an interminable scream. Even now, the honesty of his vulnerability felt vulgar when volleyed to Bakugo who seemed to be turning his words over thoughtfully.

“Hmph.. It’s a little late to ask, don’t you think? Provisional license, almost out of UA, and all.”

“Just because we realize we’re headed in the wrong direction doesn’t mean we should keep walking, Kacchan.”

“Tch! That happened one time, ya lousy Deku!”

Midoriya managed to swallow the laugh that threatened to spill from his lips. He recalled, with warmth, a time many years ago, where he’d followed Bakugo to the ends of the earth in search of stag beetles. Well, the end of the earth according to 4-year-olds. In actuality, they’d just stumbled off the beaten path. They weren’t found for hours and, once located, bashfully realized that the point where they’d diverted from the familiar walking trail was just a few feet from where Bakugo had confidently declared he’d known the way back home.

At the time, when met with Midoriya’s tear stained face, Bakugo could never admit it. Even when they happened upon the evidence of Midoriya’s abandoned beetle trap. It was one of a handful of memories between them that they never acknowledged but both remembered, though perhaps in differing severity. It’s something they could laugh about now.

“Last hurdle before graduation and now you have cold feet. Tch, attitude like that, no way you’d be number one anyway...” Bakugo spat brusquely under his breath. His voice was gravelly but belied his earnest disappointment.

Midoriya’s eyes lowered, his eyebrows creasing thoughtfully. It took coming to UA to really appreciate that hero society was not everything he’d thought it’d be.

In his classmates, he’d seen the thin line that could separate a hero from a villain. In those he fought, he’d come to understand how a person’s twists and turns could send them down the wrong path. In Pro Heroes, he saw the shortcomings that could make them irredeemably fallible despite public approval. In his mentor, he recognized the gap between the god he’d revered and the broken man he’d absolved. In Shigaraki, perhaps his greatest lesson, he recognized his own hatred despite his persisting desire to save people. His defeat and subsequent salvation nearly cost Midoriya everything. In some ways, it still felt like it had.

The heroes won in the end, but Shigaraki still bested them in the court of public opinion by successfully upsetting the delicate paradigm he wished to destroy. His rampage, having taken many lives, pulled back the curtain on the atrocities committed by the Hero Commission and irrevocably shook the foundation of a society that put heroes on a pedestal.

Even now, Class 3A continued pressing forward into a field with no certain future. Hero work, now likened once again to vigilantism, had been put in a holding pattern while lawmakers tried to untangle the web of public outrage that was cast when the dust from the war settled. Quirk suppression laws were in talks once more and the polarizing subject of them dominated the news cycle, almost immediately replacing the faces of the fallen heroes.

But those who were there on the front lines could never forget. Those who were there would always remember. To see their fallen comrades take up less and less space in the public consciousness was just another slap in the face to their collective sacrifice. Returning to life after the war presented a surreal dissonance between the trauma suffered and the familiar humdrum of everyday life. Some adapted more quickly than others. Therapy and prostheses for that which they lost. Others simply allowed the humdrum to take up more space than the noise of their trauma. It was in the balance of this where Midoriya’s true thoughts of grief, anxiety and doubt nestled.

With graduation approaching, it became harder to ignore. Without complaint, he’d suffered the weight of the mantle he’d inherited with “One for All”. Just a child when he received it, never properly prepared for the barbed strings attached. With the state of the world, he wondered if it was something he could simply walk away from now. He swallowed the knot in his throat dryly as he contemplated his cowardice.

“Well. Guess that spares you the embarrassment of losing to me,” Bakugo snorted dismissively.

The ghost of a grin graced Midoriya’s face as he hung his head with a knowing shake. He knew this was as good a consolation as Bakugo could stomach. “Thanks, Kacchan… I’m-I’m sorry.”

“Heh!? For what, ya shit nerd?”

“For thinking of giving up on our dream.” Midoriya turned to face his childhood friend, his smile slowly making its way to his eyes as he wondered how they could have wasted so much time at odds.

Where Midoriya’s features had sharpened with age, Bakugo remained a fresh-faced boy of sixteen, pressed uniform worn irreverently. He blazed with the ethereal glow held only by those who’d imparted a piece of themselves unto the One for All quirk. This sliver, alone, survived the bloody battlefield of their first year at UA.

Pressed between the pages of Midoriya’s mind and preserved within his regret for safekeeping, lived a piece of the childhood friend who’d valiantly lent his strength to the final showdown with Shigaraki. Without a second thought, he’d sprung into action in a move that saved Midoriya’s life while costing him his own. In the moment, it devastated the hero forces before ultimately galvanizing them to bring Shigaraki down without further losses.

In a corner of his thoughts where he hoped Bakugo would never hear it, Midoriya reasoned how, considering this, this too would be a burden that he should carry. Locked in a battle of attrition, he wasn’t the irrefutable hero who could save his friend, but he could ensure that his will lived on.

Bakugo exhaled forcefully, unable to meet Midoriya’s gaze. He stared off pointedly muttering under his breath, “Yea, whatever. Do what you want…”

“Midoriya!” Aizawa snapped sharply. “Eyes up front,” he cast threateningly.

“S-Sorry, sensei…”

Bakugo snickered, having evaded reprimanding.

“It’s all your fault, Kacchan,” Midoriya murmured dejectedly, a blush blossoming across his cheeks. He chanced a glimpse at the empty worktable beside him. A covert “HE is HERE” scratched boldly into its surface.

“It happened again today,” Aizawa exhaled, tiredly rubbing at his good eye.

Yamada navigated the line of tables in the empty teachers’ lounge thoughtfully as he carefully set down a warm mug of coffee.

Aizawa accepted the mug without a word and turned to gaze at the setting sun outside. “It feels like every day we lose a little bit more of him. Like he’s withdrawing deeper and deeper into it.”

Yamada sighed softly as he studied the scarred face of a man he’d known since he’d walked these very halls as a student. “We know more’n anyone what he’s going through, Sho. Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No. There’s someone out there with just a bit more insight.” Aizawa argued through gritted teeth, his eye trained on a desk that had been gathering dust for the last two years.

Following Shigaraki and All For One’s decisive defeat, seemingly having completed the mission of avenging his master, All Might took a permanent leave of absence from teaching. It left many lingering questions about why he chose to keep One For All a secret, how he’d passed the quirk to Midoriya rather than involve others, and how he allowed All For One to move in the shadows for so long. The conspiracies that sprung up amid his refusal to address these inquiries only added fuel to the public’s general malaise. It also left a bad taste in the mouth of all the Pro Heroes (and those in training) who’d operated under his guidance without ever truly being in the know as the curtain dropped on the final battle. With his disappearance, the burden of scrutiny fell squarely upon Midoriya to suffer the consequences of his mentor’s untenable actions. It was a yearlong onslaught of interrogation and interviews before he found some semblance of peace and privacy to grieve.

In that time, Aizawa did what he could to shoulder and protect Midoriya, but he was no Symbol of Peace. He was just a teacher who had front row seats to the carnage and mayhem wreaked upon his students. So, days like this were just a reminder of the powerlessness he’d suffered after making it his mission to never lose a fledgling hero as he’d lost his own classmate. “Some teacher,” he scoffed.

“He said once, at Central Hospital, that it was like he could feel One For All calling to him. The vestiges, I guess,” Yamada proffered pensively. For a moment, he selfishly considered his own longstanding guilt and grief. Whether he was trying to find reason in All Might’s actions or provide currency for his own redemption, he was at a loss. “Maybe he couldn’t bear to be around the kid he failed… or hear the voice of the one he lost.”

“We’re left to wonder,” Aizawa’s balled fist met the top of his desktop with a sharp thud. “And what about Midoriya, huh? He was just a kid and we failed him. We failed them both. Where’s he supposed to go from here?” his hand tangled exasperatedly in his hair as he continued to lament.

“Will he recover? Will he go ‘dark’? Sometimes loss isn’t a lesson. Sometimes it just sucks and you just grin and bear it and shoehorn whatever’s left into the life you had ‘Before’.”

Unsatisfied with the unremarkable end such drastic means had yielded, Aizawa furrowed his brow and asked the question that had plagued him since witnessing Bakugo’s ravaged body fall still on the frontline. “We won the war, Mic. But why does it feel like we’ve lost something greater?”

Yamada held a mug up to his lips gingerly, both hands snaked around the glass protectively. He allowed the warmth of his tea to find his nose and, rather than sip or answer, his eyes settled upon a desk that had been graced perennially with a vase of flowers in remembrance. “Maybe we have.”

A/N: I hope the twist wasn't too obvious but there were definitely hints. Also, also, I think the anticlimactic summation between Erasermic while surrounded by reminders of All Might, Midnight and teacher's who maybe weren't even on the front lines is just another example of how even our favorite heroes may feel guilt for their part in everything after the war. IDK if it was conveyed well but that was the intention.

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