A compilation of WilliamEst and/or EstWilliam oneshot stories that keeps me up all night. I am also open to requests.

Every girl wanted Père Caius Fournier. But I was the abbot's daughter-his privileged little dove. I came to him just past dawn, wet with sin, and nothing underneath my white muslin gown. No chemise. No pantalettes. Just skin, sweat, and the ache between my thighs. "Father," I whispered, kneeling before him, "I've come to confess what we never finished that night-" He told me to repent. But his eyes said stay.

"You sentenced me to die," William whispers, "and now you come crawling back like I'm the only one who ever made you feel alive." Est Supha Sangaworawong was built to be clean. Polished. A prosecutor with a flawless record and no room for mistakes, or monsters. William Jakrapatr was supposed to be just that. One trial. One headline. One death sentence. Case closed. Until the dreams started. Not of the crime. Not of the courtroom. Just him. The convict with chained hands and a smile that feels like a secret. Now Est is back at the prison. Sitting. Watching. Wanting. What started as obsession twists into something darker, desire wrapped in guilt, lust heavy with betrayal. A WilliamEst Story. ⚠️ Disclaimers: This story contains explicit content, moral corruption, psychological seduction, emotional breakdowns, and sex that feels like sin. You've been warned. This is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and moral choices depicted are entirely fictional and created for storytelling purposes. Some themes may be dark, controversial, or morally complex. They are not intended to promote or glorify any specific behavior. If you're uncomfortable with moral ambiguity, imperfect characters, or dark content, please proceed with caution. Not all actions are meant to be endorsed. Reader discretion is advised.

Mars' schedules had been hectic, like properly burn-out worthy, and Nano had had enough. Without needing to use much of his charm, he'd managed to persuade his members and their partners to take a break and go on holiday. ----------------------------------------------- "Tada!" the youngest surprised us with the tickets. I stared at them, half excited and half unamused. "We're going where, again?" "Europe." he simply answered, not giving in my poor attempts to extract more information. "Yes, I got that, but where?" "The South, Dylan," he sighed annoyed, "what's it to you anyway?" I shrugged, "Wanna know what to pack." "Alright then," he nodded his head, deep in thought, "it's Greece." "Beautiful country." I said, unsure about what he meant. "No, silly," he giggled like a little menace, "we're going to Greece." Inspired by Selini's 'Erwtas' (love/romance)

Italy 1952, we meet then. We are 7 years old. It's me and him, him and I. France 1953, we start to form our friendship. Scotland 1955, I realize I have strong feelings about him. Italy 1962, here we are 10 years later. We are 17. Same house, same beach, me and him. Him and I. Note: The first seven chapters were written one year ago and I'm kind of bored to re-write them completely, so if you see a change in the writing style, that's why.