golfer
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Summary
“You’re going to stop this, Luthor.”
“Oh, am I? Because I’ve spent a great deal of time, money, and political clout to ensure that it does happen, so I am curious to hear how exactly you intend to stop me."
Series
- Part 1 of mutually beneficial arrangements
Bookmarked by golfer
29 Jul 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
I HATE THEM I LOVE THEM HAHAHA
He’s never seen him like this before, never properly watched his face when they were like this, together. When he’s vulnerable and open. It’s strange, seeing the affable steel pulled back and all the softness that lay beneath. It’s more familiar than he realised.
“Is this even an effort for you?” Lex gasps out, sounding more desperate than he intended. His wet eyes dart across that perfect face, cataloguing everything. “Can you feel any of it?”
Brilliantly blue eyes blink open, staring down at him, and suddenly he wished he’d never said anything. “All of it,” Superman says, voice sounding strained even though he couldn’t possibly be. “Everything.”
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Summary
There is a spot, sloping down into the sea and obstructed from view and he hates and loves it all the same. It’s a privacy he longs for, and does not believe he deserves. He watches the way the sun blinks slowly back and forth from life at the whims of the clouds. He wonders, as the wind rolls up the hill, how such a gift from God would even grace his cheeks. There’s an equal measure of secrecy there, of obscurity and the shame of feeling that, when gone from the eyes of the pious little monks, he can hide from the eyes of God as well.
Bookmarked by golfer
12 Jun 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
Omg 😭😭
When he knows he has held the hand for too long, he lets it go, drops his own down to his chest. He expects Diarmuid to pull it back, to go back to his task. Maybe the mute might take a short nap before he mucks the mule’s stable. But his fingers stay. He feels the presence of them lingering until, to the mute’s surprise, two fingers brush along his bottom lip. The touch is feather-light. Almost nonexistent. Almost so frail he thinks he might have imagined it. But they get braver, they trace the dried, chapped skin of his lip with a purpose.
He stays still and only carefully does he part his lips to pull in air, desperately reminding himself to keep breathing. And just as he does, Diarmuid slips his fingers nervously—cautiously—inside his mouth.
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Summary
They've been fucking for three weeks.
It is calamitous. They have performed every manner of indecency on one another in such a short span of time, Flint wonders if there will be lasting damage of some variety. He has never been so thoroughly exhausted in so comprehensive a manner.
Except for one missing thing...
Bookmarked by golfer
12 Jun 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
Silver’s hair is a mess, his neck and face bright with sweat in the lamplight. His eyes are shut, his head knocked back against the floor, but he reaches with unerring certainty for Flint. Flint curls obediently into him, flush with Silver’s slick hot side, burying his face in the sharp smell of Silver’s wet armpit. He feels himself start to shiver, a cold clench in his belly that moves out into his limbs like a paralysing fever. He feels wounded.
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Summary
Diarmuid loves him like he loves God. Deeply and inexplicably.
Bookmarked by golfer
05 Jun 2025
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Summary
In the thick heat of a 1932 Mississippi summer, Sammie learns the Devil don’t always come with horns. Sometimes, he comes with songs.
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Bookmarked by golfer
29 May 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
The wind kicked up, smelled of mud and memory.
And the sun was comin’.
“Time,” Remmick said, hand on his shoulder.
Sammie looked once more at the house across the road—his mama’s, or what was left of it. Window boarded. Porch sunk. The steps where he’d once tied his shoes before runnin’ off to play.
He turned away.
Oh 😭😭