#i played for two days and barely got bronze
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Peanut Butter
Part 1: Anjay
"Seriously Anjay you're eating more of that stuff? Look at yourself, do you really think you need more? You're practically bursting out of your skin already."
Gosh, I almost can't even believe how we got here. If you had asked me if I'd be standing backstage at a local bodybuilding show with a hulked out and glistening version of my best friend Anjay, I'd have for sure thought I were hallucinating off some bad lunch… Funny how close to truth that would end up to be.
It all started 3 days ago when an unannounced package appeared on our doorstep addressed to Anjay. Not only was he not expecting anything, the contents were even stranger. Pulling off the packing paper revealed contents not immediately familiar to two skinny young men like us.
To the left a shimmery pile of purple blueish fabric. Anjay held it up cautiously as it unfurled. The garment presented itself as a bikini, the sight of it filling both of us with an awkward embarrassment of being in possession of such an obscene object.
Anjay quickly dropped it on the table before turning his attention back to the box. I had to lean in closer to make out the next object of mystery. A brown bottle of… tanning oil? "What kind of crazed sex fetish shit is this, David?" Anjay turned to me and questioned.
I didn't know what to say, so I just looked back down at what's left. The remaining item, while on the one hand familiar, only served to confuse further. It was a container of plain old peanut butter. At least something normal, but what on earth did it have to do with any of this? As I picked it up to examine it closer a final item was revealed underneath, and with it an explanation.
"Ohhh" we remarked in unison with the kind of trailing off that makes it clear we're still skeptical. It was a pass for what appeared to be a local bodybuilding show and not just any kind of pass, one for a competitor. That well explained the first two items, not a bikini, but a pair of posers, and not just any tanning oil, the kind used to cake a fake shimmering bronze sheen onto huge muscle heads so they can show off their freakish masses onstage.
The peanut butter could be reasoned to be just a backstage snack for a lunk like the probable intended recipient, but that's where the last mystery comes into play. The name on the badge, it was Anjay's. Realizing the same, he flipped the top flap of the box back to check the address on the shipping label, sure enough it was ours. "Hmph…" he said defeatedly.
In an effort to put a quick and tidy end to the strange past few minutes we had found ourselves in, I offered up a solution. "I guess there must be some other Anjay Bajwa in the area, the show probably just got the wrong address."
Anjay tacitly agreed. I'm sure we both knew the obvious holes in that explanation, our town isn't all that big, and being solidly in the midwest of the united states, Anjay Bajwa was not exactly a common name.
"This guy probably wants this… stuff, right? Should we, uh, try to find him?" Anjay weakly questioned.
I conjured up the image of the intended recipient. Some roided out freak standing wider than a doorway with arms bigger than my head ready to crush someone like me in a single moment. A rush of fear ran down my spine. With a similar picture playing out in Anjay's head, we turned to face each other and in unison uttered "Nah…"
Anjay put the items back in the box and loosely closed the flaps. He tossed it in the corner of the room to hopefully forget about, at least for a awhile.
I wish I could say the strangeness ended there, in fact that was almost true, all the way up to this morning.
I woke up before Anjay. The apartment was bare so I decided to head out early, grab a coffee and a bite, and run some errands. When I got back in the late morning I could sense something was off even before I opened our front door.
Through the opening door I spotted not Anjay, but a nearly naked yoked out freak. I stood frozen for a moment. He was thankfully facing away from me admiring himself in the small mirror hanging on the wall. I spied something familiar, the colorful posers. That's when it hit me, this must be the other Anjay looking for his package. A rush of fear shot down my spine, what if he's pissed we had it? Just look at those fucking arms, that back, he could pulverize me without breaking a sweat.
I stood there long enough for the creature to take notice. As he turned to face me, my fear took it's place as a side dish, with a main course of bewilderment. It was Anjay, my Anjay, from neck up at least, or what's left of it. Finally I broke my silence exclaiming "What the hell, man?!"
"Dave! I'm soo glad you're home! Bro, drop that stuff but hold onto your keys, we gotta hurry!" I instinctively stepped out of the way as he came powering towards me. In another second he was out the door, a gust of wind cast from his wide torso the only remnant by the time I had spun around. He was halfway down the hallway by the time I made it out the door. I was astonished he could move so fast with how big his legs had gotten, they clashed with every step yet he was practically sprinting to the parking lot. Still he was clad in nothing but those posers, but passerby's opted to say nothing, either terrified by the sight in front of them or insanely aroused.
Thankfully I hadn't locked my car doors, otherwise Anjay might have ripped the door clear off the hinges. The shocks of my late model sub compact protested as he slammed his weight into my passenger seat. Jeez, how much does he, does Anjay weigh now? Following his lead, I quickly hopped into the car myself. As I got in though, I slammed into what felt like cement, but turned out to be Anjay's arm.
"Huh, sorry bro, not used to my new width." Did he always say bro so much?
"Where exactly are we going in such a hurry?" I ask. That's when he pulled out another familiar item, the badge, pointing at it and exclaiming "Remember this? The expo center!"
"You've got to be kidding me!" too much had happened, too much had changed, it's all I could blurt out. "Look at me Dave, I'm gonna clean up bro!" Okay, that's a bro every sentence. "C'mon, we're gonna be late!" I took a second to sit and process as he sat by anxiously… "Okay, fine we'll go, but you gotta tell me what the hell happened to you."
Anjay was more than happy to tell the story of his morning. He started before I could even shift into reverse.
"Bro! oh my god bro, you won't believe it! So I woke up and there was like nothing in the house, but then I remembered that peanut butter from the other day. I grabbed a big ol' spoonful and plopped my ass on the couch."
As he spoke I found it hard to pay attention to the road, he was so animated, only exaggerated by his newly huge muscles, they were bulging everywhere at the slightest movement.
"A few minutes later, I started feeling this fuzzy feeling, I didn't know what it was, but it felt good. Bro that's when I noticed something else, my body was moving under my clothes, I lifted up my shirt and I had abs, abs bro!"
He took the opportunity to point at his obvious abs, flexing as he did.
"Once I connected the dots I practically ran back to the tub and dug back in… and before I knew it I looked and it was half gone! I knew I had fucked up, so I ran to the bathroom to check out the damage."
"My clothes were pulling apart at the seams, huge fucking peaks ripping through the arms, pecs busting out the front." He flexed each muscle group as he called it out. "Fuckin' delts, abs, quads, lats, traps, my god bro, you have no idea how good it felt, how good I feel!"
I recognized some of those words as he said them, using his obvious context clues for the ones I didn't. I had no idea Anjay was so knowledgeable about muscle.
"I didn't want to completely freak you out." Mission decidedly not accomplished. "So I tried to find something to wear, but the only thing that would fit were those posers… when I slipped them on bro oh shit, they felt so good, I looked so good, but then something else happened. My mind started filling with all this new knowledge… muscle groups, workout routines, diets, supplements, cycles, poses! Before I knew it I was a champion bodybuilder, through and through!"
"Yeah, you can say that again…" I said acknowledging the physical embodiment of his statement. "I'm worried those posers might of sucked some knowledge out of you Anjay, since when do you use bro as a punctuation mark?"
"Haha, don't be silly bro, I've always talked like this… and call me AJ."
AJ? I sat there just wishing for my friend Anjay back, not this beefed up bro'd out version of him. Hesitantly I continued, "Ok… AJ, I just didn't know you were so into muscle?"
"I wasn't…" he paused "at least I think I wasn't, but I mean look at me bro, who wouldn't want this?" With that he raised both of his arms up to flex. As he did his lats? flared out and brushed my shoulder. "Shit, I didn't even know you could even have muscles there."
"Bro I got muscles everywhere and then some. Look at the class on my badge, super heavyweight… damn right! Fuck, I'm so pumped, I'm gonna crush it!"
Anjay… I mean AJ, had his bare foot on the ground before I had even come to a full stop upon arriving. Again I followed in tow. Unlike at the apartment, the sight of a muscleman clothed only in a shiny pair of posers was of shock to no one inside. It's what they're all here to see, what I was here to see I guess?
He led us straight backstage, scattered around were other men and their own companions all getting ready for their time onstage. Looking around I was shocked to realize that AJ was the biggest of any of them.
"Bro, take this," he handed me the bottle of tanning oil "you gotta help me tan up."
I was taken aback "I uhh… well I mean, I don't uhh." I looked around, elsewhere many men were doing the same, but I couldn't I mean, we're friends, but I.
"Fine," he grabbed the bottle back "I'll get started."
He dotted the bronze tan across his chest and started rubbing it in, following it up with his legs and arms. If you thought he looked insane before, with the shimmery coat of tan his new freakish form really popped. Halfway through, I heard his gut grumble, he turned back to grab something else, the peanut butter.
---
"Seriously Anjay you're eating more of that stuff? Look at yourself, do you really think you need more? You're practically bursting out of your skin already."
"I told you bro, call me AJ. Anjay sounds so… formal. As for this," he says as he gulps down a spoonful "I'm lickin' this baby clean…" "Now, I've done as much as I can, I need your help buddy, I can't reach my back." He contorts his arms up and over or behind and up showing just how far he is from reaching.
"I guess there's one downside to all those shiny new muscles," I quip.
"I wouldn't call it a downside, not when I have a bro like you…" with that he made a little pouty face unbecoming of his brutal form. I relent and swallow my awkwardness. "Hand me the bottle." His eyes light up.
I walk around AJ, and I mean around, and find myself staring at the contrasted light patch of his wide back. Man, I really wish I had gloves for this, I lament as I squirt a dollop into my palm. Distributing it between my hands I took a deep breath… here goes nothing.
I feel a jolt of electricity run though me as I make contact. Something's changed, something's flipped. I watch myself as I spread the bronze coating. The back in front of me is the same, but the interpretation has changed. It's not shocking, nor disgusting, it's a thing of beauty. I zoom out in my head, my god, the whole thing is, he is, AJ is. I feel my hands gliding over the many ridges of his back, turning perfection into more perfection. That's when I notice something else, the effects from the latest bite of peanut butter… he's growing. I can see his flesh expanding between my fingers, I can feel it press ever so slightly more against my hands. I've never felt so connected to AJ and I know he can feel it too. The world around us taking a backseat to our own shared reality.
I reapply and venture my hands further down south ensuring that his colossal glutes get the attention they deserve. I pull down his posers, ensuring every inch gets covered. Before I know it my fingers found themselves deep inside as I gently tease his hole. Electricity shoots through me again as I watch him squirm.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a figure coming in hot to our left. Fuck, we're busted, I think, followed up quickly by a different thought, wait, what the fuck am I doing?
The figure comes into focus, it's a frantic respectfully beefed up man in an official looking polo.
"There you are!" he yells out to us as I casually snap AJ's poser back into place. "You missed check-in, you better come with me right now if you don't wanna get DQ'd."
Not allowing for any protest he grabs AJ's hand to lead him away, muttering under his breath as he does, "These lunks, the big ones can't hold a thought in their head outside of their next rep…"
AJ grabs the peanut butter as he stumbles, then walks away. In between bites he shouts back "Grab a seat bro, I'll be lookin' for ya!"
With nowhere else to go I follow his instructions and find a seat in the amphitheater. In the relative calm I have a moment to process the events of the past few hours. Here I am, sitting at a bodybuilding competition waiting for my best friend to walk onstage and show off his insane muscles. I thought about how I feel about that, I have a vague recollection of being scared and confused, but now it seems clear. AJ's got muscles, he's a bodybuilder, of course we're at a bodybuilding competition. The only thing I feel now is anticipation.
I flash back to backstage as I sit and wait. I can't get the image out of my head. His muscles… so big, so hot, muscles are hot, AJ is hot, fuck! AJ is hot! I can't wait to see him again, to touch, I shiver. Almost on command the lights in the amphitheater lower to signal the start of the show.
Competitors start marching onstage, they all have nothing on AJ, I think, only confirming more as they continue to appear. The stage slowly fills as each hits their mark. Still no sign of AJ. I briefly worry something happened to him.
But then, the backlights of the stage are snubbed out by a hulking figure. It steps out under the stage lights. It's unlike any other man up onstage, it's hard to believe it's man at all. It's AJ.
A hush washes over the amphitheater. You couldn't just see, but you could feel his movements, you could hear him coming. The thuds of his footsteps, the stretch of his posers trying to hold back the mass he's become.
He hasn't even flexed a muscle yet but all eyes were on him. I had no idea a man could be so beautiful. He is absolutely bursting with muscle. Every limb, every surface stacked with veiny glistening meat. I find myself getting hard. I stroke my cock through my shorts and make note of many other men in the audience doing the same.
AJ is wearing a cocky smile confirming that he is aware of all our gazes. He coyly takes his place in the lineup, pretending that there's any possible way the show will go on as planned now that everyone has seen him.
To their credit, they did attempt to run though a few poses, but even those onstage found it hard to hold form when their attention was quickly snapping back to their muscled colleague. Noticing this, AJ steps forward to give everyone what they wanted, his juicy up body, up close and personal.
AJ goes through an entire routine like he's spent ages perfecting every pose. His front double bi threatens to encase his head in delt and bicep meat. His ab and thigh positively does. And those thighs, wide sweeping drops of muscle, transforming into carved marble columns as he stomps down.
He turns around to face the other competitors, winking at their astonished faces as he does. It's time to give everyone else the a view of what they've been seeing. His lat spread seems to just go wider and wider without any sign of stopping. And his glutes, my god, they're absolutely planetary.
Spinning back around, AJ playfully takes a customary bow indicating the end of the show. It was indeed the end of the show and he needn't move from that spot on center stage. Not wanting to keep the godlike figure waiting, officials rush out and crown him champion.
There's no lineup. Second, third, who cares, everyone else is a blur. He's first, second, and third both in size and perfection. Medals in hand, AJ turns and leaves the stage, leaving the crowd to reflect on what they just witnessed.
I find AJ backstage, swarmed by all types, attendees, officials, media, competitors, they all couldn't get enough of him, couldn't get close enough to him. He sees me and pushes his wide body through the crowd like it's nothing. He doesn't even skip a beat as he scoops me up and carries me out of the room.
I can tell I weigh nothing to him. I'm a warmup weight. Even without being terribly stressed, his muscles were putting on a show for me. I watch his biceps and pecs bulge to hold me, just taking in the sensation of being cradled by muscle. We lock eyes and smile knowingly.
AJ whisks us away into a side room away from the crowd and gently sets me down in front of him. The room is bare aside from us and the plastic taped on walls and floor for tan smearing muscle beasts like AJ. Not exactly what you'd call ambiance, but it didn't matter. We have all we need.
Without saying a word I step forward and place my hands on his chest. He flexes in approval. I feel a jolt run though me as I feel his pecs shift from beautiful pillows to striated boulders. I lean down and press my cheek against his cobblestone abs. I linger just feeling the motion of his gut contracting and expanding with every breath.
I bring my hands down to his posers and slip them down, his dick pleasingly flops out already semi-hard. As he comes to full mast I realize it's larger than I remember. It didn't grow as much as everything else, but it's still impressive. A stiff golden rod setting itself out from his dark bronzed quads.
I wrap my lips briefly around just the tip before taking it in deep with a skill like I had done this hundreds of times before. I'm in ecstasy as I feel AJ fill me so completely, as I hear him moan with pleasure while I hit all the right spots, as I watch his quads twitch up close and personal with every suck. His movements and breaths become sharply staccato as I take him to climax.
AJ grunts with gorilla-like intensity as he rockets three hot, huge, loads down my throat. I stand up and wipe my lips as AJ comes back down to earth. Once he does, he chooses to finally break the silence with, "It's your turn now, bro." His voice booms deeper than I remember, the statement hitting me like a ton of bricks. He turns around and fully drops his posers, struggling briefly against his quad meat as he does.
My already erect member twitches even harder at the sight of his uncovered ass. Even more so when he leans forward and his massive cheeks split. I hastily drop my pants and am practically pulled in like a vortex. I place my soft hands on AJ's granite glutes before inserting my cock into his waiting hole. I'm glad I went in so deep with the tan earlier, it serving as rudimentary lube.
As I begin to thrust, I watch the dancing mountainous landscape of AJ's back in front of me. His ass is magnificent, so firm and tight. Every few strokes he squeezes his mighty glutes ever so little sending pleasure rocketing through me and also reminding me that he could crush my dick to smithereens in a single flex if he wanted to, this only serving to rile me even more. Regardless, it's clear who is in control in this moment, he wants this just as bad as I do.
I collapse forward onto AJ's back as I cum. We both stay in this position for a few seconds while we catch our breath. Standing back up, we make ourselves as decent as we can. AJ pulling his skimpy poser back into place and me pulling my pants back up and trying and failing to wipe the stripes of bronzer now all over my skin and clothes.
I laugh as I look up at AJ. "What?" he asks.
"Sorry, I wore a spot out on your tan, haha."
AJ chuckles to himself as he turns to face me. "Oh shit bro, but look at you" I'm practically covered in splotches of bronzer. "Honestly, doesn't look to bad on ya, have you ever considered bodybuilding?" AJ heartily boasts. We both chuckle with the silly question serving to encapsulate the wild ride we both have been on.
"Something tells me there's a lot more of this to come, but first… this tank bro" AJ slaps his bloated muscle gut, "she's gonna need a lot more than peanut butter to fill 'er up."
With that we head back out together in search of what I assume is an ungodly amount of food to fill up my hulking best friend… boyfriend? possibly.
We're a total mess, anyone looking at us would have no trouble putting together what we just did. We hold our heads high regardless, because who gives a fuck, like you wouldn't if you could. But you can't, so might as well flaunt what's mine. Besides in reality no one is giving me a second glance next to him.
---
In that first stroll together as an item out in the world, AJ and David find themselves in a place of pure joy and contentment, ecstatic about their budding new reality and relationship. Little did they know what was coming next.
Waiting innocently on their doorstep… another package… Wonder who it's addressed to?
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I hope I’m not late for request this🥹:
[inside one muses’s office] with AIRWIY!Steve? And reader give him his first blowjob?🥹
So this one got a little out of hand, but 🥺 I love him and he deserves the best head in the world if you ask me. Thank you for your request! 💕 I hope you like it!
older!steve x fem!reader
warnings: 18+ age gap, new established relationship, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, smidge of size kink, smidge of daddy kink, finger sucking, swallowing.
wc: 2.8k
A/N: This request is apart of my completed series All I Really Want Is You, but can be read as a stand alone. For those that read the series this takes place shortly after chapter ten.
It was supposed to be a nice lunch in his office on your day off. You weren’t supposed to be giving him elevator eyes from the other side of his desk while he complained to you about his day. But no one had warned you about what middle of the work day Steve looked like. Not quite as dishievied as the end of it when he’s checking his mail, but not put together like when you see him leave his house through your bedroom window when the sun is barely touching the sky. More importantly, you didn’t know about the glasses.
The thin silver frames sit perched on the end of his nose with hair that looks like he just started running his hands through it. The slicked back style it began the day in still sticks to some of his auburn locks while the rest develop a crazed mind of their own. He had popped open the top two buttons of his crisp white dress shirt, revealing a matching tank top underneath and the beginnings of the soft dark thatch of hair that covers his chest. His sleeves are rolled up to the middle of his forearms, and the tan he still has left over from the last few days of summer makes his skin look bronzed. The scruff that lines his jaw is thicker today than he’d usually allow too, but that’s because he’d forgotten his razor in your bathroom the last night he slept over.
God, he was handsome.
“Wrapping up at the end of a season, especially one where we didn’t make it to the finals has been nightmare, honey.” He rubs his eyes from under his glasses leaning back in his seat.
He was stressed too.
The leather squeaks with his movements, and your gaze finds its way to his newly revealed waist. His black dress slacks are pulled tight over his thighs, and the silver buckle of his belt gleams when it hits the sun spilling in from his office windows.
“Just one more week till your vacation,” you remind him gently, your fingers playing with the hem of the sundress and you catch the way his eyes track your movements, wetting his lips.
“One more week till I get to have you all for myself.” He counters, making you giddy at the thought of your first trip together to New York, “enough about my day though. Let me get a better look at this pretty dress you’re wearin’, is it new?”
There’s heat flickering behind his gaze when he gestures for you to stand in front of him, something a little mischievous in his grin that makes your skin buzz.
“Yeah, I got it at Lost Girls after work the other day. I’d been looking at it for a while through the window, thought I’d do something nice for myself.” Your nerves make you ramble as you get up, but Steve thinks it’s cute. He thinks everything you do is cute.
“It’s really, really nice baby,” he praises when you get in front of him letting his eyes roam all the ways it hugs your curves just right, like it was made custom for your body and his slacks get a little tighter. “You look so beautiful, give me a little twirl.”
Your face burns like it’s the middle of June at his request, and the golden emerald of his eyes get darker from behind his lenses. The air around you both turns electric when your already short hem flutters out around the tops of your thighs, spinning around twice for him, just enough to give a glimpse of the red lace that hugs your ass cheeks underneath.
“You gonna be wearing this tonight when I pick you up for dinner?” He asks with big hands reaching out for you, begging you to get closer.
“I didn’t know we had plans tonight.” You giggle letting your wedges carry you to the space he made for you between his legs. The cedar and spice of his cologne envelopes your senses when you get close enough for his hands to find the back of your thighs pulling you to him with a squeal.
The whites of his teeth show when he looks up at you with a smile that steals your breath away, squeezing at the soft dough under his palms.
“What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn’t show you off any chance I got?” The pads of his thumbs swipe against the hem of the lace that meets at the curve of your ass, butterflies in your stomach because you’ll never get used to hearing him say that.
“Yeah, I’ll wear it, handsome.” You agree, making him hum in approval.
He lets you run your fingers through the soft silk of his hair, silver strands showing themselves to you in a mess of dirty blonde and auburn as you scratch along his scalp. Steve groans at the feeling and it goes straight to your core, his long fingers tightening around the plush of your thighs, leaning his forehead against the soft pudge of your tummy with his eyes closed.
“Fuck,” He mumbles against you, the wheels on his chair roll him closer as his hands grip higher, warm palms finding the dough of your buttcheeks when you scratch at the nape of his neck.
You watch the way his shoulders slump, the muscles in his body finally starting to unwind from your touch. You want to unwind him more.
“Steve?” His name comes out in just above a whisper, your nerves threatening to get the best of you.
“Hmm?” He hums in response, too lost in the feeling of your nails dragging over his scalp.
“Let me take care of you.” Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you tug a little at his roots asking him to meet your gaze.
“Honey,” It doesn’t sound like a protest, and it doesn’t feel like it either when his nails dig half crescent moons into the backs of your thighs, staring up at you with wide eyes.
You remember the empty hallways on your way up. Everyone was gone for the season, including Richard.
“You’ve been working so hard, you deserve it.” You cup the side of his face, your body buzzing when he leans into your touch. “Will you let me?”
“I - “ Wetting his lips, Steve glances at the door before bringing his attention back to you, “yeah, okay, shit, yeah.”
You hold his heavy lidded gaze with a confidence he’s never seen before as you drop to your knees, the nails that were just in his hair dragging along his thighs and it sends him reeling. He doesn’t know how long you’ve thought about this.
The carpet is rough on your freshly lotioned skin, the bottom hem of your dress pulling up over the tops of your thighs. Leaning back in his chair, the new angle gives him the perfect view down the deep heart shaped neckline of your dress. The necklace he got you on your first date shimmers just above the swell of your breasts and it makes his cock press into the metal of his zipper. He wishes he could take a picture of you right now.
“You want this baby?” His voice comes out gruff when he asks, the gold inside his eyes darkening to something almost black as he runs a hand through his hair.
“You have no idea, just how bad I want it … daddy.” Looking up at him through thick lashes, you punch the air out of his lungs in a low exhale through his nose when you don’t hesitate to start working at the silver of his belt buckle.
“Fuck, you can’t say - ” He huffs out exasperated, contemplating taking a half day so he can spend the rest of it in bed with you.
Leather squeaks underneath him when he lifts his hips to help you tug his pants down. The hard outline of him strains against his briefs, mouth watering when you notice the darkened spot where he’s already leaking into the black cotton. More confident now, your palms find purchase on the tops of his hairy thighs, leaning forward you let heat of your breath make him twitch, earning a low groan when your lips trail like a ghost behind it.
“Can’t say what?” Your tone drips innocence, your bottom lip tugging down against the covered head of his cock before lifting your gaze with a mischievous smirk, relishing in the sharp inhale he takes through his teeth.
“I think you’re gonna kill me.” He almost laughs, running a hand over his face. Pushing up his glasses in the process he settles his heavy gaze on you with a lazy grin as they slide down the slope of his nose.
You hum, glossed lips twisting at the corners as you hook your fingers in the elastic of his briefs, giving them a gentle pull to signal what you want. Steve gives it to you without any hesitation, the full weight of his cock slapping against his stomach making your thighs press at the thought of being stretched by it. The pink tip swipes against the hem of his button up that sits rucked up at his belly button and you don’t think you’ll ever be immune to just how big and pretty he is.
“That wouldn’t be very nice of me huh?” you tease looking up at him with a pout.
“Nuh-uh” He mumbles, face crumpling a little watching your fingers try to wrap around the base of him, the tips of them just barely meeting on the other side. The grip he has on the armrest of his chair, stretches his skin so tight the whites of his knuckles start to show.
“And, I wanna be nice,” he feels like velvet in your hand, the pad of your thumb tracing the large vein that runs up the side, before swiping over his sensitive head. You collect what he’s already given to you with enough pressure to make his toes curl inside his wingtip dress shoes.
Leaning forward, you slowly let your tongue run the length of him, feeling the way he twitches against the muscle before paying extra attention to what’s weeping for you, swirling your tongue around the tip. Salty and little sweet from the way he drinks his coffee in the morning, you hum pleased when he hits your taste buds.
“God, honey.”
You don’t give him any warning when you wrap your lips around him, a greedy tongue flattening along the underside. Gagging when he hits the back of your throat, you still try to open up just a little more, your hand keeping up with what you can’t reach.
“Jesus Christ,” Steve’s jaw goes slack, eyelids growing too heavy to keep open at the heat of your mouth enveloping him. His head pushes further into his chair while he fights to keep his hands from flying to the back of yours.
Scooting closer, you feel him spread his legs even more, and your hand that’s not wrapped around the base of his cock, slides down his thigh. The blunt ends of your nails dragging through the rough curls that cover it.
“That’s - that’s so - shit, you’re making me feel so fucking good.” He grunts, finally working up enough strength to pry his eyes open to get a look at what he’s dreamed of a million times alone in the shower. “Always so good to me baby.”
You moan at his words, the praise drowning out the dull throb in your knees from the hard floor, and your throat opens up just a little more, the tip of your nose a ghost against his thick happy trail.
“You like that?” The tone he uses is deep, like someone laced the honey it’s always had for you with cinnamon. “You like when I tell you how good you are?”
Hollowing out your cheeks, you suck even harder, the wetness between your legs only getting worse when he lets out a strangled groan. You slowly work up the length of his cock with tight lips, before releasing him with a loud ‘pop’. For a second Steve thinks he might add more to the shining mess that covers your face, spit still connecting your chin to his sensitive head.
You drag your teeth over your swollen bottom lip, his dark eyes tracking the movement when it pops back into place, twitching in your hand that hasn’t stopped pumping him. He thinks he likes this better than your gloss. You nod in response with a smile and he can’t believe is a little shy.
Leaning forward, he wipes your chin with his thumb before tracing where your teeth just were with the pad of it. His eyes darken even more when your mouth opens, strawberry lips wrapping around him with no hesitation.
Yeah, you’re going to kill him.
“Fuck, look at you,” He pushes down on your tongue, watching the way your thighs press under your dress sucking on the digit with the same force. “I’m so lucky.”
You moan around him, the motions of your wrist getting faster, and the urge to taste him becomes unbearable. With a gentle scrap of your teeth you let go of his thumb, pushing up on your knees to beg for a kiss. The wheels of his chair clink against the hinges when he eagerly accepts your request, one of his hands finding the back of your neck pulling you closer to lick into your mouth without a second thought.
Your teeth scrape together, tongues battling for dominance while the stubble that lines his jaw threatens to rub your skin raw, but you don’t care. The inside of your thighs start to get sticky and the large vein that runs up the side of his cock pulses against your palm with the need for your attention. It’s the only thing that can get you to pull away from his lips that won’t stop devouring yours.
It’s with new determination that you take him back into the heat of his mouth, doing your best to take him deeper down your throat than before. He moans your name loud enough that you’re sure anyone in this part of the building would hear if they were actually in their offices. He lets a big hand find the back of your head this time, while both of yours find the tops of his thighs.
Your cheeks hollow again while your tongue wraps around as much as you can get, more spit, more slick to bob in rhythm with the thrusts of his hips. The tip of him catches at the back of your throat, and the way it squeezes his head when your reflex hits makes his toes curl, fingers burying themselves in your hair to keep you there.
“Oh, that’s - that’s it- take the whole thing. Shit. You’re gonna make me cum baby. Just like that, don’t stop, don’t stop. Good girl, good girl.”
Each snap of his hips gets as desperate as his babbling, like he’s completely forgotten he’s still at work. One of your hands leaves his thigh to cup his balls that have been screaming for attention since the moment you walked into his office in that dress. Rolling them in your palm is the final touch that makes his vision go white behind his eyes, body tensing and face going slack just like his jaw.
“Baby, baby, baby.”
Twitching, he spills hot down the back of your throat and you try to swallow as much of it as you can before it dribbles down your chin, dripping onto your chest. His full weight falls back onto his chair, the wheels it’s on moving just enough to have him slide half soft from the warm velvet of your mouth. He tasted even better than you’d imagined, promising yourself you were going to do this again to him after dinner.
Chest heaving, a breathy laugh escapes him, and the hand that was buried in your hair runs through his before his eyes open up back to their normal golden brown. His cheeks flush pink when he gets a look at the mess he made of you, and it only deepens when you collect the spend that found its way to the swell of your breasts with the pads of your fingers before sucking them clean.
“I think I’m gonna take a half day.”
#my writing#all i really want is you#steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x reader smut#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington oneshot#older!steve harrington#older!steve
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I require being smooshed by big astartes men after a long day of training. That boy smell gotta be immaculate. (I am frothing)
𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: They have names, but no name for you. Funny how I just imagined them with just their helmets on and nothing else, just pure golden/bronze muscles.
𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan.
TW // SMUT/NSFW, Filth, Language.
“Just look at those muscles.” My stepsister moaned, looking over the balcony. Practically melting on the glass railing of my fathers' mansion.
I hummed, not really interested in what she was ogling at. My book was far more entertaining, I was getting to the part where the villain gets the girl! It was undeniable these two characters had some tension going on.
“I wish they would pin me down like that, unlike my boyfriend.” She groaned, rolling her head back and leaning up from the railing.
You mean your elder sister's boyfriend? The one that was going to get married to her? I glanced up from my book and gave her a questioning look, flipping my page.
“It would be far more… enjoyable.” She sighed, turning to look at me. “Don’t you think so?”
“Do I think what?” I questioned, halfly knowing what she was referring to, flipping another page.
“Oh, don’t play with me!” She scoffed, gesturing me over to the balcony. “Come over here and think of it yourself.”
Sighing, I placed my bookmark in the book and got up from the leather recliner and moved the book to the end table before going towards the open balcony. Hesitating to go out fully as the sun blinded me for a moment. My eyes blinking to get used to it.
Slowly going to my stepsisters' side, I left at least 2-3 feet away from her side. Not trusting what she could possibly do at the moment.
“Just look at those hunky men.” She groaned again, her cheek resting on the palm of her hand while she looked down at the group.
Following her gaze, I expected some construction workers to be improving the grounds or some athletic trainers that our mother had hired, but it wasn’t. It was the Custodes.
Training together right in the open for all to see. With barely any armor on.
We ogled watched them for a moment. My stepsister occasionally dreamingly sighing out as they would pin each other down. Sometimes switching between a 1v3, 1v1, 1v5, 2v5.
Though, I couldn’t help, but admire how each one seemed to flow beautifully with their attacks and defense. How swift they were with one another, becoming a blur of motion. How much they were holding back and how much they weren’t and how much muscle that moves and tenses. Flexing when there was more power put into their hits. Shifting and twisting when they avoided an incoming hit. How their body glistened in the sun, creating an enrapturing golden glow to their scarred skin that looked oily to the touch. Making them look like some Greek god.
Oh lord, that does something to me.
“So? What do you think?” She asked me, turning back to face me. Folding her arms like I should know the answer to what she was asking. Not that she would care about my opinion anyways…
“On what?” I asked, folding my arms behind my back. Pretending that I wasn’t bothered by the sudden growing heat in my core.
“To get d*cked down by one of them?” She said so boldly with an impatient attitude in it that I shouldn’t be surprised by it, but I was.
I shrugged in response, not wanting to please her ego and looked back down at the training Custodes. Making eye contact with the Dread Host and shifted in my spot.
“Of course you don’t know, you’re a virgin.” She scoffed, waving her hand at me to disregard me. “Why did I ask you in the first place?”
Well, there goes that.
I rolled my eyes at her then took my leave. Not wanting to stand there and wait for her to blow up as she made eyes at the Custodes. Thinking she could lay one down for herself pleasure. Didn't she know they were held at a higher regard than the rest of the Space Marines?
Shaking my head, I picked up my book from the end table and made my way through the mansion to get to my room. That heat pooling back into my core the second my thoughts ran to the Custodes. How those golden and bronze muscles moved—
No! We- I must stay focused. There was no time for such wicked thoughts! Especially to a Custodes no less!
Oh, but just imagine their stamina. How long they could last for. How they could have the full potential to snap your neck while keeping you in place, breeding you because he’s just that strong? Or how you could eat a meal right off their golden stomach? The golden plate? To kitten lick them clean of any mess, teasing their skin?
I slapped myself with my book on the forehead. No! I must rid of these unholy thoughts! Banish them to the void! I must not think of a being like them so lowly!
…They sure do think of you though.
“I-Imperatus!” I yelped, not expecting him to round a corner in front of me. My eyes roaming over his skin. The smell of his training dragging a spell, a curse over me.
“Little one.” He softly purrs as the hairs on the back of my neck rise when he takes careful, calculated steps towards me.
“Shouldn’t you be training?” I coughed, looking away from his sculpture of a body, oiled up on natural sweat. A blushing coating my cheeks.
The Imperatus tilts his head, my back bumping into something warm, someone warm as I look up above me to see the Dread Host. Since when was he behind me?
“Yet, you need help, don’t you?” The Imperatus questions, stepping closer.
“Help? With what? I don’t recall calling for help?” I questioned back, jumping in the Dread Host hold when he picked me up, my book dropping to the floor as my hand slid across his shimmering shoulder. The scent of him nearly having me in a daze.
“Oh, but we can smell you little one.” Imperatus hums, following right behind the Dead Host. The rest of them appearing behind them.
“W-wait a minute! I didn’t—!” I squeaked as the Dread host squeezed my thighs, a rumble vibrating through his body as the others chucked with him.
“Do not worry little one, let us take care of you.” Imperatus croons rounding around the Dread Host when he stopped in the middle my own room. The door locking behind us.
“I-it was unintentional!” I peeped out, adjusting my hold on the Dread Hosts smooth, scarred arms while he shifted where I was half being held by him and the Imperatus.
“It was intentional from us.” The Imperatus rumbled, looking down at me while squishing my thighs in his hands as I squeaked out again and jumped then pushed back into the Dread Hosts hold a whine escaping my throat as they all purred. Their hands coming out to touch what they could.
“So submissive to us.” Imperatus cooed, pushing his finger further and further down my needy walls. The Dread Host making work of sliding his hand underneath my shirt and bra, ripping them off from there as he cupped my breast in his hand and fondled it. His teeth nipping at my earlobe.
“So ravishing.” He cooed again, his head leaning forward on the other side of my neck. His lips pressing against my throat, nipping and sucking marks there as he added another finger. Pumping them and curling them in all the best places.
“So precious.” He purred into my ear, sending a tingle down my spine as he pushed another finger through my folds while I cried out, clutching onto the Dread Host. Their scents becoming stronger together as I shook around his fingers.
“Y-You are evil.” I murmured, leaning my head back onto the Dread Host shoulder, taking a kiss from him.
“Oh? Am I?” The Imperatus asked, shifting a little closer. Sudden thick heat slapping on top of my core.
“Yes—!” I choked on my own breath, blurry eyes going wide at the stretch. The Dread Host moving his hand from my breast to my neck, pinning my head back to his shoulder. Purrs and rumbles echoing around the room as more hands came across and fondled my breasts. Pinching them and squeezing them till they were hard and perky before suckling on themselves.
Moaning out, my legs twitched as my walls fluttered around him. My core burning with overwhelming need. The need to be filled by them. To be marked everywhere by them to show that I was theirs. Yet the pain of girth this Imperatus had was a stretch.
His first thrust knocked the wind out of me. Sedating the need for a split second before it was replaced by a mild ache as he growled out, talking in gothic to his brethren of how tight I was.
Adjusting his position, he thrusted again and again. Going slowly at first before picking up his pace. His hard c*ck dragging against my fluttering walls, in and out. Skin slapping against skin while hands roamed, chests rumbled, and mewls fell out of my mouth. Right into the Dread Host ear as the Shadow Keeper put his lips on mine, swallowing my moans for himself.
Impatient, the Dread host started to rock his hips with the Imperatus, eager to get some action besides just listening to their little one’s cry’s a pleasure. His solid c*ck pressing up my backside, coating it with his pre-c*m.
“Y-You can’t fit.” I cried once the Shadow Keeper pulled back, clawing back at the Dread Host behind me. The Imperatus was enough to feel me up to the brim. I don’t think I could take another one.
“I’ll make it fit.” The Dread host growled, taking that as a challenge and pushed his way through my *ss as I stiffened and threw my head back at the stretch, a whine escaping my lips. His hands squeezing my throat, keeping it pinned there against his shoulder as both the Custodes groaned at the tight fit. The Shadow Keeper and Aquilan Shield trilling at the show.
When they both rocked together. My brain was a lost cause then. Too much being oh so deliciously served. Their c*cks hitting all my nerves just right with each rhythmic, calculated thrust. Their musky scent wrapping around me like a noose. My body practically turning into jello in their strong hold.
The unholy squelch of my multiple climaxes ran down their c*cks. Never stopping their pace with each winding thrust. I had almost believed I wasn’t breathing if I wasn’t mewling out every single one of their names.
Silently crying out, the knot in my core snapped as the Imperatus pushed a little further than he did and held his position. Growling out as his c*ck pulsed thick ropes into his little ones’ sensitive walls.
Rolling his hips, the Imperatus groaned while his c*m leaked down the inside of her thighs before he slowly pulled out and switched with the Solar Watch. His c*ck sliding right into their little one with ease as he rolled his hips in a circular motion and complementing on how tight she was as well. Groaning as she quietly whined out, mouth becoming busy with the Shadow Keepers.
Once the Solar Watch started his thrusts the Dread Host moved with his brethren once more. Groaning when they heard the obstructed cry’s of their little one. Their hot breaths coating each other’s sweaty bodies as they never failed to slow their set pace.
Throne, this was a far better than training exercise.
𝕭𝖔𝖓𝖚𝖘:
Waking back up was a battle. Legs f*cked numb, hips sore, brain f*cked numb. How was one to get out of bed like that?
Trying to move upwards, I got pulled back down into the Aquilan Shield chest as he slowly rolled his hips, slowly tightening that knot in my core once again. Waking up the Shadow Keeper in front of me as he hummed, rocking his with his brethren. A grin playing on the Aquilan Shield lips while he nipped the back of my neck. A gasp leaving me.
F*ck, I’m never getting out of this bed am I?
𝕰𝖝𝖙𝖗𝖆: (What didn’t make it. A treat if you will.)
“Oh, but we can smell you little one.” The Emissaries Imperatus purred into my ear. Shoving a finger down in my core while I pushed back into the Dread Host. Biting my lip and whimpering out at the two of them.
“N-Not creepy- ah!”
“Shhhh, little one. Let us take care of you.” The Imperatus purred, nuzzling just below my ear. Going a little deeper and curling it against my walls. “We caused your… stress after all.”
“U-Us?” I mewled out, squirming in the Dead Host hold. A long, slimy, and black tongue coming from the side of my vision. My eyes following it over to the Shadow Keeper where he stood to the side off of the Dread Host.
“Us.” The Shadow keeper confirmed, his tongue tracing the side of my cheek. Getting closer and closer to my lips. The Aquilan Shield appearing from right behind him.
:)
#space marine husbandry sentience#warhammer 40k#fanfiction#adeptus custodes#adeptus custodes x reader#x reader#reader insert#oc x reader#polygamy#polyandry#thesaurus#tw: smut#my dude had a sinful mutation
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Morning ⭒ Shuri Udaku
Synopsis › A brief look into a rare morning waking up with Queen Shuri.
Pairing › Shuri x Singer! Fem Reader
Inspo › “Morning” - Teyana Taylor, Kehlani
Includes › Fluff, non-sexual nudity, non-sexual intimacy, they in love in love, tiny bit of insecurity, Shuri not taking care of herself, touch, skin to skin, they have good hygiene, reader is lazy, singer!reader
P.S. › I know the song is absolutely filthy and this is not but I’ve never written smut. Even this was a stretch for me.
P.S.S. › This is the first fic I've ever posted. Pls, be nice to ya girl. She’s sensitive but loves any kind of feedback. Let me know how you feel about these two. They might become a little series.
You felt a warm pair of lips press tenderly against your skin, traveling along your arm, inching towards your sleeping face. The sun streamed in through the floor to ceiling windows, flooding the queen’s quarters with the white gold of its light. Shuri was always up and ready to greet the day before you. “Morning has arrived, sthandwa wami,” the raspy voice of your lover roused you from your rest. My love.
“Tell it to go away,” you mumbled, shuffling underneath the satin sheets, finding warmth in her embrace. There was no place you’d rather be than in her arms. Behind closed doors, Shuri was yours and yours alone. Her title didn’t follow her here. During moments like this, she was simply a woman trying to wake her girlfriend.
Shuri grazed the tips of her fingers across the flesh of your thigh. Her touch left a trail of fire in its wake. She slipped under the band of your lace panties, quickly pulling and letting it snap. The smirk spread was sly as you jerked slightly. “It's past time we got up. Besides, my arm is going numb.”
“Ow! Fine. Fine. I'm awake.” Finally, you relinquished her arm from your capture, sighing long and deep at the loss of your pillow. The queen chuckled as she untangled the rest of your limbs with no help from your limp body.
“Griot?” Shuri spoke to the empty air.
“Good morning, your majesty.”
The covers fell from her body, displaying the sculpted bronze planes of her bare back. You sat up to admire the view. All those years of agonizing pining were worth it, you thought. “What's on the schedule today?”
The disembodied AI listed both yours and the queen’s agenda. You planned a relaxing, stress free day in the studio for yourself. The queen on the other hand was expected by the elders.
It took everything in you to leave the comfort of Shuri’s enormous sized bed and make the cold trek to the bathroom. You turned on the shower, periodically checking its temp then stripped the little clothing you had on. “Are you going to join me?” you asked, leaning back to peer through the open door to see her staring at her kimoyo beads. “I thought I was the slow one.” The water from the rain drip head cascaded down the length of your body, effectively chasing away the rest of your drowsiness.
Two tattooed arms draped around your shoulders. “I am here.” The stealth of the Panther often took you by surprise. The feeling of Shuri’s touch against yours was indescribable. Nothing could compare. You’d hardly noticed the soft beat of your shared playlist began to play.
She took it upon herself to lather shea body wash across your skin, talking sweet nothings in your ear while christening you with chaste kisses along the way. “Do you have time for lunch today?” you leaned back to gaze into the depths of her onyx eyes, your own hopeful.
“I will make time.”
“Griot, don’t let her forget.”
“I won't, miss.”
“You don’t trust me?” she teased, tilting your head further back, leaving suds across your cheek.
You turned around to face her, eyebrow raised. “Hhayi.” No. Your response was straight forward, yet remained light hearted. She was working herself ragged these days, barely taking time to rest. More than once you found her in the lab, lids heavy, back hunched uncomfortably over her work station. “I know you too well to leave you be. You stand me up, I'm coming to snatch your ass.” The running water did nothing to drown out your shared laughter. She knew you meant it.
You grabbed Shuri’s soap and washed her in return down the valley of her breasts to the toned abs of her torso. Each stroke carried your love. “I'm serious, though. Take a break sometime today,” you added. Caring for her was an honor. Bast knew she wouldn’t if it were solely up to her.
The Panther ceased your motions by grasping your hand in her own. “I promise.” She closed the already small distance between you, brushing the tip of your nose, “I appreciate your concern for me. I don't deserve—”
You promptly shushed her with your own lips. Her taste was irresistible, uniquely Shuri’s. No one in Wakanda could get away with interrupting the queen except you. “None of that. You deserve plenty.”
Her arms snaked around your waist, feeling your natural contours, finding a place within the slope of your neck. Heady breaths stuck to the droplets dancing on your skin. She stilled to cherish this moment, already beginning to dread having to part. “I'm just blessed to have you.”
“And I you.” You gave her one last peck on the cheek before turning the shower off. “You’re ntomb’am. While you’re going out there to save the world or whatever, I’ll be here for you.” My girl.
“The legendary Black Panther’s protector,” she laughed, guiding you out of the stand-in. “It has a nice ring to it. My enemies will fear you.” She might’ve thought it was funny, but you couldn’t find the humor. Shuri was your intombi, your girl. What you wouldn’t give for the promise of more sunshine-flavored mornings like these.
#iivri writes ˚·⊹ ⟢˖∿#letitia wright#shuri black panther#shuri udaku#shuri x fanfic#shuri x reader#shuri x woc!reader#shuri x y/n#black panther#wakanda forever#x reader#wlw love#wlw#shuri fluff#fluff#first fic#shuri imagine#letitia wright shuri#princess shuri#queen shuri#shuri#mcu shuri#marvel#lesbians#kind of inspired by a song#Spotify
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can i request a drabble for haechan apparently being shirtless when practicing (i had to sit down when they revealed that in the dream anniv content) any ideas u have about it please just throw them in imfuffhfdghfugkfu//:/:/haechan??1!1!1?1!
w!: practice room sex, public sex, mirror sex, unprotected sex, implied ‘haters’ with benefits (not really just two idiots who bicker a lot and occasionally fuck AND bicker while they fuck)
a/n: he is completely insane for that, good for the dreamies who can see him. also wrote this in a rush of inspiration and horniness instead of going to sleep lmao, hope you’ll like it!! if there are any mistakes it's because I'm tired, I'll fix them tomorrow. (also it’s longer than a drabble I’m sorry I got carried away but haechan’s so %#?!/(& )
After ten years of training at the SM building, and three years as a debuted idol you should know where your girl group is practicing and where you shouldn’t go. But apparently, you don’t. You blame it on the new building, how long has it been? Two years? Still too new for you to know what you were doing. Being too tired after an entire day practicing for your upcoming comeback, and not having at least one of your groupmates guiding you back from the bathroom, led you here.
“Where the hell is my bag?” You murmur to yourself, scratching the back of your head, realizing that your neon purple bag is nowhere to be seen near the door.
“Surely not here.” You hear from behind, a male voice that makes you turn around in surprise. But your mouth falls open even more when your eyes fall on his body. Why the hell is Haechan naked in the practice room?
“Like what you see?” he asks with the same old smug smirk that you know too well. Now, it can be said that you two have history, or something. Two competitive people can only make a flame explode, right? That’s pretty much what happens every time you are left alone.
“And you? Like to show off?”
“So you agree there’s something to show off,” he chuckles, walking closer to you. And you wish you could mock him some more but well, he had something to brag about for sure, also there was something weirdly hot about him after practice, or in the middle…
“Where are the others?” You ask, drifting your gaze from him, seeing their bags but not them.
“Why do you care?” He asks, leaning against the wall. “Want to make sure we can play?”
“Play? Hide and seek?”
“I know you’re trying too hard to keep your eyes off of me,” he huffs. “And don’t act as if this is the first time.”
“I still don’t get why you are naked. Don’t you film this? Do they upload you on youtube like this?”
“Nah, this one is reserved for special people,” he winks, “and you’re one of the lucky ones.”
“I should go.”
“Are you sure?” He says, blocking you, pushing you against him, and you can’t even care that there’s sweat pearling his abs and it’s sticking against you… at the end, it’s not like you are any better.
You look at the clock, seeing that you still have a bit of time left before somebody started screaming at you all over the building. So you give in. You need to unwind, you have no idea when was the last time you had sex; the busy schedule was barely giving you time to try to take care of yourself alone. And sex with Haechan is great. Damn if it is. And you can’t deny that he looks so good right now, the bright red of his hair that would’ve been horrendous on anybody made him look so attractive, and you weirdly found exciting to see the thing layer of sweat on his bronze skin, defining his muscles even more.
In a second, he drags you to the other side, so you’re just a bit more hidden from the others but the mirrors of the practice room still make you reflect over it.
“Fuck, these pants make your ass look good,” he comments, cupping your asscheek from the grey sweatpants you’re wearing.
“Anything makes my ass look good,” you talk back, smirking at him through the mirror.
“Yeah, but I like it better without nothing,” he chuckles, pushing it down so it reaches your ankles, soon followed by your undies.
“Are you sure they won’t come back?” You ask, fearing some of his groupmates might come in.
“They won’t, but even if they did? Is it a problem?”
“Of course, it is,” you mutter. “Just move.”
“You’re always so eager, God,” he huffs, palming your mound before he starts circling your clit. “And you’re already wet.”
“I’m stressed,” you reply, closing your eyes, forehead falling against the mirror, fogging it with heavy breaths when two of his fingers slide easily inside you.
“And you come looking for me,” he snorts, biting your earlobe, your ass pushing back against him and you can feel his hard throbbing cock press against your tailbone. “Because you know nobody fucks you better than me.”
“It was a coincidence,” you mumble, hand flattening against the mirror to hold yourself up. “And it wouldn’t have happened if you – fuck – put some clothes on.”
“Sure, blame me,” Haechan rolls his eyes. “And cry for me when I don’t give you what you want.”
You turn around in shock when he pulls away from you, and you catch him licking his fingers clean. “Lee Donghyuck,” you warn, glaring at him. “It’s not time and place to fuck around.”
“No?” He pouts. “Thought that was what you wanted to do.”
You let out a heavy sigh before giving up your pride because you really can’t risk it. “Please, fuck me?”
“If you ask so nicely,” he jokes, walking toward you, turning you around again but this time lifting your top and your gym bra up, pushing your boobs against the cold surface of the mirror, nipples going hard in an instant.
“You look so pretty like this, you know?” He coos, pushing your body against the mirror more, the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance, watching in awe as your slit is basically begging him to fuck you. And he does, because he knows you don’t have time and also because he needed this.
Your mouth lets out the biggest moan of relief, finally feeling like you have touched the stars again.
You two might bicker every two seconds when you are in the same room but damn if he knew how to give it to you right.
His cock fills you just right, perfect in length and girth and the speed of his thrusts is your favorite. Not that you had sex with so many idols but yeah, some of them just weren’t it.
Haechan knows everything that you liked, so it’s not surprising that one of his hands reaches around to wrap around your throat, pushing you back against his chest and the other plays with your clit.
“Keep your eyes on me, baby,” he groans against your ears. “I want you to keep in mind who makes you feel this way. I want you to – fuck – crawl back to this practice room every time you want cock because the others just can’t give it to you like I do.”
You hate proving him right, but he is. “Mhh, yes, nobody like you.”
“I know, baby,” he replies. “Look at the mess on the mirror,” he points out, making you notice that your wetness was splashing everywhere. “Your pussy loves my cock that much.”
You’re about to answer when you hear footsteps from outside the door and your body freezes.
“Hae-Haechan there’s somebody,” you warn him but he has no intention of stopping.
“So who cares? Just keep quiet? Or do you have to let the whole building know you’re letting me fuck you while your members are working hard for the comeback?”
“I can’t keep quiet,” you whisper, feeling humiliated at the confession. It’s not your fault he feels that good.
“I’ll make you keep quiet,” Haechan says before pushing two fingers into your mouth. “Suck,” he orders. “I know you love doing it.”
And he knows what he’s doing because your walls squeeze around him harder and you feel your knees buckle.
“You’re so pretty when you don’t talk,” he laughs, making you glare at him for a second before pleasure took over the need to slap his face again. “One day we’ll fuck at my dorms – fuck – need to fuck you naked against a mirror, over and over again. Need to fuck you dumb on my cock.”
“If you can keep up,” you retort as soon as his fingers slip out of your mouth.
“God, you’re insufferable,” he growls, hips snapping faster against your ass, making you smirk as you think that you got exactly what you wanted. And he gets it, he knows you by now, and he hates that he falls for your tricks every single time.
He groans again, turning your face around to kiss you roughly, the hand around your neck slipping down to cup your breasts that are not pressed against the mirror anymore. “You drive me insane.”
“Good,” you smirk against his lips.
“One day I’ll fuck that smirk out of your face.” Is the only thing that he says before pleasure gets too much for any of you to keep going with your bitter remarks. It’s exciting though, probably too much if you minded to care about what’s toxic or not, but you don’t care. It’s just sex at the end of the day and you both need it.
When you feel your orgasm and you know he’s close you speak, “Pull out.”
“No,” he replies. “Come on, we’ll make a mess.”
“I have practice,” you whine, trying to act as if the thought of dancing full of his cum doesn’t turn you on.
“It’s not more than half an hour,” Haechan mumbles, fingers sliding down to play with your clit again. “I know you want it, I know you want to keep a little reminder of me, don’t lie and take it.”
And he’s right once again, so you give in and hum.
“I knew it,” he moans, meeting your gaze through the mirror, making your legs shake at the way he looks at you. There was something so hot about being so exposed, more than all the other times you two sneaked in the bathrooms or empty practice rooms that you were sure nobody was going to use.
“Fuck,” Haechan groans, leaning his head against your shoulder as he comes inside of you, cock rubbing in and out your wet cunt, making you shiver in overstimulation. The first orgasm after God knows how long and it feels like the most liberating feeling ever. It’s so strong that your legs almost collapse when he pulls out of you, but luckily his arms keep you up.
“You good?” He asks, a tender smile on his lips.
“Yeah, thanks I guess,” you mumble, kneeling to pull your panties and pants up before his cum could stain the outside of your sweats. You can survive 30 minutes, right? You hope so.
“You should cover up, by the way,” you tell him, bringing the attention back to his exposed chest, covering your own by fixing your bra and top, hoping you look decent.
“Why? Afraid I might fuck somebody else?”
“Afraid you might catch a cold, dumbass,” you reply pushing him away, freezing when the door slams open.
“Oh, hi,” Jaemin says, walking in, staring at you with a furrow on your face. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, nothing, just asking him for help for a note I can’t reach,” you say, hoping he can’t feel the embarrassment in your voice and hoping your brain won’t betray you making you turn your head toward the part of the mirror that was stained with the mess you made. “You know, those impossible things we have to do to bring money at home,” you joke, hoping he would buy it, and he does.
“Yeah, I regretted all my life choices with the last comeback,” he says, smiling at you before turning his attention to his bag, looking for something. Unbothered by the fact that you and Haechan were in the same room, alone, while he was half naked. And you wonder just how often Haechan didn’t keep his clothes on.
You hear Haechan chuckle before he walks you toward the door. “If you need more singing lessons, you have my number,” he winks, and you glare at him, giving him the finger but he shrugs it off and says, “Next time I’ll bring the microphone.”
#anon answered#haechan smut#lee haechan smut#donghyuck smut#lee donghyuck smut#haechan scenarios#nct dream smut#nct 127 smut#nct smut
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I’m guessing if impulse suddenly became a golden skeleton after he got the gold he would probably be very confused and freaked out.. I mean who wouldn’t though?
Impulse may have pushed himself a little too far in search of that gold trophy.
The wave of excitement and relief that washes over him when it pops up on the board. Oni. He’s right and it’s done.
He feels a little lightheaded as he turns to the cases lining the back wall. He can see the trophy already, alongside the silver and bronze. Even from here he can see it sparkle in the artificial light.
He walks up to it, reveling in the accomplishment before him.
It’s the flash of gold off the glass cases that catches his eye. At first he just assumes it’s just the trophy but then it moves when he shifts to better see it and overlaid on top of the trophies inside…
The reflection of a golden skull stares back at him. Deep within the eye sockets, gold light sparks.
His hands shake as he raises one hand to his face. His fingers touch cool metal. In the reflection, he sees his hand meet the cheekbone of the skull.
Suddenly he’s not standing anymore. The cement is cold on his bare legs and it’s that sensation alone that keeps him from losing himself entirely. His chest heaves though he’s not entirely sure where the breath is coming from.
Because his head. Is a golden skull.
This never happened to Insym. Impulse is fairly sure of that.
“Okay, okay,” He mumbles to himself. Hearing his own voice helps. He’s breathing, that’s good. He brings two fingers to the pulse point on his wrist and presses. And when he doesn’t feel anything, he presses harder. Nothing.
He’s just– he’s doing it wrong. There’s another explanations; his heart hasn’t stopped. He switches wrists but he still can’t feel the beat of his own heart.
How many times did he die today? A good few dozen, probably. Dying in the game wasn’t painful—they would never get people to play if it was—but it sure doesn’t feel good. Cold, dead fingers wrapping around his neck and stealing his breath. The gasping for air that lasts just a bit too long, where you always wonder if this time, this time you won’t wake back up.
His heart had pounded during the first ones. When had it stopped? Would he have noticed its absence?
All of that, the terror and the patience, all in favor of the golden skull that sits on the shelf in front of him.
What does it say about him that he still feels that it was worth it?
He ignores the tremble in his hands as he checks his phone. It’s getting late. He’s been at this all day. He’s got several messages from Skizz reminding him to take a break, a picture from Gem of her holding a homemade ghost doll over a bonfire with a thumbs up, and hundreds of messages in the Hermitcraft discord as they prep for the new season.
There’s going to be a lot of questions. He’s going to get seriously yelled at by Skizz.
Not to mention he is going to have to figure out what not having a beating heart does to a guy.
He turns to look at the board. He’s prestiged, back at level one with all of the garbage equipment and no money that comes with it. He has the option to work his way up from nothing once again.
Surely one round of normal Phasmo won’t take too long.
#he’s fiiiiiine#glitch talks#i cannot believe that impulse streamed for 7 hours got his trophy and was like#’one more?’#hermitcraft#impulsesv#thanks for the msg i was halfway to writing this anyways and that really got me to get it out#i have never really seen these mini ficlets before this fandom but they’re really addicting#ghostie impulse#hermitfic
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whats the deal with Doc Savage?
"He's a doctor, okay, but what's so savage about him? That he goes in public without a shirt? Y'know, he's got a caveman in his group and everything, and that guy is a chemist who runs around doing monkey flips and beating bad guys with his bare hands. Why don't they call him Doc Savage? He’s doing more to deserve the name.”
“Everytime it’s something weird and horrifying happening that only he is able to solve. And it's always some guy running a con at the end. Everytime Savage rolls into town, it's like opposite world when it's the doctor who has to save people from being scammed, instead of the other way around.
"I'm just saying, nobody's that perfect. He goes around with guns shooting people with what he calls "mercy bullets" that only put bad guys to sleep. Yeah, they go to sleep allright, and if that fails, I'm sure the compassion grenades do the trick.
"You're saying they rejected your application for the Fabulous Five? That's nuts."
"Blew me out the front door, I tell you! Total insanity. Newman was there, he saw the whole thing."
"No, what's insane is that you thought you had a shot in the first place. Nobody "joins" the Fabulous Five, it's like the most elite group in the country. What did you think you were adding there?"
"Jerry, how hard can it be to play sidekick to that guy? He does everything they do better, I'd just have to sit around playing cheerleader and wait for him to save the day, I already do the first part all day around you. It's the perfect job! What, you think you're too good for it?"
"No, but I have a little something called self-esteem. It's the Fabulous Five, George, not the Fabulous Plus Extra. They already made room for that girl cousin of his, they're not making extra for you."
"Maybe, shmaybe. Unless I got that Tom guy fired. I mean, he looks like he's on his way out the door as is. "Electrical wizard", pssht, I could do that."
"Sure you could. I mean hey, why don't you ask Elaine to set up you two? She got to meet Doc himself last weekend."
"No way."
"I'm serious! Apparently Doc saved Peterman's life during a mission in Burma and they'd kept in touch since then, and she got some kind of date with him out of it."
"He was a no show?"
"Oh, he is all show allright."
"So you two -"
"No! I mean, I got to see him in action a couple of times and, yeah, I tried. But every date with him was a wash, he always needs to cut things off halfway to go fight some supervillain, and then he never calls back. He barely even looks at me when we're IN the date."
"Well he's Doc Savage. He's like Superman, y'know, he's got places to be and people to save.
"Yeah, and who's gonna save me? I swear Jerry, it's like he's never even seen a woman before. Him and those five morons around him, bunch of misogynists. Whatever, he's hot, but I'm over him. Miss Savage no more."
"I'll bet. Hey, what's this?"
"Oh it's from the fitness spa I'd been going near work. There's this girl I'd been talking to lately ever since Peterman assigned me the Hidalgo Trading Company catalogue, she's been giving me the skinny on Doc and his frat boy clubhouse
"Oh?"
"Yeah she's big, like, really big, really smart too. She's got a yacht, even. Apparently she does a lot of traveling. Anyway, she's this fitness freak with a great tan and bronze hair and, big muscles, and she's got these beautiful gold eyes and-"
"And you're saying all that because you think I'd be into her?"
"Huh? You? Oh, pfft, no, she's way too much for you."
"I'll bet. And, uh, what's her name again?"
"Oh everyone at the club just calls her Pat. Mystery lady. I'm meeting her down at her yacht next week."
"Yeah. Miss Savage no more, huh."
(SLAM)
(audience cheers)
"Hey, how did things go at the Crime College?"
"Oh it-it-it was a NIGHTMARE! It-itya it's like waterboarding at Guantanamo Bay, Jerry! Way less fun than it sounds!! I'd heard the name on the street and signed up to learn how to fight crime, nobody told me what it was actually about!
"What happened?"
"Well, at first it was kinda nice, actually. You sign up at the Hidalgo Trading Company lobby, and they ask you to submit your criminal record. I figured, hey, safest place to leave it, right? You meet some of his assistants and everything, and when they hooked the eletrodes to my brain I thought hey, *click* free brain massage along with crimefighting lessons for free!"
"Wait Kramer back up, electrodes?"
----
"Allright so if I get this straight: You signed up for a program Doc Savage's running that nobody knows about called the Crime College, thinking it was gonna teach how to fight crime. You get in there and it's some kind of nuthouse where Doc Savage tries to pry open your brain with a drill."
"A-yup."
"And he's lobotomozing criminals all over town because he's running a program where he, what, carves their brain to make them stop being evil and gives them new identities outside of town."
"Ye-yup."
"And they never remember who they used to be? They never come back, not ever, they just become model citizens as far away from here as possible? Are you 100% sure it actually works?"
"So they said, yeah."
"...Hey pass me the phone for a minute, will ya-"
"Hey Newman, I heard from Elaine that the Hidalgo Trading Company is hiring now."
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hello friends 🫶🏻 more k/az fic for you all !! loved writing this one and i might even go so far as to say im pretty proud of it! wow!! anyway i hope you enjoy reading more k/az torture <3
spices (a.k.a. writer is horny for holdbacks and absolutely loves ravaging pretty boys)
Kaz looked up in disinterest from the fan of playing cards in his hand. The rowdiness of this card game was exhausting - Jesper and Nina shrieking in delight every time they won a single thing, Matthias grunting Fjerdan curse words because he didn't understand the game, Wylan showing Jesper his hand every thirty seconds because he also didn't understand the game - and Kaz was sick of it. The relief that washed over him when he heard Inej call his name from the kitchen was almost palpable. He sighed tiredly and slammed his hand face-up onto the table (a Royal Flush, might I add) and strode through to the kitchen, revelling in the outcry of the others on the table at his win.
The kitchen of the Slat was a rundown room, all battered counters and barely functional appliances, but Inej made it feel homely, warm. Kaz thought she did that to any room, though. He felt his shoulders ease and the day's stress begin to fade as he gazed at her slight form, dark hair twisted easily into a sleek braid which cascaded down the bronze of her back and shoulders. She looked totally in her element as she cooked, her small hands making fine work of slicing vegetables and preparing various cuts of meat, all the while she hummed a gentle tune that met Kaz's ears like the loving touch of a hand in your own.
"You called," he said, softly. Inej turned to face him with a smile.
"Yes," she said, "I just needed another pair of hands."
Kaz nodded. "What can I do?"
Inej gestured to an old wooden board with various vegetables lined up across it. "Could you chop those up for me, please?" she asked, voice kind and melodic, "I just have to keep an eye on this pot, so it doesn't boil over."
"Of course."
Admittedly, Kaz wasn't the best at anything that went on in kitchens. He'd never really had any practise, apart from in far gone years of youth - years which he had elected to forget - but he tried his best nonetheless. He slid off his gloves tentatively and lay them on a clean section of the counter, then picked up a knife and got to work. Between the clacks of the knife on the board he stole glances over at Inej, who was stirring a large pot on the top of the stove. His haphazardly cut vegetables were nothing in comparison to the perfectly even slices she had already produced.
Kaz heard the sizzle of the pot as Inej added a variety of spices, ones he knew to be Suli from his listening to Inej's stories about her parents and childhood. The air became heavy with their strong scent. He tried not to focus on the delicate work of her hands but instead on the not-so-delicate work of his hands. They shook slightly as he levered the knife up and down, and it took a moment or two to register why. His head felt a tad light, and he found himself relying slightly more on his mouth for breathing, and suddenly, like a fire roaring to life, a burning, incessant tickle bloomed within his sinuses. He'd never felt anything like it - the itch was like an inferno, its flames licking at his nostrils and pricking tears into the corners of his eyes, shallowing his breaths into short, sharp, irritated hitches.
"-hiih-hiHh-hHH-hhiiIHh-!"
Kaz's chest stuttered desperately as he fought hard to keep the impending sneeze at bay. His breathing now came out in rapid gasps - he knew he couldn't hold out for much longer but he was still willing to try.
He lifted his free hand shakily to his face, pressing two slender knuckles firmly against his nose, and fought to regulate his unsteady breathing. The grip he had on the knife in his other hand had tightened as he struggled against his nose. Speaking of his nose, the fiery tickle from before had spread like wildfire in his sinuses, and was creeping its way into the back of his throat, threatening to tease out the irritated fit he was trying so desperately to hold back. He knew it would inevitably be no use trying to fight it, but he did value the last shreds of his dignity very much.
The aroma of the spices in the air only seemed to be getting stronger as the steam from the pots on the stove carried the scent throughout the air. Kaz's eyes were streaming now, as his nose would be had it not been for the firm press of his knuckles against its tender, sensitive surface. It was all he could do to blink back irritated tears and continue trying to cut Inej's vegetables clumsily with just one hand. He could feel his nose twitching instinctively under the press of his fingers, begging to be freed of its torture. Kaz would do no such thing.
"h-hiiHHh... hHaAAhh-!?"
Each sharp intake of breath was threatening, burning, like he could explode at any moment.
A particularly strongly scented spice made its way into the air. The tickle in Kaz's nostrils quickly peaked, becoming so fiery, and so, so unbearable, that he dropped the knife he held with a clatter and clamped his hand over his nose, refusing to back down. His breaths became vocal, desperate, almost whining hitches that pled for release as he fought and fought against his instinct. He brought a single, shaking hand up to his eyes to weakly wipe the hot tears from them, too caught up in the haze of trying his damnedest not to sneeze that he didn't notice Inej approaching him from behind.
That was, until, she placed a gentle hand onto his upper arm.
"Kaz," she said, "let yourself sneeze."
Kaz's glassy, streaming eyes met hers, his brows furrowed deeply and his chest still stuttering desperately.
"B-buhhht, I c-can't... don't... don't- hiihHh--wantto-kKSHHHhiiew! hah-hAH-haHiiIHh'KSCHHhiih! 'kKSSCHHhiiewh! -sSHHhiihh! HaAHh'KKISCHHhiew! Oh, I'm... I c-cahh-haAHh'ASCHHhiew! 'ISCHHhih!"
The fit started pitchy and rapid, with sneeze after sneeze barreling its way out of Kaz, with barely time for a breath in between - and they just wouldn't seem to stop. He gasped again, unable to do anything but hover his shaking hand in front of his face in a last ditch attempt to cover the violent sneezes volleying through him.
"-haAHHSCHHHhiew! huh-huUHh'hkKSCHHhiihh! 'KKSHHHhiewh! ...it's the... it- haAHhiihHh-... the sp-hehHAh'ISCHHhiew! S-sorr-ISCHHhiih!"
Kaz's sneezes rapidly grew messier and more vocal, as though he'd been holding them off for a century. Each outburst snapped him forward at the waist and left a fine mist of spray upon the air - and there was nothing he could do but let it happen.
"The spices, I know," said Inej. Kaz felt her hands on his shoulders and she began to guide him towards the door.
"W-wait, I'm nohhiIHh-! Not done--! hiihHH'SCHHhiew! haAh... hah-haheHh..."
"You need to get out of here, Kaz. The sooner you get out and get cleaned up - and for Saints' sake blow your nose - the sooner this will stop."
"haAHHSHHhiew!"
"Exactly. Now let's get you to the bathroom," Inej said, guiding him by the shoulders out of the kitchen. Amidst his incessant sneezing, he heard Inej say, "Not a word," to the others sat at the table, who had long since abandoned their card game in favour of eavesdropping on Kaz's issue.
Kaz's head was spinning when Inej sat him down on the lid of the toilet. The entire way from the kitchen to the bathroom, Kaz was sneezing, over and over, aimed directly downwards so as a result each explosion sent spray right down his front. The tickle in his nose still burned fierce but he managed to hold off the next few outbursts in order to regain stability.
"Saints, Kaz," Inej said incredulously. He looked up at her, eyes still shining with irritated tears, right as his breath snagged in his throat and he snapped forward with three harsh sneezes.
"haAHh'sSCHHhiew! 'aAHSHHhiew! huhh-hUHiihH'KSCHHhiih!"
Inej set herself to looking for a box of tissues in the bathroom cupboards, while Kaz sat pitifully on the toilet seat, sneezing lazily into the open air. After a short fit of about five sneezes, he managed to catch himself a break, though the sneezing was replaced by incessant soft sniffling. Inej turned back to him and pressed a wad of tissues into his hand.
"You look awful," she said matter-of-factly, "now, blow your nose."
Kaz obeyed. He put his face into the tissues, glad for something to cover himself with, and blew his nose. The heavy congestion which had taken up residence in his sinuses shifted, triggering a fit of pitchy sneezes into the tissues.
"haAHh'iISCHH-hiew! 'huhHiisSCHHh! 'hiisSHHiew-isSCHhiiewh!"
He finished the set with a miserable series of sniffles.
"Bless you. That was adorable," Inej said, "Spices made you so itchy, huh?"
Kaz's only response was another sneeze.
"huUHh'iiSCHHhuh!" He wiped at his nose with the tissues in his hand, still sniffing wetly. "Not adorable," he said thickly. Inej breathed out a laugh.
"Sure you're not," she replied. "At least your sneezing is slowing down now. Bless you again, by the way."
Kaz tilted his head. "But I'm not g- oh. huH-hiiHh'sSCHHhiiewh! h-haAHh..."
"Another bless you might be in order," Inej said.
"hhaAHhh'kKSHHhuh!" He sniffled thickly again.
"Called it," said Inej with a smirk. Kaz rolled his watery eyes.
"Well I knew that one was coming."
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YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO FEEL UNLOVED
there used to be so much love there, just two people completely infatuated with one another. you've been through so much with haemin, and you thought maybe he'd fight for your relationship. but even after all this hurt part of you still loved him.
PAIRING jung haemin x fem!reader
WC 2.0k
TAGS lovers to exes. angst. growing apart. asshole haemin. somewhat a timeline of denial to acceptance. miscommunication.
OMI NOTE another little something for my @woonhakist because i love writing for her. except unlike prince sungho it's actually angst. sorry sungho ur getting booted out of this. this has been in my drafts for about a month but now i'm motivated to get it done for u hehe. i hope you like. ^_^ (inspired by just me by rin)
the skys were clouded with pillows of dark gray. it had been rainy recently, the smell of wet pavement becoming more distinguishable as it continued. you wanted to assume that maybe it was his fault. the reason behind why your days were always so dark.
it was common to fear the unknown. being innocently unaware of what was going on behind the scenes was slowly eating at your insides; making you feel as if you were the dead carcass of a street animal, being fed on by rats.
things were different recently, he was different. haemin was going out more than usual, a breath of fresh air in comparison to the introverted persona you were used to. despite your worries, he convince you that you didn’t need to know where he was all the time.
“i’m just hanging out with kyungmin and a few other friends. do you have to be so worried?” he groaned.
“it’s not like that, haem! i just got curious…”
shouldn’t you be glad? that feeling of relief knowing he was blooming into a person that could celebrate with others. it was growth, but not in the way you expected. more or less, he was growing into someone unrecognizable.
phone dials were met with an empty line. and even when he did answer, he ended the call with a simple ‘bye’ and not ‘i love you more.’
still, you loved him to the moon and back. every couple went through a rough patch, you understood that when you agreed to be with him. though it was difficult to convince yourself you were content with how things were playing out.
often you took long walks to distract yourself from the unread text messages. it was this time at noon that was most gloomy. your umbrella collected droplets of water, dripping down the side to barely avoid you.
you saw couples on the streets, holding hands happily. they took photos together and shared hot drinks with eachother to battle the slight cold. you envied them.
because in your head, that position seemed almost unreachable. he was so far away from you, farther than you could even realize. what used to be something special between your heart and his wasn’t recognizable.
that day, you stopped going on walks. everything reminded you of the boy that was falling out of love. you came home quickly, trying to outrun your own thoughts. the bronze plate with your apartment number came into view as you dug through your bag to get the keys.
fumbling with the lock for a second, you finally open up to your home. immediately your gaze lands on an extra pair of shoes by the door, making your heart skip a beat slightly. tugging off your own, you set down your umbrella in a corner to dry.
when walking farther into the house, you see haemin sitting comfortably on the couch. he looked busy on his cell phone, paying almost no mind to your presence.
“haem! i didn’t know you would be home, where were you?” you smile fondly, letting yourself sit next to him.
“oh. i was just out for a bit.” he barley acknowledged your existence, angling his phone slightly away from your view. you noticed this, but said nothing.
“did you have fun? it was pretty rainy out today so i hope you weren’t cold.”
“yeah, it was fine.”
“that’s good! did you eat while you were out? i can always make us something for dinner, though i do need to get some groceries–”
“are you done with your questions?” he said bitterly, setting down the device to look at you.
“i’m sorry haem, we just haven’t spoken in awhile and i wanted to see how your day was.” you said in a whisper.
“don’t be so clingy, y/n. we see eachother everyday.” he tells you.
“oh. you’re right, i don’t know why i was being so silly.”
“mhm.” he mumbles under his breath before getting up from his seat towards the bathroom.
after the door shut behind him, the pit at the bottom of your stomach grew deeper. this wasn’t like him at all. the excitement that would underlie his stoic demeanor because all the love he had for you was overflowing disappeared. could you even call it love when you didn’t exactly know what it was?
every romantic word hes ever told you felt meaningless; what happened to ‘you’re so pretty, y/n. you’re so sweet?’
you could hear haemin’s muffled voice from down the hall, before movement of caps and containers echoed the bathroom walls. it sounded like he was on a call with somebody. he came out soon after, shaking the remaining drops of water off of his clean hands.
“i’m going out.” he calls out to you before pulling his coat off the rack.
“wait! didn’t you just go out? i can go with you if you’d like!”
“no, i’ll be out late and i know you get agitated if you’re in public for too long.”
“can’t you just stay in for a little then? what about a movie night like we always used to have?” you rushed over to him, desperate to spend any sort of time together, “i just miss you haem..”
“did anything i say get into your head? you don’t need to so clingy, i’m just going out with a couple friends.”
“haemin…” you reached out to his hand, fingertips barely getting the chance to touch him before he was pulling away like you were the plague.
“god. i can’t do this anymore, y/n. i just want to live without you bothering me constantly!” he complains, sliding both of his shoes on forcefully.
“what is that supposed to mean?” you furrow your eyebrows worriedly.
“it means that i’m having a hard time pretending like i haven’t fallen out of love with you.” he sighs, “just give it a break, y/n. you knew were never going to last."
it felt like your world was collapsing around you. there was a confused look on his face as you stood there silently, trying not to cry. you wondered what it felt like to die, and if it felt anything like this.
they say your life flashes before your eyes, yet all that flashed was memories of what you and haemin used to be. you felt stupid to think that maybe it was salvageable, but the sorry truth hurt much more than this ill fantasy.
“but you promised me. you promised me that we would work through everything together, haem. was that a lie?” you choked.
“i wouldn’t make an empty promise like that, don’t twist my words.” he muttered.
“i’m not twisting anything! when you first confessed to me you said so many sweet things and promised to always–”
“i said give it up. that was almost a year ago, okay? you can’t expect me to keep a promise like that for so long.”
“are you serious right now haemin? after all that we’ve been through?” you uttered with a hurt tone.
“i cared about you, okay? but i can’t handle this anymore.”
“you’re my first boyfriend, i– i can’t let you go without at least talking first!” your words came out as a broken sob, but haemin only looked at you with disgust.
“and you were my worst.” he scoffed, “i can’t be with someone who isn’t mature enough to understand when i need time away.”
“but–”
“don’t even look at me right now, y/n.. i don’t want to hear you speak. i’ll come back and get my things later.” he leaves you with a bitter ending, before leaving out the door.
watching the love of your life leave you with no closure and not a second word was starting to physically pain you. you felt yourself drop to your knees as his sentences rung in your mind, stringing themselves into a sequence of utmost heartbreak.
cold hardwood floors comforted the red - hot heat that began to rise up your face like a wild fire. you were embarrassed of yourself, disappointed that you couldn’t grow enough for him to see you. see that you could change.
and while he was out with no doubt in his mind that he made the right decision, your world was shattering in the comfort of the home you used to share with him.
the only time he messaged you was him asking for you to pack up all of his stuff for an easier pickup. it was clear he didn’t want to see you anymore than he had to. would he see how mature you had become in the four hours he was gone if you obeyed him?
boxing up all of his things neatly, you stripped every memory the two of you ever shared together. your house feeling ever so empty from the lack of love, trapped in between cardboard walls.
for what it was worth, you attempted to write a note to send off with him. however, your vision was too blurry with your tears, and you couldn’t keep them in. the smudged ink added for dramatic effect, but it was too much that it was impossible to read coherent words.
your head was scrambled everywhere, and for a second you thought he was right when he said you were immature. it felt like when you were back in highschool giving him silly love notes to hide in his backpack pocket. it reminded you of how he said that they were all still there, as he never bothered to clean them out.
why couldn’t things be the way that they used to? throwing away so much because there was a lack of communication. you wanted to see him, be with him. feel the pure touch of his lips sending shockwaves to your beating heart.
but since that day, you never saw him once. rushing to grab all of his things and get out of your life, barely escaping your desperate grasp. what was once a fond moment became a distant daydream.
you were so blinded by your infatuation for him, despite the fact he never thought of you like that. once again you failed to understand much.
and things only got harder from then on, your plush pillow absorbing your tears. the air in your room only grew heavier as time continued.
at first days, then weeks, and months were going by that you gave him so much love from afar. a comfortable distance through your phone screen where he couldn’t spit such hurtful words to you again. it was difficult to bear with his selfish sense of care.
stalking him on social media didn’t get you anywhere really. he already moved on from you. though you were unsure whether your jealousy blossomed from the fact that she was beautiful, or that he moved on extremely fast. maybe it was both.
posts of his hand intertwined with hers, captioned with cheesy song lyrics that used to hold so much meaning to you. your music taste always tended to rub off on him.
there were long paragraphs declaring how much she meant to him, and how she was such a breath of fresh air in comparison to his past relationships. these sacred words that used to be yours. and while you remembered what the two of you had together, he could only think of her.
still, you loved him.
but things got easier, even when you thought they wouldn’t. it took some time for you to realize that being alone was a lot easier on the heart.
there was a big takeaway from this, being that the only thing he taught you what it was like to feel unloved. though everything that happened when things were okay, you’d never take for granted.
the sky felt brighter, and you made your walks frequent again. you remembered thinking how dreary he’d make your days seem, but it felt like you were finally able to see the sun again. because throughout the multitude of stars in the galaxy, one always shone the brightest.
even when you were blinded by a haze, it was still there. maybe you were the star.
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Week 1 of @bettsfic @books writing workshop:
Show & Tell:
The jacket hung loose on its hook like a slab of pork, ribs and all, in the back of a butcher’s shop freezer. It’s leather had breathed but now only became animate when a slender arm slipped inside it. A dormant marionette. Scars of life crisscrossed it’s sleeves, where it had cracked on a countertop or stopped singing steel from slicing its occupant. But that was all in its illustrious and sordid past.
Now, and forever, it is a simple leather jacket on a bronze china-topped hook, strung up amongst a horde of fellow coats. The antique coatrack it hangs on dates back to the Victorian era and it whispers to the various coats about the smoke and stench of the city then. The others listen with rapt attention but the leather jacket pays it no mind, not wishing to dwell in the past. It gleams with a ruddy glow, leather well used and bleached by wind and sun. In its two pockets, ringed by rusted teeth, it holds naught but mothballs and stagnant air. Once they held finer things, like hands; the beat of life and blood would echo through the jacket as it cradled its cargo. Usually they held a battered red wallet and a heavy ring of keys. Once or twice they held a knife. The back of the jacket was emblazoned with block white lettering, roughly painted onto it’s peeling skin. BANNED FROM CBGB. A useless statement, of course, cause this jacket had never even been to CBGB’s. It had never even left the UK. Underneath this modified Crass lyric was a symbol, three horizontal white lines with one red vertical one slicing through them. A long-forgotten symbol to some punk band that never got big.
Maybe the jacket’s owner was a member. A guitarist who could barely play but had great ideas and so much rage he could explode any minute. A bassist who was actually pretty good, till heroin nipped his talent in the bud. A drummer with a chill and distant disposition. A singer who screamed every word with an insane fanatical passion. Or maybe the jacket’s owner was the band’s only fan. Scuffing their thick, rubber-soled boots on a concrete venue dance floor. A lone solider, a fanatic to a cult of four who screamed into the mic and shredded their instruments and the skin of their hands. Blood on guitar and bass strings. Blood on drumsticks. Blood on the microphone.
The interior lining of the jacket was one to behold. A crisscross of shredded fabric with one inside pocket. Bits of exposed leather, the soft underbelly exposed. A patch here and there, a vain attempt to fix the shattered inner chamber. The inside pocket was zipped, guarded against the elements. It cradled precious cargo. Gold dust. Rarer then that. A tiny rectangle of folded paper, soaked when rain somehow made its way into this scared sanctum. Barely holding itself together, fraying at the edges. A curled, curdled outline of yellow paper mush around a barely legible bit of printed pink text:
THE SEX PISTOLS - MANCHESTER’S LESSER FREE TRADE HALL - 4TH JUNE - SOLSTICE SUPPORTING
The famed Manchester Trade Hall gig, that everyone in rock has claimed to be present at. The Smiths, The Buzzcocks, Joy Division. And probably every single spotty faced punk fan since 1976. And this jacket held a ticket from that famed gig, locked away till one day a hand would dip into the pocket, take it out and say aloud “who the fuck are Solstice?”
———————————————————————————————————————————
“What was that?” came a voice from the front of the shop.
“Nothing!” I quickly spurted out, red blossoming onto my face.
I was thirteen years old, my hair was cut short and fell choppily in front of my eyes. It was russet brown, same as my eyes, two large globes set into my face. People always complimented my eyes, they still do. But back then I couldn’t walk down the street without someone my dad knew from church or someone my mum chatted to at the school gates stooping down and saying what nice eyes I had. The rest of my face was petite in comparison to those big doe eyes, a tiny button nose smattered with freckles and a unassuming mouth that contained a shy but sweet smile. I dressed how my parents wanted me to, so there was an element of formality to the whole attire. Floral skirts and block colour tops. I steered them towards a more dull colour palette but that was the extend of my clothing rebellion.
Until today.
I’d found myself gazing at this leather jacket on a coatrack, tucked away at the back of this little vintage shop in Brighton. We had come on a weekend holiday, a little getaway, just me and my dad. The stress of my sister’s condition had been building on him and so my mum suggested the two of us go to the coast. Sea air would be good for us and she’d hold down the fort. Putting all the work on herself, again. She was a lot like my sister in that regard. If Ann had her way there’d be no family visits and flower deliveries. She’d just battle the cancer alone, and not stress the rest of us out.
My dad had been distracted by a bookshop. While I was an avid reader, this was the sort of shop that, while lovely to be in, was full of nothing but dreadfully boring tomes about Ancient Egyptian housing construction and the forest laws. A wonderful cavern of dull encyclopaedias and histories. The smell of old musty books was the only reason why I wandered into the shop and the boredom was why I wandered out and into the vintage shop next door.
The shop was a crowded maze of antique stuff, ranging from a large metal Shell Oil sign propped up in one corner to a tiny collection of a dozen glass ballerina figurines, perched upon a mahogany ivory-handled chest of drawers. A bobsled tied to the celling, five or six chairs of varying styles crowded round a poker table, a poster for The Witness, a collection of old Elmore Leonard dime novels, a battered red umbrella, a unicycle, eight identical bowling balls and a coat rack, at the back, stuffed to the brim with different outfits. Waiting, amongst the moth-eaten and threadbare overcoats and varsity jackets, was a leather jacket that breathed through cracked skin and held within it a fragile paper piece of music history.
I found the jacket and instantly fell in love with it. For a few years now I’d been infatuated by rock legends and I’d loved the more alternative side of music and life. My sister had gotten me into it all, starting with The Stones and then The Beatles, and through to Blur, Oasis, the Stone Roses, The Arctics, Amy Winehouse, Alanis Morissette, Nirvana, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs and The Strokes. It wasn’t just the music I was fond of though. I spent a lot of my early preteens staring at pictures of girls in leather jackets and doc martens, faded band tees and ripped jeans. And so this jacket not only looked like it came from the wardrobe of my musical heroes, but also from the closets of my countless (then unrealised) crushes.
Glancing around the shop to see if my dad or the old guy at the counter could see me, I slipped my skinny little arms through the sleeves. It dwarfed me. When I moved, it’s cuffs whipped around like one of those inflatable tube guys at car dealerships and fairs. The pockets were almost at my knees. Self-consciousness almost forced me to shrug it off but in trying to get one arm out of its cavernous folds my elbow brushed against something sharp and metal. A zip. An inside pocket. I quickly grasped at it but my fingers just slipped off. It was tough, held fast by years of rust and neglect. But I was a determined thirteen year old.
The zip finally came loose after I’d wrapped my hand in a nearby handkerchief and pulled with all my might, the strength bulging my muscles to a strain. My skull constricted around my brain in a tense and uncomfortable moment of sheer exertion. And then, with a wrenching pop, it was free. The zip slid all the way and I dug my hand in there, ignoring the bite of metal against wrist. My fingers searched and searched until I found a tiny little bit of sodden paper. The first words from my mouth after discovering such a find:
“Who the fuck are Solstice?”
I wasn’t a sweary person, my mouth was soap and water and pleases and thank yous. The occasional ‘damn’ or, to my parents utter dismay, ‘Jesus’. It was something about the moment that made me drop an f-bomb, and so I was naturally mortified when it was heard from across the shop.
A moment after my blush had subsided I heard a creaking and before I could take the jacket all the way off, there he stood. The shop owner. A skinny but short man, in his late 50s, with a bald head and startling blue eyes. He had a little scratch of white stubble and a black, blotchy neck tattoo of a cross. His ears were pierced and mismatched gold jewellery hung from their cauliflower-like lobes. His nose was broken twice over and he had the kindest smile I’d ever seen.
“They were a punk band that spiralled into obscurity after that gig. The Pistols hogged all the fame. Good music but god they could be cunts.”
I was utterly shocked. One, he was a grown-up and yet wasn’t reprimanding me for swearing. And two, he’d said ‘cunt’.
“You know something about that gig, lass?”
I shook my head, in awe.
“It was a transcendent experience. I was there and all. Loved every minute.”
I was utterly speechless. He brought over two stools and motioned for me to sit. I clambered up onto it like the fires of hell were at my heels.
“What’s your name?” He asked, softly and kindly.
“Jane.” I managed to stutter.
“Jonny. It’s a pleasure.” He shook my hand, his grip strong but warm, like a bear hug.
I pointed at the billing on the concert ticket, to the name ‘Johnny Rotten’.
“No, that ain’t me, lass, my name doesn’t have a H. Besides, if I was Johnny Rotten I wouldn’t be here,” he chuckled to himself, “I’m glad I’m not him, to be fair to you Jane, cause he’s a bit of an alt right asshole.”
I blurted out a laugh at that and he smiled. “What, was it something I said? Hey, you wanna know the story of that jacket you’re pulling off so dashingly well?”
I let loose an energetic and frantic nod.
He lent back on his stool. “Well it was the late seventies. I was living in London, migrated there from Edinburgh cause my parents hated me. Wasn’t okay to be gay then, you see. I was working in an abattoir, mopping up blood. Not the best gig in world, but it got me a roof and it got me pork scratchings for dinner every night. Anyway so there was this shop, called,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “Sex.”
I suppressed a shocked giggle.
“Yeah, it was scandalous then too. And they sold all these weird clothes, spikes and see-through shirts and pictures of the queen with pins in her. And there was a new music genre on the screen, spearheaded by The Sex Pistols, that wore all their stuff. It was all designed by Vivian Westwood, maybe your mum knows her?”
I shook my head, my mum’s fashion consisted of knitted cardigans and plaid skirts.
“Anyway, I fell head over heels with the clothes. And that led me to the music. Before you know it I was a punk. And there was a guy at the abattoir, a beefy guy with a big bushy beard who was an ex-con and used to be a biker. He wore this big leather jacket, that leather jacket, and he sold it to me. Bear in mind, although neither of us would of admitted it then, we were like father and son. He bloody raised me, that man. I consider him more a dad then I do my flesh and blood pa. And he still charged me for it. Fifteen quid. Which wasn’t cheap either, not when you get paid nothing a week and spend it all on keeping the lights on. That and drugs. I was into drugs. Don’t do drugs, please. Never leads to a good life.”
I nodded, sort of already knowing that from my Dad’s sermons and such.
“Oh weed is alright though. A joint doesn’t kill ya like other things do.” He added, with a pointed look.
Now that was new information that exploded my tiny brain, let me tell you.
“If you really want that jacket it’s yours. But, and you have to promise me this, go home and listen to some punk music. Here, I’ll write you a list.”
And so he did, scratching out a list of bands and albums of the back of a receipt. His handwriting was abysmal, but that added to the mythology.
I took the list and thanked him profusely, then shook the jacket off and lovingly laid it on the countertop before running out and into the bookstore to beg my dad for fifty quid. He relented, probably due to my sister’s life hanging in the balance back at St Peter’s hospital, and so I dragged him by his shirtsleeve into the vintage shop.
“I’ve just been talking to your daughter here. She’s a lovely person.” Jonny said, smiling at my dad.
“I’d like to think she is, yes,” was my dad’s curt reply, as he placed a bill on the counter.
Jonny looked at it quizzically and slid it back over to my dad, gesturing at the price tag with a smile.
£50 was crossed out, and in scratchy handwriting was written “15 quid”.
My dad forked up the cash and I ran behind the counter and hugged Jonny, much to my father’s chagrin.
I left the shop shrouded in an oversized leather jacket, my head heavy with dusty bar rooms, the static of amp feedback, safety pins, crazy outfits and punk music.
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Snowy hellscape? Snowy hellscape.
We are not dressed warmly enough for this. Good thing we got all that cold weather practice back at Zenith Academy. Nobody talks about it but the sky is very cold all the time. It's a miserable place to live.
We aren't burning the books yet, but we've been here five minutes and I already hate this place.
Oh my god, they have ice DJs. I take it back. This place is amazing. I renounce all other places. What do you even call a--
Rude.
Now I can cross "used ice to ward away the cold" off my list of life experiences that I never wanted to have in the first fucking place.
Still aren't burning the books but I am this close.
No. Absolutely not. I am too cold and pissy right now to deal with you jackfucks.
So help me, I will skin you for warmth.
...honestly, that was barely even a fight. We've had random encounters with more punch than you two. Zale and I only had to pop a single Mending Light.
When you see One and Three, tell them I said, "Hey, at least you're not these clowns. Silver medal's better than bronze."
Alright, it's real enough. Archivist's books are safe from my wrath.
I am going to be the greatest menace to sleep schedules in history. Hmm, what kind of lighting would I like for our journey today?
Maybe we can use this to fulfill our prophecies properly, since we're apparently too shitty to do it ourselves. To be fair, using tool assistance to compensate for our shortcomings is what makes us human.
Hmm... if we can control the day/night cycle freely now, can we use this to fabricate an eclipse when needed? I was thinking about that before with the time rune things but now we don't even need the runes.
Son of a bitch! If you'd told us that from the beginning, we could have just turned around, gone straight to the Fleshmancer's castle, and died horribly.
Well played, old man.
Well, credit where it's due; The compensation for this one was pretty cool. So why not. Maybe we can make a deal.
Yeah, I saw him when I was faffing about earlier. Is there more to him or is he just a head?
Are you the guy that Garl's supposed to demand a Flask of Borrowed Time from? Because this sounds pretty Flask of Borrowed Time adjacent.
Don't forget about that, Garl. My prophecies and Zale's have been trash, but you get the best prophecies.
Wait, you can do that? Could you just. Like. Reverse time to the night of the Eclipse and then we jump in and stop Erlina and Brugaves before they know what hit 'em?
If you can control time then our best option for dealing with Mesa Island is to prevent the Dweller of Strife from ever waking up to begin with.
XD
"I have no idea where Aephorul put my artifact but he's a predictable little shit so it's going to be there."
Well. Shit. I have a feeling we're about to find out if we can fabricate eclipses or not.
I guess we really wouldn't have been done once the Dweller of Woe was dead. Strange. If a Dweller's here, I wonder why it's not. Like. Doing anything.
I'm feeling a lot better about our chances against the Dweller of Strife than I was five minutes ago.
Here are your books back. I'm sorry I threatened to burn them.
It's called Torment Peak because the Dweller of fucking Torment lives there. Nobody knows there's a Dweller there because the place fucks with your head so bad that the Docarri, having set up shop on the island, discourage people from visiting.
There could be hidden Dwellers anyplace where common knowledge says we don't go there ever.
Okay, point to Erlina and Bugraves. We actually wouldn't have been finished after the Dweller of Woe was killed.
But also five points deducted because. What. People are just supposed to live like this? What the Dweller of Woe was doing to that island isn't any less unfathomably horrifying just because more Dwellers exist. If anything it's moreso. How long until the Dweller of Torment beefs up enough to do the same shit to the Docarri?
Oh, yes please. I could chug some "Fuck Outta My Head" Juice. We had a bad experience with exactly this kinda shit on Wraith Island and I don't want that ever happening again.
#sea of stars#drake plays sea of stars#glacial peak is very cold#but hosts a surprisingly rich culture all the same
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Addicted to You
two - after hours
TW/ mentions of sex
As much as Sulli loved her coworkers and mentors, having a drink with them after the most stressful shift she's endured at the clinic was not on her to-do list. Kaycee still had over an hour left on her shift, the one person she can drink with and not just talk about work and the events of the day.
Sullis' eyes scanned the bustling bar as Marion went on and on about a bunny that had been brought in for routine checkup. As soon as she recognized the one person who could keep her busy and help her unwind, she apologised to the older veterinarian and excused herself .
“Brady!” She called his name, bidding goodbye to her coworkers as she waved at the bronzed boy.
“Hey, Sulli.” He smiled down at her as she skipped up to him with a flirtatious smile.
“I’ve missed you.” She teased lightheartedly.
“I’ve been busy with work.” He said with a sigh. She wasn’t surprised that that's where he had disappeared to. Collin had been absent for a while as well, according to Kaycee.
“Too busy it seems.” She beamed, wrapping her arms around his waist in a hug as she mumbled against his chest. “We got some lost time to make up for.”
He smirked slightly before it fell off of his face completely. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he figured out his next move.
“Are you feeling alright?” She asked genuinely concerned. He wasn’t acting like the Brady she had come to know. The Brady that had a charmed her within the first ten minutes of meeting. The one that had pulled her into the bathroom of the club they were at for Kaycees birthday with such confidence and turned her legs to jello.
“Yeah, I just…don’t think we should do this anymore.” Brady scratched them back of his neck, a nervous tick.
“Do what? We’re just friends..” She asked, cocking her eyebrow as she dropped her arms, folding them over her chest.
He tilted his head like a puppy, “You know what I mean.”
She wanted to laugh, its not like they were never going to see each other again, it was impossible giving how glued together Collin and Kaycee were, “You don’t want to fuck me is what you’re saying, thats fine. Look around, Brady, theres plenty of guys in this room for me to fuck. But you’re my best friend's boyfriend's best friend,”
Brady sighed, taking a step back from her and unable to maintain eye contact,“You don’t get it, I’ve been told to stay away from you.”
“You’ve been told.” She narrowed her eyes, not liking where this was headed, “By who?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head, giving her a small smile marred by an apologetic gaze, “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“Brady,” She called after him, but he didn’t even glance back.
Sulli watched as he walked back over to a group of men and slid into the booth. Her eyes scanned the group, they all looked so familiar. She landed on one in particular and her stomach dropped, his dark features prominent, he had barely aged from the last time she saw him, but everything about him seemed more mature. She looked from Paul to Brady and everything clicked.
She glared at the older one.
Paul's eyes flitted away from hers for a second as the man next to him said something that she couldn’t hear, before he was looking at her again, an unreadable expression on his face.
Just like that, her night was ruined.
That familiar feeling of betrayal set in from the last time she was with him slowly turned into rage, simmering within her.
He was playing with fire considering she knew his deepest secret, and now Brady and Collins.
If this had happened four years ago when she had nothing to lose, she would’ve let that wolf out of the bag. But now, she had a future to look forward to, and she was not going to ruin it on him.
He would just call her crazy, tell everyone that she made it up.
As if he didn’t physically show her.
She had been sitting there on Sue Clearwaters porch with her daughter in the middle of the night, as he shifted in right in front of her. Paul had told her between the stupid dreamer catcher he had given her and him being a wolf, she would always be safe.
What a load of shit, especially considering where she ended up less than a week later.
Shipped off to the first of many foster homes after they couldn't track down her mom. Julie, her social worker, had said the family was nice and welcoming, all that blew up in both their faces once the husband, Mo, found out Sullivan was a unisex name.
The foster son they thought they were getting didn’t exist, instead they got Sulli.
She never knew what utter hate felt like until Julie left her on the stairs of her new foster family's home, alone and afraid. Paul was nowhere to be found.
She turned to the bartender, quickly flagging him down to order another drink just as someone saddled in next to her. A deep voice chuckled as he spoke, “I know that guy wasn’t stupid enough to walk away from you.”
“Can’t win them all.” She muttered, taking money out of her purse to pay for her drink.
“It’s on me.” he said as he stopped her, placing a twenty dollar bill on the bar top for the bartender. Sulli muttered a thanks just as he asked, “What's your name?”
“Sulli.” She mumbled, more interested in the drink that had been placed in front of her than trying to catch his name.
“You look great. I just know what's under your little dress looks even better.” He shamelessly flirted.
“You’re not wrong, it's just not for you.” Sulli stated, turning to lean against the bar, getting a better look at the man next her. His dirty blonde hair nearly glowed in the dim atmosphere, he was clean shaving, not too muscular but it worked for him. She liked his height, the difference between them not neck breaking, but just enough. He seemed like a good boy, not exactly her type, but she wasn't one to shy away from a challenge.
“No?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, “Not even for one night?”
Her weak spot. One night stands were an addiction of sorts, one night of fun and then pretending like it never happened the next morning. A way to move on from Brady had just fallen into her lap. She pondered his offer, glancing over at the booth of over sized men. She could make out Paul glaring at the glass of amber liquid in front of him, not listening to his friends, no, he was listening to her conversation with that stupid wolf hearing of his. while she welcomed it in the the nights she had couldn't sleep when she was ten, she was going to use it to her own advantage now.
“What's in it for me?” She asked knowingly.
“Come back to my place and find out.” He murmured confidently. She bit her lip as his fingers pulled up the side of her dress teasing the skin on her thigh. The goosebumps on her arms were a dead giveaway of her arousal. Assuming her nameless companion was any good at picking up cues.
“I have an even better idea.” She smirked, grabbing his hand and slid its way under the skirt of her dress and tugging him along behind her. It was a petty thing, the decision to lead him to the mens bathroom, rather than take up his offer of going home with him, solely because they needed to pass Brady.
As they did, she sent him a wink, to which he frowned. His loss is another man's opportunity.
Even pettier, was the fact that Paul, who had decided to take it upon himself to ruin not only her situationship, but also her friendship with Brady, was in a close enough distance to where they were headed, that his little wolf ears would pick up every moan and groan. Why would he want her fucking his friend when she could just fuck a stranger? Great thinking, Paul, she thought as she locked the door of the bathroom stall and turned to her new friend with a flirty smile.
-----
After cleaning herself up in the women's bathroom as best she could, Sulli beelined it for the exit. Hoping her male companion wasn’t up for a round two, she sure was not. She looked at the time on her phone and quickly sent a message to Kaycee, asking for a ride as she knew she would be getting off work at any moment, and Sulli needed to vent.
“Sulli,” Paul said gruffly as soon she rounded the corner of the door.
“Sullivan.” She corrected him, stopping as he blocked her path, “Only my friends get to call me Sulli.”
“We’re not friends anymore?” He asked innocently, and the rage that had been simmering all night began to brew.
“What do you want?” She retorted, on the verge of losing her patience.
“You’re playing a dangerous game in there.” Paul warned her, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Now you care about my safety?” She snapped, taking a step towards him, close enough to feel the heat emitting off of his skin and to breathe in his scent. It's still the same, like sandalwood and cinnamon, and that makes her seethe. “Or are you just jealous?” She asked, batting her eyelashes up at him, her lips spreading into a grin as she watched him visibly swallow. He was nervous and she revelled in it.
“That's why you told Brady to stay away from me, isn’t it?” She hummed smugly as he refused to answer, “Hope you enjoyed listening. See you never, Paul.”
Paul chuckled darkly, “Thats why you fucked that loser? You wanted me to listen.” He goaded, licking his lips before clicking his tongue against his teeth in disapproval, “That’s kinky.”
She narrowed her eyes, “Says the guy who stuck around to listen to a girl eight years younger than him moan to another guys--”
“Paul!” Brady and another man who resembled him stood at the corner of the bar, waiting for him, “We’ve got to go.”
“Time for you to go howl at the moon.” She said mockingly.
“Wait,” Paul stopped her, gripping her arm firmly. The heat was familiar, he was just as warm as Brady was. It should have clicked the first night she spent tangled underneath the younger man, but it didn’t. It made her want him more. Sulli wrenched her arm from his grasp, and he clenched his jaw at the action before starting to ask,“Have you--”
“No, I haven't told anyone you’re secretly a furry.” She quipped, smiling sweetly as she said, “The biggest kink of them all.”
“Funny.” He muttered, though he didn't smile. She wasn’t sure if he knew how to smile considering his face was in the same stoic expression it was when she clocked him from across the bar. Paul ran his hand through his hair before asking, “Do you need a ride home?”
“Not a chance in hell.” Sulli scoffed, “I’d fuck an Uber driver for a free ride before I ever got into a car with you.”
“Sulli!” She heard her name being called. She knew the voice well and turned to look at the parking lot, seeing Kaycee wave from inside her car.
“Have a nice night.” She said, bristling with annoyance from the man beside her. She did not spare him another glance as she walked over to Kaycee’s now parked car. She knew her friend had just gotten off of work, and was thankful Collin hadn’t made an appearance tonight, allowing her to leave with her friend freely. “There's my DD.”
“You look like you had a fun night,” Kaycee whistled at her appearance before looking behind her and asking “Where's Brady?”
Sulli frowned at the question, responding with bitter honesty, “Brady and I are no more. Your boyfriend's best friend has zero balls.”
“Did you fuck that guy whos currently watching you like a hawk?” Kaycee asked, nudging her head back to where Paul stood.
She barked out a laugh, “He wishes. He's the one who neutered Brady,”
“Well, he's hot as hell.” Her friend noted innocently. Sulli had never told her about her time with the Clearwaters, or that Paul had broken her trust at the ripe young age of eleven. He was a liar, and that's all he’ll ever be to her. No amount of hotness will change that. “Get on him.”
“He’s a tool.” She muttered, getting into the passenger seat of Kaycees car. She looked out the side view mirror and watched as Paul jogged off towards a waiting Brady, the other man nowhere to be seen.
#paul lahote fanfic#paul lahote#paul lahote imagine#pack#paul lahote smut#paul lahote x oc#wolfpack twilight#twilight wolves#twilight fanfiction#twilight#Twilight wolf pack#brady fuller#brady fuller x oc
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All I Really Want Is You
older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap three/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday
Mr. Fix It
summary: when your kitchen sink breaks, you ask your new ‘friend’ for help.
wc: 2.8k
warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. lots of pining, and steve opens up a little about his past.
authors note: this chapter was a struggle for me, lots of overthinking and rewriting. I hope you guys like it though 💗
🌇 chapter one | chapter two -> chapter four
Series Masterlist/Playlist/The tune:
Early June - A Thursday
Your first week as a waitress at The Whale was a whirlwind, long hours on your feet leaving you exhausted every time you climbed your staircase each night. Dishes and laundry piling up around your apartment, so when you finally have a day off it is dedicated to playing catch up. The smell of coffee fills your apartment as you stretch looking out your living room window. New curtains ready to be hung leaning against the wall.
His car is gone, the normal work day in full swing for most of the city. You haven’t seen him since that night in the alley, your schedules seeming completely opposite now. Part of you hopes maybe today you’ll at least catch a glimpse of your new friend and his cute dog.
Most of the day is spent going up and down your stairs to the shared laundry room in the basement of the building. In between loads is filled with distractions of things to do in your room and whatever you left playing on your TV. Your eyes actively avoid the dishes that have piled in your sink while you actually fold your laundry. It is only when you don’t have any more excuses that you finally drag your pink fuzzy slipper covered feet over to the one chore you’ve been dreading all day.
“I gotta get better at washing as I use,” you grumble like every other time you find yourself here.
You only get two plates and a bowl deep when the sink starts to clog, groaning annoyedly you flip the switch of the disposal only to be met with the sound of metal grinding against metal. A smell resembling burning plastic hits your nose and you’re quick to flip it off, the water still refusing to drain. Slamming down on the faucet handle, you wait a couple of minutes before daring to reach in to see if a piece of silverware got stuck in there. When your fingertips meet nothing but warm water, panic starts to set in.
You flip the switch one more time out of curiosity, and the same unbearable sound drowns out your TV. You huff turning it off, hands finding your hips as you look around for a solution you know you aren’t going to find without calling someone. Bandit’s bark catches your ears, and you hate that all your frustrations seem to disappear at the thought of seeing him.
You pad over to your window, eyes going big and head dropping at the sight that’s waiting for you.
Of fucking course.
It’s obvious he barely got home from work by the black slacks that still cover his long legs, but the dress shirt is missing. Instead the white tank top he wears underneath is all that’s there. Tucked in so it fits tight across his torso, his dark chest hair peeks out the top with a silver chain shining against his bronzed skin. His forearms flex tugging on the tennis ball trapped in Bandit’s tight grip, his sock and slide covered feet plant on the ground for added balance. The smile on his face you swear is brighter than the sun that isn’t hidden by any clouds today and you didn’t realize how much you missed it.
It’s somehow even hotter than it looked outside, and you immediately regret not changing out of your warm slippers, but he’s already spotted you with an offering of a friendly wave with his big hand. He gets the ball away from Bandit, losing his footing surprised, shock painting his features before the dog starts jumping on him. Steve raises it over his head, keeping Bandit too distracted to see you at the gate that he’s signaling for you to let yourself in from.
Your hand shakes a little when you unhook the latch, nerves from never being at his house before and not seeing him for the past week try to get the best of you. He smiles when he looks at you from over the rim of his sunglasses letting Bandit win finally but it’s too late for toys when he spots you. Bounding over with big paws, Bandit wastes no time jumping on you, making you stumble back a little before catching him in your arms.
“Bandit! Come on, don’t knock her down,” Steve scolds, but those pretty giggles that he loves so much come out when his dog starts licking your cheek and it tells him all he needs to know.
“Hi buddy, I missed you too.” You grin, your animal voice coming out only a little when you feel Steve’s stare fixated on you.
Bandit wags his tail jumping down satisfied before grabbing his ball again bringing it back to you to continue the game you interrupted.
“Hey tough girl.” Steve smirks shoving his hands in his pockets watching you accept his dog’s invitation. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
You play with Bandit’s ears to try and distract him as you do your best to get the rubber ball out of his iron tight bite, completely losing focus on why you came over here in the first place when you succeed and throw it towards their front door.
“Oh my god, my sink!” You gasp, your hand covering your embarrassed grin.
Steve’s eyes widen, his eye brows marrying together in the middle with concern.
“Is it flooding?!” He asks incredulously as Bandit trots back over carefree.
“No, not flooding.” You assure him going back in for the toy, and you can tell your nonchalance is getting to him. “My disposal is making sounds and it smells like plastic burning every time I run it, so the water won’t drain.” You get the ball away from Bandit cause he lets you, only continuing your explanation after you throw it again.
“I was hoping my good friend and neighbor could come check it out?” You try to lighten the mood with a smile but the concern never leaves his face, the pink that dusts his cheeks tells you he’s not unaffected by your ‘charms’ though.
“It’s probably something stuck in the pipes, let me get some tools and I'll come back with you.” He speaks like he’s sure he knows that’s it, snapping his fingers at Bandit to get him to wrap it up.
“Are you sure? I’m not interrupting anything tonight?” You hope he doesn’t pick up on the hidden ulterior motives in your question, but the smirk he gives you tells you he does.
“No honey, I’m all yours.”
It’s strange having him in your apartment again, and god you wish he had put on a real shirt when he got his tool box. The tops of his shoulders are covered in even more freckles, the tint of redness from the sun becoming obvious in your harsh kitchen light. The muscles in his arms twitch in the cold air of your AC that works harder with the heat of two bodies in your small space.
His gaze falls on your full sink and you immediately regret going to get his help. Silently cursing your hormones for getting the best of you.
“Sorry, obviously I was trying to do them. It’s been a long week, I started a new job serving and-“ embarrassment makes blood rush to your cheeks as you go to move past him in an attempt to clean some of it up.
“Hey, you’re fine.” He grabs your arm before you can make it, long fingers wrapping around you in a firm grip but still soft enough for you to pull away if you really wanted to. “I’m not judging you.”
His lips tug into a warm smile when you don’t try and break away, the gold specs in his eyes lighting up while his thumb brushes against your heated skin in a soothing motion. It only grows wider watching how your shoulders give in to his whims with a slump.
“Just know I was about to do them!” You argue weakly with a point of your finger and he just nods, the corners of his mouth twitching in an effort not to laugh at your distress.
“How else would you know your sink is broken?” His voice wavers when he tries to play along with a straight face, but it becomes impossible when he catches the roll of your eyes. You do that a lot to him. He likes it.
“Better watch yourself Steve,” you warn with a grin wrapped around your words that hold no real threat, but it’s hard to fight it when he still hasn’t let you go.
He’s closer now, and you notice his five o’clock shadow is as dark as it was the first day you met. Salt and pepper covering his sharp jaw. The faded fresh scent of his deodorant mixes with the spice of his cologne, and the sweat that kissed his skin outside. You want to bury your face in his shirt and inhale.
“You shouldn’t threaten the guy that’s here to fix your sink honey. That’s not very smart,” he tsks looking down the edge of his nose at you with squinted eyes, “you’re lucky I’m so nice.”
You immediately feel the loss when he drops your arm and if it wasn’t for the wink that followed, you would have missed it more.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you tease trying to play off how flustered you are but the slight shake in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed, confidence smoldering in his stare before his teeth come out in a blinding smile.
“Let me go take a look, see what I can do. Your dishes aren’t offending me, I promise.” He does his best to ease the last bit of self consciousness still hanging onto the way you look over at the small mess before walking away with tools clanking in the metal box loudly behind him.
It had been almost an hour with him like this.
He’s on his back, long legs extending over the small space of your kitchen tile. Slides kicked to the side, white sock covered feet wiggling with his movements under your sink. The top of him is hidden, the tank top that was tucked in now loose and pulling up, giving you the hint of his happy trail. You try not to stare at the way the muscles in his arm harden with each twist of his wrist, or the grunts that leave him every now and then.
You find out he works in marketing for The Cubs and used to play baseball himself in high school, laughing when you confess how much you don’t like sports. He promises to take you to a game sometime saying he knows you’ll have fun and you try not to think too much into it. He knows you're rolling your eyes again when you answer “sure” with a smile in your voice. He lets you complain about your first week as a server, surprising you when he asks questions because he’s actually listening.
Metal clanks loudly, cutting you off and drowning out the playlist you chose to fill any empty gaps in conversation that never seemed to happen. An “I’m fine” coming out from under the sink just a little too even to really sound ‘fine’.
There’s a beat before you see him reach for the pliers at his hip, readjusting like he’s set his sights on the culprit.
“Wait, I don’t think you ever told me - hmmpf - what - come on - restaurant you work at?” He readjusts again.
“The Whale,” you give him an answer, hypnotized by his ability to multitask like this.
“Oh, my wife loved that place.” He says it casually like he didn’t just drop a Hiroshima sized bomb on you, or maybe he does and that's why he chose to do it hidden from sight.
You're thankful he can’t see the way your jaw drops, or the disappointment that fills your eyes. There’s a beat of silence before you answer, trying to hide the shock in your voice.
“Wife? I didn’t know Bandit had a Mom.” You look up at the ceiling, mouthing the work ‘fuck’ into the void.
There’s another clank of metal followed by a ‘there you are.’
“Erm - I mean - umm, technically I got Bandit after - I didn’t want to use ex wife, I just don’t know the proper term to say I’ve been widowed for five years.” He grunts one more time before he starts shimming out. “I do think I found the source of your clog though.”
Your favorite stray clings to his forehead when you get to see his face again, a pleased smile pushing his cheeks up despite the new information he just told you as he holds the ring you thought you lost during the move.
“My ring!” You gasp, jumping off your couch, the opal stone catching in the setting sunlight.
“Clearly, you do, do your dishes.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you laughing when you shove his shoulder lightly snatching your jewelry back.
“You’re hilarious Steve.” The tightness that had formed in your chest relaxes, his smile becoming contagious.
He likes the way you say his name and the way your lips twist up every time you do. It’s sweet enough to ease the guilt that he’s fought with since the day he met you.
“I know,” he huffs as he pushes himself up, reminding you how broad he is when he’s back on his feet. “You should’ve seen my speech at the Legends of the Ball gala last year.”
He gets that eye roll he didn’t get to see earlier, and god he doesn’t want to leave yet but when you slip the ring onto that finger he knows it’s time to go. For now.
He clears his throat before turning around to test his work. Flipping the switch, the sound it’s supposed to make returns, the water in the sink draining quickly.
“Annnd, all back to normal.” His grin is proud when he turns it off. “‘Now, let me clean my mess up and I’ll get out of your hair.” Mirroring his own words he finally pushes his back and you see the dusty pink that covers his ears when he slips his feet back into his slides.
“I feel like I can’t let you leave without offering you a drink or something?” You know all you have in the fridge is some rosé you got on sale at Aldi, but you needed a reason for him to stay.
“How about this, you can bring me back some of those fish tacos one night this week and we’ll call it even.” He can’t look at you when he suggests it, hoping his ploy to see you again wasn’t obvious while he busies himself with putting all his tools away.
“I think that’s more than doable, I need to thank you for finding my favorite ring too, maybe you should pick a dessert while we’re at it.” You bite your bottom lip when his eyes meet yours with a lopsided grin.
“I’m a big fan of cannoli’s.” He snaps the clasps of his tool box closed before doing a once over to make sure he didn’t leave anything behind. Not that, that would be a bad thing if he did, you’d have to bring it back to him.
“Consider it done. Seriously, thank you Steve.” All your teasing from before is gone, making his face soften at your sincerity and he wants to tell you that’s enough for him.
“Anytime, that’s what neighbors are for right? It’s always just me and Bandit anyway. It’s nice to feel useful again.” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, like he wouldn’t help you with anything you asked of him despite how he hardly knows you.
You walk him to your door where you both stand on either side of the threshold, toe to toe. Neither one of you is sure of the proper way to say goodbye.
“Give Bandit an extra treat from me for letting me steal his Dad for a few hours.” You break the ice leaning against the door frame, crossing your arms making the decision easy.
“I’ll be sure to tell him it’s from you.” Steve’s eyes gleam from the evident admiration you have for his dog.
“You better.” The threat is empty, the smile on your face to prove it.
“Have a good night honey. I’m always just next door if you need anything else.” He loiters a little bit unsure of himself before finally turning to make his way down the stairs.
“I’ll try not to lose any more jewelry down the drains!” You call after him, relishing in the laugh it gets you that echoes down the narrow hallway.
You wait till he’s out of your sight before you shut your front door. Your mind racing with everything you’d learned about him tonight, sleep was going to be impossible.
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beta’d by @superblysubpar & @newlips 💗
dividers by @newlips 💗
chapter four
#my writing#all i really want it you series#steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington slow burn#steve harrington series#steve harrington fanfiction
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Hi! I have to recite 6-8 lines of poetry for my drama class, but I don’t have any ideas. I know this blog has reblogged some poetry and people have sent asks with poetry, so could you or anyone who sees this suggest some good poetry? It has to be something you can say with full commitment and passion.
Ho for sure! Once I had to do a similar thing for a class, by giving a "gift" and my gift was Wendy Cope's The Orange, since it is one of my favourites.
Others of my favourites include Victor Hugo's Melancholia, Laura Gilpin's The Two Headed Calf, Stephen Crane's In The Desert, Meggie Royer's The Morning After I Killed Myself (poems under the cut)
If you want some more I recommend you check out @poetrysmackdown @apoemaday @havingapoemwithyou
The Orange by Wendy Cope
At lunchtime I bought a huge orange -
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave -
They got quarters and I got a half.
And that orange, it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
This is peace and contentment. It's new.
The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all the jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I'm glad I exist.
Melancholia by Victor Hugo (extract)
Où vont tous ces enfants dont pas un seul ne rit ?
Ces doux êtres pensifs que la fièvre maigrit ?
Ces filles de huit ans qu’on voit cheminer seules ?
Ils s’en vont travailler quinze heures sous des meules ;
Ils vont, de l’aube au soir, faire éternellement
Dans la même prison le même mouvement.
Accroupis sous les dents d’une machine sombre,
Monstre hideux qui mâche on ne sait quoi dans l’ombre,
Innocents dans un bagne, anges dans un enfer,
Ils travaillent. Tout est d’airain, tout est de fer.
Jamais on ne s’arrête et jamais on ne joue.
Aussi quelle pâleur ! la cendre est sur leur joue.
Il fait à peine jour, ils sont déjà bien las.
Ils ne comprennent rien à leur destin, hélas !
Ils semblent dire à Dieu : « Petits comme nous sommes,
Notre père, voyez ce que nous font les hommes ! »
O servitude infâme imposée à l’enfant !
Rachitisme ! travail dont le souffle étouffant
Défait ce qu’a fait Dieu ; qui tue, œuvre insensée,
La beauté sur les fronts, dans les cœurs la pensée,
Et qui ferait — c’est là son fruit le plus certain ! -
D’Apollon un bossu, de Voltaire un crétin !
Travail mauvais qui prend l’âge tendre en sa serre,
Qui produit la richesse en créant la misère,
Qui se sert d’un enfant ainsi que d’un outil !
Progrès dont on demande : « Où va-t-il ? que veut-il ? »
Qui brise la jeunesse en fleur ! qui donne, en somme,
Une âme à la machine et la retire à l’homme !
Que ce travail, haï des mères, soit maudit !
Maudit comme le vice où l’on s’abâtardit,
Maudit comme l’opprobre et comme le blasphème !
O Dieu ! qu’il soit maudit au nom du travail même,
Au nom du vrai travail, sain, fécond, généreux,
Qui fait le peuple libre et qui rend l’homme heureux !
English translation by Geoffrey Barto
[Where do these children go for whom nobody laughs?
These sweet, pensive beings wasted away by fever?
These eight-year-old girls you see walking alone?
They go to work — fifteen hours in the mill;
They go from dawn to dusk, eternally repeating
The same motions in the same prison.
Stooped beneath the teeth of a somber machine,
A hideous monster that chews who-knows-what in the shadows,
Innocents on the chain gang, angels in some hell,
They work. Everything is bronze, all is iron.
Never do they stop and never do they play.
And what paleness! Ash upon their cheeks.
Barely it is dawn, already they are tired.
They understand nothing of their fate, alas!
They seem to say to God: “Little as we are,
Our Father, look what the men do to us!”
O infamous servitude imposed upon the child!
Stunting! work whose stifling breath
Undoes what God has made; that kills, senseless work,
The beauty of their faces, the thought in their heads,
And which would make — here’s its most certain fruit! -
A hunchback of Apollo, a cretin of Voltaire!
Evil work that takes tender youth in its grasp,
That produces wealth by creating misery,
That uses a child like one more tool!
Progress of which we ask: “Where are you going? What do you want?”
That breaks youth in bloom! that gives, in sum,
A soul to a machine and yanks it from a man!
That this work, hated by mothers, be cursed!
Cursed as a degenerative vice!
Cursed as damnable, cursed as blasphemy!
O God! be it cursed even in the name of work,
In the name of true work, healthy, fecund, generous,
That makes the people free and makes man happy!]
The Two-headed Calf by Laura Gilpin
Tomorrow when the farm boys find this
freak of nature, they will wrap his body
in newspaper and carry him to the museum.
But tonight he is alive and in the north
field with his mother. It is a perfect
summer evening: the moon rising over
the orchard, the wind in the grass. And
as he stares into the sky, there are
twice as many stars as usual.
In The Desert by Stephen Crane
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it
“Because it is bitter,
“And because it is my heart.”
The Morning After I Killed Myself by Meggie Royer
The morning after I killed myself, I woke up.
I made myself breakfast in bed.
I added salt and pepper to my eggs and used my toast for a cheese and bacon sandwich.
I squeezed a grapefruit into a juice glass.
I scraped the ashes from the frying pan and rinsed the butter off the counter.
I washed the dishes and folded the towels.
The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love.
Not with the boy down the street or the middle school principal.
Not with the everyday jogger or the grocer who always left the avocados out of the bag.
I fell in love with my mother and the way she sat on the floor of my room holding each rock from my collection in her palms until they grew dark with sweat.
I fell in love with my father down at the river as he placed my note into a bottle and sent it into the current.
With my brother who once believed in unicorns but who now sat in his desk at school trying desperately to believe I still existed.
The morning after I killed myself, I walked the dog.
I watched the way her tail twitched when a bird flew by or how her pace quickened at the sight of a cat.
I saw the empty space in her eyes when she reached a stick and turned around to greet me so we could play catch but saw nothing but sky in my place.
I stood by as strangers stroked her muzzle and she wilted beneath their touch like she did once for mine.
The morning after I killed myself, I went back to the neighbors’ yard where I left my footprints in concrete as a two year old and examined how they were already fading.
I picked a few daylilies and pulled a few weeds and watched the elderly woman through her window as she read the paper with the news of my death.
I saw her husband spit tobacco into the kitchen sink and bring her her daily medication.
The morning after I killed myself, I watched the sun come up. Each orange tree opened like a hand and the kid down the street pointed out a single red cloud to his mother.
The morning after I killed myself, I went back to that body in the morgue and tried to talk some sense into her.
I told her about the avocados and the stepping stones, the river and her parents.
I told her about the sunsets and the dog and the beach.
The morning after I killed myself, I tried to unkill myself, but couldn’t finish what I started.
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The Ballads of Nocturnal Fairies (pt.4)
“Lady of the Ruins”
The rustle of leaves faded.
The white silhouette flashed.
In the ruins of overgrown houses
From the roof the girl jumped.
She wasn't under the rubble,
Her laughter rose higher.
She had the special power,
And waved from another roof.
The house hasn't collapsed yet
For a long time I ran to her.
Climbing on bent scaffolding,
But I didn't find her there.
Sitting on the crumbling balcony
I was holding on to the thin trees.
In the next earthquake
I saw her face again.
She jumped over buildings,
Effortlessly and nimbly,
Out of sight in the greenery,
While I was looking for her.
May the lady of ruin be treacherous,
But she loved playing with me.
I believe that my last ploy
Won't leave me to die.
“Convoy across the desert”
Even before we were sent to a distant battle,
My humble village has long made me worry.
Everyone around only glorified military exploits,
And they completely forgot what wasn’t worth it.
I didn't want to go with them, but I was alone.
If they had listened to me, they wouldn't be trapped.
In unity and numbers we were given strength,
With women's wisdom we would protect each other.
There's a stop in the desert – I stepped off the train
And met a fairy who asked me to dance.
So I twirled with her in the sands by the platform.
For the last time I forgot that I would have to fight.
She bestowed on me the hypnotic frames,
Those whom I led through became peaceful.
So I turned all the soldiers into zombies,
But the real zombies they were before me.
Every day I had to bewitch them again,
Every day they came to their senses earlier.
I was ready to repeat everything endlessly,
But soon my artifact lost power over them.
I listened with anguish as they discussed the explosion,
When giant spiders got into battle on the rails.
That nothing will stop the train, they let me know.
But now I'm convinced how powerful my fairy is.
“Changeling in the nursery”
I helped in the nursery, read books to children
They cried the day the fairy queen came to them
She said she would leave her useless child with us.
A lanky, hooded fairy with darkness instead of a face.
Like a barely noticeable shadow she slid through the room,
We tried in vain to involve her in activities.
The fairy queen demanded to make this nonentity smart.
I didn't think like her, and this matter was entrusted to me.
I sat next to her knowing her real mind was invisible.
She bent over the poems, forgetting about everything.
I knew well the love for silence and solitude, but didn’t say
How wrong her mother was, so as not to scare her away
That her true life is inside, I was trying to say,
While nervous words were whispered incorrectly.
She asked if I spoke with mouth full of roses,
Quoted the unspoken words in poetry.
I wasn’t happy with the result for long, we were interrupted
By those who wanted us to write down those fair poems.
The embarrassed fairy could not repeat them again,
And I blamed myself for not remembering either.
She never appeared in our nursery again.
I wondered what the fairy queen's threat was.
Now only a shadow remains of the mysterious fairy,
I still see her in the golden stains of the moon.
“Two sorceresses”
I lived in an abandoned temple as a renegade sorceress.
I was friends with a dragon that could turn into stone.
At night we snuck into the new temple to visit a neophyte,
Whose magic I wanted to secretly devour.
In the guise of stone I merged with the stairs of dragons,
Waiting for a bronze-skinned student in the hallway.
She took me for a priestess of the highest powers,
Who I was before I was exiled from the temple.
I said I feel the succubus in her powers,
Said that I see her desire to kill.
With an ingenuous smile she objected to me,
But couldn’t refuse an invitation to drink.
I slipped her pills that reveal the true nature,
And with conversations provoked her to cast spells.
All she had to do was sneeze to dispel the magic.
She could easily turn my spells into dust.
Returning to the dragon, I spoke about my failure
And passionately assured that I would not give up.
The neophyte turned out to be an empath who didn't kill.
With this knowledge I will return to her again.
#the ballads of nocturnal fairies#fair folk#fae#fantasy#sapphic#poetry#dark romance#illustration#dreams
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Russia, Israel and sharks
During history classes i think we all were thinking just how could have people been so cruel and dumb back in the day, salting the land, burning towns on the enemies land, targetting people based on the association of ethnicity. And everyone in the classroom was relieved how lucky it is that we are not that backwards anymore in the civilised world and age. We were also shocked how could everyone have gone mad and how the world turned upisde down during the 40 all over europe and asia. It must have been the genious manipulation of propaganda.
But no, we have to admit sadly that they didnt had to do much if anything, most people simply are just like that, they barely need a push to sucumb to that way of thinking, it doesnt take years of propaganda, but about 5 minutes of news.
A few months ago a man in egypt was eaten by a shark, the video is quiet disturbing, but then it came out that he was russian, living in egypt for about 4 years. And twitter immediately become full with such tweets:
And hundreds of extremely distastefull and sadistic comments celebrating this. If someone questioned them, they just wrote how many ukrainian died in the war if they even responded something coherent. When questioned what did he had to do with any of that, the best they could say is that well russians are evil annyway and he propably supported putin too. Its good that there is one less of them.
War footages were also all over social media, i saw a few where they put loony toons sound effects over deaths, of course bright text made it clear that those were russian soldiers (othervise no one could even tell) and you can have the luxury of laughing at it guilt free instead of virtously clutching your pearls. The ones where someone got bombed while taking a piss or sleeping got particularly many likes and retweets.
Acthual unga bunga bronze age mindset.
Collective punishment and gladiator games, things we tought we abandoned centuries ago, but it didnt even took anything for peole to immediately re embrace it with open arms.
At this point we have to admit that the reason for this is that its just simply part of human nature (not that) deep down. Wich makes sense after all. Humans have been existing for about 300 000 years, but we had our current socially acceptable moral system for about a hundred. Playing civilisation for a few centuries arent gonna be enough to weed out the instinctual cavemen out of us. Wich reminded me to this song by MARINA, "savages", it hit the nail on the head perfectly:
youtube
And while maybe war footage is not being shared here, this kind of behavior is definitely not absent from tumblr either.
By the way, talking about ukrain and russia, what do you even know about them? What is the diference between the two? The average internet activist couldnt have been able to point it out on a map before the war. Arent all the news regarding ukrain were talking about how the far right is on the rise in there? But suddenly it become my little UwU ukrain once the war started. My point is that for the avegare person around the world the only diference between the two nation is that one happened to attack the other not the other way around. If history would have went a bit diferently, now you all were laughing at the death of those same poor ukrainian soldiers.
I saw once a tweet made by a guy who just found out that many ukrainians, especially in the army, are deeply religious, and the country is very conservative, and said that he isnt sure he can fully support them anymore lmao.
It was also very cringe how everyone who didnt even heard about Zelensky before started to simp for a random middle eastern politican and made heroic edits about him for the sole virtue of getting attacked, its embarrassing at best.
Did you knew that he was in the panama papers by the way?
And now again with the conflict between israel, palestine and hamas. People just cant behave civilised.
I dont know what is so hard about simply having multiple opinions at the same time, you can easily agree that Palestine should be freed from Israel's influence while also condemning HAMAS.
Many people have been taking off their masks and it often comes from the most suprising groups.
I couldnt have belived that the time comes when people here will support a far right religious fundamentalist terror group.
"but yoU CAnT TelL tHE oprEsSed How REbeLL" I heard many times by now
Yes i can, for example rape, mowing down civilians and parading their bodies like trophies are simply just not part of any military operation and you shouldnt do it, idk why it is a controverial opinion currently.
Also do you think all the extremist groups in the middle east wouldnt want to kill all the jews annyway even if Israel would have been nice? Or you for that matter since i assume the average person reading this isnt a beliver.
The average liberal person with "they/them, ACAB, UwU" in their bio the second there is an armed conflict:
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