#//this was…….. supposed to be a small little thing to get my muse juices flowing………..

[outofthiisworld]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ STABILIZATION.

The static in the air pulsated against Doc’s skin; the workshop illuminated in hues of deep purple— all thanks to a small, segmented source of Ectoplasm. Stationed front and center of the makeshift laboratory, the cosmic static of necrosis was barely contained in a small vial of reinforced glass.

The containment remained vigilante under the sleeping energy. <- Rookie mistake number one: the energy was never asleep, not really. Always infinite in its plasmic expanse, fit to CONSUME at a moment’s notice— fit to charge, detonate, or implode before a blink.

How many times had Doc stressed this before? And how many arrogant researchers had lost their lives in a pursuit of the ego? (The real question is: how much time you got?)

Yet, ever the hypocrite himself, Doc got comfortable. So complacent in the decade of his research, with his back turned for only a moment— but a moment long enough for a CRACK in the vial to SHATTER!

A jolt of Ectoplasm SHOT through, the stream of sparks collided against a haphazardly discarded gas canister at the far corner of the workshop (one that Doc so woefully promised to properly toss MONTHS ago)—

AN ERUPTION OF DISCHARGE IGNITED!!!

A BRIGHT, [BLINDING LIGHT] HAD CHIPPED HIS GOGGLES— THE FORCE OF THE ERUPTION KNOCKED THE WIND OUT OF HIS LUNGS BEFORE—!!!

…

It never hit him.

The explosion stopped. Suspended in detonation, as if frozen in time— the force of the eruption held by an invisible force that pulsed a familiar purple.

Doc blinked, his eyesight adjusted, only to see Ophelia at the doorway.

She tilted her head, and without so much as a further twitch— the explosion imploded in itself by her own telekinetic force, until it evaporated into thin air with a single PUFF.

Ophelia opened her mouth, but Doc raised his hand up much faster.

“I know, I know. Shouldn’t have been studying Ectoplasm without you,” or at least not without another lab partner. “You know me— just got antsy. Felt like I finally had a breakthrough.”

“Oh? What this time?”

“The usual— stabilization. Got close, FELT like I got close. Until, uh…”

The two looked over at the center of the workshop. Torn apart and scorched by the detonation itself. Oops.

Doc collapsed back into his chair, slumped over, and rubbed at his face. A heavy sigh followed while he tossed his goggles onto his desk, covered in the sprawled out notes of a mad man (in a fit of exhaustion? annoyance? relief? yes).

A hand touched his shoulder, gentle enough to ground him back down to reality, and he squeezed the hand into his own palm.

“Doc?”

He hummed in acknowledgement, but kept his eyes closed.

“What’s got you so worried about stabilizing Ectoplasm?”

Doc froze. A frog lodged in his throat, one he cleared with a cough.

“Worrying is what I do— I’m your pops AND your doctor, you know. It’s a never ending sort of job,” Doc collected himself with a smirk, one that Ophelia rolled her eyes at (with a giggle, of course).

“It’s good to stay on top of these things— more I know about Ectoplasm, more I can make sure you’re in good shape. There aren’t any other Ectoplasmic Specialists out there, you know. Unless you’ve been holding out on me, missy—”

“Okay, okay— I get it! Next time, just let me know next time, okie dokie?”

“Okie dokie.”

Ophelia smiled, satisfied with the answer (for now) and pressed a small kiss on top of his head.

#📝 … drabble #🧪... ic #💜… ic #// HE KNOWS :) #//this was…….. supposed to be a small little thing to get my muse juices flowing……….. #//ended up consuming me instead of helping me do drafts. oops.

[therebekahmikaelson]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. ( REPOST DO NOT REBLOG ! )

○  name: Kay ○  pronouns: She/Her/Potato

○   preference of communication: Discord once we’ve got an established thing going! :) 

○    name of muse(s): Rebekah & Dany (@theunburntprotector) are my leading ladies, forever and always. These two are here to stay and I have so much fun because, at this point, I feel that I know them like the back of my hand. In recent, I’ve given Hayley Marshall and Rhaenyra Targ a go as well, but write them more selectively. Guess I like my familiar fandoms!   ○    experience/how long (months/years?): I believe my first escapade with the RPC was in my early teen years. Consistency has ebbed and flowed, but I am now an old relic who is enjoying writing more than ever. I love having a great group of people I write with consistently, and find this to be such a fun, relaxing, and creative outlet. 

○    platforms you’ve used: Tumblr & Disco

○   best experience: Meeting the little circle of friends on here who share similar interests. We get to write together, be creative together, geek out together, grow characters together, and really enjoy this thing.

○    rp pet peeves / dealbreakers: Drama, plain and simple. 

○    fluff, angst, or smut: MUST I CHOOSE? I CHOOSE ALL THREE! THE GOLDEN TRIFECTA! However, I would say fluff and angst trump smut for me, and I like to have a healthy sampling of both in my threads at any given time.

○    plots or memes:○  Both! I’m always open to plotting something new and different, especially if we are established writing partners. However, throwing a good old-fashioned meme my way is a fun way to get those creative juices flowing!

○    best time to write: Given I am a psychopath, I write somewhere between the hours of 5am and 7am... I’m an early riser who feels most productive in the morning, so I love diving into a thread over a cup of coffee. It’s weird but it’s me.

○    are you like your muse(s): Not so much. Maybe in small ways (Rebekah and I both hate country music? Daenerys and I both treat our pets like our children?), but for the most part I enjoy writing women who are different from me and different from each other. I suppose we all know what we want, and are ambitious to accomplish our goals, but I am way too patient and kind to be in their glorious ranks. <3 

tagged by: @demcnsinmymind

tagging: @viikingwitch @cursedbcrn @ravusnightblossom @dragcnlxrd @nanlanmo @brokencanbefixed

#ooc

[forever-rogue]

Patricia!! First of all congrats on a new follower milestone! Those are always so exciting and asking and you deserve every one of them! Could I possibly request 39: “I wish we could stay like this forever” and 80: “let’s run away together” from promo list 2 with Oberyn? I love how you write him and would die to see what you do with this 🥺 ily Patricia! And congrats again! ❤️

Anything for you, my love! Enjoy 🥺

(also not necessary but I am a fool - this could totally be read as a slice of life in INO)

Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader ; warnings: references to sex

Pedro Characters Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

The warmth, golden light filtered in through the sheer curtains, and the fresh, salty smell of the ocean and sound of chirping birds hit you all at once. It was a late, but beautiful and blissful morning and you were loath to get up. All you wanted was to stay here forever, wrapped up in the arms of your beautiful lover. Almost as if he sensed that you were up, you felt him grinning against your skin as he pressed a flurry of gentle, saccharine kisses to your chest and collarbones. You mumbled something into the soft pillow, something about wanting just five more minutes of sleep, but he just chuckled. 

“Sleep is for the dead, sunshine,” he murmured as he worked his way up your neck and stopped at your lips.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," a small huff of air escaped your nose as you pouted at him, slowly opening your bleary eyes. You found his soft brown ones, crinkled sweetly in the corners as he grinned at you, studying your face intently, “good morning.”

“Speak for yourself,” you teased him, “it cannot be a good morning if I am being woken up at such an ungodly hour!”

“Ungodly hour,” Oberyn laughed - a twinkling, beautiful sound - before laying back down and pulling you on top of him. You made a small sound of surprise at the sudden motion, but quickly quieted down when you felt his warm, bare body against yours. His golden skin on yours was delicious and warm, soft and strong at the same time, a perfect juxtaposition - just like him. You laid your head onto his chest, “it is almost the afternoon, sweet girl, it’s hardly ungodly.”

“Why can I not enjoy the day in bed with my prince?” you sighed softly, running a hand through his dark curls, “why should I allow the world to part me from my lover in such a manner?”

“Unfortunately the world requires us to be present,” he chuckled as kissed the top of your head. You huffed lightly although you understood what he meant. You'd always known - from the moment you had met the handsome prince.

“And what’s more important? The world or me?” you joked as he grazed his fingers up and down your spine, leaving a wake of gooseflesh under his fingertips. You sighed into his touch before pressing a few kisses to his bare chest.

“You, of course,” he promised, “and you have me always, first and foremost. But sometimes the world needs their prince.”

"And what about me?" you said softly as his large hands landed thoroughly on your backside, giving the firm flesh of your ass a squeeze. You giggled wildly before turning to look up at him and grabbing his jaw, "play fair!"

"I am," he insisted as you kissed him, "you will always manage without me. For the world needs their prince, but what is a mere prince to the queen?"

"Shut up," you groaned at him before moving to sit up so you were straddling his lap, his body humming with gentle love under yours, "you are not even a prince - only a mere fool!"

"A fool for you," he insisted softly as his hands found purchase on your hips. You beamed at him, golden as the sunlight and causing his heart to melt, "let me show you how a queen - my queen - is treated."

"Oberyn," you gasped slightly as his hands wandered up your body and to your breasts, "I thought we had to get up and rejoin society?"

"I've changed my mind," he grinned, "the prince needs you instead."

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Its beautiful here," you were sprawled out on the lush, soft blanket, soaking up as much sun as possible. You were near the edge of the stunning lake, secluded and alone, as you listened to the soft lapping of the waves onto the shore. It was so serene and blissful, for a few moments you almost forgot that a world outside of this place existed. 

Oberyn hummed in content as he popped a few fresh, plump berries into his mouth. He grabbed a particularly plump looking strawberry and held it out to you, dangling it just in front of your lips. You made a show of taking a large bite from the berry, letting the juice dribble from your lips and down your chin.  He tuttled lightly before using his thumb to collect the juices and holding it out to you. 

Grabbing his wrist, you pulled his thumb into your mouth before sucking it clean before slowly releasing it with a loud pop. He grinned at you, before pulling you in for a kiss. 

"You are a very tantalizing little thing," he licked across your bottom lip, savoring the sweetness that lingered. You grinned against him before pulling away and lying back down on the blanket. Oberyn watched you for a few moments before lying next to you, his large hand grabbed yours and he defty laced your fingers together, "you're thinking much too loudly."

"I am doing nothing of the sort," you shrugged innocently, keeping your eyes closed in order to shield them from the sun - and Oberyn. He had a knack for being able to read every thought and feeling almost as if he was able to see into your soul. Naturally, there were a million things running through your mind at once, but you weren't going to tell Oberyn any of that - not yet anyway, "perhaps you're being too analytical."

"It wouldn't be the first time I've been accused of such a thing," he snorted in laughter, "but I, my sunshine, am also able to read to you - easily. Tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours."

"And if I refuse to speak my peace?"

"Then I shall be forced to pull it out of you," he insisted softly as he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a delicate kiss to your knuckles. Sighing contentedly, you rolled onto your side so you could properly face him.

And he was beautiful - so stunning in his golden glory. He was older now, than when you'd first met him, calmer after everything he'd survived in King's Landing, even more wise and world weary than the best men. Which you supposed he was; a man with words as sweet as roses or sharp as hawthorne - it was easy to see why everyone fell at his feet, but he still reminded them of why he was the Red Viper.

The soft brown of his eyes, flecked with gold in the light, always seemed to betray him.  At least to you anyways. His hair was longer these days, softer much like him, lightened by the sun and flowing into luscious curls. His facial hair has greyed slightly (from keeping up with all of the kids he always claimed), and he was more...him. 

You'd always loved him, from the day he seemed to save you from a life of uncertainty and domineering men. But it has been a privilege to watch him grow, to see him become the best version of him - it was always thanks to you, he claimed, a guise you greatly disputed. But you loved him - your husband - more than the moon and all the glittering stars in the night sky. 

Playing with you a lock of his soft hair, you continued to brush off the insinuation that anything was wrong, "nothing is the matter, Oberyn. I am merely enjoying the private company of my husband."

“And yet there is so much going on in that mind,” he mused, as you shrugged innocently, “so much buzzing, I’d think we were in Honeyholt and tending to the bees. My dear sunshine, you should know better by now - when have I ever let such a thing go?”

“You are incessant,” you groaned lightly, but appreciating the care and concern nonetheless, “it is silly - a mere folly that should not even worry me and alas, here I am.”

“If it matters to you, then it is not a mere folly,” he promised, “you can tell me anything.”

“I know,” you agreed with a small. You sat up slowly pulling your knees to your chest as you looked out into the sparkling water. Oberyn followed suit before moving to sit in front of you, putting his hand under your chin and turning your face up to his. He almost left you breathless with his easy beauty and warmth, “it’s just...I like this. Just you and me, no one else around, no worries, no duties. I...I hate to think once we return home it will all cease to exist - you will be forced to your duties, as I understand you must, and I? Well, I suppose I will be your dutiful wife, hoping and wishing for a chance to see her husband.”

“Then I suppose we should run away, shouldn’t we?”

“I...Oberyn...what?”

“I’m serious,” he insisted softly as you just laughed at his idealistic ways, “let’s run away together, even if just for a while. No one has to know...and when we are ready we shall return.”

“That is a temporary solution for a permanent problem, my love,” you gave him a weak smile before pulling out of his touch, “what about when we return to Dorne?”

“Always so serious, my sunshine,” he chuckled softly as you huffed at him, “you must ruin every little surprise, mustn’t you?”

“I have done nothing,” you insisted, sticking out your tongue at him, “all I do is care about my husband and I am teased and punished for being woeful and caring!”

“You have not been teased -”

“I have too, Oberyn Martell!”

“I will make it up to you, sweet girl,” he praised with a glint in his eye, “however, whenever, and wherever you should fancy. Now - will you let me finish?”

“I have not been-”

“Your prince demands it.”

“Well your queen insists that she hasn’t been doing anything of the short,” gave him a little smirk, “but go on and tell me about this so called surprise.”

“When we return home to Dorne, things will be different,” he promised as you raised your eyebrows in question, “I have been thinking, and don’t even say a word, and I think it’s time for me to...take a step back and let Doran and Arianne, as his heir, handle things from now. I am getting tired...weary, of all these tasks that should be left to the next ruler. Besides, Arianne is more than ready to take over. I think I should quite enjoy a quiet, leisurely life.”

“Oberyn,” your mouth dropped and formed a small o as you studied him to try and see if he was being honest. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth before he broke out in a wonderful grin. You leaned over and kissed him, unable to stop yourself, “do you mean it? Please tell me this isn’t some sort of cruel joke.”

“I would never do such a thing,” he whispered as he pulled you into his lap and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “I just think...it’s time. Besides, there is nothing more I want than to spend my day with you, and the girls - think of all the things we can do. There are still ways to help our people, but we will do it together.”

“You continually amaze me,” a single tear, this one of nothing but happiness and love had rolled down your cheek as you pressed your forehead against his, “and I will never know what I did to deserve you, and I will be forever grateful to the universe for bringing you to me.”

“Now you’re just flattering me,” he reached up and gently wiped away the tear, “for it should be the other way around. I take it as though you are not opposed to the notion?”

“Not at all,” you smiled softly, “I could have asked for nothing better.”

“Then what do you say?” his hand found the back of your neck as he gave you a gentle squeeze, “shall we run away? To Essos - the Summer Isles - far away from everything? Only to return when we decide we are ready to?

“Yes,” you eagerly agreed, delighted by the prospect of spending the days and nights at your husband’s side, without a care in the world, “I want nothing more.”

“Then it is settled,” he promised, “now, will you let me show you every way in which I love you?”

“Oberyn!” your face flushed with warmth as you looked around to make sure no was within ear shot, “we are out in the open! Anyway could...see.”

“And that is not our problem,” he shrugged simply, “we have told them not to disturb us, hopefully they heed our advice. But now, sweet girl, you are all mine.”

“Always,” you promised softly, “I am forever yours.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #got #oh my sweet prince #forever-rogue's follower celebration

[calunasteria]

please, xanny. | sanzu haruchiyo

"𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚."

- wherein sanzu haruchiyo falls in love. that's all. (i'm bad at summarising my stories, i'm sorry ><)

current word count: 3.1k

tw (throughout the series): mentions of drug use and abuse, manipulation (gaslighting) and toxic relationships, mentions of blood, death, and murder, rape (attempt), use of deadly weapons, slight nsfw (??) - kindly tell me if i missed one. thank you.

date started: 07/29/21 (wattpad) | 07/31/21 (tumblr)

date ended: -

01 ! please,xanny.

-

what was it? was it the alcohol? was it the food they ate earlier? maybe it was spoiled, or worse, maybe it has drugs? probably no.

 maybe she's just overthinking things.

maybe she's just imagining all of this.

to say that she's inloveㅡ no, cross that out, to say that he's inlove is dangerous.

but how is it that the sanzu haruchiyo, bonten's number 2, is making her feel numerous things?

he reeked of instability, insanity.

yet his touch was as soft as the cotton, gentle like the wind, it was comforting.

say....

have you ever known what it felt like to drive on highways, with gnawing trepidation?

to taste betrayal and fondness while running on an endless tunnel of vague roads?

to be loved by none other than sanzu haruchiyo?

-

"welcome everyone, to our company's afterparty, please enjoy yourselves for tonight!" honey dripping voice echoed throughout the wide spaced room that is decorated with some dimmed and flashing lights, shimmering crystals plastered on the wall, extravagant leather couches, and large, black speakers booming with music. her soft, delicate hands then set the microphone down, as her wavy jet black hair bounced and swayed as she walked down the stairs with elegance.

"nakashima-san, the director wants to talk to you, he said to head towards the VIP area, over there." a small voice beside the stairs managed to squeak out, catching the girl's attention and turning her head to the direction he pointed at.

"did he told you the reason why he wanted to talk to me?" she asked, voice filled with a hint of irritation and tiredness - the complete opposite of how she sounded earlier on the stage. the boy shook his head, then uttered 'excuse me' before dashing away from his superior.

the girl then just sighed and walked towards the bar counter, which is the complete opposite of the direction she was told to go.

"one grey goose martini and a plain cranberry juice, please. thank you." she ordered as she sat down.

"wow, you're actually gonna drink tonight, kasumi? are your shits finally getting to you, girl?" the lady beside her stated with amusement as she popped out of nowhere, a glass of whiskey found in her hand, still laughing and smiling drunkenly.

"yes, kaoru. where the fuck were you? you were supposed to be the one to speak up front earlier to welcome the guests, not me, because i was the one who arranged this. and now boss said he wanted to talk to me about something." kasumi vented to her friend while her friend's grin just got wider, further infuriating her.

"whY THE HELL ARE YOU SMILING KAORU I-"

"calm the fuck down, kasumi, don't let boss get into your nerves, okay? its just me, so inhale, exhale. nice! see, just go drink your shits and talk to boss later. maybe hand in your resignation slip, you know?" kaoru laughed while wiggling her eyebrows and hugging kasumi.

the two talked to each other for a while before kasumi bid her goodbye and stood up to head to the direction she was supposed to go to earlier.

her heels clacked on the expensive marbled flooring while her black silk dress hugged her curvaceous body, gently flowing while walking.

upon reaching her destination, there she saw her boss with at least 4 women whispering and flirting with him, one on his lap and 3 beside him, along side with his other friends and acquaintances. they both shared a glance momentarily as kasumi forcefully smiled to her boss.

"ah yes, everyone, excuse me for i have something to finish up with my personal assistant." her boss announced to all the people around him, making kasumi uncomfortable and embarrassed, by all the stares she accumulated and daggers she got from the women who was flirting earlier with her boss.

"let's go, darling." sentence uttered by her boss before they left the place with him grabbing her wrist, and oh heavenly archons how irritated kasumi was because of her boss' actions and words.

she was practically being dragged away the from the event area, their shoes resonating throughout the empty hallways that are connected to the parking lot when she asked him, "excuse me sir, but where are we going? i thought you said you wanted to talk to me?"

"hmmm, yes. that's right, don't worry, kasumi-chan, we're just going to talk while where on a late night drive, and it'll definitely enlighten you. now get in the car." he ordered with flirty yet stern voice but kasumi did not budge at all - she just stared in disbelief to her boss, anger bubbling up within her.

"kasumi, we both know that i don't like repeating myself, now do what i said, please."

"i'm sorry but i don't think i'll go with you since we can talk here. so just say what you need to say so i can get on with my life, thank you." she declared cheekily.

"i said get in the car, why are yo-" he blurted out with annoyance but was cut off when kasumi said, "seems to me like you don't have anything to say, well i have one, i'm resigning, kitamura-san, i'll hand the file tomorrow, so if you have any requests, tell them to your next assistant." then proceeds to walk away that made her boss snap.

rushing towards her with malice and anger, with his system being controlled by the alcohol he consumed earlier, he grabbed kasumi's hair making her stumble and lose her balance, while the towering man held her waist with his left arm and his right arm held her face forcefully, and whispered to her from behind, "that's what i hate about you, you're so fucking stubborn, you and your smart ass mouth, i hate it so fucking much makes me want to shove my dick down your throat to make you obey me, and cry you bitch."

kasumi had chills run down her spine when she heard her boss mutter those words to her, and when she felt him grinding on her from behind ㅡ the last string of patience she had snapped in half, all she can see was red.

she used all her strength to stomp on the man's foot making him clutch down because of pain inflicted by her stiletto, releasing his hands that grasped her smaller frame. her hands then moved swiftly with anger to slap the man before her, knees being lifted up to kick his crotch making him to finally crumple down on the floor, silently mumbling profanities under his breath containing hatred.

"the next time you pull that stunt with me, or with other girls, i'll make sure you won't have something called dick after that." she threatened, voice laced with venom as she tried to wipe the ruffles that ruined her expensive, dusk colored dress.

"don't think you'll get away with this, bitch." the man croaked out while standing up, eyes filled with animosity, but then falling on his knees once again when a sharp, solid whipping sound tore through his thighs, vermillion colored blood gushing out of the gaping hole that was shot, followed by his shrill, agonized wail.

"seems like you grew stronger these past few years, kasumi-chan." a familiar voice grinned, few meters away from her.

"haruchiyo." she whispered under her breath, astounded.

***

"kasumi? are you listening?" a soft feminine voice spoke out, breaking the deep trance the raven coloured hair girl was in - chasmic ebony eyes stared at the person next to her, embarrassment creeping up in her system, realizing that she hasn't paid any attention to the words and sentences that her friend was telling her.

"i'm sorry, kaoru. what were you saying again?" she apologized, tuning her attention towards her half eaten sandwich that she was munching earlier.

"i was asking you if you know that boy over there, 5 o'clock," kasumi whipped her head towards the direction her friend gave her, eyes landing on a somewhat familiar person - he had a medium length hair dyed with bleach blonde, eyes glimmering like precious blue zircon gem, long and beautiful eyelashes that highlighted his daring eyes and a noticeable black mask covering half of his face. he looked so serene among the vast crowd  filled with bustling people.

"sanzu?" she asked turning her head to her friend who's eyes sparked with curiosity and underlying suspicions.

"how'd you know him?" the petite girl squinted her eyes to her friend, making kasumi roll her ebony orbs. "i just happen to know his name. after all, he's in a gang, right? toman, i think."

"i wasn't aware that you know about gangs, kasumi-chan. perhaps you like their leader, huh." her friend teased earning another eye roll from her brunette friend. "i'm just kidding. its just that i haven't saw him without his mask. some people say he has nasty scar on both side of his mouth, and i don't know if its legit, but given the fact that he wears that mask, its probably true." kaoru shrugged and stood up to head to their class.

sanzu haruchiyo. he was definitely mysterious, kasumi mused, as she walked. he was quiet and he had a calm demeanor when he talks. they weren't close but they shared a small talk in the past, and usually its just about school, like each of their classes borrowing and returning some school supplies and other little things. she never even heard him speak more than 7 words. well, it wasn't a big deal, since she thinks that he's just an another person on this world who has probably their own shits to deal with. he was insignificant to her as she was to him. or so she thought.

their room was filled with silent mumblings, a heavenly boring stupor that kasumi tried to fight, heavily lidded eyes blinking slowly in the hopes of trying to understand their lesson - she was tired and sleepy and it was not long until their class ended, her mind being awakened once again like a newborn baby, because she's going home.

their house reeked of alcohol and despair, of cigarettes and sorrow - it was a hopeless sight. everything was a mess. kasumi then heard a faint coughing on their kitchen and there she saw her ill mother who's trying to wash the dishes with her frail arms, her thin and small frame found her daughter who rushed to her side to help her do the chores but then just told her to sit down and rest.

"mama, you're not supposed to be doing that. you're the one here who needs to rest, i can handle that. besides, where's papa?"

"he's out, i think. but don't worry, kasumi i'm almost finished. we can then eat dinner afterwards so you can talk to me about what happened today with you? you don't have work tonight, right sweetheart?" her mother's voice was definitely her haven, it was warm and sweet. "yes, sure." the girl replied, already at ease but then her phone chimed loudly, signaling that someone texted her - it was her co-worker that texted her he can't attend his shift, and was asking kasumi to be the one to replace him for the mean time.

what are the fucking odds.

her mother noticed the younger's change of emotion and asked, "who was it, sweetheart?" and it pained kasumi to leave her mother alone again but she needs to work. she needs the money. "i need to go, i actually have work since im covering for my co-worker's shift. i'll be right back, so make sure you eat your dinner. i love you." she kissed her mother on her forehead before she left.

***

"thank you, come again!" the girl chimed in, weariness evident in her voice. it was 2:30am and god knows how tired she was. this was supposed to be her day off but the universe just straight up said no.

"nakashima-san, i'm so sorry, you can now go, i'll take it from here on. please take this on your way home as a compensation for what you did to me. thank you! take care on your way home." her co-worker apologized, shyly smiling and blush evident on his cheeks as he handed her a plastic bag filled with some foods and snacks.

kasumi uttered her thanks, with a small smile as she went to change her clothes to go home already as all she wants to do right now was sleep and rest.

upon reaching the store's parking area for bicycles, she noticed that one its tires was flat. she sighed loudly, venting out her exasperation and frustration.

"well, guess i'll walk then. fuckkkkkk. this isn't my day huh." she groaned, muttering some profanities before going on her way home.

it was a chilly night, the breeze was crisp and wintry, with her trembling breath rising up forming a ghostly smoke, vanishing into thin air as she exhales. her whole body was quivering because her cardigan was too thin for this type of weather. kasumi hugged herself in hopes of warming herself up. the skies were tainted with midnight blue perfectly combined with the pitch black heavens decorated with gleaming constellations and stars, along with the dimly hanged moon.

her way home usually takes around 30-40 minutes with her bike, and around an hour and a half if one decides to walk. it was a peaceful and cold night not until she passed this one dark alleyway where there were 2 men laughing their asses off, and another one drinking away his life. kasumi paid no attention to the men and just picked up her walking pace to quickly get out of the picture when her left arm was sharply snatched by one of the men in the dark alleyway.

"hey pretty, wanna have fun with us?" the man grinned like a maniac, his yellow teeth visible and his breath smelled like rum and hostility combined together. the other men laughed like crazy while the last one ogled at kasumi's body.

"no, let me go you ugly bastards." kasumi snapped, snatching her hand away from the man, before turning away to run. she wasn't dumb to not pick up what in fuck was happening back there, so she tried to regain her composure by trying to find her phone to dial the number of her friend who's probably still awake by now to call for help when her hair was maliciously dragged backwards making her lose her balance only to fall on the ground and be dragged away. the plastic bag she was carrying along with her phone was now nowhere to be found.

only her hoarse cry for help was audible, she was too slow, too tired, too exhausted for all of the things happening to her - but her body was flailing so hard, trying to release herself from the man's tight grasp on her hair and it felt like its going to be ripped off her head anytime soon when they stopped on the same alleyway the men were previously drinking. "bitch thought she can get away with us, well let me tell you something sweetheart, we don't take no as an answer. plus you were wearing that thin-ass blouse,  you're trying to seduce us after all so let's have fun shall we?" the bald headed man smirked while he held kasumi down on the ground.

she was terrified, frustrated, and she's doing her best to try and fight them all away. she was able to slap and kick the two of them, desperation was highly evident as she frantically scramble to her feet but that was as far as she can go for she was violently punched and slapped before she fell down with her vision getting hazy, tears streaming down her face non-stop as she lost all her energy to fight. everything was becoming blurry and she was now just hoping for everything to just end.

she was so lost in her train of thought that she didn't even realize that the men who were trying to break and ruin her were now out cold, laying on the freezing ground while a man towered over them.

"stand up." was all kasumi heard when she snap back to reality and saw a figure standing before her, wearing an all black outfit - black jacket, black jeans, and a black mask. his straight bleach colored hair was neatly tied up in a ponytail too.

"stand up." sanzu repeated as kasumi tried to stand up, still shaken by what happened to her and the picture of the scene before her. kasumi then felt something drape over her shoulder when sanzu came near her, his mint and delicate masculine scent filling her senses.

"follow me." was all the boy said before he exited the alleyway leaving her all alone with his jacket that he gave her. following his footsteps, while tightly clutching his jacket, she saw a shiny, and expensive looking car few meters out the alleyway with sanzu standing near it, and as she got closer to him, she heard him say, "get in."

not wanting and not having enough energy to fight nor say anything, kasumi just silently obliged to what he said. after getting inside the vehicle, sanzu followed afterwards, turning on the car and driving to god knows where - kasumi was drained, and she couldn't care less what would happen anymore although she wanted to say and atleast utter her gratitude towards the boy beside her, but her voice just seems to be gone. the car ride with him was silent, but it wasn't awkward. it wasn't uncomfortable. it wasn't scary either, rather, it was surprisingly comforting.

moments later, kasumi saw a familiar house outside her window when sanzu pulled up and opened the door for her, handing her some of the things she brought earlier - her bag and her phone.

he didn't talk, he didn't say anything before heading out and going inside his car once again, and driving away.

kasumi was dumbfounded.

she have so many questions whirling over her head like, how did he know my place? why did he do that?

she entered their house with her head aching - cross that out, with her whole body aching, everything that happened to her this day had taken  a toll on her. she was definitely traumatized and shaken by what happened. with her literally dragging her body towards her room desperate to rest and lay down on the soft and smooth mattress.

and even though she was almost raped, and potentially murdered, the one thing that stuck in her head was sanzu. sanzu haruchiyo.

and she swore to find him tomorrow before she fell into a deep slumber.

#bonten #bonten tokyorev #sanzu haruchiyo #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers kokonoi #toman sanzu #toman gang

[baronessblixen]

If you are feeling those writing juices flowing, I wouldn’t mind a fic/drabble for my birthday tomorrow. No pressure, though! ♥️ you!!!

Happy birthday again! This is a fluffy revival fic. The muse goes where it wants to go... today’s prompts were:

“Did we really get each other the same gift?” / Decorating the tree

Tagging @today-in-fic

His car skids a bit as he parks it on the snow-covered ground in front of the house. He glances over at Scully, but she’s sleeping peacefully. A sight he’s missed dearly. His reasons for watching her, for not waking her yet, are entirely selfish. In the past, back before things between them grew colder, sprouted in the wrong direction like weed, he watched her sleep all the time. Sometimes, she’d wake with a smile, peeking at him through half-lidded eyes. Watching over her here in the car, caught between two moments, he feels as if all his Christmas wishes have come true.  

“Scully.” It’s the concern for her back, for her freezing out here that makes him touch her shoulder softly. She grumbles something that he doesn’t catch. “We’re here,” he says. “We’re home.”

“Home,” she mumbles with a yawn, stretching. “What time is it?”

“Late,” he replies. “It’s snowing. Let’s go inside, hm?”

Mulder takes their overnight bags from their most recent case out of the trunk. Scully is a few steps ahead of him, her face directed towards the inky night sky. Snowflakes settle on her eyelashes, her nose and her hair. She looks like an angel.

His hands full, Scully unlocks the door for him. She turns on the lights as if she still did this every night. Her eyes wander about, taking inventory.

“Mulder,” she says, her voice full of shock. “Your tree.” He puts the bags down and together they look at the sad, naked Christmas tree that has seen better days. No surprise there. He hasn’t been home in a week, the fir left to its own devices and not enough water.

“I’ll water it,” he says.

“Why haven’t you decorated it?” She asks, touching one of the branches. A few needles come loose and land on the floor.

“I didn’t think we’d be gone so long.” He shrugs. The case wasn’t supposed to take them out of town for a week. They were supposed to be back two days ago but cryptids have no sense of schedule whatsoever.

“We need to decorate it.”

“Scully, it’s late.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” she says, pleading with him. “We can’t wake up to a naked tree. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

He wants to say no. He wants to take a shower, go to bed and sleep. But this is Scully. And she’s looking at him in that way. How can he say no? To her? On her first Christmas without her mother? 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t thinking. I’ll go get the ornaments.”

“Thank you,” she says, squeezing his hand. “I’ll help.”

Mulder puts on cheesy Christmas music and turns down the lights, creating a mood. They share a cup of sugary hot cocoa with mini marshmallows and whipped cream. When Scully raises her eyebrows at the cream, Mulder dips a finger in and deposits a blob on her nose.

“Live a little, Scully.”

And she does.

“What do you think?” Scully asks, taking a step back. The tree glitters and shimmers in red and gold colors. Scully picked the ornaments years ago when they finally made a home here. She transformed their house into a Christmas wonderland that first year, making up for lost time. After that, it got less and less. But no matter how they felt, about the holidays or each other, they always put up a tree. For old time’s sake.

“It looks good.”

“I agree,” she says with a smile. “Now we can go to bed.” She yawns and looks at him, but he just stares.

“What about- do you have a tree in your… in your house? You never asked for the ornaments.”

“They belong here,” she says, looking at the tree and touching a reindeer ornament. “I, um, I got a fake tree this year.”

“You what?” he laughs, not believing her words. They had a fake tree, once. That first year on the run where space was scarce and home far away. Mulder bought a small fake tree in a gas station and they put it up on the dashboard. They didn’t throw it away until April the next year. “You hate fake trees in your home.”

She shrugs, looking up at him. And he gets it. Her home is just a house she lives in, as fake as the tree she bought. His lips curl up into a smile. “Good thing I bought a real one, hm?”

“Yes,” she admits. “But you needed me to decorate it. Can we go to bed now?”

“How about we open some presents?” He grins at her.

“It’s not the 25th yet.”

“I beg to differ.” He taps on his wristwatch. “It’s almost 1 am. Merry Christmas, Scully.”

Her face softens. “Merry Christmas, Mulder. You really want to do this now?” He nods enthusiastically.

“One present each.”

“What makes you think I brought my presents for you?”

“I know you,” he whispers, his face leaning in close. He reaches behind her and hands her a neatly wrapped present. “Here you go.”

“Wait a moment,” she says and gets up to rummage through her bag. She returns with a gift that she hands to him. “At the same time?” Mulder nods and they tear into their presents like small children.

“Um, Scully?”

“Yes?”

“Did we really get each other the same gift?” He looks at her and then at the brand-new flashlight in his hand. She compares them and chuckles.

“Looks like we did. Great minds and all that. I saw the flashlight you used the other day and Mulder, you have to go with the time. LED is the way to go. I wasn’t going to say anything about the Christmas lights because that’s different, but this will save you so many batteries. Isn’t that the reason you got me this, too?”

“I just thought it looked neat.”

“Either way,” she says, putting the flashlight next to his on the table. A perfect match. “Thank you for my gift.” She kisses his stubbly cheek, her lips lingering.

“Just so you know. I have a different, better gift for you. But I want to give you that when we’re both awake.”

“I have something else for you, too.” She cups his cheek and he leans into her touch. He considers telling her that her being her is the greatest gift to him. “But this week has been exhausting.” She leans closer and kisses his lips softly, full of promises. Mulder closes his eyes, holding her closer. He never wants this moment to end.

“Sleep first,” she whispers against his lips. “I don’t want to fall asleep on top of you.”

“I could get on top,” he offers, stealing another kiss.

“You’d fall asleep on me, too, and we might end up with a medical emergency.”

“That’s okay, though,” he mumbles, nuzzling her cheek, “cause I’ve got my doctor in the bed with me.”

#i wrote again #guys you probably know this but #fluff is my thing #i am not someone who will write beautiful prose #but hopefully you enjoy this anyway #cause me writing fluff? #makes me damn happy #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic #alienbaby-babymama

[wasteitonserendipity]

I Like Me Better (Minhyuk One Shot)

Paring: Minhyuk x reader

Genre: fluff. fluff, all of the sweet fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: none that I can think of! 

A/N: okay, I was feeling some kinda way today so today is the fluffy day! I’m working on part two of Torture, which will hopefully be posted soon! Until then, enjoy! As always feedback is welcome! <3

“Minnie-ah!” you yelled from the kitchen, your head still on the inside of the refrigerator. You grabbed the clearly empty container that was supposed to house orange juice and stalked towards the bathroom.

“What?” you heard your boyfriend yell from inside, his voice muffled from the toothbrush in his mouth.

“Did you really drink all of the orange juice and then put the container back in the fridge again?”, you poked your head inside, waving the offending container.

His eyes met yours in the mirror, your eyebrow quirked as his mouth made a perfect “o”. He shrugged a little and gave you the adorable smile you loved so much. 

“My bad,” he chuckled as he finished brushing his teeth, “I’ll pick some more up today if you want babe.” 

“What I want,” you mused, wrapping your arms around his waist, standing on your tip toes and placing your chin on his shoulder, “is for my grown boyfriend to throw things out after he finishes them.” 

“I promise to do better,” he grinned as he turned to kiss the side of your head, “if you promise to clean your hair from the drain! Seriously how do you shed this much?”

You gave him a straight smile as he held up a ball of, what was obviously, your hair.

“Deal,” you giggled, “so, what’s the plan for today, love?”

You followed him into your bedroom, throwing out the orange juice container as you moved through the small apartment. 

“I thought that we could do a picnic in the park,” he said as he poked his head through a plain white t-shirt, “it’s supposed to be really nice out today.”

“That sounds wonderful,” you said as you pulled a yellow sundress out from your side of the closet. You held it up on the hanger in front of you, contemplating whether you should wear it or not. 

“You should definitely wear that,” Minhyuk said as he spun you around in his arms, “have to pick up a few things before we go but I’ll be back in about an hour,”

“Perfect amount of time for me to get ready,” you said, setting your dress down on the bed.

“You’re perfect no matter what you do,” he said sweetly, the sincerity in his eyes making you melt. 

“Love you, Minnie,” you laugh, kissing him.

“Love you more,”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was nervous to say the least. 

It had been five years now, you’d think that this would’ve been expected at this point in your lives. In fact, everyone enjoyed pointing out how surprised they were that you two weren’t already married with three kids. Most of your mutual friends had either settled down by now or decided to be single forever (cough, cough Hyungwon) but you two were always content on just going with the flow.

And this is where the flow had led Minhyuk. To the restaurant where you’d gone on your first date to pick up food, the liquor store down the street for your favorite wine, and a small jewelry shop he’d been in coordination with for the last month. 

Today was the day.

As he checked out the final touches on the delicate ring in his hand he thought back to the very first time he’d met you. 

You were sitting out on your balcony, lights twinkling around you with a glass of wine in your hand and a stack of manuscripts that needed editing sitting in front of you. He had just moved in next door and noticed you here and there in the building but never said anything. Until the night the boys came over to “help him unpack” which meant unpacking the TV and gaming console and yelling at the TV while he unpacked the rest. 

He went out onto the balcony to get some air and to get away from the craziness. The city wasn’t new to him. He’d thought he knew what to expect as far as moving into a new place and beginning the whole adulting thing all over again.  What he didn’t expect to do was meet the love of his life that night. 

He remembered exactly how beautiful you looked, completely enthralled in the manuscript. You looked like the calm in the eye of a storm. 

And that’s just what you were for him. You were his calm, you were his peace. When it seemed like the world was getting to be too much and he couldn’t put on the sunny persona he’d created for himself, you were there to remind him that he was human and that he was allowed to turn it off and just be himself. 

“Would you like me to box this up for you, sir?” the girl at the counter asked, breaking him out of his trance.

“Yes, please,” he said with a wide grin.

“I think she’ll absolutely love it,” she said as she brought it over to the register, “I’ve been here for a few years now and I’ve never seen a man put as much thought into the ring as you did. She’s a lucky girl.”

“Actually,” he chuckled as he was handed the small grey box, “I’m the lucky one.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This was absolutely perfect,” you sighed, your back against a tree you’d found shade under, Minhyuk’s head resting on your lap.

“I do what I can,” he shrugged as he smiled brightly.

You loved moments like this. Ones where the whole world seemed to disappear and there was nothing but the two of you. You pulled out your camera from your bag to commemorate the moment, just as you had done every year on your anniversary since you’d started dating. 

“Okay,” you said, holding up the camera to get you both in the frame, “Smile!” 

“Wait!” Minhyuk said, sitting up and putting his hand in front of the lens, “let me take it! My arms are longer.”

“Okay,” you shrugged.

He moved so that he was now behind you, one hand around your waist, the other holding the camera. His head rested on your shoulder as he took the first picture. You pulled the picture out and set it on the ground as it developed. For the second picture, you’d turned your head so that you were kissing his cheek as he made a goofy face.

“Hang on,” he said quickly, “I have something that’ll make this better. But you have to close your eyes until I say.”

You scrunched your eyes shut quickly. You could feel him digging around in his pockets for something. You felt his arm wrap around your shoulder, holding something in front of you.

“Okay, open.”

In front of you was a delicate gold ring with a single gem in the middle with smaller gems on the band. It was exactly what you’d pictured in your head when you thought about getting engaged. 

Flash.

You turned to look at him, your brain still not full processing what was going on.

“I love you,” he started, “I love you with my whole heart, with my whole being, with everything I have. You are it for me. You are the calm and serenity I’ve always needed in my chaotic life. You make me want to be a better person every single day and you’ve made me the man I am today. As selfish as it sounds, I like me better when I’m with you. You’ve been there through some of the hardest times of my life and I’ll forever be grateful for your presence in my life. Will you do me the honor-”

“YES!” you half screamed.

“Can I finish?” he laughed.

“Yes,” you say a little quieter, making a zipping motion over your lips.

“Will you do me the honor of being my partner in crime forever?” he asked, his voice never wavering. 

“Ya know,” you said as you inhaled sharply, a mischievous grin on your face, “I wish you’d have asked a day earlier. You know Kihyun asked me last week-”

You were sent into a fit of giggles as you were tackled to the ground and tickled mercilessly. Once you caught your breath you were face to face with him yet again. The sparkle in his eyes never fading once. You took his face between your hands, bringing your lips to his.

“I wouldn’t want to spend forever with anyone else.”

#Monsta X #monsta x one shot #monsta x fluff #minhyuk x reader #minhyuk fluff #lee minhyuk #monsta x writing

[girlpornparadise]

The Caged Bird Moans (pt 4)

Pairing: Diego Jimenez/f!Reader (Power - Starz)

Word Count: ~1300

Warnings:  It's a bit Stockholm syndromey, but that's not a real thing anyway (look it up). Not exactly non-con, but it skirts the idea, so if power disparities aren't your jam, please move along. It just real dirty. SMUT!

Personal ramble: Would anyone actually react like this to the situation I've set forth? No. But just as the pizza guy is never hot and doesn't offer you his extra sausage, this is porn people! So suspend your disbelief and don't hate on me for my bullsh*t.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

You wake the next morning exhausted, satisfied, confused and conflicted.

The bed next to you is empty and you reach over to see if it's still warm. It's not, and you don't know what you'd expected. A busy man like him obviously can't afford to sleep in with so much business to attend to. Including the business of your return you suppose.

You pick up your routine of starting the day off with a shower. When you get out, you go to the bag of clothes to pick out something to wear, but you find it's gone. You do a cursory search of the room and can't find it when you notice a black silk blend men's dress shirt on the dresser. It's the only item of clothing in the room, so you put it on, carefully buttoning it to the top. It's only after you get "dressed" that you notice the door is slightly ajar. You peak out nervously and the door creaks a little, startling you. There's no one there. 

"Come out little bird." You hear that strong, no nonsense voice echo through the expansive penthouse. 

You practically tiptoe out of the room, heart racing just in case you misunderstood what was happening, afraid you'd be tossed back into your cage. But you make it out to the expansive living area to see Diego sitting on the couch, coffee and breakfast in front of him. You dimly register that there's a second coffee and breakfast beside it and you cock your head confused. There's no one else around.

"There's my good girl." He says, rubbing a napkin over his mouth, pulling it downwards over his greying beard.

"You're finally awake. I guess I gave you quite a workout last night." He smirks with pride.

"You certainly did." You're about to say, but swallow the words instead.

He smiles that charming smile with the confidence that masks his cruelty, his boyish dimples betraying the predator underneath. For a moment you had forgotten he was your captor, capable of atrocities you dare not imagine.

"Unbutton the top three buttons of my shirt, you look like a nun." He says. A pantsless nun you muse to yourself as you expose your cleavage.

He pats the sofa next to him. "Come, have breakfast with me." Though it sounds like a suggestion you remember that you have no say in the matter. 

You pad barefoot and bare bottomed over to the couch and take your place next to him. You eye him carefully for a moment, wary that it's some kind of trap. 

He turns to you and rips a piece of croissant into his mouth with a little extra force for your benefit. His eyes are laughing at the way your breathing wavers.

"You're scared of me, and you should be." He says as he swallows the bite. "But I won't harm you, you're my girl now." He says with a sense of ownership. He reaches over and grabs your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "I promise." 

You believe him. He does nothing to hide his lavish tastes, his illegal activities, his willingness to take a life, or even his own body. There's an openness about him. What you see is what you get.

"Ok Diego, I believe you." You say softly.

"Good." He says, satisfied with your answer. He turns to face the wall opposite the couch and picks the remote up off the coffee table. He turns on the massive wall mounted television and after a couple of minutes unexpectedly settles on the news.

You're reminded that there's an entire world outside, but find yourself disinterested in it. You realize you're an addict now, not of his plentiful product, but of the man who controls its flow.

"You're breakfast is getting cold." He says with a nod of his chin.

You're broken from your thoughts, and you tuck into the meal before you.

You both eat in silence, letting the tv fill the room with noise and when you finish you relax back into the couch. As he wipes his face and downs the last dregs of his coffee he turns to you. His eyes are still hungry and you are clearly dessert.

Oh.

"If you're gonna be my girl, you have to give yourself to me, morning, noon, and night." His eyes are lidded as he says it.

Oh. 

You're in trouble again.

"Yes Diego. For you, anything."

A small voice in the back of your head screams "What are you doing?!" "Anything!?" But it is silenced by his soft lips, and gruff facial hair sweeping your face. You sigh.

He pulls back to look into your eyes, knowing full well he is your master now. You weave your hands into the hair at the base of his neck and he crashes his kiss onto your lips. 

As his hands explore your body you reciprocate and each muscle you touch that meets your hands with firmness makes you a little wetter between your thighs.

You go to straddle him. But he pushes you away.

"No." He says firmly. "I'm going to take you from behind."

Your mouth opens at the demand and he grabs your hips. He turns you around so you're facing away from him, lengthwise on the couch. You put your elbows on the cushion and arch your back to present your naked ass to his needy erection. He frees it from his jeans and boxers quickly and with force. He peels the black shirt over his head and throws it aside. He kneels down on the couch behind you, then he grabs your hips and pulls them to line up with his.

"Please Diego, please." You beg. And he slides his cock into you. You feel every turgid inch fill you with warmth and he hits even deeper within you than the night before.

He slams into you and you hear the wet slapping against your juicy folds. As he finds his rhythm you moan at each hit. He slaps your ass twice and each time he does, you tighten around him.

The elevator dings and you hear someone get off. You're startled, and you clench, being caught in the act. Debasing yourself for this beast that rides you.

"Don't you dare stop." He commands through clenched teeth.

He clearly loves an audience and you're so wrapped up in the pleasure that you don't even mind.

As he hits that glowing spot inside of you again and again, your legs begin to falter. He grips your hips even tighter and thrusts even faster.

You close around him as his cock demands your orgasm. It shreds through you and you bury your head below you and muffle a scream into the cushion.

He wraps his strong hand around your hair, grabs it as a ponytail and yanks your head back. "I want to hear what I'm doing to you." He growls, not missing a beat.

You scream again as he hits the same spot and sends searing lightning through your nerves.

You feel him lean forward mashing his hands into your hips. Squeezing you like he wants to extract all of your juices.

He cums loud and hard and you revel in what you've done to him. He pulls back out of you and you shudder at his loss.

You collapse on the couch on your side, facing the open room, shirt still on but wrinkled and askew. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Diego get dressed and address the man who got off the elevator.

You don't really hear what is said, but you take it as your cue to clear out. You return to your room on wobbly legs and decide a nap is in order. 

#maurice compte #diego jimenez #starz power #fic #smut #moar diego #moar growly murder panther

[theskyexists]

ive bought harrow the ninth and am now attempting to reread act 1 so that i may understand it better

ianthe clearly proposes that Harrow not get herself killed trying to bring Gideon back - reading it over again. instead to take the future and somehow?? be really powerful together and forget about their cavaliers. but harrow says no

im once again struck with how offhand this book introduces the concept that the empire goes out to deliberately kill planets over a couple of generations

now im not sure....there also seems to be an implication that there’s no aliens - because they say only humanity has a soul - but client planets were said to rebel - i guess the human colonisers rebel against central solar system command sometimes? but then what enemy does the Cohort fight? possibly it’s just bigotry that they think aliens dont have a soul

but like - they find LIVING PLANETS and then - kill them slowly. to the extent that they need to move the entire population. WHAT? why do they do that??? just so they can do some bone tricks???!

what the fuk

so how did the planets get murdered again? and which solar system planets could really have been said to have had enough life to have a soul?? cos like, only one of them is really known for that

why did God give Harrow the choice to go back home TWICE if he was never going to let her?

once again, why mess with the Hand candidates if God was always gonna come for Cytherea? just to mess with him more?

yeah - harrow keeps hearing and saying ortus ninegad but the rest of the world remembers gideon.

Harrow truly is totally mentally shattered AND time is totally fucked up

but sometimes in the fake-ish timeline Harrow remembers but doesn’t remember Gideon - like how she notes that there were two womb-bearing members of the Ninth who were the right age...but only elaborates on herself

for some reason - Harrowhark remembers Ianthe’s arm ripped from her by Cytherea - but now it’s whole. for some reason

that letter is still so what the fuck

‘like you did the last time’ - hm harrowhark sewed Ianthe’s lips shut? how did she come by the power?

is ianthe - calling Harrowhark God?

throughout the first act, they keep referring to time, having too much time, or not mastering time, or not having enough time, ‘this time’ etc.

the eggs you gave me all died - that’s DIRECTED at Harrow, is my theory

ok but the planet revenants come after Lyctors and also God (- God became God when? at the Resurrection) before the Lyctors happened - God was still at Canaan House - despite the Revenants already coming right...

is Teacher criticising god and lyctors for leaving Canaan House lol?

ok so yeah Canaan House WAS part of a ‘last sacrifice’

ok so - Harrowhark is a little resurrection miracle. This implies that God killed a lot to resurrect the Houses.

wow God is being a very dad to Harrow

Blood of Eden - BOE - they turned their back on the solar system. now they hate necromancy. in other words - when the solar system died, God resurrected it - but before that point some humans had fled - lived. and they can see what absolute fuckin horror necromancy is ACTUALLY

so what im getting is...maybe...god resurrected humanity by killing the planets...?

i just realised that Ianthe has taken Gideon’s place as the smartass in the room - the counterweight to Harrow’s portentousness

what the fuck do augustine’s comments to Mercy mean???? why is she unloveable? why would he say that God doesn’t need her? and why is it obscene that Augstine calls God John? What is the dangerous game she’s playing? What was the foul implication??

‘Then that is your downfall’ OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Harrow BURN!!!

what i don’t get is - the Cohort is an army - when they land they die because they’re being killed by an enemy at the front - NOT in pure sacrifice for thanergy. so why does only the death of humans and planets produce thanergy. why is the death of the enemy not good enough? they don’t have fuckin souls?? they MUST be complex life. and doesn’t a planet produce a constant stream of thanergy? but i guess it’s not dying enough - generally its life maintains itself in ecosystems.....unless a fuckin lyctor ‘makes the juice flow’ i guess!

sometime in the next book there IS gonna be a ‘are we the baddies’ meme. muir loves memes and she stuck skulls on absolutely EVERYTHIGN. Like WHY THE FUCK would you colonise planets if you gotta kill them for it? LOL????

huh? augustine just said that they can’t use necromancy when in the river - but mercy mocked harrow for having hypothermia ? implying her fundamental failure was not being able to necro while in the river? Harrow’s inability was what was wrong partly right?? oh no ok it’s how Harrow tried to compensate for her body going lights out while in the river. alright. that was written confusingly

how and why is this a completely different story???

The Sleeper.......is Harrowhark? the suit is too close to what she was wearing killing the asteroid. and the sleeper is lying on ‘something’. oh they just straight up say it lololol

ortus got into trouble 19 years ago...hhmmmmm wasn’t Gideon 19??? huh? which is why Mercy started at Harrow’s peculiar YELLOW eyes that Harrow can’t see herself i think

‘i do things face to face’ ortus says after stabbing harrow. HUH? why go for a stab if decapitating would have done the job? just to give her a small chance to fight back? (face to face?)

why not tell God that ‘his’ attack dog is trying to kill you?

why does Ortus the First want me dead? ‘who?’ ---uh. has she forgotten him completely (time shit) or is she saying the wrong name? mercy wouldnt reply like that then right?

she told him and he’s like - oh well guess you gotta just get through repeated almost-successful attacks on your life. ???? THANKS GOD!!!

‘you, with your unfortunate memory for poetry’ HA! i love how we are reminded that she knew all the fuckin damn books nearly by heart which is insane!

Teacher suggests his dying at least three times a day?? hahaha what?.........................is this purely a meme reference. is that meme the mental image im supposed to have of Teacher??????????? is this trying to say that this meme was preserved in the amalgamation of human life that is Teacher?? oh my god....

no.....palamedus and camilla....did old Harrow really kill them.....

seems like all the murders were consensual maybe?

it’s probably too straightforward that Harrow created and alternate timeline and made for a Harrow Lyctor without Gideon dying and kicked her to the original? maybe she took Ianthe and Coronabeth with her bc she needed Ianthe’s help

is this Cytherea or Dulcinea? Pro seems real this time. why does Dulcie call Pal and Cam strands and cords?

did muir put in a fuckin secondary school S - muir’s just like - im gonna put in all the memes as a nod to ancient human culture

still no idea what the messages are that Harrow is getting

This Harrow is so goddamn sick. I mean she was sick before, but at least she had Gideon. Really do feel that that helped her. now she didn’t have that -- AND she’s getting slapped with trauma another five times

if ortus can undo the thanergy of her own bone then why not simply crumble HARROW into dust? cos there’s a core of thanergy fusion in her that he can’t undo?

FLKJDFKLJSDLFSD fucking IANTHE ‘Wow! Not how I imagined this happening, at all.’  FUCKIN HELL

Harrow with her fucking fucked up dramatic inner monologues about weakness and Ianthe comes in with this shit. she really is doing Gideon proud here.

Did love Harrow’s musings about how only a truly idiotically obedient Cavalier would be the only one to keep to a vow of silence. HAH! nice one muir

‘have you taken the time to rest lately?’ asks God, YOUR FUCKING SAINT IS TRYING TO KILL HER IN THE FUCKING BATH YOU IDIOT AHAHAHAHA

JEZUS FUCKING CHRIST - try and be normal Harrow! try and make some soup and read a book! Harrow: *does and then hyperventilates hidden under her bed after 86 hours of zero sleep*

she was trying to remember what cutlery did. why is this so goddamn funny hahahaa. this book has ONLY been Harrow being in extreme states of misery ALL THE TIME both mentally and physically to the point of death

GOD IS HAPPY THAT SHE MADE SOUP AND DOESNT EVEN FUCKIN NOTICE SHE’S NOT SLEPT FOR A WEEK SOMEHOW THIS IS THE MOST HILARIOUS SHIT

thats what you fucking GET you piece of shit god! you push a prodigy teen to the brink and she fuckin explodes your lyctor and feeds you her fuckin marrow. maybe you shouldn’t have ignored her goddamn fucking understandable distress

SHE FUCKIN HITS HIM WITH THE FUCKIN TRUTH what an IDIOT of a God. he truly doesn’t understand mortality anymore huh

I LOVE HOW MERCYMORN CONTINUES TO MAKE HARROW YOUNGER IN HER HEAD AHAHAHAHAHAHA she’s only nine years old!!!hahahaha

naturally God focuses on how - wait- actually harrow is truly an INSANE necromancer - INSANE

still no idea what the fuck is going on in the not-past

aww. ianthe’s scent soothes harrow now. begrudgingly of course.

i thought this was gonna be lovely angsty harrow/gideon but naturally that did not happen

harrow is comfortable! first time in the whole book! one moment of comfort!!!

‘love my twin, also murder’ tridentarius pffjlfjdljf

‘how i crave your honeyed words’ hah

wow this scene sure is weirdly sexual with these similes lol ‘as though she had shyly undressed for you’ ok there Harrow you about to chop her arm off calm it probably sex repulsed thirsty teen

i do love how....there is this theme again that’s everybody underestimating the main character - who is actually a prodigy. Gideon had that with the sword and Harrow also has it with being a Lyctor now

it’s so telling that these Saints would rather be shits to these babies than help Ianthe grow a new fuckin arm

i dont see why Ianthe can’t work off this bone construct which is her own stuff and put some flesh on it since SHES A FLESH NECRO?

Ianthe that’s super gay

wow muir really never delivers on full gay does she??? i dont mind but i think it’s so striking hahaa

how are Harrow and Ianthe still hung up on the Saint of Duty? i mean, if they dont have him against the RB they’re dead anyway

why is the First going through rain and ice?

Harrow haunted? naawwww

i cant help but like mercymorn though - she cares. it’s soured ages ago but she cares.

awww Harrow needs Ianthe to sleep

Ianthe constantly poking Harrow for her prudishness is so goddamn funny.

‘It’s the type of energy i wish to take into my future’ AHAHAHAHAHAAH IANTHE MY GOD

‘i always forget you were an honest to go nun ... and six years old to boot if you listen to mercymorn’ HAHAHAHAHAHA

‘you look good enough that im proud of my handiwork but not so good that i’ll be consumed with lust and ravish you over the nut bowl’ fpdfjsdfkjsd this is what harrow means with crude japery and yet....

mercymorn has started to call harrow three years old. i will NEVER tire of this gag

all of the blood of eden stuff happened in the past 25 years??? god was on the erebos, but he also remembers ortus kicking the commander out of an airlock? that was in the last 25 years??

Ianthe‘s carressing the nape of Harrow’s neck. hmmhm

its honestly super weird if you think about it for more than 10 seconds that theyre talking about their cavaliers whom they murdered (im still not sure if all consensually) ten thousand years ago (!) and how hot they were that just seems.....fucked up

Harrow is like WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! basically all the time but especially now. yep well that was to be expected i guess lololol

Harrow being painfully frozenly fascinated by (god having) sex and deeply repulsed is very Harrow

oh nooooo well that was a perfect kiss between them really

the funny thing about Harrow is that though she is so completely fucked up - just like Gideon - she is fundamentally a helper.

why wouldn’t Harrow have thought of blood wards! she knew he could only bleed thanergy! it;s the first thing i thought - just use not bone wards then!

ortus thinks anastasia is in Harrow - which makes me think - why does he think that’s possible?

mercymorn now calls Harrow a two-year-old. i am waiting for embryonic genius

so did they use the river to get to the planets theyre killing?

Harrow feels the peace and pleasure of a stroll through nature that she has come to kill

oh my god - Harrow somehow saved Cam and Pal is still attached to the mortal plane!!

Harrow helps Cam risking herself entirely just like that. yknow as she does

i wonder if Pal has realised that Harrow is not who he remembers

i think he realised once he realised haz mat suit was Harrow also...

ianthe xo’d harrow.....lol

im sad that original harrow is definitely dead.... :( loved her. guess gideon’s not coming back either. not sure how the second adept survived. she didn’t survive in the original timeline either. but she was ‘killed’ in the other - just like coronabeth..so that means soemthing

this whole ‘flashback’ stuff to Canaan House is Harrow being in the River the whole time. the cold temperatures, the blood, the creatures theyre fishing from the sea that apparently abominations

after all, we’ve just learned about river bubbles and a haz!harrow that can change their parameters.

all the people ‘dead’ she’d not spoken to much or at all beforehand. like they’re NOT real, in the River. the only one not like that is Dyas...

the fact that the narrative keeps calling Dulcie, Dulcie means she’s really Dulcie.

there’s giant organs falling from the ceiling. this is definitely the river

they talk about time AGAIN

the Body is the devil who let herself be used to complete the work of Teacher and the Lyctors in his mythology....hmm. and when they realised the price (AFTER? the work was done?) they wanted her dead but he buried her....SHE allowed them to become Lyctors?? I still don’t understand why the heck that was necessary

the king is dead, long live the king. hmmmm

Harrow comes onto a hallucination of the devil who was her first crush with the voice of her parental figures and the eyes of a love interest she can no longer remember - which is actually not precisely a hallucination probably - and gets summarily rejected lol OUCH (the Body didn’t mean it that way ofc)

Harrow is so repressed on every single front but definitely sexually

I love Mercy

so there is death beyond death. does everybody go into the river and become a mad horrid ghost? like - is that everybody’s fate? how awful

ok so God DID resurrect the planets also. ? but like. then why are there resurrection beasts?

what does resurrection mean? and who killed the planets in the first place?

BECOMING NONE HOUSE, LEFT GRIEF

oh.....my god.

ARE YOU AND IANTHE BEING SAFE!!?!?!?! HHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA

HIS BODYGUARD IS THE DEVIL??

so the destruction of Earth somehow made God? as though it was something that simply followed from it

A.L. was destroyed in the first assault? Of an RB

so the RB’s were happily running off in the other direction until they decided to fuck around and kill their mates to become immortal and powerful - then the RB’s turned around and came towards them - which meant leaving the planets God had resurrected forever.

what the fuck god??? hahahahaa

God always seems so likeable goddamn.

Harrow is such a dramatic bitch. Affection??? JUST KILL ME!!! KILL ME!! LET ME SMASH THE GLASS SO I CAN KNEEL IN IT AND BLEED ALL OVER THE FLOOR!!!!

Harrow goes into her fun kid's game of not dying to traps.

But she instantly calls him father. OH MY GOD

HE DOESNT BELIEVE HER!!!

'then that will be your downfall' - is what Harrow said to Augustine AND IT WILL BECOME TRUE FOR THEM ALL

to be dismissed like that where it hurts most - to have God Dad dismiss her only slip of comfort her only pillar of truth in this crazy old world

'nobody had watched you leave'

SOMEBODY HAD - I love all the deliberate references to Gideon

Temporal lobe!!!! Again the temporal lobe!!!

So why was it again that Harrow refused to be locked in with the Emperor?

So isn't God gonna check out Harrow's temporal lobe? He's just gonna let that mystery go to its death?

WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKK

Muir what the fuck??!!!!!!!!

Oh it was.....a hallucination?

Always love how this dips into genuine horror sometimes

What's weird is that Lyctors seem made for the task of going into the river and killing Resurrection Beasts - instead of the other way around.

So say - that the sword somehow holds Gideon's soul (we've just learned that that's possible from Pal and also Ortus trying to get Pent to summon his grandma by his sword) - does it not make sense that Harrow 'for some reason' stabbing Cytherea's corpse with it transferred it to her? Or maybe it's SOMEHOW Anastasia if Ortus was macking on her. But Ortus thought HARROW had/was Anastasia.

IANTHE WANTS TO MARRY HARROW - HAHAHAHAAHAHAHA

Every fucking chapter doesn't make things any clearer. This is worse than Gideon the ninth

Hello???? Am I reading a canon alternate universe roleswap au??? What the FUCK is going on. This is like - if they hadn't gassed the 200 and her parents instead adopted Gideon for her clear necromantic gifts which nobody noticed somehow the other time round

I do love how Aiglamene was the sole source of slight comfort in Gideon's life. And Crux was Harrow's - apparently in any sequence of events.

Harrow is tumbling through timelines. But how can you do that just by messing with the lobe?

WHAT!! WHAT!!!

Is this...is this what I think it is??? Is thi

The fanfic roots are STRONG in this one. In fact I believe I've READ this fanfiction

Harrow's temporal fever dream (in the river?) HAD HER (Decidedly Not) VYING FOR 'HER DIVINE HIGHNESS' hand, which is either the Body or Gideon or both lololol. Seeing as the previous had Gideon as the main unnamed titled character - I bet it's Gideon ahahaaga

A fucking. COFFEESHOP AU. OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDD

We've had roleswap, 'ball' au, and coffee shop au populated by the ghosts of the dead LOLOL,

I knew it!! I knew that they were ghosts and that they were in the river!!

Ok so but when did Harrow shoddily create the bubble? When she adjusted her memories at the start? When is this. Ah Harrow has the same thought hahaa

So the stage is a - she was building her memories while sleeping?

Why is that she cannot access her lyctorhood like this...

I just realised that Harrow's mind made the party food taste like SALT based on Ianthe's cooking!!!! Hahahaha

THE NARRATOR IS GIDEON. But it doesn't sound like Gideon though

There's more to the work than simply preserving Gideon's soul though. There are next steps that Harrow prepared for that Harrow doesn't know about yet

Who was the sleeper and why was it in Harrows riverscape of memories that she ACCIDENTALLY??? made

Ok she sounds like Gideon NOW

Gideon no it's not because she didn't want you! It's because she wanted you to live!!!!!

And she succeeded....your soul is INTACT in her body!!!! You're protecting her with full consciousness!! How the fuck. And why didn't that happen before when she went to the bubble?

Are the ghosts of the contestants happy that they got pulled out of the River briefly? Or were they so briefly in there they couldn't remember?

She returned them to the RIVER???? is that really such a kind fate????

Something has gone wrong in the River - yeah because why r all these ghosts going insane and stoppering it up like slib

Do love how Muir has found a way to give these characters more screentime

I actually said 'oof' when Harrow screamed at Ortus - oof that really is embarrassing. GodDAMN Ortus you stepping up with the emotional support!

I've EVEN read the damn fanfic in which they switched bodies. My god.

A. L. apparently is thought to wander about still. I think she's the body....I do believe she's the body. That's why the Lyctors are scared of her

She thought - what. Mercy is talking about blood of Eden's commander. What is going onnnnn still!!!! Mercy is the traitor I guess. But how is blood of Eden connected to the ninth house and the body?

Why is Mercy awake on the mithraeum and not in the River anyways?

Gideon.... And the commander were in cahoots? So did A. L. and Anastasia an the body and the commander all have the same eyes?????

What the fuck is going on indeed.

Cytherea seems to have had a plan B for getting revenge on the Emperor. Or something had a plan B with her corpse as the main weapon.

If guns are so effective against people why aren't they still used.

The messages are from the commander. I.e. Gideon's mother. I.e. Anastasia? We never explicitly did learn how she met her end no? Gideon was convinced that Anastasia had taken the baby. It just seems incongruous how the Emperor spent like 80 years on the Erebos and the Lyctors were faffing about - meanwhile there was this drama going on in the last half century?

I love Abigail Pent. Love that I got to see more of her.

I'd honestly forgot that Judith was alive by the end of all of that shit

The sleeper is -the sleeper is Gideon's mother. Also. She's haunted by her mother. SOMEHOW. what the fuck? They couldn't drag her spirit back from the river they said!

'you wizards never learn' there's a whole modern regular sci fi world and culture out there! Or maybe it's just a. L.

Is it? Or is it Anastasia? Or is it the commander? Or are they the same thing?

The sleeper wants Harrow's body. Somehow invaded it - probably from the river? - which means its Anastasia or the commander. Which means that whatevers possessing Cytherea is someone else.

In retrospect - Harrow's coldness to Ianthe talking about - to what her - seemed nonsense at the time - in the very first part - doesn't quite fit.

Oh my fucking GOD Gideon is fighting Ianthe for messing around with her fucking girlfriend - who is HARROW, who actually, Ianthe wants to marry.

They just went from ramping up to a serious fight to Gideon dropping Corona's name and suddenly they're like - ah we got more important priorities actually.

Augustine's first thought at thinking a.l./the body (?) is in Harrow is John - and the Second is Joy!(mercy?)

'How I was gonna have to take showers with all your clothes on.' fuckin Gideon hahahaha

Wonder if Ianthe truly believes what she's saying - that Harrow was trying to rid hersel of Gideon. It's preposterous. It's just hurtful talk.

GIDEON REALLY THOUGHT THAT LOOK TO MEAN THAT HARROW DIDNT LOVE HER??? THIS IS A CONSTANT BARRAGE OF ALL THE ANGSTY DRAMATIC SHIT IVE BEEN YEARNING FOR

Oh my fucking god Gideon calling Ianthe out for being in love with Harrow in the most iconic way ufsojdjdodnd 'she wants the D - the D stands for dead'

Crazy brain-mutilated Harrow sure made it seem that way I can tell ya that!!

Hahahahahaha Ianthe remembering Harrows prudish Ortus/Cytherea shit. Amazing

Aw Gideon really went and fell right into the cavalier/bone mistress shit huh. And trying to shield Harrow - well as noted before - very necessary because harrow has been having a godawful miserable time - mostly because of herself.

Gideon appreciating Ianthe's pun xD

Love how neither of them position themselves as the love of Harrows life but instead as inexorably attached to her by the sheer role they play in her life - they don't dare aspire to what they think they can't get.

Muir realises this is gonna end up as a Gideon/Harrow(/theBody)/Ianthe ship right?

Oh WOW THIS IS AMAZING. nonius the legendary nonius!!! Come to protect Harrow!!!

For some reason the Sleeper can manipulate the rules of this River bubble and doesn't seem surprised about it

If all her cavaliers were this excited for death, she was definitely the problem.lololol. somehow Harrow, you inspired undying loyalty in even a person that you treated abominably

Yeah Harrow you slowpoke. If the Sleeper can adjust the rules - so can you

If the sleeper was not Harrow's invention - but planted itself - then they're very lucky it got to the ghosts that weren't actually there - first.

So it was the commander....a portrait in a shuttle of blood of eden - can only be the commander. And redhaired? There are too many red haired people in this book!!

It's nice how all these ghosts got to have lasting impact from beyond the grave

NONIUS KNEW ORTUS/GIDEON?

Ok so ....there's the bed of the River with stoma. But there might also be the other side.

Did Harrow really not account for steps beyond her plan to mutilate her brain?

Is this book really gonna go: fuck you Gideon will die anyway ?????

But.wait. the sleeper had a two-hander. Where did that go???

I don't get it. If they go into the river - won't they also go insane?

SO NYAH!!!!!???

Ok but - what? The Commander ALSO -somehow - took over Cytherea's body?

'did the ten billion give you that too' I KNEW CANAAN HOUSE HELD EVEN GRUESOMER EXPERIMENTS AND SACRIFICES THAN LYCTORHOOD. God is made of ten billion souls. I think they killed humanity on earth to spare it 'slow inexorable apocalypse' and used the power to make the Empire from the resurrected. There was an extremely vague implication by Teacher to the amount of souls violated in Canaan house in the first book.

So God knows the commander went for the ninth house? Firstly, how. I don't understand how Anastasia fits in here!!! It would explain though how the commander

So the commander found the ninth house - and she died right? They tried to call her spirit but couldn't. But she became a revenant?

Ah. God THREW the bomb.

A fuckin wake me up inside joke jskdjskdnd

So Mercy and Augustine ( not Gideon ?) had all turned against God? And they were working with the commander to -... Make a baby????? And then evacuate the houses???? (For when God dies - there being a risk that Dominicus would go out I guess)

Make a baby/body to lever the one who lies in the tomb into....?

Love how the book foreshadowed Mercy and Augustine manipulating and lying to God - and turns out they did that on much bigger scale

They....meant to kill the baby to break the blood ward?

'The woman who I was pretty sure was my mother, wearing the body of the woman I'd had a crush on, who in turn had been wearing the identity of a woman she'd murdered -' KSNFKDJDKFJJFC

So why did they want this consistently characterised as kindly and humane god dead?

GIDEON THOUGHT IT WAS HIS!!!! But he called Wake Anastasia then????

They really are the same???

Oh my god I know what they're gonna say. Gideon is the daughter of God. WHICH HARROWS FUCKIN ROYALTY AU FEVER RIVER DREAM FUCKING FORESHADOWED HAAHAHAHAHHAA

Isn't it fucking ironic that God told Harrow that - HE WANTED HER TO BE HIS??? WHILE GIDEON HIS ACTUAL DAUGHTER WAS SPINNING INSIDE HER CHEST LIKE A LITTLE NUCLEAR FUSION REACTOR

They've been trying to kill him for more than 500 years???? Did mercymorn actually genuinely learn the extremely fine knowledge of the body for THIS purpose? How many thousands of years ago did they decide to kill god?

A fucking DAD JOKE

GIDEON REMEMBERING HOW SHE USED TO TELL HARROW HOW HER OTHER PARENT MIGHT BE THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THE WORLD SO STOP PICKING ON HER

I am fucking DELIGHTED I AM SO GODDAMN OVERJOYED

It segues into a reminder of how shit their childhoods were and how their suffering had them lash out at each other endlessly and how it made Harrow suicidal and shit though - which is great

ALECTO'S EYES. THE A. FOR A. L.

A. L. The cavalier of God....but she walked. She had a body.

Ohhhhh. That's why they betrayed him. That age-old hurt. Ten thousand years old but still the bane of their existence, the seed of their madnesses. The loss of their cavaliers. Oh how did they manage to keep that from him?

I honestly thought - is Mercy saying she knows he killed humanity? But that's not what she couldn't have forgiven?

But why did he hide it? Why did he hide the perfect way? ('it would be easier' why???)

Ah. Yes. The expansion, why would the Emperor do that?

Uhhhhh. Couldn't Mercy have done that all along??????????????????????? Couldn't Mercy have killed God all along? That was both a trick and utterly sincere.

Augustine and Mercy were trying to do the right thing..... Mercy.... :'( Augustine was right. God is much less sentimental than he seems.

'im not even mad that you failed to either fix or put down Harrow' hm guess the constant kill quest HAD come from God after all. What a goddamn bitch of a man

What was the original plan? Unleash a. L. ? And then what? How would that help with the whole Dominicus going out problem?

Had God ever really thought to make up for all the bullshit he put his Lyctors through. He seems so affable and human but he's caused so much suffering. He's as good at manipulation at them - better!

The resurrection beast can't kill him, but he let his Lyctors die to them one by one anyway. So why??

Why are they punching each other in the River? They can use theorems right? God could blast Augustine to pieces same he did mercy?

Yes! It's true! Pyrrha and Gideon both exist in the same body - foreshadowed by his cavaliers build. There was something so fishy about it.

I love how Gideon has exactly the same response as me: what the fuck. Pyrrha??? Gideon??? What the fuck??? Why did they BOTH have an affair with their enemy??? So ok. Pyrrha stayed underground from Everybody for the thousand years. SOMEHOW their compartmentalisation let her pop up in his body regularly and not just when Gideon remembered her - because the hadn't fucked up his brain. But then how did THEY do that.

This absolutely galactic balsiness

The stoma thinks John is a resurrection beast. Might it be.....because he's..... A revenant. A 10 billion souled kinda- revenant ? A bit like.....Harrow is? Which is why he felt kin to her? Which is why he compared her creation to Resurrection?????I've really gotta reread those messages from commander wake.

A fucking jail for mother meme. Jail for one thousand years. Gideon how do you know this one????

I KNEW Ianthe would do that. Knew it. She doesn't want the system to die. Coronabeth is still out there. Well guess what - she's on the opposite side babe. Ok I realised that Gideon's mum apparently stuck to Gideon and then the sword? But also did Harrow manage to break the blood ward because of of her proximity to Gideon? Did Harrow uhhhh get put into a pocket in the river? But the emperor wasn't murdered!!! Fuckin chapters kept lying. They're on a hold planet. Finally - we meet the people. Alecto and Camilla and Corona? And Judith.? Did Alecto somehow do a time twisty around to come save Gideon at that moment in the river? Once again nothing much more is clear.

#my stuff #harrow the ninth #gtn #ninth

[hphm-etched-engraved-everlasting]

8. Em

Author’s Note/Table of Contents

Barnaby Lee was no stranger to me--especially since he's described so often now as Clara's sweetheart.

I mean, that was the most I could call him, right? I wasn't sure if he and Clara were really a confirmed couple, but I did know that they were fond of each other either way, the way his eyes always lit up whenever he told me about her and vice versa. Interacting with Slytherins before him made me put my guard up more than I'd like, but being friends with Hillary really showed that not all Slytherins were that bad after all. He had a kind heart, and he always came by with sweets--a good sign that he cared so much about me because he cared a lot about her.

At least to me, he's a good friend. That's enough for me.

And speaking of my sister...well, she turned into a blushing mess the minute we stepped onto the Training Grounds, walking right over to where Barnaby and Badeea were painting on big square canvases sitting atop their easels. I could see her face turn crimson as we approached them, and I had to drag her over to them with my hand firm over her wrist.

I suppose she had it really hard for him after all.

"Hey, Clara!" he greeted her with a wave. "Hey, Em!"

He stepped aside then to reveal his canvas, where a single Bowtruckle was standing in the middle of some blue and white space on the canvas, a huge smile on its face. I almost cooed in awe at the sight of it--I had always wanted to see a real Bowtruckle, and to see that it looked this cute really made me smile. But Clara looked like she was actually going to cry.

That was when I remembered that in her fourth year, she named a Bowtruckle after our brother, Jacob, and had felt fiercely protective of it after relocating him in the Forbidden Forest last year while studying for her OWLs.

"So, what do you think of my painting?" he asked us, a big cheeky grin on his face.

"It's...really cute," I offered, nodding thoughtfully before looking up at my sister.

"It's...special," Clara responded then, wiping away the tears that began to trickle down her face. "I mean, you painted a Bowtruckle..."

"Not just any Bowtruckle. It's Jacob the Bowtruckle!" Barnaby said enthusiastically. "I guess I got inspired from our OWLs study session last year, and he reminded me of how you helped me believe in myself." He reached over and gently wiped her tears with his thumbs, coaxing a smile out of my sister. "Hope you didn't mind, of course. You've become my muse more often nowadays."

Oh. Well. That was definitely what they meant by "sweetheart."

"I can't tell if you meant it's good or bad, Clara," Badeea finally said after a moment's silence, looking at the two of them quizzically as if trying to find the right time to break the ice.

"Exactly!" Barnaby responded. "That's what makes art so mysterious."

I simply glanced over from Barnaby's simple Bowtruckle painting to Badeea's nighttime shot of Hogsmeade--probably a little something to get her own creative juices flowing. I understood how much of a block she's had nowadays. "I wish I got a chance to appreciate art more," I murmured. "Never thought of it much after Beatrice got trapped in a portrait last year."

"I never thought you were still giving painting lessons to Barnaby, Badeea," Clara piped up, wiping her glasses now with the hem of her dress.

"Oh, of course. We just started again," Badeea explained. "Barnaby has big plans."

At that, Barnaby turned to us with a proud smile on his face. "Yeah! Over the summer, I learned what a 'Renaissance Man' is. It means knowing only a little bit about a lot of things."

It wasn't that far off the mark, I figured. The Renaissance people were all about embracing Enlightenment, and revolutionizing the culture of people through the arts and other things. I figured anyone with a Renaissance mind would want to have many talents. If Barnaby's aspiring to become one of them, I hope he succeeds.

"Where did you get that definition from?" I asked him with a knowing smile. "It sounds pretty accurate."

"Hm? I dunno, actually. Can't remember," Barnaby replied with a small frown, his face scrunched up in confusion. "I'm sure it must have been from somewhere...but anyway, I decided that I want to become a Renaissance Wizard."

I guess I could see now why Clara loved Barnaby so much. He had the ambition of a Slytherin, but he also had a huge heart and open mind. Of course, he wasn't always like this when they first started their friendship, but seeing them now made me nod and smile. I wasn't always a huge fan of romance, but this was like seeing a beautiful rose blossom before my eyes--something that isn't so cringey and gross. They were just being themselves around each other, and I could see the close bond they had, the way they interacted and smiled at each other in a touching way.

"Sounds ambitious," Clara finally remarked with an approving grin of her own, nodding and taking his hand. "I look forward to seeing how it turns out."

Barnaby nodded and kissed her on the cheek, which made her turn a brilliant shade of pink.

"Thanks, Clara."

I glanced over at Badeea now, who was trying so hard not to burst into giggles. I could relate. They were definitely sweethearts.

"So, what did you want to see me about?" Barnaby asked her then, swinging their linked hands slightly, to and fro.

"Actually, I need some advice about Ismelda," Clara ventured tentatively, her face now turning pale.

Andre warned me back in the courtyard that Ismelda was not one to mess with. Sure, he helped her confess her feelings to Barnaby, but that didn't mean he was okay with actually hanging around with her after the air was cleared. I couldn't imagine how a girl with morbid thoughts about blood and gore would want to hang out with someone who appreciated everything that lives. Of course, I didn't hear everything between Clara, Beatrice, and Ismelda back in the courtyard, but I could sense the tension between all three of them and know just how charged anyone would be if the names of those who brought them sheer discomfort was brought up in a conversation at all.

But Barnaby didn't flinch at all. Instead, he just frowned.

"She doesn't have a crush on me again, does she?" he asked her. "My schedule's quite packed with Renaissance Wizard activities. And making sure your sister's doing fine. And...well..."

"Yeah. I know. But no, she doesn't," Clara confirmed.

"I figured. We haven't been all that friendly in years."

"So...you won't give us advice?" I asked him. "I mean, if you haven't talked with Ismelda recently then we can try to talk with Merula. Even if she's been...guarded."

"No, of course I will," Barnaby promised. "But you'll have to duel me for it."

Duelling? I had no experience with duelling, let alone combative magic and spells. I turned to Clara now, who blanched even more at the prospect of raising her wand for another fight.

"Duel you for advice?" she asked meekly. "Why?"

"A Renaissance Wizard can't just stop at painting lessons," Barnaby explained. "I could use some duelling lessons, too."

"Diego gives duelling lessons," I chipped in then. "He's actually pretty powerful if I say so myself. One day he gave this Ravenclaw first-year girl a good Bat-Bogey Hex when she wouldn't shut up about the flowers in my hair."

And it wasn't a habit I always kept--I only wore tiny little sunflower clips in my hair that day because it was so sunny outside I had to match it. Apparently, some of us didn't appreciate it. I was only lucky that Diego was close by when the teasing happened, and he made her run and scream once it was all over. It was then when he said he wanted to protect me from anyone who tried to hurt me.

"True. I've seen it myself," Barnaby agreed. "But Clara was the one who duelled a Troll and a Dragon."

"Barnaby!" Badeea jumped in shock at that. "I'm sure those aren't exactly good memories for Clara. She was doing what had to be done to break the Portrait Curse."

Barnaby's face paled when Badeea told him, and he sighed, squeezing my sister's hand. "I'm sorry, Clara. We all know what you've been through."

"And little Em," Badeea reminded him. "It must be hard to imagine what her two older siblings had to go through here."

Clara nodded, glancing at me and Badeea. "Yeah, but if anything positive can come out of something negative..." She trailed off, smiling at me, and I knew what she meant. With another danger out of the way, even if I wasn't completely safe, she'd be well assured that my first year at Hogwarts would be as normal as it could get.

"Sounds like I could be getting my duelling lesson...?" Barnaby asked her, an eager grin on his face.

"All right," Clara eventually agreed. "Let's duel."

Badeea quickly brought me away from the two as they took their positions, bowing to each other before going into their ready stance. With their wands drawn, I couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated. I never saw Clara looking this bold before--not while I witnessed her with red puffy eyes and slouched frame that curled into a fetal position more than once over the summer. Then again, there was a lot to my sister that I know nothing about. She shared a stronger bond with Jacob when we were younger, after all.

When Jacob first went missing, all my parents could say was that he was taking a trip with his friends, and that he would be back soon. As the years went by, though, the image of Jacob--whatever impression he first left in my naive toddler mind--faded away from my memory. He never returned from whatever trip he took, and it lead to my parents fighting more than I was used to. My mother was badly humiliated, my father embarrassed and angry.

His gardens almost withered from the withdrawal of life that everyone felt. Her books were taken off the shelves of Flourish and Blotts to save her from the horrible reviews critics have given her.

And me? I could only do so much to help them calm down. I reminded them of the lie they told me. I tried to offer them the stuffed magical creatures I was gifted. But every day, they pulled more away from me, isolating themselves in a world where the family was forever deemed dysfunctional, incomplete, and practically irreparable. Only last summer did the truth come out, and from my older sister who saw him--probably for the last time.

Now I understood why Merula and Ben had changed so much from how Clara first saw them. The search for the Cursed Vaults had tested not only their individual abilities. They've tested the strength of their alliance with others, too--no one would dare enter the Cursed Vaults alone, after all. Rakepick chose her, Merula, and Bill Weasley as her apprentice curse-breakers for a reason.

No one imagined it would be for dragon bait.

I could see Clara cast her spells with so much force, almost like the night she was training with Merula. Barnaby still got a few chances to recover, but it was mostly Clara casting all the spells she needed. When it was finally over, she and Barnaby returned to us, Barnaby rubbing his eyes from where the handkerchief slapped him to finish off the duel.

"Wow. You sure schooled me, Clara," Barnaby remarked. "I feel I'm a better dueller already!"

"Indeed. You really are quite good, Clara," Badeea complimented with a smile.

Clara simply nodded, and I could see the steel melting from her eyes as she smiled back at the two of them. "Thank you both."

"So about Ismelda...what did you want to know?" Barnaby asked us then.

"Well, Ismelda's sort of taken Beatrice Haywood under her wing," Clara began.

"Ismelda and Penny's little sister?" Barnaby's eyes darted from me to Clara, over and over. "Odd pair."

"Beatrice had been a little lost since getting out of the painting, and her search ended up here," Clara explained. "And Penny's worried about Beatrice falling under the wrong influence. Ismelda can be rather jaded--but Ismelda is also being so protective of Beatrice that there's no getting by her."

"You must know something that can help, Barnaby," I piped up. "After all, you were with Ismelda when you and my sister first met."

"And Merula too," Barnaby recalled grimly.

"Don't get us started on Merula," Clara warned him. "She's reaching new levels of jaded."

Barnaby nodded thoughtfully, scratching his chin pensively. Then he looked up at Clara, and I thought I saw a glimmer of fondness in his eyes.

"Honestly, what helped me the most...was time with you," Barnaby stated. "I wanted friends. Everyone does. But the ones I first found were often bitter and cruel. So I often joined in, afraid to be left out--until you showed me I could have friends that didn't behave that way."

Something about Barnaby's words hit home for me. I wanted friends, too. Clara's often encouraging me to have a normal school year in her stead, with all the curse-breaking adventures she has going on. What if my flaw of being left out so much turns into a craving for company--even company with the worst folk? I just hoped Hillary wouldn't turn into a villain I had to look out for. For now, though, I could say Eunice and Travis were enough to deal with.

"So that's my best advice," Barnaby said eventually. "Spend time around Beatrice, whether Ismelda's around or not. Beatrice probably just wants to feel like she's part of something--soon she'll see that she has choices."

Beatrice didn't even have many friends to begin with, now that I thought about it. In a way, she must have had it worse than me. I looked up at Clara, who was looking at Badeea, the two of them exchanging surprised glances.

"That was so...wise," Badeea eventually managed to say.

"Rather touching, too," Clara added, her cheeks colouring a brilliant pink yet again.

"I think I can give it a go," I finally agreed. "Beatrice and I are in the same house, after all. If she could see me as a friend rather than just Penny's friend's sister, then maybe we could get somewhere with a new friendship."

Clara nodded. "You sure, though? You told me she--"

"Scared me a bit. She still does," I admitted. "But Barnaby's right. Reaching out to her might be the best option for us, and she and I are almost the same age, too. Maybe she'll understand."

Barnaby nodded at me then and smiled, handing me a Chocolate Frog box that he had in his pocket. "I hope it works out, little Em."

"And I'll head back to the Courtyard to see if Beatrice is still there," Clara offered. She smiled fondly at him before wrapping her arms around him. "Thank you, Barnaby. You just might be a Renaissance Wizard after all."

Once more, Badeea looked like she was going to dissolve in a fit of giggles, and I chuckled slightly at the sight of my sister in the arms of someone she loved and cherished.

I could truly see them being happy together. After all, they were each other's sweethearts. But would Clara still be this happy, with the possibility of a final curse still looming over the school?

#i cannot write fluff for the life of me #but this wasn't meant to be fluffy i guess #ehhhh #hphm #hogwarts mystery #hphm barnaby lee #hphm badeea ali #hphm clara lin #hphm em lin #etched engraved everlastin #year 6 spoilers #hphm spoilers #cursed vaults

[dndeviants]

Winery

They trudged into the rustic building, carefully trying to wipe their boots clean of mud, as to not track it through everywhere, save for Strahd, who simply snapped his fingers and muttered: “Presto.”

All traces of mud vanished from him. He walked forward into the winery proper, lost in his thoughts on the druids and what could possibly be at Yester Hill. 

Inside the room was a set of four large vats of wine that spanned almost two floors. Stairs led up to a balcony where the tops of three of the vats were exposed, the last one was not in use. 

Jeeves looked to his master, “Well, my lord? Shall we abide by Lord Strahd's request?"

Aric folded his arms, "I don't feel like we can trust those druids, so how can we be sure they aren't all poisoned?” he paused, “I guess the decision is yours, if you are up to it."

Jeeves shrugged in amusement, "If they are or aren't, I get a complimentary wine sampling. A very rare treat. May as well take advantage of the opportunity."

“True,” Aric shrugged in return, “Hopefully, it's good wine?"

Jeeves walked up the stairs to his left and pulled a ladle off the wall. He sat in front of the first vat and scooped up a small sample of the wine. He sniffed, and took a small portion to taste, and wrinkled his face in disgust.

“No, not poisoned... but this is-“ he paused and shook his head, choking, “-whew- how do your people drink this stuff? It tastes like bad medicine and rubbing alcohol!“

Strahd blinked, stirred from his thoughts, and walked over next to Aric to read the label on the first barrel:

"Grapemash No. 1. The cheapest of the wines,” Strahd pointed to the label, “More on the side of brandy. Not noted for its flavor, but more to the quick effect of intoxication. It was not my favorite."

"All due respect, it isn't mine either..." Jeeves stood up and flicked the remaining liquid back into the vat, "On to the next."

He sat at the next one, and completed the same ritual of smelling and tasting. He raised a brow and tilted the ladle, "Not bad. Still a little strong, but this is tasting more like wine. It's a little heavy on the tannin flavor, but also sweet. What is this one?"

Strahd read the next label, "Ruki's favored wine. The Red Dragon Crush."

Linda walked over to look at the label Strahd was at and exclaimed, “Oh, I like that one!” She pulled out her bottle to compare it, and decided to indulge herself. She looked around for a glass and poured herself a drink. She sat down at a table in the room and took out her journal, scribbling notes to herself in shorthand.

Jeeves noted the wine and stood up, “On to the next... here we go...” 

Jeeves sat over at the last vat. He went through his tasting process, and grimaced. He steadied himself, and gripped onto the railing. He shook his head and breathed slowly. 

"This one,” Jeeves declared, “This one is the poisoned one... which is a pity. This was probably the best one... Sweet, but not too sweet. Not alcoholic grape juice. And kind of bubbly?"

"That would be the Champagne du le Stomp...” replied Strahd, “That one is poisoned you say?"

Jeeves nodded, wincing as the poison took effect... but he was far better off than anyone else. He had trained himself to be resistant to all kinds of poisons. This one was no different.

Strahd sighed, "As entertaining as the thought may be to let the most expensive wine wipe out the boyars entirely... I still cannot allow this to pass. We'll have to empty the vat, its unusable... the winery will suffer financially as well."

Strahd folded his cloak around him, "It can't be helped."

Aric stepped forward, raising his hand, "Actually, I may have something that will help."

Jeeves and Strahd looked over in surprise.

“Oh?“

“Indeed?“

Aric nodded, "The ring we recovered from the Abbot had a few useful spells stored in it; I should be able to purify the wine."

Aric walked up to the vat, and held out his hand. He felt the magic stored in the Annulus Qysaris Minor flow out of the ring.

He watched as a spark of magic flowed out from the ring and enveloped the vat with a sphere of energy. It hummed for a few minutes, purifying the wine before fading out. He was certain the effect of the spell worked.

Hmm... the ring feels... lighter, somehow, he noted. It seemed using the spell for purifying food and drink made room for another.

Jeeves clutched at his stomach, feeling the full effect of the poison. He grit his teeth and leaned against the vat."I'll be fine... it won't last much longer... it's almost done."

Strahd walked over to the vat curiously, “Did it work?” he looked to Jeeves, “Are you going to survive?”

"I've had worse... from wyverns..." Jeeves sighed as the poison worked its way out of his system, "I think I'll live at least until tomorrow. As for whether or not the spell worked... I think I could risk another taste."

Jeeves scooped out one last taste of the wine, and nodded, "Much better. You should have some, Lord Aric."

Aric walked up the stairs to join Jeeves and took a small sip. It was bubbly and light on his tongue, very light in weight for a red wine, and much sweeter than he was used to. The slight tannins made the sweetness bearable. It hardly tasted like alcohol, but the alcohol was very present.

Fine indeed, Aric mused.

Linda finished writing her notes and looked back over everything...

Tatayana... mists... Marina... mists... Alina... mists... Strahd... why would he do that to himself?

 She closed Strahd’s journal and packed it up in her bag. She looked up to him, and stood up. She saw an empty room just beyond and walked over to the Vampire.

She lightly touched his arm, “Hey Strahd, can I talk to you?"

Strahd turned to her, "You may."

"In private?" She stared into his eyes, questioningly. 

Strahd raised a brow, "I suppose."

She nodded, and quietly replied, "Alright."

She tilted her head to the back room, and began to walk in. Strahd followed her, warily. She entered fully into the room, but Strahd kept to the side, leaning against the wall, not going any further from the door he came in.

He spoke quietly, "What do you wish to talk to me about?"

Linda sat down, and pulled out the Strahd’s journal, completed. She looked to him, "I read the last piece. And I had a few questions."

He glanced at the journal, then back to Linda, his tone wary, "Alright. What, pray tell, are your questions?"

She opened the journal and gestured to a space in between everything, "Well, there are some pages obviously missing... I was just wondering what happened."

Strahd blinked and looked at the section in question, then laughed, "The War against Azalin happened. The lich was spying on what I wrote, so I kept a fake journal in that book, and wrote my real thoughts and feelings elsewhere. When the threat was handled, I removed the false journal. I... didn't return to writing in that one for a time. I started to- but then Van Richten happened."

Linda was surprised at the existence of another, separate journal, "Oh, is there a way I could read those too?” she thought about his wariness, “Or, you could tell me what happened. I know a little from that history book, but I don't know how much is true."

Strahd inspected Linda, and walked a little further in the room, making a flippant gesture, as he let his cloak fall from his hands, "I don't see the harm in it. You've read the darkest moments in my life- unlife- already. If you haven't read anything that will spur you to betrayal... then I doubt you ever will."

Linda was surprised at this gesture of trust from him. She smiled, "I can assure you I haven't thought of it once."

Strahd looked at Linda for a moment. That smile... He shifted to standing upright, and folded his hands respectfully behind his back. He tilted his head, "Is that all you wished to ask of me?"

Linda paused and shook her head, "I wanted to ask about Tatayana...” she averted her gaze from him, and looked to the journal, “In here you wrote that she disappeared into the mists as you fell. Does that always happen? She just dissolves... no body... ever?"

Strahd nodded, his voice was hollow, "The mists... have always taken her. I've never been given the right to lay her to rest. Ever since she jumped from Castle Ravenloft's balcony... she has vanished into mists when she dies...”

He looked to her, “Preventing me from resurrecting her... preventing me from burying her. I gain no solace after her demise."

She looked to him, apprehensively, "Don't you think that is odd? She is the only one that that happens to, right?"

Strahd stared forward, almost as if he was looking through Linda, "Yes. She is the only one besides me. Every time she or I perish, our bodies become mist until we are somehow reborn."

"Well for you that is normal, you're a vampire. They all do that and go back to their coffin. But she isn't. I just think it's odd."

"I've not given it much thought,” he admitted, “It is just... a cyclical thing, it seems. I've always attributed it to the Dark Powers toying with me. I've never investigated the matter. Whatever is Mist here, is their domain. The sole exception being the Vistani."

Linda looked at Strahd, her voice quiet, but sympathetic, "Then Tatayana is their domain.”

She rose from the table and walked forward, and put a hand on his shoulder, speaking gently, “I still stand by what I said. I think this whole cycle is hurting you...”

She looked down, “You even wrote that you tried to end your suffering to be with her after she has died... and that just caused you more pain. How many times did it take for you to realize that it never worked?”

A little pain shot through Linda as she spoke, “When was the last time, Strahd? Because I don't want you to do that to yourself. You don't have to suffer, Strahd. I want to help you, but you need to want to help yourself-”

She shook her head, and bit back tears, trying to keep her voice steady “-and not wanting to live- exist anymore isn't going to end your suffering..."

Strahd blinked, and opened his mouth to speak, but closed it numbly. He was almost overwhelmed by the amount of... compassion for him... that he didn’t know exactly how to respond. He raised his hand to hers on his shoulder, and spoke quietly, “The last time... I tried to end my existence?"

She looked up at him and nodded, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. 

Strahd paused, and brought her hand off of his shoulder and held it in both of his own, "After Alina... I realized it was fruitless effort. That may as well have been the last time... I actively sought my own destruction."

Strahd shrugged, "After that... since I couldn't cause my own destruction... I left it to others to try and find a way... I wanted one of three things... To win Tatayana finally... to escape... or to be at rest- forever."

Strahd shook his head, “When adventurers or bandits came in my realm, seeking to destroy me or to lay waste to what little I had... I fought within my own codes. I suffered little foolishness for others... but at times... at times of loss for me... I did not go above and beyond to preserve my existence.”

He let go of her hand, “After Tatayana's many deaths... I just... felt numb. Certainly, I could kill many a person that troubled me... but I gave so many the opportunity to grow in power, to see if they too succumbed to the mists... and if one of them managed to finally slay me? So be it."

She sighed in hurt frustration, "You don't have to do that anymore. This is the last time, alright? We will get out. All of us...” 

She turned back to the table and rubbed her temples. Strahd reached for her, but decided against touching her, and forced his hands behind his back.

Linda nodded to herself, “I just need to look into these Dark Powers more. I think the next step is get everyone safe and prepare to find the Amber Temple."

 She packed away the journal and her notes, "Sorry, I had to ask those questions,” She turned back to him, “I know they aren't easy to answer, but I really just need to know things if I am to be able to help you."

"You aren't... upset?” Strahd was bewildered, “If things would have gone their natural course... I would have certainly have been your enemy... and if you found a way to destroy me... I am not certain I'd try to stop you."

Strahd sighed, "I know it is selfish. I have those who depend on me..." Strahd glanced backward to look at Ruki enjoying herself and sipping on the Red Dragon Crush. 

"It's the only thing that motivates me anymore."

Linda shook her head, "No, Strahd. As I said earlier, I have not thought of betraying you even once,” she looked to him, "Everyone can be selfish at times. That is a mark of humanity. So is jealousy, envy, sadness, worry... any emotion. They don't make you weak. They just make you more human."

Strahd pondered her statements,  "Alright. I suppose... do you have any more questions for me?" He looked to her, curiously.

“One last one,“ she admitted. She savored his confusion before asking, “Do you trust me?“

“I-“

Strahd paused and looked at this baffling woman. Trust was not something he gave lightly, ever. But she seemed to bring things forth from him so freely... 

The answer was obvious, even if he didn’t like it.

“Yes, I do.“

Linda smiled, “Good,” she pat his shoulder as she passed him, “Let’s rejoin the others.”

Strahd stood dumbfounded for a moment, before collecting himself and exiting behind her.

Linda clapped her hands, “So, what's the plan now that the wine is fixed?"

Aric stood, "I suppose we should let them know that the druids are gone."

Linda nodded, “Alright, outside it is then."

Jeeves sighed, "Back into the rain..."

"Yup. Let's get it over with..." Linda adjusted her pack and went to the door.

Strahd turned himself back into a tiny bat and fluttered over to Ruki. He reached out to Linda, “Thank you.”

Linda blinked, but half smiled. Those words were quiet and somber but they carried a lot of meaning. They walked out and trudged down the muddy path, heading back to the old man.

“Ya get rid of them?“ He asked.

Aric replied, "Fairly easily actually. They also poisoned your Champagne du le Stomp, but we were able to purify it."

The old man sharply inhaled, "They did what? You did what?! Well... sure. You have my thanks... ya saved me a pretty penny... You tell Urwin I'll have his wine to him in the next day or so. I'll even set something aside fer ya when I send it."

He paused, "I suppose... you couldn't go to Yester Hill... run one more errand for me? Get back the gem. Or else that is gonna be the last batch of Champagne du le Stomp I get to make."

Aric asked, “How far is Yester Hill?”

The old man pointed south south, "Hour down the road that-away. If'n ya like, you can rest up inside until the rain passes."

"It doesn't sound too far away,” Linda looked to the rest of her group, “You guys wanna head there now or rest up first?"

Aric folded his arms, "Let's rest first, see if the rain stops,and then head out."

The old man pointed to the winery, "Head on in, then. Let my family cook ya up somethin'. I know it's nighttime, an' ya shouldn't eat late, but some good ol' fashion grog should fix ya right up."

They were happy to oblige.

#curse of Strahd #story update #linda tacklemeyer #aric rein #writing #d&d #ruki von holtz #wizard of wines

[mf-despair-queen]

Scotty Doesn’t Know - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Reader

Word Count: 14,767

Warnings: 18+, REALLY NSFW, Protected Sex, Unprotected Sex, Oral (both receiving), Dirty Talk, Road Head, Jeep Sex, Cowgirl, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Face Riding, Handcuffs, Missionary, Implied multiple times, Side Sex, Sex while on the Phone, Squirting, Making Out, Shower Sex, Boob Job, Doggy Style, Spanking (both receiving), Hair Pulling, Sensitive Nipples, Secret Sex, Public Sex, Bathroom Sex, Reverse Cowgirl. IS THAT ENOUGH? IS THAT ALL? I THINK. 

Song: Scotty Doesn’t Know by Lustra from the movie Eurotrip

Notes: :) (shout out to @savage-stilinski and @minhosmeanhoe for being awesome LIKE ALWAYS)

Living in Beacon Hills your entire life can lead to a wild roller coaster ride as time goes on. You learn about the existence of supernatural creatures roaming the vacant streets, go on amazing adventures that makes your veins flow with adrenaline (albeit, they don’t always end safely for people and they aren’t the safest things to do for a sixteen to seventeen year old), and you form lifelong friendships with the few people that know the same things as you - forever and always know as the pack. However, there is one little thing about your life that can cause a wrench in any perfect world.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” the male asked uncertainly, his voice breathless from the countless activities you found yourself in. His cock remained buried deep inside you, small shifts in weight making you moan loudly. “We’re not going to tell anyone about this? About us?”

“We can’t,” you mumbled to him, whimpered as the man trailed his lips from your collarbone to your lips, ravishing them completely. “He would kill you if he found out.”

“So, our little secret?” he mused, his eyes flicking mischievously. “Sneaking around behind his back?”

“Yup,” you said. “Scotty doesn’t know...”

Scott McCall didn’t know you, his younger sister, was dating his best friend, Stiles Stilinski. He didn’t know the love you felt from the man you knew since the sandbox. And he didn’t know the things Stiles did to please you in multiple ways. And you had no intention of letting him find out about it anytime soon.

♪Scotty doesn't know that Fiona and me do it in my van every Sunday. She tells him she's in church but she doesn't go still she's on her knees and Scotty doesn't know♪

You grabbed your keys from the dish near the door, checkered backpack slung over your shoulder as you slid on your Adidas. You made sure to check yourself in the mirror in the front entryway, giving yourself a wink and a smile before turning towards the door, grasping the knob between your fingers.

“Where are you going to in such a hurry on a Sunday afternoon?” you heard behind you, making you freeze. “There are no supernatural occurrences right now.”

You turned towards Scott, staring at the male that was barely one year older than you. “You know that Sundays are study days with the girls from my class, Scotty.”

“Every Sunday?”

“Yeah,” you mocked sarcastically, unzipping your backpack to show the PSAT study booklet you had. “I kind of want to get in a good college so I need to do well on the PSATs. Unlike… someone in this house.” Scott sent you a glare, your sarcastic, jeering smile plastered to your cheeks. “Don’t look so defeated, big brother. One of the McCalls has to be astute.”

Scott’s brow furrowed, looking at you confused. “A-what?”

“Maybe you should have had these study sessions every Sunday like me,” you sneered playfully, tugging the door open. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have studying to do. Lock the door behind me, would ya?”

“Just studying with girls, right?” he asked, following you onto the porch. “No drugs, no boys? Just studying?”

“Just studying, Scott,” you told him. You saw his eyes narrow, rolling your eyes. He was checking your heartbeat and you knew it. But when he found nothing - no blips, no stutters, no indication in any way of lying - he let out a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Be home by eight.”

“What are you, my dad?” You joked, Scott cringing at the thought. You just giggled, kissing his cheek before skipping down the walkway and down the road, rounding the corner at the edge of the street. Scott’s watchful eyes never strayed until you were completely out of sight, finally turning back into the house.

What he missed when you were out of sight was the grin on your face as you tugged open the familiar powder blue door of Roscoe the Jeep, Stiles Stilinski sitting in the driver’s seat. “Hey, baby,” he greeted, allowing you to close the door before leaning over, a kiss directed to your lips. “Everything went well, I assume?”

“I have learned the best lying habits from you,” you hummed against his lips, taking his hand.

“I don’t know if that is a compliment or an insult,” he chuckled, shifting the Jeep into drive and barreling down the empty road towards the Preserve’s Lookout.

“It’s a compliment, Sti,” you told him, playing with his fingers. “He can’t pick up on a simple lie, considering we’ve kept this from him for as long as we have.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, licking his lips. “About that. Are we ever going to tell him?” You shot him a look, cocking your head. “I don’t mean it in a bad way, Y/N. I was just wondering if we are ever going to go public. That way I can ravish you whenever I want. Not just when we are alone like this. I want everyone to know you are mine. I love you so much. You are my best friend.” He paused, blinking once. “Best girl friend. Best friend that is of the female variety. Best friend that-”

“I get it. Continue please.”

“I love you. You know that. And I want people to know how I feel. I hate that we have to hide this,” he sighed. “And then there’s Scott. You’re a good liar, but we can only lie to him for so long. Eventually, he’s going to catch on when we are both ‘studying’ every Sunday.”

“Stiles,” you sighed, turning more towards him. “Trust me, I know. I want nothing more than to tell people how much I love you. Hell, I have loved you since first grade. I just didn’t know it. But you know how Scott will be if we tell him. You may be his best friend, but he won’t hesitate to castrate you.” You leaned closer, your lips brushing softly against his cheek, your boyfriend shivering to the touch. “And I quite like my boyfriend in tact. How is he supposed to fulfill that promise to be with me forever if he’s killed by my brother?”

“W-Well, maybe he will spare me?”

“You saw what he did to John, right? And that was pre-wolf. The asthmatic put him in the hospital with a broken nose while earning himself a trip to the hospital because he couldn’t breathe,” you said, Stiles paling.

“B-but, I’m exempt, right?” he asked cautiously. “I’m his friend.”

“And I’m his sister,” you quipped. “Now, let’s change this topic, shall we?”

“What? No,” he tried to say. “We need to talk about this-”

His words caught in his throat, coming out in a staggered, prolonged grunt. His ears missed the click of your seatbelt, but didn’t fail to hear or feel the zipper on his khakis slide down. The hem of his black Calvin Kleins were tugged down just enough to allow his semi-hard cock to spring free, hardening slightly at the chilled, fall air hovering around the jeep’s cabin.

“What are you…” he stammered, glancing at you, your hand wrapping around his shaft. “Baby, we are almost there. Can’t you wait, like, five minutes? That way I don’t potentially drive us into a tree?”

“Stay focused, Stilinski,” you bemused, ducking under his arm and wrapping your puckered lips around his cock. The length hardened indefinitely between your cheeks, your hollowed cheeks making him grunt and groan at the tightenness. The jeep swerved off the dirt road slightly, Stiles having to quickly readjust to avoid the countless trees around you.

“You’re trying to get us killed. You know my ADHD doesn’t let me concentrate on two things at once like this,” he grumbled through a moan, resting a hand on the back of your head. “Fuck, that feels good though. I love when you suck me, baby.”

You hummed around him, bobbing your head along his length, hand gripping what couldn’t fit in your mouth and matching the pace. Stiles pressed his foot harder to the gas before easing off, realizing he was starting to speed up recklessly, his mind buzz with the ecstasy he felt. His fingers laced through your locks, nails scraping at your scalp, helping your motions.

Your tongue ran along the length of his cock, moving up to suck heavily on the tip, lips wrapped around the head with your tongue swirling around the sensitive bits. Your boyfriend’s hips bucked upwards, his cock sliding further into your mouth, relishing in the bliss of your tongue along the length of his shaft.

“Oh God, baby. Suck it. Suck it all. Please. God, I love you so much, Y/N,” he breathed openly, struggling to keep his eyes on the road. His fingers tightened around your hair, tugging it to speed up your bobbing. You giggled around him, vibrating the length of him, drawing out a loud grunt from the man. “Fuck, babygirl. Don’t do that to me. I’m already loving what you’re doing. If you go and make me feel like that, I won’t last long.”

You giggled around him again, your hand dipping further into his pants to fondle his balls. Your bobbing head took all of him without remorse, the tip of him tapping the back of your throat with every thrust you did. The practice you had sucking him made the gagging sensation almost null, your lips curling upwards as you willingly deepthroated him.You mewled at the taste of his precum oozing from his slit, coating your tongue and taste buds in layers of his juices.

The Jeep was thrown into park the second the lookout came into view, engine dying with the simple, swift turn of a key. Stiles relaxed fully against the seat, his head resting on the headrest and his eyes clenching shut. His chest heaved with labored breathing, feeling the imminent orgasm approaching. “Just like that, babygirl,” he whimpered under his breath, scolding himself mentally for sounding so needy. Your bobbing sped up, sucking vehemently at every inch of him, tracing your tongue along the protruding vein on the underside of him, feeling it pulse against you. “Please, baby. I need to cum. I want to watch you swallow every last drop like I know you love to. God, you’re so sexy when you swallow.”

You grinned, pulling away from him before he could finish. You sat back in your seat, licking your lips and using your thumb to wipe at strings of saliva and precum that spilled out. You glanced over at Stiles, an incredulous look adorning his features. “What?”

“Did you,” he started, licking his lips slowly. “Did you really just do that?”

“Do what?”

“Pleased me like that then left me hanging,” he groaned, frantically rubbing his face, fixing his pants. “You know I hate when you deny me a release. It’s just…”

“Mean?” You said, quoting what he always says in a situation like this.

“Yes!” He spazzes, waving his arms wildly in a Stiles-like manner. You giggled at him, watching the man you love rant and rave about what happened. He let out a deep groan, his nose flaring with rage, his hand running through his hair and messing it up. You admired the man, eyes studying the moles on his face and neck that you actually had memorized since you were five. His biceps flexed when he lifted his arms, the years of lacrosse finally showing on the lean and pale teenager. “You know what this means now?”

“What?”

“You’re gonna get it,” he huffed, motioning to the back seat. “Go on. Move it.” You rolled your eyes, sliding over the center console and between the seats into the back, Stiles taking a moment to slap your ass on the way just to hear you squeal. “You know you love it, babygirl!”

“Whatever, Sti,” you laughed, laying on the old back seat. “Don’t forget the condoms. They’re in the glove compartment.”

Stiles mocked you silently, leaning over to grab the box you kept stashed for occasions like this. “I don’t get why we can’t go bare yet. You’re on birth control and we’ve been fucking for how long now?”

“Too long,” you laughed, playing with your shirt just to taunt your boyfriend.. “But rather be safe than sorry.”

“I hate you,” he mumbled, staring back at you.

“That’s a lie,” you laughed, leaning forward to place a quick but lingering kiss to his lips. You backed away only to cross your arms over your body, pulling the shirt off your body. Stiles’ jaw visibly dropped, gawking at the red lace bra you wore, the material slightly see through for his viewing pleasure. Your nipples were already erect with want, your fingers running down your chest to tease him. “Now, are you going to keep gawking, or are we gonna fuck?”

“God, I love you,” he let out instead, scrambling over gracelessly, flopping onto the floor of the jeep with a thump. He popped up, staring at you before moving to hover over you, his lips on yours.

You mewled against him, working on the buttons of his flannel before moving onto anything else. The first task was to get him as undressed as you were, and he would most likely be working on the bra and shorts quickly. He seemed more focused on the kiss for now, lips dragging sloppily against yours, the sound of the messy kisses resounding around the small space when he pulled away, delving in instantly afterwards. Your lips were already parted, his tongue circling every inch of your mouth, stopping only to play with your tongue. You didn’t care that your noses brushed or your teeth clashed whenever his head tilted from side to side, trying to find the perfect angle to get the best kiss possible. You were just glad to be with him.

It wasn’t a lie when you thought he would waste little time to remove your bra. As much as he loved it, the material was flung behind him carelessly, dangling from his rearview mirror before you could finally finish with his buttons through all your fumbling. His breathy moans kept you distracted, shaky fingers from his kisses making it hard to get the buttons through the holes that kept his shirt closed. You were barely able to push the flannel off his shoulders and onto the floor before his lips moved to your chest, nipping and sucking at the skin of your breasts and the valley between. It was a rule to never leave marks where Scott could see after all.

Your hands ran over his somewhat tense shoulder muscles as you moaned for him, his mouth finding home on your nipple, sucking and kissing at the peak with all his might. Your back slouched against the seat, forcing your hands between your bodies to work on his pants, fingers fumbling and failing with the button. You couldn’t concentrate with the constant kisses to your breast, Stiles never relenting with his ferocious licks and sucks. His cool breath fanned over it occasionally, the man on a personal mission to make the buds more taut and erect that ever. And, it was working.

“Stiles, please,” you whined at him, arching into him when he swapped breasts for the third time. “We don’t come out here for you to suck on my tits. If you wanted to do that, we can find a closet or something at school.”

“But I love them so much,” he mused, pulling away with a pop only to flick his tongue across the nipple rapidly. You whimpered, a loud breathless noise leaving your lips, Stiles grinning against the perfectly round mounds. “If I could keep you shirtless all day and all night, I would. Just so I can always suck them. Lick them. Fuck, I love when you wrap them around my cock in the shower or in my bed.”

You finally mustered enough strength to push him back, the jeep shaking when he collapsed backwards onto the seat with a disgruntled noise. You muttered a small apology, watching him rub the back of his head where it hit the window, moving to work on his jeans without thought. “As much as I love you and your love of my chest, I need you inside me. We don’t have all day.”

“Sadly,” he huffed with pure annoyance. You rolled your eyes, patting his side after the button popped open. You were glad the zipper was still down, Stiles having only taken time to button them in his frantic spazz attack. Stiles’ hips were lifted, the restrictive material tugged down his legs, his Calvin Kleins caught with them. His fully erect length shot free, smacking his stomach in all its glory, a small string of precum connected to the happy trail hiding his abs. You smiled, leaning down to kiss it when Stiles wagged a finger at you. “No, no, no. Not again. You are grounded from blowing me.”

“But you taste so good!”

“So do you,” he battled. Pushing himself up, your body following instinctively, he worked on the buttons of your shorts, his hand slipping between your legs to rub your wet pussy. “But, you want me inside this wet little cunt. So, I suggest you strip already and ride me like the badass little cowgirl you are.”

“I get to be on top for once?” you challenged, Stiles’ eyes flashing dark. With a sickly sweet smile, you managed to stand in the back of the jeep, wiggling free of your shorts and matching thong.

“Fuck, the thong matches,” he whispered, grabbing it swiftly and pocketing them in his discarded khakis. “Those are mine now.”

“Rude.”

“You’ll get over it because you’re on top, babygirl,” he hummed, moving his body to the middle of the backseat. His veiny hand moved to stroke himself, his eyes never leaving your form. He had to blindly reach for the condom he grabbed earlier, never daring to look away from the sight before him. The wrapper was torn with his teeth, Stiles, for once, skillfully catching the rubber before it hit the floor and rolling it down his length. Slowly, you straddled his waist, one knee on either side of him to support your weight. His tip smoothed through your folds once, slowly inching its way inside.

“Fuck, I always forget how big you are,” you whimpered, settling atop his length, the shaft deep inside you, filling you to the hilt.

“The XXL condoms we bought weren’t a lie, baby,” he hummed, his hands resting on your hips. His hips bucked upwards into you, the tip of his cock already hitting your sweet spot and making you squeal. “Now, please kiss me. I miss your lips.”

His voice was smooth like music, but a hint of husk and gruff on the underlying tone. You found yourself smiling, internally swooning at the sound he made and the words he said, leaning forward to kiss him. His lips curled upwards, using his hands to guide your hips against his, his cock beginning to slide in and out of you with ease. Your hips rolls against his skillfully, your hands cupping his face to keep his lips to yours, fingers trailing along the defined jawline and constellation of moles. Your tongues playfully pressed to each other, more passionate than before.

Your motions grew harder and faster, Stiles’ fingers digging into your sides to help you along. His hips bucked upwards to meet your thrusts occasionally, allowing you to take the reigns for the moment. The faster you moved, the more your breasts bounce. The more they bounced, the harder he grew inside you, pulsating into your walls and twitching into your sweet spot - though, he was hitting that without trying every time he slid back into you. Your heads alternated which ways they tilted, furious kisses breaking with loud smacks before lips connected again.

The more you moved against him, the harder you both breathed. Beads of sweat ran down your forehead, the puffs of air beginning to fog the windows of the jeep around you. Stiles had failed to crack a window, so the smoldering aura that formed around your bodies in the midst of sex clouded the windows without a way to escape. It seemed normal for it to be like this with Stiles, though. He loved to find random handprints you left on the foggy glass, reminiscing about the moans and screams you let out for him.

Roscoe bounced with your quick thrusts, anyone outside able to hear the squeaking gears from miles away. Stiles loved the sound, really. Feeling the Jeep shake under the weight of your constant thrusts brought him joy. The jostling of the Jeep got worse when his feet planted firmly to the floor, vehemently thrusting up into you, your hips still. The shaking grew worse, your body weight thrown for a loop when he pistoned himself into you crazily. Your lips tore from his, teeth biting down unconscious when you did, to let out a loud screaming moan of his real name.

“MIECZYSLAW!”

Stiles’ tongue passed over his sore lip, his powerful, godlike thrusts never stopping, even with the metallic taste of blood you had accidently drawn. His lips moved to your chest, sucking more dark marks for Scott to miss out seeing, your moans only getting louder. Your nails scraped at his shoulders and back as best they could, even penetrating the leather of his seats for the umpteenth time.

He pulled out of you, your body lifted from his lap and placed on the seat, hands and knees shaky. He settled behind you with flaring eyes, a lustful glint noticeable when he thrust into you from behind, ripping more moans out of you. You whimpered and cried his name, Stiles smacking your ass lightly as he thrust, slapping skin filling the Jeep instead. Stiles, himself, let out countless breathy moans, uttering your name everytime he felt you clench around him. His thrusts were already sloppy, skin glistening with sweat and passion.

“God, I love you, Y/N,” he mumbled, watching your hand reach out aimlessly, leaving a fresh handprint on the glass for him to find later. The Jeep shook from side to side with his thrusts from behind, the man desperate for release. “Cum for me, baby. Cum for me so much. I want to hear you scream my name.”

“Stiles-”

“Not that name,” he growled unintentionally. You moaned at the sound though, falling to your elbows on the seat, ass pressing harder against him.

“Fuck, that was hot, Mieczyslaw,” you whined at him, shoving your backside against him to match his pace. “Please, make me cum, Mieczyslaw.”

You were undone in seconds, Stiles’ thrust faster and harder than you were used to. You screamed his name as you tightened around him, toes curling into the seat, your nails clawing at the seat. Stiles grunted at the feeling, feeling your juices splatter around him through the condom, his cock sliding into you easily. He twitched against the walls, leaning forward as he spilled his load into the rubber, wishing it was you instead. His thrusts eased, not wanting to break the already tight latex, soothing you both through your powerful orgasms. He muttered your name, following it with constant ‘I love you’s’.

You slowly got dressed after the pulled out, sharing short, tender-loving kisses between each article of clothes. Stiles, naturally, fondled your breasts when helping you replace your bra, your core aching for round two that you knew couldn’t happen. You watched him climb over his police scanner and out of the jeep, opening the back. “What now?” you asked him, watching him unload the trunk.

“Well, what kind of date would it be without Cheetos and Dr. Pepper?” he hummed, holding up the objects with a blanket. “Oh, and Reeses.”

“God, you’re perfect,” you laughed, climbing out of the jeep. Stiles met you around front, helping you onto the hood first, plopping down next to you. The blanket was draped over your bodies, the snacks strewn on either side of you. Your legs tangled together under the blanket, your head resting on his chest. Stiles’ chin was on top of your head, your fingers lacing together naturally.

“One day, we will find a way to tell Scott,” he promised, kissing your forehead. “Till then, I’m just glad I have you in my life.”

No words needed to be shared after that as you both watched the sun set in the horizon. It was just nice to be together.

♪Fiona says she's out shoppin' But she's under me And I'm not stoppin' 'cause♪

“Scott, I told you already. I am already at the grocery store. We kind of need food in the house and mom doesn’t have time to go.” You paused, turning the key Stiles had given you to his house after your first date, slipping inside as you listening to Scott’s rant. You smiled when you noticed his dad’s squad car not in the driveway, meaning Stiles was home alone as planned. “Scott, seriously? I don’t need to go with you to babysit Liam during your Alpha-Beta training. Don’t wait up for me, ok?” You paused, kicking off your shoes as he ranted again. “Scott, it’s fine. I’m a big girl and can handle groceries. I will see you tonight for dinner. Love you.”

You groaned loudly, hanging up and leaving the phone on the table near the door with your keys. The last thing you wanted was for Scott to call you while you were hanging out with your boyfriend. You quickly sprinted to Stiles’ room, humming an All Time Low tune as you went. You stopped short when you saw the door cracked open, loud panting coming from inside.

You tiptoed to the door, glancing through the crack at the scene inside. Stiles was shirtless, his hair wet from his shower. But his sweatpants were gathered around his ankles and his hand was around his very large cock. The knuckle was white from his grip, his hand jerking away at his hard on faster than you had ever seen.

“Jesus, babygirl,” he whimpered lowly, your ears perking at the noise. “Y/N, please. Let me fuck you. I need to be inside you. You feel so good around me. So tight. So wet. God, I love feeling you.”

Your legs rubbed together, a wet patch forming between them as you watched. His hand sped up, head falling back into his pillow and back arching off the bed.

“Fuck!” he screamed, jerking around on the bed playing with himself. “You love when I fuck you? You like when I beat up that little pussy with my cock? You just love my cock, babygirl. You'll never forget it. Only it will make you cum. It’ll make you cum around it over and over again until you’re dry as a bone.”

“Like that’ll ever happen,” you told yourself under your breath, hand sliding under the skirt you wore. You had intentionally forgone the panties, knowing you would lose another pair if you had worn them. Your finger brushed against your clit, a shiver of ecstasy running through your body. “I’m always wet for you, Sti.”

“I’m gonna pound that little cunt of yours,” he promised aloud, biting and licking his lip. “You’ll never forget the feeling of me inside you.”

You let out a sharp breath, covering your mouth quickly so he wouldn’t hear. Your fingers dipped into your core, slowly thrusting into yourself, juices dripping down your fingers. They matched his pace surprisingly, your hazy eyes blurred on his image but never straying from the amazing sight of your boyfriend masturbating to the thought of fucking you over and over again, promising to please you without remorse.

“God, I love your body, baby girl,” he hummed, one hand cupping his balls. “Your round ass that I love to slap. Your bouncing tits that I love to suck. Your plump lips that I can’t resist kissing. You look so good under me. Even better on top of me. The best when I take you from behind because you moan and scream so loud. Say my name, Y/N. Please.”

“Mieczyslaw,” you whimpered, awkwardly pressing a thumb to your clit as you fingered yourself. You leaned on the door frame, trying to find an angle that worked.

“You also look good when you’re not standing in the door watching me.”

You blinked, glancing through the crack again to find his honey eyes, dark with lust, focused on the door, a smirk on his face. “How’d you know I was here?” you asked him, fixing your skirt before moving into the room.

“I’ve known since your car pulled up,” he hummed, stroking himself slowly. You sat in his computer chair, rolling towards him. “You like watching me masturbate, baby?” You stayed quiet. “You like fingering yourself to me masturbating?”

“Maybe,” you taunted, leaning back in the chair and spreading your legs, showing your bare pussy to him. His tongue ran over his lips like normal, eyes swapping between your core and your face. “Now, I’d like to cum please.”

“Gladly,” he hummed, never taking his eyes off you as he starting stroking himself faster, the skin of his shaft tugged slightly over the tip. You watched him closely, propping your feet on the edge of his bed, fingers dipping back inside yourself. You masturbated together, moaning each others names, your hands teasing him by tugging your shirt up and your bra down, tweaking your own nipples.

Sadly, your fingers did you little justice these days. Stiles was confused when you stood abruptly from the chair, stripping the shirt off your body and dropping the skirt to the carpet. Your bra went flying somewhere into his room, lost amongst his discarded clothes from the week. His mouth opened up to question, closing when you simply straddled his face, wet pussy in contact with his lips. A deep groan vibrated it, pulling a loud moan from inside you.

His hand never stopped moving, his tongue finding home deep inside you while jerking himself off. Your hands gripped the headboard tightly, hips rocking against his facial features, relishing in the bliss of his tongue deep inside you. The wet appendage swirled in circles, the tip tapping your g-spot continuously as it traced along your sensitive walls. His nose rubbed to your clit, sending sparks through your system and making a knot build inside you.

Stiles was already close when you started, him masturbating before you walked in taking effect. His body tossed and turned under you, never faltering in his efforts to make you cum with him. Your increasing volume told him you were close, his tongue speeding up.

“Mieczy…” you whimpered, your walls tightening. He hummed happily, as if telling you to do what you wished, your body giving in. You came together, your juices leaking around his tongue and his seed spewing from the tip in strands of hot, white sperm, coating his stomach, chest and your back and ass. Your toes curled happily, his own matching yours.

You were moved off him after relaxing, Stiles not caring about your cum-covered back as he pressed you to his bed. He leaned over to his bedside table, digging through the drawer. You simply assumed it was for tissues, but when his large hand took your wrists and held them above your head, a metal clanging following, you blinked.

“What?” you asked, looking at the handcuffs around your wrists. “Seriously, Sti? Where did you-”

“Dad won’t miss them,” he mused, finally grabbing tissues to clean himself off.

“Right. Son of a cop,” you huffed. “Didn’t know you were so kinky.”

“This is kinky to you?” he laughed. “We just masturbated together and the handcuffs are kinky?”

“Yeah,” you grinned. “You know what else is?” he hummed under his breath, pulling out his box of condoms. “Bareback sex.”

Stiles dropped the box to the floor, his jaw dropping. “Girlfriend say what now?”

“Girlfriend say fuck me right now. Fill me with every drop you have.”

“What about being safe?”

“We still are being safe,” you hummed. “We’ll just keep an eye out in case something is amiss. Now, are you going to argue?”

He didn’t respond, going between your legs instantly with his cock deep inside you. You let out loud moans together, the feeling a million times more intense than with the latex around him. “F-fuck,” he stammered, collapsing forward in a fit of passing ecstasy, catching himself on his hands before he hit your body. He shook slightly, cock twitching against your walls endlessly. His tongue ran over his lips to wet them, eyes clenching shut to keep his composure. You watched the man take deep breaths, feeling it fan over your bare chest, making your squirm from side to side. “Don’t move like that,” he groaned gruffly. “I’m already struggling.”

“But I need more,” you whined.

“I know,” he let out, kissing your lips softly. “J-just… give me a second to regain myself. Because if I move now, I’m bound to explode before you even get close again.”

“Just think of something not sexy,” you tried. “Think of… Scott’s smelly socks. Those things are rancid.”

“I’d rather not think about Scott when his little sister is under me with my cock inside her,” he joked, pushing himself back on his knees. He eyed you slowly, nibbling on his lip. “His little sister chained up and exposed just for me, her beautiful body ripe for the taking. His little sister then screams my name because I please her and she pleases me.” he paused, cracking a sweet smile. “His little sister that I love so much.”

“Alright, Sti. I get it. And I love you too. But more fucking please,” you huffed at him, rotating your hips to make him grunt and groan, drawing out a familiar breathy moan you adored. “Hard and fast, just the way I like it.”

“I won’t last long if I do,” he said, starting with slow, teasing thrusts, his ability to find your sweet spot already present.

“Then we go again, and again, until we are satisfied,” you managed to say through your moans, writhing under him. “Just, please, Mieczyslaw. I need you.”

His hips snapped into you wordlessly, you moan instantly turning into a scream. The sound of skin on skin was drowned out by the numerous screams you let out, his hands keeping your hips still so he could easily piston himself into you. His hips rolled against yours perfectly, matching the shape of you with natural ease. Your legs wrapped around his waist, tugging him closer so he could push himself deeper into you, his eyes taking in your body. His eyes darkened at your bouncing breasts and the way his cock emerged from your folds covered in arousal, quickly disappearing back into you at godlike speeds.

A hand ran through his hair, tousling the locks cutely in his attempt to remain in control. “God, you’re so beautiful, baby girl. So tight, so sexy, so mine.”

“All yours,” you whimpered and mewled, back arching to his touch. “More, please, Sti. I need more. Make me feel good.”

“Gladly,” he gasped with a staggered breath. His hips slowed to a stop so he could unwind your legs from his waist, draping each one against his chest and on his shoulders instead. The angle allowed him to dig deeper than before, and Stiles let out a loud grunt at the tight warmth he felt. “Holy fuck, you feel amazing without a condom.”

His thrusts started again, your heels digging into his shoulders from the pleasure you felt. You moaned his name without remorse, nails digging into your palms. Stiles hid his grin when he heard the clink of the handcuffs against the headboard, silently grateful for the metal grating headboard he invested in from his summer savings. He watched you wither and writhe under him, desperately calling his name. Your walls clung around him, his breath catching to ensure he didn’t cum prematurely inside you. He only wanted to when you were ready. The sound of slapping skin was music to his ears, the only sound better being the kisses you shared whenever you were alone.

His finger moved to your clit, rubbing circles at it in time with his thrusts. “Cum for me, baby. Please, Y/N. I need you to cum.” You nodded, unable to form words, staring at the black dots behind your eyelids. Your boyfriend smiled, focusing on the task at hand until you were a moaning mess against his sheets, juices sputtering  around with an uncoiled knot inside you. He grunted at the warm, wet feeling, the new sensation overwhelming his senses. A rainbow of colors filled his vision, his seed spilled from the slit in the tip to mix with your juices. Your heels dug into his shoulders, toes curling at the feelings he gave you. Your back arched off the bed, trying desperately to reach forward to touch the man you loved.

He slowed his powerful, quick thrusts as you both came, stilling when he released he entire load inside you. Your legs were moved from his shoulders, his fingers running over the faint bruises that were starting to form from his relentless movements. “You’re going to hurt tomorrow,” he informed. He placed a lingering kiss to your lips, remaining close despite your hot, sweaty bodies. “But, still up for a round two?”

“Give it me, baby,” you said, trying to reach forward. “Now, care to remove something?”

“Nope,” he laughed, proceeding to flip you onto your stomach, your arms crossing over each other because of the handcuffs. You squealed in response, not arguing with the actions that came after.

As the hours passed, and multiple orgasms later, he fumbled with the key in a shaky hand, removing the handcuffs. Your arms fell to your sides, a prolonged groan leaving your lips when you turned to snuggle into his collapsed body beside you. His arm wrapped around you, limbs tangled together. “I don’t want you to leave,” he whined, glancing at the time.

“I have a few minutes,” you whispered to him, kissing his lips lightly. “Scott’s too dense to realize I did the grocery shopping yesterday. I just have to get home and cook.”

“Well, in that case,” he laughed, rolling onto his side, you following his lead. A strand of hair was pushed behind your ear, Stiles giving a cheesy smile. “Five more minutes.”

His lips connected to yours in a slow, passionate kiss; the kind of kiss meant only for lovers.

♪I can't believe he's so trustin' While I'm right behind you thrustin' Fiona's got him on the phone And she's tryin' not to moan It's a three way call And he knows nothin', nothin'♪

The distinct sound of Star Wars blared from the TV, the couple on the couch having long forgotten about the movie they turned on for their usual “stay at home date night”. Instead, his lips were on yours, tongues heavily roaming each other's mouths. Stiles laid behind you on the couch, propped up by an elbow so he hovered over you as you kissed. One of your arms slung around his neck, feet burying into the blankets he laid out. His hand had already found its way into your pants, playing with your clit and folds mercilessly. Your other hand matched his, disappearing into his sweats to stroke his elongated cock.

He pulled away for air, lips smacking as he did, the feeling of his dragging down against yours slowly still present. “God, I love you,” he whispered into your ear, nipping at the earlobe before pulling his hand from your pants, shaking yours loose from around his length. He shimmied down the couch, pulling you into a sitting position solely so he could pull your shirt over your head, bra forgone before coming over. The shirt had been his anyway and was loose enough around you that you couldn’t tell there was nothing under it. You were pushed back onto the couch, his hands tugging at the loose sweats you, too, had decided to wear.

Truth be told, Stiles never cared what you wore. You were always beautiful to him.

His head disappeared between your legs, tongue deep inside your pussy. You let out a loud moan, glad his dad was still at work. It would be awkward for you all if he walked in on his son eating you out. Your hand tangled in his hair, tugging at the messy tendrils and pulling him closer to your core. “More,” you whimpered openly, free hand clawing at the couch. “God, Stiles. More.”

He hummed against you, the sound vibrating throughout your body. You could feel the smile he held as he continued to lick you, circling his tongue inside you. His nose brushed against your clit, your back arching from the sharp feeling of bliss. The tip of his tongue found your g-spot occasionally, the man obviously not seeking it out. He was just savoring the sweet taste you gave him.

His tongue moved from your pussy to your clit, two fingers replacing the lost feeling. The ends curled into the sensitive walls, nails scraping pleasurably along when with every thrust. The pace of his fingers matched his mouth, tongue flicking the engorged nub in different directions. You whimpered his name, tugging harder at his hair, pleading for more. His fingers only sped up at the sounds you made, fingers spreading whenever they pulled out and scissoring your entrance before coming back together to slip back inside.

He pulled out before you could orgasm, licking his lips slowly to gather last bits of juices that stuck to them. You watched the man stand from the couch, stripping his red shirt over his head, the sweats he wore pooling to the carpet. You mockingly whistled at him, Stiles winking back before taking his spot back behind you on the couch. His hard cock slid through your folds, the tip prodding at your core a few times. “May I?” he asked thoughtfully, not wanting to proceed without permission.

“Yes please,” you whispered, tilting your head to kiss him. He used a hand to angle himself properly, his cock sliding into you easily. You whimpered against his lips. Pressing your back against his chest harder, arm wrapping awkwardly around him. One of his arms laid under your head, hand finding home on your breast, the tips of his fingers brushing against your hard nipples. His other arm wrapped around your waist, keeping his lips pressed to yours in a loving kiss.

His hips snapped into your backside, the clapping skin filling the living room. His thrusts started slow, gradually growing faster the more he pushed into you. The unique angle allowed him to hit multiple spots that made you see stars. His balls slapped against your folds with each thrust into you, his cock pistoning into you quickly and firmly. He broke his hold on your waist long enough to move your leg over his, speeding up his restless pounding from behind.

His lips broke from yours, your head falling back against his shoulder. His lips placed soft kisses to your jawline, finding home against your neck to place tender, loving kisses to the skin of it. The affectionate gesture didn’t hinder his thrusts, the sound of your quiet moans fueling him instead.

He only stilled when your phone blared through the air, vibrating against the coffee table in front of you. You groaned, reaching forward to look at who was interrupting you. Your brow furrowed when you saw Scott’s picture on the screen, mumbling low curses. “You, keep quiet,” you told Stiles.

“I know, I know. I don’t want to die, babe,” he laughed.

You rolled your eyes at him, sliding your finger against the screen. “Hey, Scotty. What’s going down?”

“Where are you?” he asked instantly.

“At a friends,” you said, eyeing Stiles. He gave a cocky grin, his hips slowly beginning to thrust back into you. You sent him a dangerous look, the man wordlessly refusing to stop. It took everything in your power to keep quiet, his agonizingly slow thrusts somehow more pleasurable than the powerful thrusts from before.

“Doing what?”

“Really Scott?” you managed to say calmly, covering your mouth to stop the moan of Stiles’ name that wanted to spill. Stiles grinned, speeding up gradually once more, pistoning himself into you as you talked on the phone. “Do I have to prove it?”

“I mean…”

“Hang on,” you said, putting him on speaker. Holding the phone towards the tv, Scott could hear the sound of Darth Vader on the screen, a loud groan on his end.

“You’re watching Star Wars again? I swear, you and Stiles are too alike sometimes. It feels like you guys are meant for each other sometimes.”

“Is that so?” you hummed, glancing back at Stiles. He held a sheepish grin, Scott’s words feeding the ego he had. His lips returned to kissing your neck, his hand on your breast palming it faster and harder. You physically had to bite you tongue to keep from moaning loudly, his increased thrusts into you driving you wild.

“Yeah. But I swear, if I ever find out he laid a finger on you, he will wish he took the bite from Peter,” Scott uttered menacingly. “He’s my best friend. Bros before hoes.”

“I’m a hoe now?”

“Now,” Scott tried to justify. “I just mean that he is my best friend and best friends don’t date their best friend’s sister.”

“Right,” you frowned slightly, licking your lips. “Even if they were-” you stopped to take a deep breath, head falling back. Stiles moved his hand to your clit, your resistance starting to wane. “-happy and in love?”

Scott didn’t respond. “I will catch you later. Mom needs help with chores.”

“Alright, night,” you hastily told him, hanging up and dropping the phone. A screaming moan filled the air the second the line with Scott when silent, your lips pressing to Stiles’. “You’re trying to get us caught. And maybe yourself killed,” you whimpered at him.

“I’ll take my chances with you,” he muttered, speeding up again. His fingers never left your clit, rubbing fast circles to it, flicking it left and right. You let out countless moans that were pent up from your short phone call with Scott, squirming in his hold. The coil that had built up inside you was unraveling - fast. “Cum for me, baby girl. Please. Moan for me. Let me know how you feel about me.”

“I love you,” you mewled with a squeaky voice, pressing hard into him. His fingers sped up. His cock sped up. His palming sped up. His kisses sped up. He was determined to get you to your peak.

You spasmed against him, liquid pouring out around his cock and his hand. Droplets of liquid hit the table and the carpet, Stiles grunting at the tight walls around him that were thick with waves of arousal. Your leg hugged around his waist, pushing him closer. Your lips pressed to his in an effort to silence your moans, ignoring the teeth clashing and sloppy connection. His cock twitched inside you, spilling every drop of his seed into your core, warming your insides. His thrusts slowed to ride you through your highs, clutching you to his form.

Stiles smiled when you relaxed, your form matching his perfectly. It was times like this that he was sure you were meant for him. And the thought alone made him giddy inside. He pulled out slowly, laying you flat on your back and kissing your lips.

“That was amazing,” he hummed against your lips before glancing at the mess on the table and floor near the couch. “But, we may need to clean up before my dad comes home. He might question when he finds out I made you squirt all over our living room. And I am not in the mood for a lecture about safe sex from him again.”

“Sounds like a good plan for once,” you jabbed, the man deadpanning.

“Oh, fuck off.”

♪The parking lot, why not It's so cool when you're on top His front lawn, in the snow Life is so hard 'cause Scotty doesn't know♪

The school bell echoed through the halls, students rushing out of their classrooms towards the doors of Beacon Hills High School. Everyone was eager for winter break, wanting to escape the hellscape that is school for the coming weeks. You waltzed from your math class with your friend Hannah, the two of you chatting as you approached your locker.

“Any plans for the break?” she asked, nudging your side. “With a certain boy maybe.”

You groaned, hating that she knew about you and Stiles. Of course, she was sworn to secrecy, but she loved to dangle it over your head. “Probably. We haven’t really talked about it. We are meeting at my house though with everyone just to relax after today.”

“Well, I hope you get some time with your man,” she hummed. She spied Scott, Kira, Lydia, Liam and Stiles walking towards you locker, giving a quick wave. “Catch ya later, love. Have a good break. Hit me up for coffee sometime!”

“Will do, babe!” you called back to her as she walked off. You slid on your jacket and scarf right when everyone got to you, Liam bouncing. “Who gave the beta sugar?”

“It’s snowing!” he screamed, random passerbys giving him a look.

“Damn, really?” you grinned. “I can’t remember the last time it snowed in Beacon Hills.”

“When we were in middle school,” Stiles pointed out, giving you a wink.

“Captain of useless information everyone!” You laughed, gesturing to Stiles before closing your locker. He stuck his tongue out, nudging your side.

“I like that it’s snowing,” Kira mentioned. “Maybe, instead of a movie, we can spend time in the snow!”

“Snowball fight!” Liam screamed, running off. Lydia groaned, following after him while mumbling curses, knowing she was his ride. The remaining four followed after slowly, Scott wrapping his arm around his girlfriend.

“So, we will meet back at our house and have a pack snow day,” Scott offered, digging out the keys for the car. He held the door open for Kira, the two sharing a nauseating kiss first. He proceeded to open the door for you next, his brow furrowing.

“I love you, Scott, but I am not third-wheeling. I will catch a ride with Sti,” you told him.

“Are you sure?” Scott asked.

“It’s fine with me, bro,” Stiles said. “I will get her there safely.”

“My sister, or the Jeep?”

“Very funny,” Stiles sneered, taking your hand. Your eyes widened slightly, but Scott said nothing of it. “We will just go away now. Drive safe.”

“I should be telling you that,” Scott laughed.

You shuffled into the warmth of the Jeep, watching Scott and Kira drive off before slapping Stiles in the chest. “What the fuck?!” He screamed. “What was that for?”

“You! Trying to get us caught?” you snapped.

“It’s fine,” he said. “It was a friendly gesture. We’ve always done that when I need to drag you somewhere.”

“Yeah, but that’s also because we’re dating, dipshit!”

“Don’t be so grouchy,” he laughed, glancing around the empty parking lot before leaning over to kiss you. “Are you PMSing?”

“No,” you growled, flicking his forehead. “I’m mad at you.”

“Does this help?” he quietly asked, pressing his lips to yours again.

It did, unfortunately. You relaxed instantly, finding yourself in his lap five minutes later. Stiles struggled to find the lever for his seat when you straddled his waist, the seat not going back nearly as much as he hoped or wanted. He didn’t bother further, too engrossed in the kiss you were sharing. Your hands cupped his cheeks, tracing his moles and chiseled jawline, his own hands sliding under your shirt.

The kiss grew steamy quickly. Tongues tangling together, heads tilting from side to side for better access to the other’s lips. His lips dragged against yours whenever he moved to get a better position, low smacking sounds filling the Jeep’s cabin. Your eyes were closed, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours, focused on the game of tonsil hockey you were in the middle of. His hands slipped further up your shirt, slithering under the bottom edge of your bra to grope your breasts, toying with the nipples. Your fingers worked on his flannel shirt, pushing it open to reveal the glory of his bare chest, a patch of hair present between his muscular pecs.

When your fingers brushed against his nipples, he broke the kiss with a sharp hiss, licking his lips quickly. “Don’t do that,” he grumbled huskily.

“Why?” you asked, doing it again. The man struggled under you, letting out a shaky breath. “You have sensitive nipples?”

“Yes,” he grunted, shuffling more.

“I’m just now finding out about this?” You joked, leaning down to kiss one of the nipples. Stiles let out a groan, shaking his head.

“Evil,” he gasped, your lips tugging at the bud on his chest, drawing circles around the mole under the left nipple.

“I think that’s you, good sir,” you hummed, grinding against him. “I’m horny now.”

“Then do something about it,” he mused. You smiled at him, moving to his belt, lifting off of his lap in an effort to free his cock from the strain of his jeans so you could slide down on it.

But when your ass hit the steering wheel, the horn sounding around the lot, you both froze, glancing around. You were glad the parking lot was empty, finally letting out the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“We should probably get back to your house before Scott questions,” Stiles sighed, fixing his shirt.

“I guess,” you sighed in return, moving off of him and flopping into the passenger seat. “But I really wanted you inside me.”

“You and me both, baby,” he hummed, starting the Jeep and taking your hand. “You know I would never argue with fucking you. We will just make up for it later. I promise.”

Everyone was already outside playing by the time the Jeep rolled up in front of the the small McCall household. A snowball flung by the pack’s beta hit the windshield, Stiles flailing his arms. “Alright, that’s my Jeep!” he hollered, sliding out of the jeep. “If you get one little dent on her Liam, I swear to God-” you laughed when a snowball hit his face next, the man freezing. “Alright, that’s my face! You’re gonna get it, Liam!”

“Sti!” You called, making him stop before he could chase Liam. “put on your fucking jacket first,” you laughed, throwing him a black jacket and a pair of gloves he kept in the Jeep. “I’m not making you soup if you get sick.”

“But your soup is the best,” he pouted, waltzing to your side as he slid on the jacket, watching you slip on your gloves. “Why you gotta be so mean?”

“Because I’m not going to pamper your sick ass like always,” you laughed. “I get enough of that with Scott.”

“Hey!” he screamed, throwing a snowball at you. You let out a squeal when it hit you, Scott grinning before yelling to everyone, “FREE FOR ALL. EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!”

Snowballs went flying in multiple directions, loud fits of laughter coming from the entire pack. Halfway through, Malia showed up, the werecoyote having skipped school because ‘it was a waste of time before break’ according to her. This just amped the battle between everyone, everyone pelting everyone with round spheres of snow.

After nailing Stiles in the back of the head with your own snowball, he made it his mission to chase after you, trying to shove a wad of snow down the front of your shirt. “Stiles, no!” you squeaked, attempting to outrun the man. Despite his lack of physical prowess and limited stamina, cardio being his ultime weakness if he were a superhero, his long legs propelled him forward, the man approaching you after a short jog. You laughed in his grasp, his arm wrapping around your waist, the handful of snow in your immediate eyeline. “Stiles, I swear-”

“Your fault, babe,” he grinned, his hot breath hitting your neck. Your face heated with a red hot blush, your body squirming in his grasp. “Hey, wait. Stop,” he tried to say, his feet slipping with your movements. “Y/N, wait-”

You both yelped when Stiles slipped, your bodies falling in a file of fluffy white. The snow cushioned the fall, Stiles luckily catching himself before he crushed your body. Your eyes met his, his honey eyes twinkling in the sunlight. His lips curled, letting out a light laugh that got louder and louder, your own laugh joining his. Your arms wrapped around his neck, flicking a few flecks of snow from his quiffed hair. “You had a bit of snow.”

“So you do,” he hummed. Your head cocked to the side, questioning him. He grinned largely, leaning down to kiss you passionately, the connection warming your entire body. You could have sworn the snow around you melted. The kiss itself was slow and smooth, your lips matching together in harmony. Your lips dragged against his, lingering against his when you pulled away. Your eyes opened, having closed when he kissed you, giving him a questioning look. He just gave a sweet smile, his own eyes longing with a large amount of love behind his orbs. You smiled back, letting your eyes close so you could pull him back down for another kiss.

It was at this time you were glad that Liam had built a dozen snow bank forts around the yard, the one you were behind shielding you from Scott’s prying eyes.

A chill ran down your spine when the sun set, everyone rushing inside. The snow had increased, a flurry of flakes shaking the windows. Scott sighed, shaking some snow from his hair before stripping off his gloves and scarf. “Why don’t you guys all stay the night? I don’t want you to try getting home in this snow.”

“Well, I need a hot shower,” Lydia huffed, shivering evidently in the doorway.

“That’s fine,” you said before Scott could. “There are three showers - one guest, Scott’s across from his room and my personal. Scott, get the boys set up. Girls, follow me.”

You were the last to shower, letting the girls shower first. You let out a happy sigh when the hot water finally washed over your body nearly an hour later, your shower delayed to let the water warm once more. You took a minute to just let the water warm your body, dipping your head under the stream of droplets.

You jumped out of your skin when two arms wrapped around your waist, turning around to look at the culprit. “Stiles!” You scolded, smacking his chest. “What are you doing? We could get caught!”

“It’s fine,” he grinned, tracing random shapes on the small of your back. “I left the shower across from Scott’s room running so he thinks I’m still in there. But how can I resist when my beautiful girlfriend is in here showering alone?”

“You’re an ass,” you grumbled, leaning against his warm body. “How are you so warm?”

“I’m your space heater,” he hummed, hands moving down to your ass, giving it a squeeze. You mewled quietly, burying your head in his chest. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you hummed, looking up at him. He leaned down to connect your lips, his cock twitching against your leg. The second you felt it, you laughed into the kiss, Stiles glaring at you. “Sorry. It’s just… I think someone else loves me too.”

“I would hope so,” he grumbled, backing away enough to look down at himself, his veiny hand stroking his length. “Stiles Jr loves his baby girl.”

“Stiles Jr?” you joked, Stiles nodding. You gently pried his hand from his cock, taking it in your own. “Well, this baby girl loves him.”

“Holy shit,” he grunted, wobbling slightly, tugging at the pale blue curtain you had. “That feels good.”

“Oh, Mieczy. You haven’t felt good yet today,” you grinned, trailing kisses down his chest, stroking his cock faster. Your lips wrapped around his nipples teasing them just as you had earlier in the day. He let out a strangled grunt, tugging harder at the curtain until one ring popped off the shower rod.

“Not this again,” he huffed, watching through his lashes as you ravished his chest, kissing the moles that scattered across his skin, messing with his nipples with the fingers on your free hand and your tongue. “Come on, baby girl.”

You smiled sheepishly at him, dropping to your knees, taking his cock in your mouth. Your bobbing was quick, cheeks hollowed for extra pleasure. Your hand stroked him in pace with your bobbing head, the slurping sounds of your mouth drowned out by the running water so only Stiles could make out the sound. You would pull away just enough to suck at the head, smoothing your tongue over the tip a few times. Your tongue also trailed along the underside of his length, salivating at the pulsing from the prominent vein you found there. Stiles’ fingers tangled in your hair, helping your head bob against him, listening to the sounds of your messing sucking, his moans low and gruff.

“More, baby,” he pleaded under his breath, the sound gruff and deep. The hand around the base slid down to his balls, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat instead. He groaned at the feeling, the combination of your hand fondling his balls with the deepthroating making his head spin. “Just like that, baby girl. Just like that.”

You smiled around him, dropping his balls to grip his ass instead, clawing at the clenching muscles of his glutes. You looked up at him as you bobbing quickly, resisting the urge to gag on his giant cock, watching the man struggle to suppress his moans. Your hands pushed against his ass so he slid further into your mouth, your hand pulling back to smack the round perfection he had.  

“Oh, baby,” he moaned, lurching forward slightly. “Is that why you like being spanked?” He mused playfully.

You pulled away in response, much to his dismay. “Maybe,” you quipped at him, slapping his ass again. “But you have a fine booty, Sti. It’s all I can stare at when you practice. Or during lacrosse games. The look in those shorts? Grade A.”

“As much as I love to hear that, I’m a bit aroused right now,” he grumbled. He went to say more, but stopped short when you leaned up on your knees, pushing your breasts around his length. “Oh. A-alright then. I was going to suggest sex, but this is good too.”

“You never argue when I please you,” you giggled. You took one of his hands at a time, making him hold your breasts around him instead, licking your lips. “Now, hold those, would ya?”

“Holy fuck. Of course.”

You grinned, gripping his ass again, guiding his thrusts through the valley of your breasts. Your lips parted to lap at the head of his cock when it came through the gap, tasting the salty sweet liquid he secreted. Stiles grunted and groaned, head thrown back to enjoy the moment. His hips sped up on their own, your hands gripping his ass tighter and smacking it to urge him on, encouraging him to go faster and harder.

“You feel so good,” he whimpered, pushing your breasts together harder. His thumbs playing with the nipples. You moaned his name lowly, your pussy aching from the touch on your sensitive buds. It wasn’t the same as his mouth, but his touch turned you on more than you already were. “But it’s not as tight.”

You covered your mouth to hide the loud squeal to let out, Stiles pushing you back and pulling you to your feet. You almost slipped when he spun you around, your hands catching on the wall when you stumbled forward. He used his foot to push your legs apart, tauntingly sliding his shaft along your folds. His fingers ran down your spine, feeling the goosebumps along the skin despite the warm water.

“Stiles, please. Don’t keep me waiting,” you whined.

“Say it,” he said calmly. You let out a sigh, knowing what he wanted.

“Please, Mieczyslaw. Make me cum around your cock.”

“That never fails to sound amazing. I love when you say my name,” he grinned, sliding in slowly at first, his hips slamming into you the the second he bottomed out. You moaned his name, resting your forehead on the ceramic wall, nails clawing at it with the pleasure. The tip of his cock hit your sweet spot with every thrust, the water that clung to your bodies amplifying the sound of his hips against your ass. His cock pistoned inside you at high speed, your boyfriend never resting. The angle he had you at allowed him to hit hard and deep, finding spots you didn’t know existed until now.

“Mieczyslaw,” you mewled, biting at your arm. Stiles smiled at the sound, slapping your ass to earn a louder moan. “Fuck, I love that. Again.” He complied, the moans getting louder, though Scott was just down the stairs. “Again! Please! Spank me ‘till I cum!”

“You’re dirty today,” he grinned, smacking your ass repeatedly, red handprints decorating your skin to your delight. The sting hurt slightly, but added more to your arousal than anything else. You struggled to hide your moans, Stiles making it hard when he reached forward, tugging at your hair. “I wanna hear you moan, baby girl. Moan for me when I make you cum.”

“Stiles, the others-”

“Won’t hear,” he reassured, “Unless they focus on us, they won’t hear. But Scott knows I masturbate in the shower usually, so he wouldn’t dare listen.”

“And Malia?”

“Why would she want to listen to us?” he laughed, tugging at your hair again to draw out a mewl. “Now, please, I can’t last much longer. The blow job, the boob job. I can’t.”

“Don’t let me fall then,” you humed, using one hand to rub your clit in ferocious circles, trying to draw yourself to the edge faster. Your ass pressed back against his at a rhythmic pace, matching the thrusts he made into you, cock pistoning into you quickly. Your chest heaved with heavy pants, Stiles’ thrust growing noticeably sloppy.

He tugged your hair hard enough to make you lean back against his own heaving chest, his arm wrapping around your waist. His lips found your neck, peppering it with light kisses, keeping his thrusts going. “I love you,” he whispered into your ear, letting out a grunt, no longer able to hold back.

His cock twitched inside you, strong pulses against your walls as he came, strings of his white, sticky seed spilling into you. You mewled at the feeling, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together against your stomach. The feeling of his seed seeping into you warmed your body, incinerating the knot inside you instantly. You mewled his name quietly, leaning back against his shoulder, his forehead resting on yours so he could ride out your highs.

He stayed inside you as he grabbed the shampoo, lathering it in his hair and yours, keeping you close as you showered together. When no more steam billowed around you, you shut off the water, Stiles finally leaving your core. He wrapped the towel you left on the edge of the shower around you, wadling over to his towel on the counter. You watched him trot away, admiring the way his ass jiggled when he moved.

“You know,’ you hummed, rushing after him, smacking his ass before he could wrap the towel around his waist. “I was right. You have a nice ass.”

“I do?” he laughed, trying to look at it.

“Yup,” you laughed, tracing your fingers over it, connecting the tiny moles he had, just like the other parts of his body. “It’s perfect, like you.”

“Are you sucking up to me?” he chuckled, wrapping the plush cotton around himself, leaning on the counter to hug you close. You smiled at him, kissing his chest, circling your fingers around his nipples. He flinched under your gentle touch, body stiffening. “Alright, you aren’t allowed to touch my chest ever again. Now that you know, you won’t stop.”

“You like it,” you laughed, pressing your lips to his. “Now, go get changed. Scott might start to wonder.”

“Rude,” he growled, following you into your room, peeking out the door before bolting to the other bathroom.

Everyone was gathered downstairs amongst blankets and pillows, the furniture pushed aside for a massive slumber party. You played with the sleeve of your shirt - more correctly, Stiles’ shirt you stole but lied to Scott about - pulling them over your fingers. “So, we are all sleeping down here, huh?”

“Better bonding time,” Scott yawned from his spot, already dozing off. Lydia was already asleep on the couch, Malia in a small nest of pillows in the corner. Kira was next to Scott, battling her own sleep. Liam was asleep against against a wall.

You took a spot not far from Kira, grabbing your trusty Mets blanket from the pile. Stiles tripped his way down the stairs the second you got comfortable, frowning slightly when Scott pat the spot near him for his friend. Since everyone was practically asleep, Stiles clicked off the light, using his phone’s light to make himself a bed in the pack pit.

Snores began filling the air, Stiles fidgeting in his spot. He kept glancing at Scott and Kira, the two sound asleep cuddled together. The man sighed slightly, saddened that he couldn’t do that with you. He was always more comfortable with you in his arms.

Taking a risk, he got up from his spot, tiptoeing towards your still form. He quietly curled up under the blanket with you, his arm around your waist. His intention was to sleep for a few hours, the discomfort from the lack of his pillow making it impossible to sleep soundly, but that didn’t happen when you turned in his arms, kissing him softly. He didn’t protest, returning the kiss with the same passion and vigor as you. You shared multiple slow kisses, pressing close to each other.

His hand dipped into your sweats, rubbing your core, two fingers slipping into you and thrusting slowly and tauntingly. You mewled lowly against his lips, returning the favor by palming his semi-hard cock through his lacrosse shorts he chose to wear, slipping in to fondle him directly. You laid there together, toying with each others private parts, lips connected in a never ending kiss.

Your body shook against him, a minor orgasm rocking your body. It wasn’t hard enough to make you cream around his fingers, but enough to make you feel good, walls clenching sporadically and juices coating his fingers. Stiles smiled against your lips, his hand pulled from your bottoms, breaking the kiss.

Your hand pulled from his shorts, catching his hand before he could lick his digits clean, taking them between your lips instead. Stiles let out a groan, glancing around to make sure no one heard before narrowing his eyes on you, watching you suck on his fingers slowly and delicately, swirling your tongue around the digits that had been inside you. Your eyes never left his, lips curling upwards.

“That’s not fair,” he whispered. “I’m horny now. I can’t sleep with a hard on.”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” you laughed, pulling away from his fingers, lacing your fingers together.

“What you always do when I’m horny,” he stated, matter-of-factly.

“But, we’re around everyone else, babe,” you told him.

Stiles moved to straddle you, kissing you softly. “So?”

Stiles gave a slight pout, your will giving in instantly. “Quiet,” you reminded him, pushing your sweats down your legs, kicking them off one leg so you could spread for him. Stiles smiled widely, pushing his own shorts down his legs, slipping into your core slowly. His lips found yours to keep you both quiet, his thrusts into you slow and teasing. The way his length rubbed against your walls drove you crazy, wishing for more than he was giving you. The tip hit your sweet spot each time, lingering against it due to his slow pace. There was no slapping skin like you were used to, his hips carefully rolling against you each time instead.

His lips broke from yours, kissing along your jaw to your neck instead. You whimpered under your breath, a hand covering your mouth to keep yourself quiet. Your legs wound around his waist to pull him closer, his thrusts growing slightly faster just so he could consistently please you.

“Stiles,” you mewled behind your hand, the man looking up at you. He held a cocky smirk, pushing your shirt up to greedily kiss your breasts, lavishing the nipples in multiple licks and sucks. His lips and fingers tugged at the hard buds until they were swollen and taut, perkier than normal. The man selfishly stayed where he was, loving the buds constantly though his hips never stopped moving. Your free hand found his hair, tugging at his damp locks, ruining the natural quiff he had built up.

“Stiles,” you whimpered louder, hearing his break with a pop to mutter ‘shh’ at you. The man moved back up your body, moving your hand to kiss you again, his slow thrusts sloppy. The effects of his prior orgasm were still in effect, his normal stamina depleted from the day’s activities. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he whispered, connecting your lips in a passionate kiss, tongues tangling as you came together. Your legs tightened around him, toes curling at the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, mixing with the juices that washed around his shaft. You moaned quietly together, focusing on each other for the moment - nothing around you mattered.

He pulled out of you, fixing his shorts before fixing your sweats and shirt, snuggling into your side. You didn’t question nor argue, partially from being too tired but partially because you knew he wouldn’t sleep through the night. He would move when he needed to.

And he did. You cuddled most of the night, Stiles only leaving when the sun peeked through the windows, not wanting to risk Scott finding you cuddled together. At least for part of the night, you were able to sleep in the arms of your lover.

♪I did her on his birthday♪

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Scotty!” You laughed when everyone said different names, shaking your head. “Happy birthday to you!”

Scott blew out the candles, a large  1 8 sitting on the top of his cake. Everyone cheered, giving the boy hugs, you taking the cake to the kitchen to cut. You felt someone’s form press against you from behind, their hot breath hitting your neck.

“Can I help you, Stiles?” you laughed.

“Just thought you would need a hand with the cake,” he said, holding up the package of paper plates and forks. “You know, because I’m just that caring of a guy.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I can handle cutting a cake,” you laughed, leaning back against him. He stiffened slightly, taking a deep breath. “You alright?”

“Y-yeah. F-fine,” he stuttered out, shaking his head.

“Stiles?” you asked, moving to turn around. His hands found your waist, keeping you still.

“Don’t.”

“Why?” you asked. You got your answer with the simple grind of the hips against your backside, his erection evident and prominent. “Oh. That.”

“I couldn’t stop it!” he whisper-yelled. “You wore a really sexy dress,” he justified, gesturing to the skin-tight red dress you had on. “And you just look so good like always. You’re so beautiful and hot and sexy. It sucks because I just stare at you and it goes up on it’s own!”

“Stiles, relax,” you said.

“How? I have a hard on at your brother’s birthday party. That’s a little odd, don’t you think. And I can’t just tell him I got hard because I was watching his sister WALK. That’s all it took!”

“Stiles, we will fix this,” you told him.

“How?” he sneered, not intending to be rude. “Seriously, Y/N. How are we going to fix this. I can’t walk back out there with this.”

“Just watch,” you hummed, cutting a small piece of cake. You turned to him, purposefully pushing the cake against his chest, stomach and groin, the fork and plate clattering to the floor. “Oh my god! Stiles, I’m so sorry!”

You handed him a napkin, Stiles catching on and beginning to wipe himself down. “It’s fine. I promise. My fault.”

“What’s wrong?” Scott asked, poking his head in the kitchen.

“Stiles came to help bring cake out but when I went to hand him the first plate, it fell out of my hand and all over him.

“It’s my fault, Scotty,” Stiles said, using the napkin to hide the boner, cake hiding the outline. “I went to grab it and missed when I was hurrying. You know me.”

“It’s fine dude. Just get yourself cleaned up. I will grab you some fresh clothes,” Scott said.

“Actually,” you interrupted. “I will, Scott. It’s your birthday. You shouldn’t have to leave the party. I can find something in your cloest for Stiles and when he’s done, I can wash his clothes for him.”

“Alright,” Scotty said. “Don’t be too long. We’re going to start presents soon.”

“No problem,” you said, pushing Stiles out of the room and up the stairs. You grabbed clothes from Scott’s room as Stiles dipped into the bathroom. You knocked on the door, pulled in quickly. The lock clicked behind you, Stiles’ lips on yours as he backed up. Your tongues tangled between your cheeks, his hands hiking up your dress with each step you took. Stiles had already discarded his clothes, the fabric in a pile under the sink, the man bare and ripe for the taking. His bare, handsome form made you wet; a change of panties was surely in order when you were done.

Stiles made an attempt to sit on the closed toilet, missing the seat and tumbling to the floor with you on top of him. The kiss broke when you crashed to the floor with a thump, both of you letting out a laugh from what happened.

“Whoops,” you said to him.

“Whoops indeed,” he replied, pulling you back down for a kiss, his veiny hands cupping your face. You kissed for a few, your pussy throbbing the longer your lips stayed connected. His brow furrowed when you broke away from him, standing over his body to shimmy your wet, ruined panties down your legs. “Oh, baby. Take it off.”

“I did,” you laughed, twirling the panties around your finger, dropping them in the laundry hamper.

“But, the dress,” he whined.

“Don’t have time for that,” you told him, pulling it up until it bunched around your waist, leaving your core uncovered for him to look upon. “Now, put that mouth to good use.”

“Oh?” he hummed. You smiled at him innocently, turning so he could see your ass, dropping back down on him. Your lips wrapped around his cock, red marks from your dulled lipstick left along his shaft as your bobbed quickly, stroking what wouldn’t fit between your hollowed cheeks. Stiles had the perfect view of your dripping pussy, his mouth watering. He pulled you back slightly, connecting his lips to your folds, tongue delving deep into your pussy. You mewled around him, shivering at the way his tongue moved inside you, circling against your walls.

Your hand moved to his balls, cupping them closer to his body as you bobbed, Stiles moving his lips to your clit. Two fingers slid into you instead, thrusting quickly, a sloshing sound resounding around the bathroom from his thrusts into your wet core. His tongue flicked at the swollen nub of your clit, tugging it with his lips. The tips of his fingers curled to hit your sweet spot, trying to coax you into wanting more.

He always had a way of getting what he wanted. You pulled from his cock, licking your lips while moving down his body, Stiles left hanging. His hand shot to cover his mouth to shield the moan that wanted to erupt when you slid down onto his cock, his eyes still on your back and ass. Your hips moved forward, Stiles watching his cock emerge soaked in your arousal, disappearing back inside you with a quick snap. Your ass jiggled as you bounced atop him, riding his cock like a bull rider. Your walls hugged around him, your motions allowing his cock to hit your cervix and g-spot every time.

His hands moved to grip your hips, keeping you still. His feet planted to the floor, knees bent. Your hands rested on his bent knees, moving onto the balls of your feet. Stiles grunted when his hips bucked upwards, pushing on the balls of his own feet to thrust up into you, pounding you quickly and fiercely. He was desperate to relieve himself, his pistoning cock never relenting. Your teeth dug into your lip, only allowing low moans of his name to escape since you didn’t want to alert anyone downstairs to your actions.

“Keep going, Sti,” you urged him, bringing yourself down to meet his hips, a clash of skin filling the room. Stiles smiled, his sloppy thrusts speeding up, his eyes closed so he could focus on chasing his orgasm. You mewled his name, naturally approaching your own due to the simple fact that you were in heaven from what he was doing. Your nails dug into his knees, small bruises left from his fingers on your hips.

His cock sputtered, Stiles letting out a grunt louder than he meant. His hips jerked, his hot cum pouring inside you. The feeling of his orgasm spurred yours, your juices splashing around him and against your walls, both of your juices mixing inside your core. His thrusts slowed, watching your toes curl and your head fall back, quietly admiring you without even seeing your face.

You stood slowly, wobbling on shaky legs, not having quite recovered from the orgasm. Stiles caught you when he stood up, kissing your cheek. “Thank you,” he hummed. “You amaze me. You complete me. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Suffer,” you laughed, fixing your dress and gathering his clothes. “I will wash these. You get changed. Meet me in front of my room when you’re done.”

Stiles chuckled, nodding and watching you leave, slowly dressing himself. He found in in front of your bedroom the second he walked out, playfully smacking your ass. “New panties?” he joked.

“You’re funny,” you sneered. “But yes.”

Scott perked up when you came back downstairs, a glint of slight suspicion in his eye. “Bought time!”

“Sorry, loser,” you said, grabbing your present for him. “Start with mine then. It’s socks anyway.”

“I hate you.”

♪The parking lot, why not It's so cool when you're on top His front lawn, in the snow Life is so hard 'cause Scotty doesn't know♪

You sat on your desk, Stiles kissing your lips restlessly. He had let himself in the second Scott left for his normal weekend errands, pushing your belongings off your desk when he placed you on it. You broke just so you could pull your shirt over your head, Stiles’ following immediately afterwards.

“How long did he say he was going to be gone?” Stiles asked breathlessly, pressing his forehead to yours.

“He shouldn’t be back anytime soon,” you said. “He had a lot to do today.”

“Good,” he grinned, lifting you off the desk and onto your bed, straddling you. Normally, you wouldn’t risk doing this at your house, but Sheriff Stilinski was home, which meant you couldn’t have sex.

Stiles lifted you up, unhooking your bra with one hand, tossing it away carelessly. “You’ve gotten good at that.”

“Practice, baby girl,” he laughed, trailing his kisses down your jaw and neck to your chest, ravishing your nipples the way he always did. Your hands snuck between your bodies, unbuttoning his jeans, getting distracted by the sucking he was doing. Your arms moved instead around him, scratching at his back and applying new red marks on his skin.

“Stiles,” you whined loudly, Stiles sucking red marks to your collarbone and breasts. He was slowly making his way downstairs, rubbing you through your shorts.

“Someone’s wet,” he mused.

“And someone’s hard,” you retorted, pulling him up to your lips, pushing the front of his pants down to grab his cock. “And that hard cock need to be inside me.”

“With pleasure,” he hummed, kissing your lips, moaning with the slow strokes to his cock. “God I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Oh my God.”

You both blinked, turning to find Scott in the doorway, gaping at the sight on the bed.

“Shit!” Stiles screamed, rolling off your bed and jumping to his feet rather skillfully.

“Fuck!” You hollered, crawling off your bed and towards your closet, grabbing the first shirt you could. It didn’t matter that you were braless. You pulled on Stiles’ lacrosse jersey, praying your perky nipples weren’t apparent. Stiles fixed his pants, buttoning them quickly. His eyes were locked with Scott’s, Stiles slowly licking his lips.

“What is going on?” Scott asked, looking between you both. “Why are you covered in hickies? And scratches?” You glanced at Stiles, noting the hickies you had left earlier that week that hadn’t faded plus the scratched along his back. From the way the jersey hung, Scott could see one hickey on your collarbone.

“Well, um,” you started, running a hand through your hair. “I’m dating Stiles.”

Scott’s brow furrowed, his forehead wrinkled. “Since when?”

“Two years today,” Stiles told him, moving to your side. He took your hand, Scott letting out a low growl, his clenched knuckle cracking.

“What?” he asked sharply. “How?”

“Scott, relax,” you told him.

“I’m confused. Why. How? When? What is going on?” Scott ranted.

“We’ve been seeing each other for two years behind your back because we knew you would be like this,” Stiles told him. “And we did it because-” he paused, looking at you. “-Because we love each other. And I want to be with her.”

“And I want to be with him.”

Silence filled the room, the tension palpable.

“WHAT?!”

“Aw, come on Scott,” Stiles hummed cheerfully. “It’s just your sister. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s no big deal really!” When Scott said nothing, Stiles tilted his head towards you. “I think we broke him.”

“Stiles,” you scolded.

“What? He’s acting like a broken toy! I didn’t know werewolves were so fragile,” he laughed. “We’re cool, right bro?” Stiles gave him a wink, making you facepalm yourself.

“Stiles,” Scott growled.

“Yeah buddy?” he asked. Scott stared at his friend, scarlet red True Alpha eyes flared dangerously, claws and fangs extended. Stiles swallowed thickly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing. “Now Scott. Let’s not act rashly. Let’s just talk this out. Hug it out. Bro it out?” He paused, licking his lips. “Um… I love you?”

“You’re dead, Stiles,” Scott growled.

“Oh fuck!” Stiles yelped, scrambling out the door, Scott hot on his tail. You winced to yourself when you head a crash at the end of the hall followed by the tumbling of two bodies down the stairs. “I said I was sorry! I know I kissed her and fucked her a few hundred times, but I love her with all my heart! I had good intentions!”

“Oh Stiles. Don’t say that,” you mumbled to yourself, knowing the outcome of his word vomit.

“You’re dead!”

And here we go. This was why Scotty didn’t know.

Errthang Tag 2.0: @catcrown21​; @parislight​; @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone​; @savage-stilinski​; @honeymoonmuke​; @rumoured-whispers​; @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname​; @caitsymichelle13​; @addicttotw​; @fox-lau​; @xmadwonderland​; @kaelyn-lobrutto24​; @lobrien​; @kal-pal​; @espermirror​; @nowthisiswaar​; @little-nya​; @ashpie97​; @mixedupsammy​; @dylobrienlover​; @newtosaur250​; @bandsweyhey​; @crystals-marie​; @livinginadreamersparadise; @tommyswolves​; @veronicarapp​; @bilesbilinskix; @danathewitchywoman; @thisismexxo; @you-all-have-guns; @soulaura-canavel; @bojabee; @obrienswxlf; @feelingsareharddd

Want to be tagged? Send as ask! - Bold accounts are ones I cannot tag.

Note: Tag list has been cleaned up as of 3.28.2018. If you were removed, please send me an ask so I can re-add you.

#dylan #dylan smut #dylan x reader #dylan x reader smut #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien smut #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien x reader smut #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x reader smut #mieczyslaw stilinski #teen wolf #teen wolf smut #smut #stuart twombly #the internship #mitch rapp #american assassin #thomas #maze runner #dave hodgman #the first time #stiles smu #stiles

[ladyartemisia28]

Say Amen (Saturday Night) Chapter Two

Chapter 2/?

Pairings: Prinxiety, side Logicality, Platonic Moxiety, Platonic/Family Logince.

Warnings: None that I can think of.

Words:1727 

Summary: Sanders Sides Human College AU

Being partnered for a class project causes some tension for Virgil and Roman. Until they both go to the same party and well…things happen.

Chapter 2 - Mama Can I Get Another Amen?

Summary: After Virgil spots his Ex at a party he comes up with a impulse idea. He and Roman find that they enjoy it way more than they thought that would.

~

Roman had been leaning against the hallway wall with his red solo cup in hand when Virgil appeared in front of him. He was wondering if he should return home to work on his monologue.

"Whoa , Um What?" he asked bewildered as he placed his drink on the floor. His mind startled as he thought that this was same guy who hurt him with rejection.

"I said my EX is here! Haven't you heard of a Fake out Make out? You said you're an actor! Act please!" he said with tension and fear

Sympathetically he looked into his pleading, oddly cute raccoon eyes. Roman's narrowed eyes darted towards Virgil's soft mouth and then quickly assessed his flushed face. He thought about how when he first saw him in class did think he was attractive before he was so hateful.

"Okay I can help a fella out" stating his consent with a cocky proud smile.

Virgil threw a quick glance behind him and saw that Jae had indeed followed him just like he thought he would.

So as he turned the corner, Virgil quickly took hold of the back of Roman's head.

Pressing his lips against Roman's he quickly forgot his previous state of fear. Roman's mouth was soft and caressing as he gently cupped Virgil's cheek in his hand. His thumb softly grazing against the skin of his face.

Virgil sighed instinctively, at his tender grasp of his waist as well. Before he knew what he was doing he momentarily relaxed. Roman's touch was tender and sweet, but still firm.

It made Virgil's stomach do an uncomfortable flip.

Letting his aggression flow out, he pressed his mouth forcefully against Roman. As he took a grasp of his hair between his fingers Roman's mouth opened with a sigh. Virgil pressed him against the wall with his body. Taken aback by the sudden rough treatment Roman froze for an moment.

Keeping his grip soft enough to hurt his partner Virgil tilted Roman's head back and trailed his lips down his throat and up around his neck towards his ear.

"Surely you can do better than that." Virgil growled into Roman's ear as he released his hair. “Come on pretty boy.”

Roman groaned as grabbed a fistful black fabric. Virgil's barbaric actions gave his heart a quick jump.

He had just barely registered the words that he spoke. His words were not only an insult to the skill of himself as an actor, but also his skill as a phenomenal kisser. He had to admit to himself that he could be turning up the heat if they were to convince an observer that they were romantically involved.

But when he was trying to woo a sweetheart he usually kept things sweet and gentle. What was happening with Virgil was NOT sweet o gentle, but it felt so good!

He had trouble thinking as Virgil found places on his neck and throat that made him moan loudly.

Roman felt so dirty making such sounds out in public, he felt his face heat with embarrassment.

In relation he angrily pushed them against the opposite wall pinning Virgil against the wood paneled wall.

He then took the other boy's chin in his hands. Virgil's darkened blue eyes looked into his warm brown eyes with a challenge. Roman licked his lips as he returned the look.

He then resumed their exchange with increased passion and force.

Unnoticed by the pair Jae looked on them with his eyes narrowed and then stormed off.

~

"OH hey there Teach!" Patton exclaimed as he spotted Logan.

"Don't call me that." Logan said as he subtly took a look at the Patton's pun covered shirt. “Interesting choice of apparel”

"Thanks, I like your tie," Patton said smiling a toothy grin. "I personally prefer bow ties, bow ties are cool!"

“Ah, Doctor Who! So you really like it?" Logan looked at him suspicious narrowing of his eyes.

"My step brother says that I look like I'm dressed for a job interview.”

“Nah! Serious people wear neckties." Patton smiled as he took out a juice box. “So your brother? What's his name?”

“His name is Roman. We were actually late to this gathering because of his preening. So uh did you happen to come to this gathering with anyone?” Logan inquired with a look in his hazel green eyes that Patton couldn't read.

Patton did have trouble reading his face in particular.

“My best friend Virgil.” Patton said happily.

“Virgil, like the poet. I like the name. ” his tightened face relaxed a fraction, Patton wondered what caused him tension.

“Hmm, I wonder where he wandered off too?” Patton wondered out loud as he took a look at his phone. “I've texted him four times and sent him a gif of a turtle”

“I uh, could come with you to assist you if you require help locating your friend.” he said as he adjusted his glasses. “Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

“Don't you mean two sets of four eyes?” Patton teased as he tapped his half rimmed glasses. And then gestured towards Logan's own black framed.

“We should start looking from where you last saw him, what does he look like?” Logan sighed not commenting on his attempted joke.

“He's wearing a black hoodie, a black shirt, black ripped jeans, black boots.” Patton described “Oh and he has black hair...and blue eyes.”

“He sure likes the color black doesn't he?” Logan stated sardonically.

“Sometimes he wears purple.”

They began their search around the spot they Virgil was last seen, near the refreshments.

After a few minutes Patton pulled up a picture on his phone and worriedly showed it to people at random.

“I can not believe you are showing everyone his photo like he is a lost animal or child.” Logan sighed.

“Have you seen this boy? His name is Virgil, known by his loved ones as Verge or Anxiety.” Patton asked two girls who were holding hands and talking.

When they took a look at his picture they burst out into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, we've seen them...I mean him...” said the brunette who wore a white shirt, black pants, and blue scarf looked a little nervous Patton. “He's not like your boyfriend or something.”

“No, he's my best friend.” Patton stated confused about the oblivious way that you could see relief on both of their faces.

“In the hallway through there, then turn left.” the blonde in a striped pink dress pointed them towards a hallway. “You can't miss them.”

Patton and Logan walked in the direction that the couple directed them to with confusion .

~

People were quick to leave the area where Virgil and Roman were occupied.

Full of warmth that was quickly turning to a overwhelming heat. Virgil reluctantly removed his hands from Roman's body and unzipped his black hoodie. He found it rather difficult to remove and began struggling.

"Let Me." Roman breathlessly rasped as he took the outer wear in his hands and quickly pulled it off Virgil's shoulders.

With the garment thrown haphazardly behind him, Roman placed his hand to the small of Virgil's back. He moved up to between his shoulder blades, he could feel his body through the loose black tee that he wore.

“Thanks for the help Princey.” he hissed as he licked a spot on his jawline.

“No problem.” he replied focused now on the feelings coursing through his body.

Both of them had at this point absolutely forgotten that this was supposedly a show for someone else.

~

“Oh! Yay, he's made a friend.” Patton exclaimed excitedly, squealing and clapping his hands together as they arrived at the entrance of the hallway.

“I think that's more than a friend.” Logan derisively mused before looking a little more closely in the dim light of the area.

As uncomfortable as Public Displays Of Affection made him feel, as he looked he realized that he recognized the other boy.

“Wait a minute. That's. My. Little Brother.” He stated in a clipped terse voice as he moved forward to break up the pair, when Patton's arm stopped him.

~

Both men were breathing heavily and they were unaware of anything that wasn't the other's body and mouth. That is until an abrupt cut in music startled them to an sudden stop.

“Sorry!” they heard someone in the distance shout out in the unexpected silence.

The music then returned quickly after. But the spell was already broken and they pulled away from each other quickly.

Roman continued to look at Virgil's mouth with his red lipstick smeared over it.

Virgil looked at his feet the as soon as they separated. He looked around and noticed that the area had emptied. Until he looked towards the end of the hallway, with a look of shock he saw Patton and a boy that he did not recognize.

With Patton's face in view he remembered why this had begin. This whole thing was just supposed to be fake, a con. It wasn't supposed to go this far. His feelings of panic returned with a vengeance. He needed to leave the party.

He looked for his protective hoodie, and on the floor it lay... in a puddle of the contents of a fallen red solo cup.

“Shit!” he cursed as he looked at his garment. His torn face looked back and forth between the exit and his apparel on the floor.

“I'll clean it for you!” Roman impulsively offered with a shout, taking the sullied garment from the ground. Virgil did not look at him as he spoke, but did he take the opportunity to leave.

“OK! See you in the library tomorrow!” Virgil said as he hurried away from the hallway.

“Oh hi I'm...” Patton cheerfully stated as he attempted to walk forwards and offer a hand to Roman. Before he could Virgil grabbed his wrist and pulled him away quickly. They left Roman and Logan alone before they could say anything.

“But I...” Roman started after him.

As he looked down at the black hoodie in his hands and licked his lips he could taste the lingering flavor of grape.

~

Chapter One

Chapter Three

Taglist: @dwbh888

#prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #fanders fanfiction #logicality

[sktchy]

“...let go of expectations and perfection, and just draw”

Meet Roz Stendahl, an artist on Sktchy. In this Q&A she gives some creative wisdom and a peek at her Sktchy profile.

What’s your background?

I’m a graphic designer, illustrator, and book artist. I also teach bookbinding and visual journaling. I started in publishing in editing and production but gradually moved into design and stayed there.

When you’re looking for inspiration on Sktchy, what jumps out at you?

I always stop for interesting beards, fantastical hair, quirky ears surrounded with magical negative space, interesting facial expressions that can’t be held long by live models. Strong lighting which models the forms of the face is also something that will make me stop. Birds and dogs pull my attention, typically for the same sorts of reasons: interesting expressions and negative space.

What’s your medium of choice when you’re creating art?

I work with lots of different media. I love the Pentel Pocket Brush Pen because of its bold lines. I adore gouache because of its opacity and texture. But I also use a wide range of pens in combination with watercolor.

Sometimes I’ll sit down with Sktchy because I want to get out the gouache. I’ll look for an image that speaks to me for that purpose. Other times I’ll just browse in my 1800-plus-image queue (am I the only one with that many images in a queue?) and the image I select dictates which pen and watermedia I use. 

Recently I’ve been testing a bunch of papers, so I try to rotate the materials I’m using on those papers to see whether a particular paper is something I want to keep using. (I write materials reviews on my blog that my students tell me they find helpful.)

What’s one quirk in your creative process?

I don’t know if I’m qualified to say what my quirk is. I suppose it might be that I work really fast. It’s like I’ve got a timer set and I’m trying to find out what I can do in the least amount of time. It’s like keeping your exercise log, only in pictures. I’ll go into the poultry barn at the Minnesota State Fair for three hours and actually have a quota of how many sketches I want to finish. (Finish of course being a somewhat vague term when dealing with live models.)

I’m like that about a lot of things and one might think that it comes from working for myself and my focus on time management to meet deadlines, but I was that way when I was a child. So I think it has more to do with growing up in an environment that was always shifting and a family that was always on the go. It may be that the majority of my sketching has been of live models and they move out of view so you have to work quickly.

Over the years I’ve taken steps to try to slow down (because often that means a path to improvement in some aspect of my work), but those efforts don’t last long. I simply have more fun when I have this sort of internalized speed pressure applied to the activity. It actually feels comfortable to me.

Oh, and when I’m sketching and things are going really well, or really badly, I hum. Off key.

Any words of advice for fellow artists?

I believe in practice, a little bit every day is much more valuable than a big blow out session of painting on the weekend. So I would advise fellow artists to always have their sketching kit with them so that they can sketch when they are out and about.

What are three tips you’d like to share with your fellow Sktchy artists?

I think if people have difficulty finding time to sketch and get their juices flowing, momentum builds momentum. They might need to set aside time to be in the studio—make an appointment; then keep those appointments until it becomes habit.

If the issue holding them back is that they don’t like what they produce so they don’t sit down and produce, I would suggest that they start looking at how they are letting their internal critic call the shots and keep them from working.

I would encourage them to let go of expectations and perfection, and just draw. And then when they are finished, look at their piece and even if it didn’t turn out the way they hoped, that they keep looking at it until they find one piece of the sketch that they really like. It might be that they got the likeness of the face, and that would be huge, but sometimes it’s the little things that go right, a passage of paint, one magical ink line. Look at those bits and appreciate those bits. Because in that way I believe people start to fall in love with their art in a realistic way. They can see value even if only in small areas initially, and that will increase their enjoyment and build their drawing momentum.

Next, select one thing in the sketch that didn’t work out and make a plan on how to fix it—that might simply mean slowing down and paying attention to gesture or contour, but it also might mean taking a watercolor course or reading a color theory book. That’s about identifying a positive action that you can take to change things. This is also about turning off the internal critic that cripples many artists and prevents them from creating.

These two steps actually allow you to view your art realistically in relation to your goals, and see your goals realistically in relation to the steps you take to make them happen.

And the third tip I’d give people is to stop making comparisons, e.g. “So-and-So’s work is fantastic, mine sucks, blah, blah, blah.” There’s no value or point in that. There’s only you and your experience and ability and the paper. What you put there is about where you are right now and the daily practice, the habit of finding at least one thing in your work you enjoy, and the ability to look at your work and make choices about going forward all increase your enjoyment so much that you won’t be able to stop yourself from sketching daily, and so you’ll continue to practice…

If that’s too preachy, I’d simply recommend: work in a series. Series are always great for sparking inspiration and getting us out of dead ends and looking at subjects with fresh eyes. They are also the perfect opportunity to test out new materials and find the ones that speak to us. I think it’s pretty obvious to people who look at my profile page what I love to sketch. I like asymmetry, I love the challenge of rendering hair (which includes beards), feathers, and fur.

What do you love about Sktchy?

I love the wonderful creativity and variety of the Muses. All those wonderful faces, expressions, poses. They all visually call for attention and suggest inspiration. I’m amazed at the great sense of humor so many of them express when they come up with their poses. If you’re an artist who loves faces you simply have to be amazed at what they come up with and so graciously post.

Get the Sktchy iPhone app to join Roz on Sktchy.

#art #artist #Roz Stendahl #artists on tumblr #drawing #painting #portrait #sktchy #Q&A

[imagine-wannaone]

The Happiest Years

Okay so this is the first one I’ve properly written, so I hope it’s okay? Requested by @kpoppoopie and it’s an incredibly cute request, I hope I did you justice~

-An anniversary celebration for you and Sungwoon 

Spring is your favourite season, the winter too cold and summer too hot. The fact that spring seemed to last approximately 2 weeks and then disappeared- a deeply upsetting matter. Spring is your favourite season because of the perfect temperature, everything coming back to life with pretty colours, all the baby animals, and maybe that spring is the season you got together with your boyfriend, Ha Sungwoon. Maybe.

You balance yourself on the fence of your small garden, watching what you predict to be some goldfinches bask in your little bird water bowl as you wait. Little flower patches sprout all over your small space, vibrant blotches of colour, different types of birds utilizing your feeder and you once woke up early enough to see a family of hedgehog’s.

The world quickly disappears to darkness as two hands wrap around your eyes and you yelp, arms flailing to try to regain balance sat on your fence, but failing. You brace yourself to get the wind knocked out of you, but you fall back onto a warm surface not that far back, and you get ready to fight (because out of fight and flight, you have a natural bias). “Calm down, you honey badger.” Sungwoon’s voice meets your ears and you automatically relax, thankful you weren’t about to be kidnapped and forced to join some sort of gang. He brings his hands down from your eyes and you frown. “You made me scare the birds away.” You tilt your head up, still leaning on his chest, to look at his face at a very flattering angle. “They’ll come back. Come on, I have a surprise.” He places a kiss between your eyebrows and you shimmy away into your feet, furrowing your eyebrows at him. He simply smiles and takes your hand in his warm ones, ones you love to trace patterns on and hands that have always been there to comfort you. The two of you where going to see a film and then go for dinner, your 3 year anniversary incredibly important to the two of you. You’d met at school, doing the classic thing where you were assigned to be partners for a project and it kinda just happened without you realizing? But damn, you smashed that project, the best project anyone walking in earth has ever seen, even if you do say so yourself. The two of you chat absent mindedly as you walk, although your mind is constantly tracing your route to try to guess what you’re going to do or where the hell you’re going. “Hey hey, I know what your doing, stop before  I have to throw a bag over your head and smuggle you there.” Sungwoon squeezes your entwined hands and you have flash backs to earlier. “You wouldn’t.” You stare into Sungwoon’s eyes and you see the glint that only means trouble. Sungwoon’s agility is unbelievable (probably all those years spent dancing), so before you know it he’s on your back. Your legs wobble to keep his weight, the suddenness surprising you as you nearly topple, but his laughter lifts your heart and you manage to ignore his weight. His delicate hands cover your eyes again as he directs you where to walk, or stagger. You trust him wholeheartedly not to walk you into a lamp post, or trip down the path, which he did last month. 3 years of your relationship and you’ve got to the point where you can trust your boyfriend not to walk you into tall solid objects, that’s true love and a solid achievement. “You ready to fall in love with me all over again?” Sungwoon slides off of your back but keeps your eyes covered when you stop and all you want to do is just find out what he’s done for you. “Why, have you bought me meet and greet tickets for monsta x?” “Hey, aren’t you supposed to love me the most?” Sungwoon whines behind you and you giggle. “Yes, but have you seen Shownu?” You’re only teasing him of course, while Shownu is infact a squish™, Sungwoon is the sweetest person in existence. To you anyway. “Okay, good point, but do you want to stand here forever or?” You nodded eagerly and Sungwoon withdraws his hands from around your eyes, you blink a couple of times before your eyes settle. The sun is settling on the Han river, painting the sky in oranges and pinks and purples, and creating a reflection on the water that constantly shifts with the flow. The buildings are black and silhouettes, like in paintings. Only a few people are around, couples going for walks or an odd few people riding their bikes. The sound of the trees swaying in the wind, the river drifting by, the birds racing across the sky and the odd murmur of conversation creates a melody sweeter than any song. Settled on the grass, next to one of the towering trees, is cute checkered blanket and a picnic bag wrapped with fairy lights, the whole scene cliche but so so sweet. “Happy 3 years, y/n.” Sungwoon’s breath tickles your ear as he rests his chin on your shoulder and wraps his arms around your waist, and you bask in his warmth and familiarity and his usual smell of something fruity and sweet. Your heart sweeps out of your chest and it always amazes you how Sungwoon always manages to out-doo himself. Or maybe he doesn’t, your love just increases. The first year it was couples massages, second year it was camping, which was a little bit of a mess but hilarious anyway. The simpleness of this, the thought of just going for a picnic together, warms your heart, you can’t help the huge smile on your face. “You’re such an incredibly sweet and adorable dork.” You turn your head to kiss his cheek, his smile reaches his eyes and the two of you drop onto the blankets. “But you’re my dork, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” It takes the two of you no time to demolish the picnic, Sungwoon seemed to have packed every finger food there is, and you question how he managed to fit it all in the little bag, but he always seems to perform miracles, so you don’t question it. You settle in between Sungwoon’s legs, leaning against his chest to steal his warmth as the two of you sip on some wine glasses filled with apple juice because wine is nasty. “Hey, Remember when we had our first fall out, so you got us to breath in helium before we argued and you laughed so hard you had a headache for the rest of the day?” You lean back Further and giggle at the memory of Sungwoon’s high voice trying to sound angry. “Remember when I woke up one night and you where singing ‘Ring Ding Dong’ in a German accent in your sleep?” You can feel Sungwoon laughing under you, and it fills your heart to know you’ve made him happy, to know you’ve made that beautiful sound come out of him. “Or every other time we go out for dinner and you pretend it’s my birthday so we get free cake?” You swear Sungwoon pulls that trick at least once a month, embarrassing the hell out of you but also making the two of you giggle throughout the whole thing.

A thought pops into your head, and you scurry for your bag, pulling out a little gift wrapped box, and passing it to Sungwoon with a light blush, giving gifts always makes you nervous, even though you know Sungwoon would like anything you’ve gotten him. He carefully lifts the top of the box and a smile spreads across his face that makes you feel like you could reach into the sky and hold the stars. He holds up the leather necklace you bought for him, a matching one for you also in the box. Your first year it was matching bracelets, and the second year it was matching rings, both of which you wear everyday. You’re starting to worry about what you can get him next year, but you like to ignore your problems until they’re overwhelming and you have a year yet. Sungwoon leans forward for you to tie the necklace for him, the skin at the back of his neck warm and soft. You do the same thing and his careful fingers skim the back you your neck, making you giggle. His hands skim from the back of your neck to hold your face, his eyes conveying everything words can’t.

“So cute and so fashionable~” Sungwoon muses, pulling you back to his side and showering you in little kisses. The two of you watch the stars, giggling at memories from the last 3 years, the happiest 3 years. You watch his  dark eyes, the curve of his smile, the shimmer in his hair and the glow of his skin, and can honestly say you want to spend the rest of your life with Sungwoon, and that love is a beautiful thing.

(I’m sorry for the cheesy end oops)

#ha sungwoon #sungwoon #produce 101 #pd 101 #broduce 101 #picnic date #fluff #aniversary #oneshot #imagine #scenario #og admin

[lisathewife101]

The Boardroom

Characters: Henry Cavill the Actor, Unnamed OFC

Summary: Henry is suing a fan fiction writer for slander. He changes his mind shortly after seeing her. Even though she is angry with him, she can’t deny what she wants for long.

Rating: Explicit; NSFW 18 +

Warnings: Intimidation, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Angry Sex, Office Sex, Teasing, Denial, Groping, Power Struggle

Word Count: 1,803

***

“Good morning.”

His voice has somewhat startled me. It was very commanding. When I looked up, it was almost as if the man of my dreams was before me.

“Good morning,” I said in return, trying to convey a sense of gratitude and business.

“Please have a seat,” he extended his hand out to the glass table in front of him, and I pulled on the chair directly in front of me. My lawyers and representatives sat around me, and his walked to this other side of the table to join him.

Surprisingly, he dragged a chair right in front of me, took his seat and laced his fingers on the top of the table. Doing my best to have confidence, I looked him over, but when I looked to his face he was looking right at me. Intimidation was his game.

“Does anyone have anything to say before we start our order of business?”

My lawyer advised me not to say anything just in case, but it was courteous to give him or his lawyers the option.

“Yes actually, thank you.”

Great. This should be great. A mouthful from the one and only Muse. Fuck.

“My advisers strongly suggested I remain silent, but I need to tell you how much talent you have. I’ve obviously read some of your creations and I’m very impressed. You paint a very vivid picture and I’m actually flattered you have me as the basis of these fantasies.”

Jesus fucking Christ. What?!

He took a deep breath while the two men around him looked away in shame. “Considering the circumstances, I’d like to place this meeting on hold to find out a little bit more about you,” He’s pointed at me. “And maybe we can come to some sort of an agreement together, informally. Of course, if that’s alright.”

I look to my lawyers in confusion. And one of them sees my expression. “I think I can speak for all of us when I say we’re a bit surprised. Can you please tell us why you’ve made this decision?”

I look back and have lowered my head, peering at him gently. He on the other hand, has a smirk to his face. “I’m not sure I have all of the information I need to make my decision. I need more time. And the ability to speak freely with your client, again only if she agrees to that.”

I am in trouble. Oh dear God. Have the nerve and say yes. Everyone is waiting for your answer. The worst case scenario is you listen and shut your mouth. I look around the room and huff. My lawyer waves his hand as to give me the floor.

Make this count.

“If we discuss anything it’ll be on my terms. You’ve already given me enough headaches, I don’t need any more. We speak here and now, alone. You’ll have ten minutes max.”

“I’ll only need five.” He’s barely moved.

I look over at my lawyers and tip my head. They and his stand and walk out of the boardroom and close the door. He’s leaning forward, so I do too. We’re looking at each other, trying to intimidate but I doubt mine is working. Just don’t fucking smile.

He finally breaks the silence. “You’re not exactly what I expected.”

“Really. Why.”

“You are smart, creative and attractive? I didn’t think it was possible.”

Don’t fucking smile. Be offended. This is business.

“What does being attractive have to do with any of this?”

“Because if you are attractive, write what you write about me, and are into those things yourself, we should look at all of our options.”

Hold it together.

“Why don’t you spell those out for me then. Five minutes ago you were going to sue me. There were no other options.”

“You don’t think there is?”

I want to say walk out of this room. I want to say I’ll stop writing about him. I want to say I’ll never trample on his territory again, but I’m not going to, because I like what I do, and I know others do too. Sure I could change his name, but that would be giving in. You’re not only standing up for yourself, you’re standing up for everyone else out there who writes fan fiction. I remain silent.

“What I’m saying is… we could turn this scenario into a better one.”

He’s not. He’s asking to fuck me? Really…

As the realization comes over my expression, he can see it.

“So what do you say?”

I ponder, this could be very good. But is he trying to trick me?

“I’m not totally convinced you only want sex.”

“Good. We’re on the same page.”

“Well, I just don’t think you could be as good in bed as I’ve written you. No offense, but the character of you I write, wouldn’t sue someone for promoting them and writing mature realistic sexual fantasies.”

“At the moment, I’m not suing you. And try to be a little more optimistic please.”

I huff again, looking away. Let’s give him an example. “You’ve read my stories. Do you remember what I gave you as a staple? Your trademark kink in my fics?”

He smiles, and although it’s beautiful, it feels as though he’s still toying with me. “Yes, you have me biting. In almost every story I’ve read.”

“Tell me something,” I lean forward. “Do you like that? Giving your women a little sting? Because I’m sure with those sharp teeth, you squeeze a tiny bit of a moan out of them when they react. And when they only gasp, you know they’re stubborn and need more. Am I right?”

He’s looking my face over, and his smile has faded. “You’ve only cracked the surface sweetheart. If you want to see more, we need some time together.”

“Then I’m right. You bite.” As I wait for his answer, I know I’m right. And getting him to confess something this sexual about himself, something I created that he actually does, and admitting that confession to me, has him at a temporary weakness regardless of how small it is.

“Let’s just say I’m willing to leave my mark on you.”

—–

I’m pressed up against the wall in his darkened lawyers office, my hands are to either side of my head and he’s holding me there, pushing into me from behind while we’re both fully clothed. His breath is traveling down my neck and I’m anticipating a bite.

His teeth slowly grasp the flesh on my neck, and its painful already. He pulls away from me and his teeth are squeezing. My mouth is open, but I don’t dare make a sound, I won’t give him what he wants. His fingers slide between mine and he laces mine while they’re against the wall. I let out a gust of a breath and his crotch pushes me up, forcing me into the wall again.

He finally releases my skin. “Oh, you are a stubborn one aren’t you. Where are your manners?”

Highly aroused yet completed enraged I back-talk. “Manners, right. Like I am the one that needs manners-”

“Shhh…” His mouth is at my ear and although my words were louder, I couldn’t help but show how upset I was.

He grips one of my hands and guides me to turn around, giving me hardly any room in the process. His hands pin me there again, holding me in place. I look him in his beautiful blue eyes and see lust at its highest. But I don’t lose my train of thought. “You need to learn consideration and…”

His parted lips come to mine, and he waits as mine stay parted for his. He’s breathing into my mouth and hovering. He’s moving away to my side slowly, but I want his kiss so bad I follow his lips, trying to catch him. Suddenly they’re on my neck again sucking and then biting. “You bastard…” I whisper then gasp from the sting.

As he bites harder, his hands leave mine, feeling my body inch by inch, down my front, dragging and groping as he goes. I can’t deny they feel good, and I need more. I spread my legs and he feels my open invitation, moving for my prized piece, rubbing over it and lifting my skirt in the process. “Now, that’s not really what you think of me, is it.”

He’s right, but I’m not about to admit it. Instead, I try to push his buttons again. “I won’t come.”

His teeth pull away again on my neck, most likely leaving marks. “Why,” he asks calmly. “That voice of yours will sound so sweet in moans because of me.”

“I won’t give you the satisfaction,” I growl back.

He chuckles and he is groping me again. His mouth is open but I don’t believe he wants to kiss me this time. Not yet, maybe never.

“Maybe that wasn’t in the plan sweetheart. Maybe I want to make you suffer and beg me.”

His choice of words in a breath filled whisper have me. I need this man inside of me now. “You can’t. I won’t let you. I won’t beg.”

He’s closer than ever, his hands are moving between my legs and he lifts one, exposing my panties. He pushes his crotch between my legs and I can feel his hard on. “You sound like you’re challenging me. Is that suppose to make me try harder?”

“I’m,” out of breath. “I’m not coming. Not for you.” I turn my head away, but it’s just another opportunity for another bite on my neck, this time the other side. At the same time he grips my mound and pulls, rubbing his fingers over my lips and moving them, finding my clit and teases me. I squeak this time, and gasp yet again.

“I don’t believe you. I think you want to come.” He squats, placing my heeled foot over his shoulder, pulling back my panties with a strong tug and I see him lick his lips as he looks my cunt over. I feel the air in the room hit it. With my juice at full flow, I feel a cool chill as he watches me want him. He tugs at my panties again, securing them to the side. “All you need to say, is that you want me.”

I’m trembling, knowing he’s ready to eat me alive, give me what I want and it’s within reach. But I have to surrender. He licks between my lips once. His tongue dives deep and is long, wet and firm. He hits my clit and backs away, then blows softly to cool my wet pink.

My hands grip his hair loosely and my breathing haults temporarily.

“Oh God,” I whisper. “I want you.”

#part 2 maybe? #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill fanfic #Henry Cavill smut #oneshot #the boardroom #thewife101

[maxmundan]

And so here it is, at last. It's Thursday night and the date I have been waiting for with lust and anticipation has finally arrived. I told Iris I would pick her up at 8:00 and right now it is 7:55, so I am standing in the parking lot of the 99-Cents Only store, across the street from the duplex that Iris shares with her husband and daughter, trying to build up my courage and kill the last five minutes so I don't show up early.     Iris lives on Orange Street, in what is known as the Mid-Wilshire or Miracle Mile area of Los Angeles. Her place is actually wedged between Wilshire and Fairfax Boulevards, right around the corner from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and the La Brea Tar Pits. It's a great part of town and, truth be told, I am nowhere near cool enough to be dating someone in this neighborhood. I live in North Hollywood, which, in geographical terms, is just a short ride over the hill, through Laurel Canyon but, in terms of prestige, might as well be Bangladesh. West Hollywood is Hollywood's swanky sister but North Hollywood is the slow, deformed brother everyone just pretends isn't there. Get a Miracle Miler started on the superiority of the 310 area code to the 818 and you may not hear the end of it.     Iris has asked me to be here, however, so, here I am, watching the last few seconds tick away until it's 8:00 and time for me to arrive. The last thing on earth I would want to do is to show up early. How dorky would that be? She has told me to go to the back door, as her husband is in the front, so I do just that, walking down the long driveway, feeling increasingly awkward and self-conscious as I do so. I stand at her back door, taking one last second to compose myself. What do I do with my hands? I can never figure out what to do with my hands. Well, just knock, you asshole. That's what I should do with my hands. I lift one of them hesitantly, roll it into a limp fist and give three barely audible raps on the wood of the door, right below the window.     Immediately, I hear Iris answer, "Just a second, sweetie. I'll be right there." Wow. She called me sweetie. It's like we're on intimate terms already.     I wait for a minute that feels like an hour, and am just lifting my hand to try again, when Iris throws open the door and declares, "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"     I could easily say the same thing about her. I feel like one of those Warner Brothers cartoon characters who, when they see a pretty woman, have their eyes shoot out of their head and steam starts streaming from their ears. Iris is wearing a very short, low-cut silver lame dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. She is all legs and breasts and tanned, glistening skin. She is sporting a smile a mile wide and has added a ton of glitter to the make-up on her face, so that every time she turns, she catches the light and sparkles like a diamond. I am certain my mouth is a gaping, wide mask of idiocy, so I try to turn it into a joke by saying, "Ayooooooooooooooooga," just like the cartoon characters would.     "Now, now," Iris says, as she strikes a coquettish pose, "I'm very flattered but please keep it in your pants. At least for the ride to the restaurant, honey."     "I will give it my best shot," I answer, trying not to let my pleasure show at the fact that she is using so many pet names for me. "Sweetie" first and now "honey". What's next? "Lover boy"?     Iris steps out of her doorway, taking me by the arm and says, "Well, shall we? Where did you park?"     "I'm right across the street," I tell her and, as we walk briskly to my car, she slides her hand down the small of my back to give my ass a quick squeeze as she whispers in my ear, "I have been looking forward to this. It's going to be a magical night."     During our email correspondence, Iris let me know that her favorite date destination is the beach so, naturally, we are on the PCH now, headed to Gladstone's in the Malibu area. Gladstone's is kind of a tourist trap with overpriced and undercooked fish and lobster, not to mention the inevitable bread bowls filled with clam chowder. It is right on the beach, however, and I have brought a blanket that we can take down to the sand after we eat. At this moment in time, the quality of the food pales in importance to the quality of her company and I really hope Iris feels the same.     I had been really worried that we wouldn't be able to find things to talk about in the car but the conversation is flowing smooth and easy. We are both actors who have done a lot of work in the theater, so we have that in common. She tells me about a gay and lesbian theater she does work for, obviously very proud of herself for what she sees as the cutting edge, avant garde work they are doing. From her description it sounds more than a little pedestrian to me but I keep this opinion to myself. No need to turn her off at this point by playing the snob. For my part, I regale her with stories of a terrible version of Macbeth I've recently been a part of. It was reset in a modern corporate world, with all the characters in suits and ties. Why do directors always feel the need to take Shakespeare plays and put them in some alien environment, like a speakeasy in the '20s or outer space? Don't they trust the timeless human emotions expressed in the plays? Or is it that, since they know they can't compete with the likes of the Royal Shakespeare Company as far as quality goes, they resort to the easy gimmick to make their production standout? Anyway, Iris is enjoying my story, laughing and smiling and leaning over frequently to touch me on the knee or on the chest. Each contact from her fingers sends electric sparks coursing through my body and I am beginning to worry that one of her sexy touches might cause me to lurch the wheel and drive headfirst into oncoming traffic.     I am just managing to hold it together, when Iris leans towards me and, with a teasing smile, asks, "Do you see it?"     "Uh...what...exactly?" I answer, trying to sound confident but having no idea what she is talking about.     She looks at me like I've just asked what chocolate is and she tells me, with just the barest hint of condescension, "Well, my aura, of course, silly. Don't tell me you can't see it?"     "Oh...uh...of course I can," I stutter, spinning wildly inside my head. What have I gotten myself into? She wasn't one of those, was she? Those crazy hippy-dippy aura people? Those wheat grass juice and crystal weirdos who are always preaching peace and spiritual awakening and free love but in reality are total control freaks who are completely impossible to deal with? And what if she was? I was so close to getting laid at this point that I could taste it. Would I be willing to give that up because I've discovered that the intended woman is a nut job?     Don't answer that. We both know the answer.     "Everybody can see it," Iris says, like she is talking to a child, "Everybody says they can see it. It's purple. Everybody tells me my aura is purple. And purple is the best color, you know? It represents intelligence and artistic genius and that just resonates with me so much. I really think of myself as an artistic genius."     I try to close my gaping mouth but I physically can't, and I certainly can't think of anything to say in response. Who says shit like that? Who looks another person and in the face and calls themselves an artistic genius? And how is the other person supposed to answer? "Oh yes, I've known you for all of five minutes but from your "aura" and your little one-paragraph encapsulation of your work with some teeny, insignificant gay and lesbian theater, that you are undoubtedly an exploding, if unrecognized, human channel for the eternal muse."     Instead I say nothing. I just stare at her, with my mouth open, trying to come up with something that doesn't sound like either an insult or a desperate lie. I just can't, though. I got nothing. An unforgivably uncomfortable amount of time passes, without anyone saying anything. Then more time passes still. Several times I try to force something out of my mouth just to break the tension but nothing comes out, except for a little embarrassing spittle.     Finally, Iris breaks the silence, by saying, with a desperation in her voice that I had not heard before, "Don't tell me you don't see it. The purple. Don't you see the purple?"     I turn to her and try to smile as charmingly as I possibly can, although I am certain it looks like a grimace, as I answer, "Oh, I see it, Iris. Of course I see it."     At that moment, a lifetime of unbearable tension seems to drain from her body, as she slumps back into the car seat and closes her eyes. "He sees it," she says, at a volume almost at a level below human hearing.     Shit. What have I done? Is that it? Has this one little slip up fucked up my chances of getting some pussy sometime this century? I've got to do something to get things back on track. I grab her by the shoulder, pulling her up a little bit, so that her face rolls towards mine, as I tell her, with all the exuberance I can muster, "Yes, I see it. Anyone can see it. I see the purple, Iris. I see the purple."

Max Mundan, Chapter 8 of my novel, Surviving Iris

© Max Mundan 2017

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#prose #maxmundan #writers on tumblr #alt lit #surviving iris