QueenCfHearts



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    When Shane was displeased with Ilya, there was a certain intensity in his speech that called to Ilya like a siren song, dragging him to an early grave with its vehemence. His voice would pitch higher, bossy and prissy and so stridently righteous it should be intolerable.

    But Ilya was, for all intents and purposes, a whore. And nothing made him harder than his husband putting him in his place.

    ---

    or, 5 times ilya ragebaits shane because being yelled at by his husband turns him on, +1 time shane realizes he’s doing it on purpose.

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    19 Apr 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Robin leaned closer, voice gentle. “All I’m saying is, it’s okay to like him. And it’s also extremely, painfully obvious.”

    Will froze. “…to who?”

    Robin’s grin stretched slow and wicked. “Only to me. Because I understand. He doesn’t know, don’t worry. Because that boy? Dense. Like, heroically dense. Historically dense. Scientists are going to study him.”

    Will huffed, cheeks burning. Will’s eyes darted involuntarily to the centre of the room. Max and El were squished together on an armchair. Mike was sprawled on the carpet with Dustin and Lucas, waving his arms around dramatically as he argued about which Star Wars film was objectively the best. His hair was a mess. His cheeks were flushed. He was smiling.

    And Will felt that stupid expanding warmth in his chest that he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried.

    💕💕💕💕

    Post-Vecna, Will and Robin continue to bond. Robin knows Will likes Mike. Mike thinks Will likes Robin.

    One jealousy spiral, several misunderstandings, and a lot of pining later… they finally kiss.

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    13 Dec 2025

  3. Public Bookmark 23

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    "Long day, huh."

    "Long fuckin' week."

    "Mm. You're cold, too."

    Will squeezes, again, and then reaches back for the knife. Nico tries not to pout too obviously at the loss. At the teasing, rolled eyes he can feel from Will's direction, he doubts he is successful, but Will concedes to lean farther into him, even though it throws him off balance. So it cannot be too bad.

    "I don't know how much it will help with the shitty week, sweetheart, but I guessed at the cold." He points his chin at the pot sitting neatly on the stained stovetop, wooden spoon balanced precariously off the half-bent lid. "I made -- well, I tried to make, don't get your hopes up -- pasta fasioi. Called Chiara about it."

    He says it easy, nonchalantly, but Nico watches the grip he has around the knife's handle, and grins. Don't get your hopes up, he says. As if he didn't half-grow up in the back of a diner, as if he doesn't know his way around a spice rack.

    Nico loves him more than anything.
    ---
    OR: Nico has a shitty day. Will helps.

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    06 Aug 2025

  4. Public Bookmark 38

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    "You can touch yourself," he says, quiet, "when I say so."

    Nico scowls. "And how are you going to stop me?"

    Will shrugs. He ducks out of view for a moment, and Nico's heart stops -- he cranes his head around, for a second, like that will magically work, like he's be able to see outside the screen. Will's voice is muffled, interrupted by the wheels of a pulled drawer and the rustling of it's contents.

    "Well --" He huffs, audibly, off screen, humming when he finds what he's looking for and crawling back on his bed -- "I'm going to finger myself, regardless, but if you're good I'll let you watch."

    The grin he shoots in Nico's direction is goading and devilish. He is under no delusions that Nico is going to up and walk away -- his cock is actually straining in his pants, and his balls are starting to ache -- and no matter what, he gets off. He wins.

    And gods, Nico does not mind in the slightest.
    ---
    OR: Long distance is a pain in the ass. Sometimes literally!

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    27 Jul 2025

  5. Public Bookmark 71

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    "You make me — you make me —" he breathes hard and pushes the words out, hips doing a slow, punishing roll to make Nico grunt and shudder — "you make me feel like my body stops listening to my brain," he says, helplessly, and burns red in a way that promises honesty as much as arousal. "I don't — no one else makes me feel like that —"

    "They better not," Nico growls, and Will huffs a moaning, broken laugh as Nico thrusts up into him, pressing deep enough that there is a bulge in his stomach that makes them both lurch, that gives them both desperate pause.
    "No one," Will promises, breathless. He loosens his nails from Nico's chest and rests his flat, scraping palms over his pectorals, stroking gently. "No one has ever made me feel like you do, Nico. Like I'm — burning, from the center of me out."

    It is a familiar statement, one that feels reflected from Nico's own obsession with him, with his own constant need to touch, to taste, to have. Will smiles at him and Nico burns like magma, from the dead center of his chest; Will stretches the line of his throat and the urge to sink in his teeth, to bite, is so strong it hurts.
    ---
    OR: Nico and Will, naked, under the Northern Lights.

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    27 Jul 2025