#edited to include the fucking horror fic

[arbitrarycategories]

I’m Arbi, but you can also call me Nya!

Same username on ao3, where I’ve posted the following works!

Ruby and Emerald au: When Pro Heroes Deku and Dynamight find themselves face-to-face with their 13 year old selves, they decide the only course of action is to train them up and save the future!

your claims were steady till I’m dead (but then I’m gone): AFO captured his son, Izuku, and… does not treat him like a valued son. All Might, seeking to save Izuku, falls into the same trap… (WARNINGS: cannibalism, human experimentation)

Neo Fairies: Natsu, Lucy, Happy, Gray, and Juvia are thrown through time before the war with Alvarez ends. Determined to save their guild (and the rest of Fiore), they devote themselves to taking down threats from behind the scenes!

I will soften every edge: post-manga demon slayer fic exploring how the kids grow up and deal with life after the Corps.

to make light truly count: spinoff of above fic where Sanemi goes to Asakusa, makes friends(?) with Yushirou, and joins the Tokyo Police.

sand gator gets his face punched in: one piece time travel taking the post-Dressrosa group and plopping them straight into Alabasta.

WANTED: WHITE BLADE KUINA: one piece kuina lives au where they both join luffy’s crew in shells town. 

#pinned post #arbitrary speaks #asdgh the obvious fondness for time travel.... wow #i promise I have other ideas yall #I'll probably add to this in the future as I add more works to ao3 #ruby and emerald au #neo fairies #edited to include the fucking horror fic #I keep FORGETTING it #jump scares me every time I check my ao3 stats #sushizuku #mended heart series #time travel: alabasta 2 au #wanted: white blade kuina

[lowkeyrobin]

MCYT ; they have a very obvious crush on you

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, & quackity

warnings ; language

y/s/n = your ship name

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

constantly donates / talks through tts when you're streaming alone

TommyInnit donated $10!

"Tommy, stop giving me money, just use TTS"

only uses tts when you tell him to each and every time, it's routine

if he's streaming when you compliment him, chat always points out his red face to both of you

"shut up chat! I'm not blushing. you guys suck"

after a while he gets invested in the shipping

"if I open wattpad and don't see three new y/s/n fics I'm gonna lose my shit, guys"

"Tommy, Tommy, check ao3"

"I found one and it actually looks good!"

reading fanfics on stream (with permission of course and being light on the jokes and whatnot)

you and Tommy make your own fanfic too

he gets your friends to read it on their streams too 💀💀💀

literally every bit he writes is something he wants to do with you

such a hopeless romantic

RANBOO

always doing you favors

never saying no to you

"yes sir/maam!"

always donos on your streams while speed running or playing horror games to tell you good luck

it rlly isn't a stream wo one of their donos istg

chat always asking where he is during one of said streams

editors go CRAZY with the misfits vlogs & tom simons vlogs with you two in them

the chemistry???

you react to / watch each sorry boys episode on stream when they come out

editors go crazy with your compliments to ranboo

they do too 😭😭

giggling and kicking their feet cause they're so funny to you

he's literally head over heels bruh

gives u free merch and stuff

FREDDIE BADLINU

he's usually nice/full of compliments but he's so extra with you

claims it's for the bit

lets you dye his hair

ylyl streams with him constantly LMAO

he wrote your name on his bi flag for some reason??? when you ask about it he just says "why not?" and you shrug it off

always helping you pick out clothes and shit when thrifting/shopping

always has to find a pair of sunglasses for you I swear

constantly asks his viewers to edit you guys

it's become a part of your relationship where he clearly has a crush on you but you can't tell if it's for the bit or if he's serious so you never say anything

the tom simons vlogs w you guys go hard

especially the ylyl irl with ran, tommy, charlie, james, and billzo

same with the ylyl american version w jack, tommy, james, harry, etc

editors and fanfic writers have field days with those

just straight up making out as "friends" for the bit????

even Tommy is confused and he's been supporting Freddie through the dumb shit he's been doing

supports the fanfics

he honestly reads them

if you catch him doing so he says he's just interested and he might read it on stream for funnies

QUACKITY

"accidently" sends you free merch nearly every drop

qsmp streams are never complete without you guys flirting or going on a date

basically old karlnapity but you guys on the qsmp

qsmp y/s/n streams go so hard, they're literally the best

cellbit, roier, and jaiden officiating your fake wedding

qsmp y/s/n edits and fanart went crazy

youre like "guys no fanfics or edits of y/s/n, only if hes comfortable with it, I don't want you guys to weird him out"

and hes begging people to make the fanfics, the fanart, the everything

daily tweets of "guys send me more y/s/n fanart" or "any good y/s/n fanfic recommendations??"

cellbit always replies to those tweets with some long ass dictionary ass response to fuck with you two

fitmc of all people makes you guys a little tumblr oneshot.

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt preferences #tommyinnit x reader #mcyt x reader #quackity x reader #ranboo x reader #badlinu x reader #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit #qsmp #osmp

[vixstarria]

My Fanfiction Master List

All fics can also be found on my AO3.

The following have accidentally turned into a series, although each can be read as a standalone.

Mostly Astarion x female Tav / reader, although other characters do make appearances.

Most are shameless reader self-insert, too.

To summarise: a take on Astarion's relationship progression with a hectic, unhinged bardlock Tav. Mostly humour and banter, fluff with light angst. And then there's the smut.

Ongoing series

Bloodbang Chronicles - post-game continuation of my bardlock series (see below), Astarion x f!OC - Astarion and Asmodea are running a cabaret. Shit goes down, hilarity ensues. The horrors persist, but so do they.

Masterlist | chapter 1 of 5 (so far) - start here

One-shot series:

Fluff

In chronological order, as they would take place in-game:

Where my nice, simple plan fell apart - scenes of Astarion x Tav relationship progression in Act 1 generally

Another Gift - Tav tries to comfort or distract a brooding Astarion, reflections on vampirism / Astarion's past

Mark me as yours (Astarion POV) - takes place the morning after 'Missionary with the lights off' (filed below under smut) - a day of pining in camp in the life of Astarion

Down by the river (alternating POV) - 18+, takes place immediately after 'Mark me as yours' - Astarion and Tav spend a night by the river, away from camp

Something real (Astarion POV) - An evening in camp, Astarion and Tav are finally alone

Are you mine? (Astaion POV) - just flirty pillow talk and comfort

Gentle Warding Bond - short & sweet, Astarion finds the "true love's caress" and "true love's embrace" rings in the Shadow-Cursed lands and makes a decision

Admit that you love me - Act 2, Gale fucks around and finds out, Lae'zel becomes poetic and Astarion most certainly does not tell you that he loves you

Confession (Astarion POV) - title self-explanatory, love confession, tooth-rotting sweetness

The Morning After - short fic, follow-up to 'Confession', morning in camp - banter, humour, etc

Intimacy - Astarion's struggle with sex and intimacy, includes some fairly softcore smut

Communication - It has been nice, but it's time Tav and Astarion actually figured out what it is they're doing and what comes next [Most recently posted oneshot]

A night at the inn (part 1) - the gang gets a chance to let loose for a while. Humour, banter, and a lead-up to something smutty to come [Parts 2 & 3 under smut]

Smut

Also part of series.

Missionary with the lights off - Uh. Some really mindblowing sex here. No, really. Porn with plot, fluff to smut

Seeing stars - Astarion is jealous. What's more, he's eager to prove that no one could possibly compete with him.

A remedy for sleeplessness - porn no plot, Tav can't sleep and Astarion takes matters into his own hands

What do you want to do with it? - porn no plot, dirty talk, 'use your words', oral sex (male receiving) (kinda)

A night at the inn (part 2) - porn, Astarion x Halsin x F!Tav/Reader, dirty talk, oral sex, PIV and more

A night at the inn (part 3) - continuation of porn, Astarion x Halsin x F!Tav/Reader, vampire bites as an aphrodisiac edition

The Sheath of Frontiers - Wyll's never been with a man. Astarion and Tav decide this must be rectified. (and yes that was an anal pun)

Challenges, shorts and misc

'Erotic Misadventures' - my entry for the BG3 April Foolishness challenge: 'write something spicy that uses the worst possible terms for body parts, sex acts'. Reader beware.

Untitled - Ask reply HC, Astarion accidentally attacks Tav during a nightmare

A cut - Tav accidentally cuts themselves, and Astarion scampers over like a cat to a can of tuna

Untitled - Ask reply, bonus scene following Seeing Stars - jealous giddy Astarion enacts revenge on Wyll after his failed awkward dance seduction attempt

'Gentle Warding Bond' should rightfully be here also, but it's too relevant to the 'plot' if you can call it that

My OC bard (bardlock) headcanon

(the lady in all the above fics)

OC Questionnaire

OC more in-depth questionnaire

Another 'get to know your Tav' post

OC songs and outfits

Why my Tav fell for Astarion

Why Astarion fell for my Tav

Going strong and planning to do more.

P.S. I am a whore for comments, and nothing sparks joy and feeds further inspiration quite like a simple "HHHNNNNNG ASFKJAGJLKSJF" in comments or reblog tags.

P.P.S Feel free to leave a comment if you'd like to be added to a taglist. :) And if so, do let me know if there are any categories you would prefer to be excluded from.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion fanfiction #pinned post #I give you my soul #You can give me your HHHNNNNNG ASFKJAGJLKSJF

[ruskaroma]

ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 1: written in blood.

Warnings: this series will include highly disturbing/dark topics such as stalking, unhealthy obsession, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, manipulation, gaslighting, large age gap, emotional/psychological abuse, dom/sub undertones, bad BDSM etiquette, etc.

this is a dark fic, written in john's pov and a glimpse of how his mind works. if you still continue to read and get triggered, that is not my responsibility.

Summary: John finds himself a new obsession.

Author's note: this is my first ever fanfic for this fandom and i am beyond excited to share this with you guys! though i must say before you begin, english is not my first language and there might be a few errors in my writing here and there, so i apologize in advance.

but either way, i still hope you enjoy this piece, and i can assure you that once i finish writing this series there will be more to come! i really enjoy writing john wick be a merciless bastard who kills everything that breathes, and i hope you enjoy it too as much as i did.

please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think in the comment and reblogs and likes would be so appreciated. it motivates me to write even more :)

(also this is not edited so all mistakes are on me and i apologize)

Word count: 8.1k

also read on ao3.

It’s one of those days again.

The sound of his watch ticking is the only thing keeping his car from being too quiet. His eyes watch every single movement of his target, never leaving his sight. It won’t be too long for John to finally strike, he just doesn’t want too many civilians seeing the horror that’s about to happen right before their very eyes.

His mind is thinking of many things he could do with this target in particular. A lowlife thug that got himself involved with a very dangerous Italian mob, but then again that’s not the reason why John’s murderous intent is at its peak at the moment.

He’s angry at something, he just doesn’t know what. And this target of his isn’t helping his situation at all. Reading his criminal record made John think this could be a chance to cure his boredom. This man is not only a sex trafficker, but also a pedophile who has a history of targeting teenagers to rape and sell to the black market that’s as fucked up as him.

He doesn’t normally take his time thinking of ways to kill his targets. He points, shoots, leaves. This one in particular though, got him facing a side of him that John himself doesn’t want to face.

He would start by breaking every single one of the man’s fingers. And if that doesn’t do any justice, he’ll cut them off.

One by one, let the man savor the feeling, let John relish the nightmare.

He could slit the man’s throat, watch as life drains away from his body, watch as the man clings to his legs for mercy. John could even pull out the man’s dick, step on it, fucking cut it off and shove it so far down his own throat that he couldn’t scream for help if he tried.

It’s John’s version of Colombian Necktie. A classic, only ever tried it out four times, hopefully this would be the fifth.

John is never the one to take pleasure in killing people, but these past few months have proved him otherwise.

Maybe it’s because of Helen’s death, and the way he was basically forced to sculpt the demons he buried back into himself. His only remaining bit of humanity was taken from him, and he’s coping in the most unhealthy way possible. Perhaps Winston was right about dipping his pinky a little too much into the pond, but it was inevitable.

John has gone back to his old ways. Taking contracts here and there to distract himself from the void in his heart. He remembers how burying a knife into someone’s throat for the first time in many years has ignited something in him he didn’t even know he had.

That’s why he’s here, exiting his car in a swift move, following his target as quietly as possible into a narrow alleyway that stinks of garbage in piss. This would be a nice place to kill a guy like him – right where he belongs.

John’s movements are so discreet the man couldn’t even sense him until John wrapped his right arm around his neck and his other hand went to cover the man’s mouth. He walks them both to the back of a building as the man struggles, where John’s sure no more people are present, and he kicks him on the jaw to stop the man from making any more noises.

John can make this quick. Pull out his gun and blow his brains out. But there’s that sinister glint in his mind that’s telling him to do something unimaginable – grotesque even – a death a man like him deserves.

The man tries to swing his arm at John but misses pathetically. The poor guy’s already shaking and John hasn’t even begun.

John doesn’t respond to the pitiful attempts of questioning who he is and who sent him here, he simply pulls his knife from his pocket and wastes no time slashing it against the man’s throat, the blood spraying all over his face. The man tries to stop it by shakily covering the deep cut with his hand, but it’s useless.

He’s gargling, choking on his own blood, and John’s watching it all unravel with a familiar glint in his eyes.

John is contemplating if he should follow the plan he made in his head or just leave it like this. Somehow, the sight looks rather incomplete to him. He knows what he’s done is not enough, but that could be just the rage talking. The man’s already dead, and surely cutting off his dick and shoving it so far down his throat it comes out of the wound would leave an ugly reputation on his name. 

Would that be a good thing? John is already feared enough, would it be a good thing to make people fear him even more? But then again, this won’t be the first time he’s done it. Doing it again one more time wouldn’t make any difference.

He glances down at the dead body on his feet before he kneels down to do the unforgivable.

Slicing off a man’s cock is easy. Too easy. John’s knife is perfectly sharpened and stoned, he merely uses any strength to cut it off. The sight is so fucking ugly, too much blood, but nothing he can’t handle.

Once that’s done, John uses his other hand to force the dead man’s jaw open, immediately greeted by the foul stench of blood as he shoves the unpleasant dick into the man’s open mouth. The genitalia is definitely not long enough to reach the throat, but that won’t be any problem for John.

He grits his teeth as he forces his hand in there, not bothering to care even if the jaw breaks and the hole becomes even wider, his goal is the only thing in his mind.

The blood continues to drip and he has never been so grateful for wearing an all black uniform for this occasion. Soon enough, after a few minutes of such a brutal wrongdoing, John sees the tip of the cock reaching the deep wound on the man’s throat as it continues to peak its way out.

A sick, small smile spreads across John’s face. The smile is barely there, but he’s fucking enjoying this more than he’d like to admit. He can only imagine how the news would spread across the assassin underworld like a wildfire.

The Boogeyman’s back in business and he’s scarier than ever.

Perhaps this might be the way to lay his point across. This is a way to show them that it was not a good idea pissing him off, killing what’s his, and bringing him back in business. They’d regret it, but it would be already too late for that.

John uses his other hand to pull the cock right out of the man’s throat but not completely. Half of it is hanging out and John thinks he could even consider this as a masterpiece. There’d be flies and maggots that would make the scenery better, but the cleaning service is there for a reason. He can’t just not use it.

John stands up from his position, pocketing his knife back into his pocket before retrieving his phone with the other. He dials a number, waits for them to pick up, all while admiring his work on the ground.

His previous contracts these past few months all ended in such an unimaginable, ugly way. He figured that by showing them that he’s capable of such brutality, it would increase the numbers of people calling him in for more jobs, because this is exactly what they wanted. They wanted Baba Yaga, the ruthless killer of the underworld who stops at nothing to finish his job, and he’s simply giving it to them.

Someone picks up the call and he straightens his posture, checking the time on his watch before speaking.

“This is Wick. John Wick, yes. I would like to make a dinner reservation for one.”

The news spread faster than anticipated.

The notorious man John Wick, the hot topic of the criminal underworld at the moment, even gained the attention of The High Table, and it all happened in the span of one day. That’s how quick the news spread amongst his fellow assassins, though that’s exactly what he was going for.

John expected it so he isn’t surprised when he receives a call from Charon saying Winston wants to meet him.

He inserts a coin in the door and the small window opened briefly. The guy on the other side immediately recognized him, not wasting a single moment to open the door and let the man of the hour in. All eyes are on him the moment he steps into the club, but no one dared to murmur anything to anybody – not when the man himself is here.

They know better.

John spots Winston at his usual spot drinking his usual order, signaling John to sit beside him where a glass of bourbon is already present. 

“Jonathan,” Winston greets, raising his glass. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“I figured,” John replies, though not interested. He slides himself to the booth and takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t understand why though.”

“Are we really playing this game, Jonathan?” The manager raises a brow. 

“I was just doing my job.”

“In a way you don’t normally do,” Winston then adds. “Or should I say, in a way you don’t even do.”

John gives him a look, but he could tell Winston doesn’t know how to interpret it. His face remains emotionless, not letting the mask slip and grant Winston the privilege to take a peak. John will continue to play this game until he’s satisfied, until he feels something again. Surely he’ll find what he’s looking for while doing the only thing he’s ever good at – slaughtering.

“Let’s just say I was trying out a new technique,” John says, voice deep and almost sinister. Winston’s scared, though he doesn’t show it, John knows. 

“I have known you ever since you started, Jonathan. Not once did it cross my mind you would do something so.. horrifying as this. You discarded the body like he was some sort of pig, so believe me when I say I couldn’t believe it at first.”

John has no idea why Winston’s whining about him being horrifying, when that’s all they’ve been saying about him ever since he joined. He didn’t gain this reputation for no reason, now he’s just simply showing them what more he’s capable of.

“You should’ve seen his record.” His tone is menacing, swirling the drink in his hand as he stares deeply at Winston’s eyes. “He’s worse than a pig.”

The drop of the curse word takes Winston by surprise. “So is that what it is, then? You killed him that way because you think he deserved it?”

“Not really,” John simply sighs, leaning back on the leather seat as he takes another sip of his bourbon. He really isn’t planning on staying longer, but Winston seems to be taking his sweet time asking him a bunch of stupid questions. “I couldn’t care less of what he’s done. I was simply… bored. Saying that I did that because I think he deserved it gives people a reason to think that what I did was justifiable.”

The look on Winston’s face says enough. He’s afraid of John, afraid of what he has become. Hearing John say he did such an unforgiving thing just because he was bored is beyond frightening. No man has ever inflicted so much fear on him before – at least not until John.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” Winston finally says, not wanting to hear any more disturbing thoughts of John, but he remains polite and calm for the sake of their friendship. “You have a good night, Jonathan.”

John gives him a nod, standing up from his seat and downing his drink in one go. “Goodnight, Winston.”

He exits the club with an eerie aura following behind him, not caring about the way people are looking at him like he’s got Death himself walking beside him.

It makes him wonder that maybe death doesn’t follow him after all.

Maybe it is him.

Someone offered him five million to fuck up a man who allegedly stole a fuck ton of kilograms of cocaine from their warehouse, and really, who is John to decline the offer?

Hunting the man is easy. It didn’t even take a day to locate where the man lives, and John’s already breaking into his apartment to shoot the guy and leave. There’s no point in rummaging the place for the cocaine, all of it is already up the man’s system by the looks of it, and killing him is John’s job.

John wants to finish this one fast, he’s got other business to attend to. As he backs up the frightened, pathetic excuse for a man against the wall, he takes his gun out of his holster and aims directly at the head, right between the eyes, and he watches in great pleasure as the residue of his brains splatter against the walls and the floor.

This man didn’t even put up a fight. John thinks this is a waste of time.

He exits the apartment with disappointment heavy on his shoulders, slamming the door shut. Although the gun he used has a silencer, the rooms are too close to each other. He’s sure there might be other people who heard the shot of his firearm.

The apartment building is located at the filthy side of New York, where most known drug dealers and junkies do their nasty deals. It’s no surprise that as soon as John steps a foot out of the worn out building, all eyes are on him, but mainly on the clothes he’s wearing. They’re planning on mugging him out, and John would like to see them try.

Just as he’s about to walk to his car, his phone rings abruptly in his chest pocket. He retrieves it in one swift motion, not noticing that a gold coin fell out as he does so, and he continues walking to not waste any more time.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir, you dropped something!” John hears from behind. He doesn’t bother looking.

The call isn’t nearly as important as the business he needs to attend to, so he hangs up the call and pushes his phone back into his pocket. As soon as he does that, he feels a small hand touching his shoulder.

John’s hand immediately flies to wrap his large hand around the person’s wrist, turning around to see a young woman with a bewildered expression on her pretty face, little fingers holding his golden coin that looks far too big on her hand.

She looks scared, terrified, and oh how fucking awful that makes John feel. Like he’s been punched right in the fucking gut. He’s enthralled.

“I wasn’t–you dropped it and I’m just giving it to you, I promise!”

She’s looking at John with big, doe eyes. She also looks freshly showered, wrapped in a black puffy jacket that makes her even smaller than she already is. John lets his eyes linger on her lips, so plump and glossy. Her voice sounds sweet, soft, something John isn’t used to hearing.

John can’t help but to stare.

“Are you–are you gonna let me go, mister?”

The way she stutters triggers a hot feeling in John’s guts, and can’t help but to rub his thumb on the girl’s dainty wrist before slowly letting her go.

So delicate, he could snap them in half.

“Sorry,” John apologizes, taking the coin from her hold, and his fingers itch at the way her skin feels so soft against his rough hands. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles a little, and there goes that hot curl in John’s stomach once again. “That thing looks expensive so be careful next time.”

Just like that, John doesn’t get the chance to reply back. She makes her leave and patters away from him, and he watches. He watches until she’s out of the view, taking a turn to a corner, leaving John with something he can’t quite figure out yet, but he soon will be.

For the first time in a while, he feels something new.

Suddenly, everything is too good to be true.

John will find himself staring at his hands for too long, still feeling the ghost of her soft skin on his fingers, fantasizing about her pretty face and soft, plump lips.

It’s scary for him to feel something again because that only means destruction. John likes to believe he has a gift of ruining everything he touches, especially the pure ones – like her. It’s a proven statement. Just look at Helen and Daisy.

This little one won’t be any different, he’s sure of it. John’s whole body is heating up everytime he thinks about her. The look on her face when she saw John’s chilling expression, her wide eyes, so glossy and innocent.

John wants to see her again.

His fingers itch, yearning to touch her again. 

Why he’s suddenly interested in a young woman he just met a few days ago, he has no idea. John’s a bit confusing – fucked up, even. He long accepted the fact that his mind is nowhere near healthy years ago. He tried to push those thoughts away when he met Helen, but now he’s out of his shell and back in business, there’s no need to.

He’s always been one of the wolves, and now that he’s laid his eyes on his next meal, he will make sure there’s not a single thing that will get in his way to hunt her down.

He had a crisis for two days before doing the unexpected. It didn’t take long for John to find her. 

Now, John has been following her around for a week, and he noticed a certain pattern his little one likes to follow as she goes on her day.

The very place where they met is where she lives, surrounded by a bunch of goons who have no idea what to do with their lives. John begins to wonder why she’s living in a place like that. He could take her, put her somewhere safe, under his care and protection. Make sure no one will dare to lay a finger on her.

John knows where she works. At a veterinary clinic not too far from her apartment, which is why she walks to work every three in the afternoon, but not without stopping by in her favorite deli and getting a large order of her favorite sandwich. She’s a part-timer. She’d be at school from seven to twelve, and at work from three to eight.

John finds the little things she does amusing. He’d be seated in a cafe right across from her work, watching how she moves around her office through a big window, petting and cooing at the animals who come and go.

She’s so perfect, so pure, so naive. She has no idea that a monster is lurking ten feet away from her, watching her every move like a hawk, thinking about the ways he could destroy her, make her his.

John is not delusional. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing and he’s aware of what people might call him. 

Stalker.

Creep.

They don’t know him though. They don’t know why he acts this way. They’d do the same if they were him, that’s for sure. He’s not the bad guy here, he’s simply just protecting her little one, even from afar. John went as far as destroying a whole Russian Bratva for a mere puppy and a car, he’d do even worse if she’s somehow taken away from him.

John sees her exiting the building and his first thought is to follow her. He stands up from his seat, the cup of coffee long forgotten as he makes his way out of the café and keeps a safe distance between the two of them. It’s risky, especially in the broad daylight, but John knows she’s too oblivious to notice.

She’s with her friends this time, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by John how she clings at the shirt of her co-worker as they cross the street, small hands fisting at the fabric. He thinks about how he won’t ever let go of her hand once she’s his. He’s not big on physical affection, having to grow up with no parents and a rather strict orphanage, but maybe he could be gentle. Engulf her hand in his, stroke it with his thumb, tuck her hair behind her ears, show everyone that she’s already owned.

They wouldn’t dare to lay their hands on her again.

John walks in the middle of the sidewalk, not bothering to move away despite seeing people approaching. He doesn’t need to, the look in his face is enough for people to give him the way. It’s interrupted however, when someone does try to get in his way, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back a little.

John clenches his jaw, pissed. He takes his eyes from his little one and on the person who so rudely interrupted what he’s doing – it’s Marcus.

“John? I was just looking for you at the Continental.” Marcus has a small smile on his face, clearly not aware of John’s expression.

His eyes dart behind Marcus, where his little one is supposed to be, but she’s gone. John feels something curl in his stomach, his fingers itching again, eyes rapidly searching for her in the sea of people.

He looks at Marcus again, deciding he’ll just find her later, but he worries that something might happen to her now that John’s attention isn’t on her.

“Why?” he almost snaps, voice deep and laced with no emotion.

“Why? Because it’s been quite some time, John. I haven’t heard from you since the Iosef situation, but I did hear you’re back in business,” Marcus replies, but when he sees how distracted John looks, his voice falters. “You working?”

“Yeah.” The lie comes off smoothly. “I’ll see you around.”

John taps Marcus’ shoulder, trying to sound as polite as possible even though he badly wants to break a couple of his teeth for taking his attention away from her. He knows Marcus is probably noticing something, but John’s never the one to care.

Marcus drops the subject. “Alright, John. I’ll see you around.”

With that, John disappears in the crowd with no looking back.

It’s been awhile since John last took a job.

He can’t seem to take his eyes away from his little one. He can’t stop fucking stalking her from morning to night time.

John’s afraid that once he takes his attention from her even for a second, something bad might happen to her. It’s engraved in his mind that she can’t protect herself and he’s solely there to be the protector.

No one would understand. He’s doing this for her own good.

John’s absence at the Continental doesn’t go unnoticed by Winston and Charon. They’re his favorite, after all. Watch his every move carefully ever since that ugly murder John did. Perhaps he could make his next kill even uglier. To them, it’s vile and grotesque. For John, it’s special and unique.

This time, it took a good self-beating before John decided to take a contract. Three million to hunt down a rival crime lord, nothing he can’t handle, but somehow it brings an unusual feeling on his shoulder he isn’t fond of. Perhaps because John’s leaving his little one for a while and he isn’t quite sure what to feel. Worried and pissed – but mostly worried.

That is why he hired someone to trail his little one on his behalf. Everyone in business would do anything for a coin despite how fucked up disturbing it is. John offered a generous amount of coins to keep the assassin’s mouth shut, but he also held him at gunpoint and gave him a good talk before he sent the dog out in the field.

His only job is to keep an eye on her, report everything he’ll see to John, and maybe even take pictures for safety purposes.

John has been overseas in the last three days, and everything that’s been sent to him has been his only form of entertainment. There’s videos of her giggling with her friends, videos and photos of her in the library, outside her school, her work, and even in her apartment. There’s also information sent to him about the background of her friends – every single one of them, because John didn’t pay so much for nothing.

There’s one particular friend that ticks off John in all the worst way possible. He’s young, around her age, and the way he hugs and touches her just fucking sets him off. John wants to break his fingers in half. He reminds himself that once he’s home, he’ll make sure to take care of that boy himself.

“What else have you got?” John questions through the phone, and it doesn’t take long for his precious dog to respond.

“Oh, he is one creepy motherfucker. I’m starting to understand why you’re so riled up with this guy, boss. The urge to strangle him every time he gets in the picture gets stronger and stronger everyday.” He hears a laugh at the other end. The guy that’s working for him – Alex, if he remembers correctly – is young, new in business, knows not to fuck with John so he keeps his job adequate. If Alex ever notice how fucked up John is for making him follow a young woman to keep his life in order, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Just tell me when I can shoot this guy and I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Leave him. Keep an eye on him, but don’t kill him,” John advises, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll handle him myself when I get back. For the meantime, focus on Y/N and keep any troubles out of her way. Fail that task and I’d serve your head hot on a platter.”

“You got it, boss.”

John is playing nicely.

He’s not going to force his way into her life. He’s gonna be welcomed, with open arms, desired.

There are times he’d thought about giving in to his desperation and act with his dick instead of his head. There are times he’d thought about following her to a dark street, where no one’s around, he’s on the prowl and ready to pounce. He’d put a fabric against her mouth and nose, laced with enough chemicals to make her pass out and for him to carry her in his car with no problems whatsoever. John thinks about how he’d make it look like he’s just picking up his very drunk and passed out girlfriend and no one would know a goddamn thing.

John would keep her in his house where she won’t need anything but him. 

But of course, he’s not that cruel.

They’re only thoughts. Thoughts that he tries hard to keep away, but at the end of the day he reminds himself that he’s better than that.

John is not going to force his way into her life.

He’ll make sure to get her addicted enough to come crawling at his feet herself. She’ll be dependent on him, won’t be able to live without him. John will make sure his plan will go out smoothly or otherwise he’ll be the one bringing Hell with him on this land and seek as much havoc as he possibly can.

The death emissary himself will strike tonight.

A Friday night out with her friends has John on high alert. That’ll only mean she’s constantly surrounded with people, god knows what could happen if John even takes his eyes off her for a second. He lurks on the side, blending himself with the crowd as much as he can all while keeping his gaze on her. 

He doesn’t need any drugs to keep his mind insane, because the sight of a specific man getting very close to what’s his is enough to make him visualize all the ugly and twisted ways to kill a man.

She’s wearing a thin silky dress that’s low on her cleavage and shows her perky breasts. She’s currently the flame in a room full of moths, John included. Everyone’s eyes are on her, observing the way she sways her hips and sings along to the loud music – John’s fingers itch.

The itch to kill is back again, driving into his veins, his hands twitch on the table. John wants to pull out his gun and shoot everyone in this fucking room. He wants to stab them in the eyes one by one and make them feed it to themselves. He wants to grab this guy on the neck and slam his head against the wall repeatedly until his brain scatter all over the fucking place and there’s nothing left for him to ruin.

This guy is getting on his fucking nerves.

John watches as the man smoothly brings his arm on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear that doesn’t make her look so impressed. In fact, she looks disturbed, uncomfortable, tense. Despite the guy being her friend, John could tell she doesn’t feel comfortable with the way he’s showing her affection.

It’s hard to see her like this, but he knows he can’t just jump in between the two of them and beat the shit out of the guy until he chokes on his own blood. He’ll have to wait, maybe after this party, he’ll strike and discard the body in a way that’ll make even Winston spook in his sleep. It’s not a major offense to kill a man that’s not in the game anyway – or at least that’s what John tells himself.

This guy wouldn’t be able to be three feet near his little one once John’s done with him. He’ll be six feet under.

John sees her swiftly moving away from his touch, trying to make her rejection look as polite as possible, which receives a not-so-amused reaction from her little friend.

This guy doesn’t deserve her at all. No one does. Except maybe John, but that’s because he knows he’s capable of actually taking care of her and keeping her safe. Nobody would understand what he feels, what he yearns, what he wants.

Good girl, John thinks. Walk away.

His gaze follow her as she makes her way to the backdoor and out to the cold air of the city. John follows in a hurry, keeping a safe distance between the two of them, then opens the door as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t let his presence known.

There are a few people on the street, either having a smoke break or making out against the piss stained wall, but she stays just beside the busy road as she wraps her arms around herself.

His gaze burn daggers on her exposed back, the urge to cover her up with his jacket and take her home. A drunk man comes stumbling out of the club, accidentally tripping over his steps and he pushes her hard enough to make her yelp as her heels lose balance and almost making herself get run over by a passing truck.

Almost.

Everything happens so fast. One moment John is standing five feet from her, the next is he’s grasping her wrists in his hand and pulling her back to her feet and dragging her back to the curb. He was already on the act once he saw the man exiting the club, he knew exactly this would happen.

The scene looks strangely familiar, one John could never forget. The same position, same hand placement, same rough fingers around her wrist and dark eyes boring into hers – their very first meeting.

“You!” she gasps, not caring about the fact that she almost just got hit by a fucking truck. “I know you! You’re the guy outside my apartment that day! What are you doing here?”

John stares. Predictable. Of course she’s talking to him like they’ve known each other for years. She’s too friendly.

“Hello to you too,” John replies, though his tone is blank as well as his face. “You remember me.”

“‘Course I do,” she giggles, a little tipsy, pupils dilated and licking her lips nervously. “You’re pretty hard to forget. I remember asking my neighbors around the area if you’re new there, turns out you were just visiting.”

John furrows his brows, hand still not letting go of her wrist. What does she mean by she’s asked around the area about him?

His face must’ve looked confused, he sees her grinning childishly. “It’s a coincidence that I see you again!”

Not a coincidence, but fate.

John doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in fate. Fate brought him Helen, and now fate is bringing him another angel. If she really went as far as asking the neighborhood about his existence, then it must be fate.

“I’m Y/N. I figured if we keep bumping into each other then you should at least know my name,” she says, completely oblivious that John already knows everything that has to be known about her. From her little mannerisms to the last name of her fucking grandmother. “May I know yours or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“It’s John,” he gulps, not wanting to look like a loser in front of her, not after everything he went through for her. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

He sucks at this. He fucking sucks at this.

“You haven’t answered my question, by the way. What brings you here?”

It hangs in the air, John lets go of her wrist. Luckily, he thinks fast enough and says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Work.”

“Ah, work,” she nods. “You work here? In the club? What are you, a bouncer or something?”

“I don’t. Someone I work with is in the club.” A lie, but it’s not like she would know. “We had a talk.”

“Not really a man of words, eh?” she raises an eyebrow teasingly. 

“This is the most words I’ve said in the past few days,” John says. “I’d say you’re special.”

The look on her face is enough to make his entire night even better. Blushing, lips opening and closing, not knowing what to say. John wants to graze his thumb on her lips, thinking about how good it would feel stretching over his cock.

He blinks. Where did that come from?

“For someone who doesn’t talk much, you sure make it sound smooth when you do. Are you always this slick, John?” she giggles again, music to his ear. “That’s actually better than what I heard from my friend earlier, so thank you.”

“That’s good to know.”

Before she could say anything back, the door of the club opens once again and her friends appear, waving a hand at her and beckoning her to get inside. She looks at John, gives him a sympathetic look, as if apologizing that their talk gets cut off too soon.

“I’m really sorry but my friends want me back in there. Hopefully we can continue this again, yeah?” she smiles cheekily, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If you want, you could give me your number so we can talk someplace else? You know… with no one bothering us and all that.”

There it is. John didn’t think it would be this easy to sink the hook in. All he needs to do is pull and take what’s meant to be his.

“Sure.” He enters his number swiftly, feeling that familiar burn in his guts once again when he sees the wallpaper being her pretty face. “Feel free to message me whenever you want. I’ll make time for you.”

She looks at her phone and smiles before starting to walk away from him, waving a hand goodbye, but it doesn’t feel like a goodbye. John knows it isn’t. She’s already his the moment she started talking to him again.

“Of course! Get home safe, John! I’ll see you soon!” 

“You too.”

She doesn’t know John won’t be heading home any time soon until he knows she’s safe and sound in her apartment.

Jay Lopez.

The name burns on his tongue. Bitter and resentful. He stares at the photos his precious dog sent to him and he has to stop the impulse to burn every single one of them.

Jay Lopez is the guy that’s been leeching on his girl since the dawn of time, and thankfully John is here to put an end to it. 

He’s hideous. It’s interesting how John stooped this low that he’d be willing to kill a college student for being too near his little bambi, but alas, he’s never the one to care for such things. Morals and righteousness have never been in his book, not now, nor ever.

It’s only a matter of time until he gets rid of this pest. He’s fucking creepy, follows around not only Y/N but a bunch of other women. 

John doesn’t want his death to be quick and simple. He wants to do it in an ugly way, make sure his body will never be found, make sure he’ll never get to lay his hands and eyes on what’s his. The way Jay stares at her in these pictures ignites something evil within John’s veins. It’s been awhile since he felt something like this.

“Alex.” he looks at his pet standing by the door, waiting for the next command. “Bring him to me alive.”

“Can I at least rough him up a bit?”

John doesn’t answer at first, looks back at the photos on his table. “Do what you want, just make sure he’s still breathing when you bring him here.”

“On it, boss.”

Truth be told, John doesn’t need a pet to order around for this job. He has himself – a labeled attack dog of the Tarasovs for years, their hellhound, chained and muzzled unless they need him to kill. He’s a one man army as some would say, he doesn’t need Alex running around doing tasks for him, but it sure does make the job a lot faster.

It’s not a way to downgrade his reputation nor skills to hunt, he really just needs this Jay guy gone as fast as possible.

On the same day, Alex manages to haul a very brutally violated Jay to the floor of his basement. He stinks, pants wet from piss and a face John is having a hard time recognizing.

“You said rough him up a bit, not make him look unrecognizable.”

“Same thing.”

Jay is sobbing his eyes out, his cries of pleas falls to deaf ears and John just wants to fucking bash his skull with his own foot. “W-who are you guys?! What the f-fuck did I do?! Get me out of here or I’ll tell the fucking police–”

John kicks him on the chin hard to stop the goon from rambling. “You’re not telling anybody any shit, tough guy.”

“So, what are you planning to do to him? Can I watch?”

“Can you handle it?”

Alex shrugs. He’s in the presence of the most dangerous assassin in the underworld, wouldn’t hurt to learn anything from his skills and techniques, doesn’t matter how fucked up it is.

John nods towards the chainsaw sitting at the corner of the room, and Alex turns to face him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ, man. You serious? Last time I heard you’re a hitman, not a serial killer.”

“Same qualifications. Same thing.” John grabs the man by the arm then drags him to a chair. He takes a rope from the table and swiftly ties him up securely. “We start with the head, then arms and legs. It would be hard to put his entire body in a drum full of acid, so we need to cut him off one by one.”

Alex looks like he’s about to run off somewhere safe from what he’s witnessing. “You’re talking like you’ve done this before, holy fuck.”

John gives him a look, and Alex immediately shuts his mouth. Right. He’d done this before. This is completely normal.

“I’ve been following you for a while, Jay. You’re a creep who befriends pretty girls, then you’ll drug them and make them have sex with you,” John taunts, the sound of his heels hitting the concrete floor is enough to send shivers down his spine. “Is that what you’re also planning to do with Y/N? Be her friend and fuck her once she’s drugged up and vulnerable?”

It’s a bold statement coming from John himself since he’s no better man than Jay, but at least his intentions come from a different place.

“You-you’re fucking sick!” Jay spits.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one going around making girls uncomfortable now, am I?” he picks up the chainsaw, then watches in enjoyment as Jay widens his eyes in fear. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, Jay. You won’t be able to use your pathetic little dick of yours to any woman ever again, and most importantly –”

John fires up the chainsaw, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he sees the horrified look in the man’s face as he tries to get up and scream for help.

“I can finally sleep well at night knowing you’re not in Y/N’s life anymore.”

As John steps into the light, a roaring chainsaw in his hands, Alex could only watch in horror as the basement gets painted with blood in mere seconds.

There’s a vacant apartment just across her room, giving John the perfect view of what she’s doing while she’s alone.

Most of the time, John will pull up a seat beside the window and take pictures. The other half of the time is just him staring, observing. It seems that she’s too comfortable knowing there’s no one across the building so she doesn’t close the curtains, leaving John no choice but to keep his eyes on her.

He found this place just three days after following her. He couldn’t help it. Following her to school and work suddenly wasn’t enough for John that he had to find a way to somehow watch her even in her sleep. 

He should be ashamed of himself. He should feel guilty for what he’s doing – he should stop, but he just can’t. John’s already done too much. This is like being pulled back into the underworld all over again but this time, there’s something good that’s waiting for him on the other side.

Maybe it’s the delusion that comes with it that’s not stopping John from whatever he’s doing. Lately, he’s been thinking about how life would turn out to be if his plan goes out smoothly. They’d live happily ever after, she would end up loving him just the way he planned it out to be, and John will make sure no one will ever dare to take those peace away from him again.

He’d make sure no one will ever come close to her again once she’s his. She’d be isolated but protected. Just how John likes it.

It’s been two days since John gave his number, but he knows she’s just giddy and nervous to text him. He’d seen her staring at her phone, biting her bottom lip anxiously, thinking if it would be a good idea or not. He knows she’ll give in one way or another because he sees it in her face. She’s too easy, too gullible, too naive.

She’s lonely, just like him.

John could tell she’s waiting for someone – she’s desperate, no wonder she asked for his number the second time they met. She wants someone to take care of her, to hold her, tell her that she deserves the world. That someone is John whether she likes it or not.

This isn’t just any unhealthy obsession. John finds himself too deep to get out. He knows her little mannerisms, studied her every action, has a red room full of her pictures and no one can’t say he’s not ready to give up anything for her. John has already given up his sanity ever since he mutilated a man for being too close to her.

She’s his life now, his everything.

John watches intensely as she shreds her clothes in her room, baring him the full view of herself naked, and John grips the side of his chair too hard his knuckles turn white. This is the first time he’d seen her naked, it’s so sudden and so… perfect.

His cock fattens in his pants as he observes every curve of her body. Her waist is fucking perfect and her body is thick yet delicate. John thinks about bruising her sensitive skin, leaving a mark that will show everyone that she’s owned. He would love to see her in a collar, hear it jingle when she crawls. 

She’s completely fucking naked that John wonder just how naive she is to think there would be no one seeing her like this. What if John isn’t the only one watching her? What if somebody else sees her like this? His fingers itch, jaw clenching.

He’d kill them. He’d kill them in front of her, and the thought somehow made his cock hard even more. He grimaces, disturbed at the reaction of his body.

John doesn’t really understand the sexual aspects of killing, but now he’s thinking about how she would react if she sees him working. He’d kill someone in front of her and he’d see the look of disgust and betrayal in her face. He can already imagine how her eyes would well up with tears and fuck, his dick shouldn’t be this hard.

She’d fear him, and John would be turned on. How fucked up would that be? Just how fucked up can his mind get?

He resists the urge to wrap his hand around his cock because fuck no. He would not stoop this low, he is not a teenage boy. No matter how strong the thoughts get, the thoughts of wrapping his own hand around her neck, squeezing it hard and cutting off her airflow as John forces his cock in her cunt, hearing her mewl and scream and beg to just –

John sucks in air, eyes back on her in her room, wrapping a robe around herself and heading to the bathroom. This is fucked up. His cock is incredibly hard and leaking, and his mind won’t stop thinking about how good her pussy would feel around him.

He’d talk her through it. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she releases around her cock, praising her for being such a good girl. Then he’d fuck her again, in a different position, debauching her in different ways not even the devil himself could think of.

John would ruin her, and she will have no choice but to accept it.

He brings his hand to his face as he sighs deeply. He wonders what Helen would feel of what he’s doing. Disgusted, no doubt. This is not the same man she fell in love with years ago. He would never do something like this, but fate has its plans, and John believes everything happens for a reason.

She was brought into his life for a reason and it’s up to him whether he takes.

John doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at nothing for too long until she comes back in his view once again. Her hair is still wet, still wrapped up in a fluffy pink robe, and John’s fingers itch to grab, squeeze, possess.

He sees her picking up her phone, staring for a moment before her fingers start typing. John has been anticipating this moment for so long, the time has finally come.

In his chest pocket, his phone buzz silently, the vibration sending excitement in his whole body.

There it is.

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

There it fucking is.

John’s lips curl into a small smile. His efforts are finally paying off. 

All he needs to do is to get what’s his.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick fanfiction #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick chapter 4 #john wick x you #john wick 4 #keanu reeves #john wick smut #ochl #my works

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Ménage à trois | Billy Loomis x Reader x Stu Macher

Summary: A typical movie night at Stu's turns into a ménage à trois

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: smut, threesome, oral (m receiving), non protected p + v (this is the 90s), anal, any incoherence are part of the world of Scream...just enjoy the smut that took way too long to write

Request: Threesome with billy and Stu plsss There's barely any fics for them

I’ve been wanting to write something like this for a while, but I couldn’t find characters that fit (i tried so many!). This is my first Billy fic and it’s sort of exciting since I’ve been crushing hard on him (well, Skeet Ulrich) since forever. Although I like his character, I am not into Stu, so that was challenging for me to include him in the scene. I hope it's good enough!

—

The best thing about Stu’s house was that his parents were often out of town because of their job, making it the perfect spot for hosting huge parties without having to worry about parents coming home and ending the fun. It was also perfect for private parties.

Stu brought out a stack of VHS from the blockbuster while you made popcorn in the kitchen, getting ready for the horror movie marathon. Billy was out getting beer and other snacks, needing your sweets with the popcorn.

The kernels were almost finished popping and you felt someone press against your back, pulling you flush against them. The familiar cologne filled your nose and you leaned into Billy’s presence. He pressed his lips on your neck, distracting you from your popcorn duty.

‘’Stop, I’m gonna burn the popcorn,’’ you told him, trying to push him off you but Billy was not letting you go. ‘’Did you get the blue—’’

‘’— lollipop with the sour dip powder? Yes,’’ he confirmed. ‘’I also got a candy necklace and a roll of sweetarts.’’ Billy pulled them out of his jacket’s pocket and your mouth twisted into a smile.

After the popcorn was ready, you brought it to the living room and joined Billy and Stu who were already drinking beer and talking nonsense.

At least they had not started the movie without you.

‘’What are we watching first?’’ you asked, taking a seat on the couch.

Stu offered you a beer in exchange for a handful of popcorn. ‘’The Exorcist.’’

Although considered the scariest movie ever made, you wouldn’t say it’s scary. It was definitely iconic for the horror genre. Some scenes were a bit shocking and disturbing, but it didn’t keep you up at night.

‘’I’m gonna stuff you like that later,’’ Billy whispered beside you as the ‘best parts’, according to him, were not edited out.

The scene was in no way turning you on — that would be disgusting —, but his promise and the sultry rasp in his voice so close to your ear made your core tighten. You bit back a sound as he squeezed your thigh, a wave of arousal running through your body.

‘’What are you kids whispering about?’’ Stu asked, sticking his head in your and Billy’s personal space.

Billy shot a glare at his friend.

‘’Oh!’’ Stu smirked, figuring his line of thoughts. ‘’If you want to fuck, feel free to use my bed. Last door on the left.’’

The offer was tempting, but Billy declined the offer quickly.

‘’So your perverted ass can listen and jerk off while we fuck?’’ He shook his head, knowing his best friend a little too well. ’’Not happening.’’

Stu gasped dramatically. ‘’I would never do that!’’ Billy gave him a ‘I know you’ look, and he sighed. ‘’Okay, maybe I would, but that’s your fault for not letting me join.’’

A wicked idea crossed your mind. ‘’And what if we did? Let you join, that is.’’

The taller one’s brain short-circuited. ‘’W-what? You want me to join?’’

You shrugged, not seeing an issue. Him and Billy have been close friends for years and you’ve always secretly wanted to do it with another partner. This was your chance.

‘’If you’re in.’’ You looked at Stu, then Billy, needing both their approval. Although you were the one getting to experience them both, you didn’t want to force anyone into doing something they didn’t want.

‘’If I’m in?’’ Stu repeated. A grin spread on his face, excitement shining in his eyes. ‘’Babydoll, I’ve been dying to tap it.’’ He ghosted a hand on your other thigh, getting very close to your crotch.

It was no secret that Stu had his eyes on you — even while he was dating Tatum. You had caught him shamelessly staring at your breasts a handful of times. But you were his best friend’s girl, so he would never make a move on you…unless he was given the permission to.

‘’Don’t get too excited, she’s still mine,’’ Billy was quick to remind Stu, pushing him back on his side of the couch.

After making eye contact with Billy and silently agreeing to the plan, you detached yourself from your boyfriend and joined Stu, taking him by surprise when you crashed your mouth on his. The kiss didn’t match the perfect mix of tenderness and intensity of Billy’s kisses, but it wasn't less enjoyable. He expertly hooks his hands under your knees and drags you on to his lap, swallowing the gasp you let out into his mouth, lips never leaving each other. You subconsciously pressed yourself further into Stu as his hands ventured up the sides of your thighs, guiding you on his lap.

You didn’t mean to drag the kiss for too long, not wanting to give Stu all your attention, but you started feeling his cock stiffen beneath his jeans and took it as your cue to pull back.

He groaned in protest. ‘’It was starting to get good…’’

‘’We have all night, there’s no rush,’’ you told him, crawling back to Billy and kissing him in turn.

Unlike with Stu, everything was easy with Billy. You knew what he liked and how to get him going, and vice versa. You slipped your hands under his shirt, your palms covering the soft planes of his stomach and chest while his tongue caressed yours, causing you to let little moans and sighs slip into his lips.

Stu watched excitedly, feeling his cock twitch underneath his jeans. He never thought he would be so turned on by watching his friends make out.

You tugged at Billy’s shirt, trying to pull it off. He broke the kiss and you helped him discard it, crashing your lips back on his right after.

For a moment, you almost forgot that someone else was there, watching and waiting. You blindly reached behind you to wave Stu over. He scooted toward you and nipped at exactly the right spot on your neck while you started to rock your hips against Billy, feeling his cock press at your core even under his jeans and underwear. His hands moved to your hips, following your moves and eliciting a beautiful groan from him.

The temperature was quickly rising in the living room, so you undid the buttons and peeled it off, revealing your delicate bra. A mewl escaped Stu’s lips at the sight, dying to unclasp your bra and see those tits he's been dreaming about. He reached for it, but before he could, Billy smirked and undid the clasp with one hand, letting your bra slide off your shoulders and breasts.

‘’How does it feel to live your dream?’’ you teased your friend, turning to give him a better view.

His eyes zeroed-in right on your full breasts, glistening like a kid getting the toy he wanted on Christmas morning. Without saying anything, Stu cupped them, slender fingers kneading into your tits and thumbs rubbing your nipples into hard peaks. You threw your head back as the contact sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

While you and Stu were having a moment, Billy loomed behind you and started working on the button of your pants as he attached his lips to your neck, suckling on one spot and leaving a hickey behind. Your head rolled back on his shoulder, your soft moans evolving into a choked cry when Billy’s finger found your clit. He grinned against your neck, his erection digging into your ass.

Screams came from the TV, but you paid it no attention — no one was listening anymore —, pressing into Billy as he continued rubbing his finger over your clit and causing more slick to pool in your panties. They’re gonna be fucking soaked by the time you take them off.

‘’Give Stu some pleasure, baby. He looks left out,’’ Billy said into your ear.

You nodded and reached down for the growing bulge in Stu's pants, grasping at the firm mass beneath the fabric, forcing a whimper to escape Stu's lips as he finally felt some form of stimulation.

‘’Ah, fuck,’’ Stu breathed out.

Before taking things a step farther, the three of you moved to Stu’s bedroom. Stu led the way, eager to get the 'party' started and get his dick wet. You and Billy followed behind, a laugh bubbling out of your lips when he scooped you by your thighs and threw you on his shoulder.

When your ass touched the bed, you grabbed Stu by the front of his pants, unzipping them and pulling out his hard, swollen cock. It was more lean and lighter in color, but with a nice mushroom tip. You stroked it up and down before playing with the tip, a glint of mischief in your eyes as you watched it glisten with a bead of pre-cum.

‘’Mmh, keep doing that, babydoll.’’

Billy snuck behind his friend, a knowing smirk on his lips. ‘’Wait until she’s got her mouth around you.’’

He glanced down at you and you got the hint, getting off the bed and on your knees as the tall boy quickly pushed his clothes down to his ankles, then shrugged off his sweater seeing as it was getting in the way. The sight alone made Stu slightly dizzy. It wasn’t every day that your friend brags about how excellent his girlfriend is at giving blowjobs and lets you try.

You grabbed him and kitten-licked at the leaky slit of his cock, licking up all the pre-cum that dribbled out and sighing as the taste of him landed on your tastebuds. Stu hissed, getting pleasure from the small attention to his sensitive tip.

Now that Billy had bragged about your skills, you didn't want to make him come off as a liar. You needed to give Stu a blowjob worth remembering.

You moved to lick a broad stripe on the underside of his cock, lips wrapping around the tip before taking him inside your mouth. Your hands flew to Stu’s hips to steady yourself as you took him deeper into your mouth, your warm mouth enveloping him, causing Stu to groan and slid a hand through your hair, keeping a grip at the back of your scalp.

On the left, Billy palmed himself over his jeans, the sight of his girl on her knees making him even harder. He rid himself of his jeans and boxers, wrapping his hand around his cock to stroke himself — and relieve himself — while he watched Stu’s cock disappear past your lips slowly. You bobbed your head up and down his shaft, making Billy wish it was his in your pretty mouth.

‘’What a little slut. Sucking your boyfriend’s friend's dick right in front of him,’’ Stu said, pushing you deeper on his cock and making your eyes water.

You took it all, letting him use you until his breathing fastened, getting close to cum. Your knees were starting to hurt on the wooden floor, but you didn’t stop and sucked Stu so hard he knew it was only a matter of time before your lips were covered in his come.

Once he did, you swallowed and released Stu’s cock with an audible pop, moving back with a sly grin, a string of saliva connected from your lips to his cock.

‘’Holy fucking shit!’’ he exclaimed as he released his grip from your hair and took a few moments to collect himself.

You glanced over at Billy, looking so pretty in his naked glory, and wiped your mouth.

‘’That’s my good girl,’’ he praised with pride in his eyes.

The corner of your mouth lifted up.

Billy pulled you up and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip, catching the little bit of cum and you wrapped your mouth around it, sucking it clean. ‘’Get undressed, babe.’’

You didn’t have much clothes left on, just your pants, panties and socks.

Then, you got on the bed and pulled Billy with you. His mouth magnetically found yours and you spread your legs to give him room to get closer. He rubbed two fingers along your folds and his cock twitched as they got wet with your arousal.

‘’Mmh, that sweet little pussy’s so wet,’’ Billy said against your lips, sliding two fingers inside and making you instantly moan. His fingers knew exactly where to go and what to do.

Your hands came up his shoulders, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades.

You felt the bed dip and Stu flopped on the bed, already getting hard again and wrapping his hand around his cock to stroke himself at the sight of you getting fingered. He couldn’t wait to be inside your tight wet pussy.

‘’Have you figured out who’s going where?’’ Stu asked, keeping his pace slow and steady.

Billy nodded, answering in your place as you grinded down against his fingers. He curled them, eliciting a series of mewls from you. ‘’You got any lube in here?’’ BIlly said over his shoulder.

Stu scrunched his face in mild disgust. ‘’Eh…no. Why the fuck would I have lube?’’

‘’For—’’

You forced yourself to hold your next moan. ‘’It’s okay,’’ you cut in. ‘’You…you’re good to go. I prepped before coming here.’’

Billy groaned, the thought of you prepping yourself making his dick twitch.

You had not planned for Stu to join, but you did plan ahead for a good night of sex with your boyfriend — including for anal. You didn’t do it very often due to the preparation it needed, but you liked it from time to time.

‘’I knew you wouldn’t have any on hand and I was not gonna let you stick it raw and risk ripping tissue. My ass is gonna be sore enough in the morning, I don’t want to sit on a bag of frozen peas like the first time,’’ you explained.

Stu looked between you and Billy. ‘’She’s let you in her backdoor?’’ he asked his friend, jealousy in his eyes. ‘’Tatum never lets me.’’

Billy grinned at you. ‘’Fuck, I love you.’’ He kissed you hard.

Stu situated himself on the bed, getting ready for you, and you climbed over his lap, facing him. You took hold of his dick and tapped the head of his cock over your clit to tease him, then down your folds, coating it with your slick.

Stu lowered his eyes to where your genitals were rubbing, cursing at the sight. ‘’Mmh, rub your sweet pussy on me.’’

You did it again and he smacked right over your clit, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

‘’Cut the teasing and get to it, will you?’’ Billy told the two of you.

He didn’t want to rush you, but he was the only one who didn’t get any preliminary care and he was starting to get impatient.

You nodded and lined Stu up at your entrance, secretly eager to know what it felt like inside you. You lowered yourself on his hard cock, swallowing him between your soaked folds.

Stu was unable to contain the groan crawling from the pit of his stomach as you finally bottomed out. ‘’God, you’re so tight,’’ he whispered. He felt every detail of you, from the way you clenched to your lower lips and your puffy bud just peeking from under its hood. A mischievous grin curled on his lips and he reached to rubbed your clit, making you moan and causing your walls to clench around Stu absentmindedly. ‘’Ahh, fuck.’’

Billy chuckled, knowing exactly what happened.

He came and positioned himself behind you. ‘’You good?’’

You nodded, rolling your hips and slowly riding Stu's length.

With a hand on your shoulder, Billy gently leaned you forward, getting you in a better position. He spat on his fingers and stroked himself a little, pre-cum mixing in, and lined it up with your ass, carefully slipping in and easing himself inside. It stung at first, making you curse Billy's girth.

‘’Fuck, you’re tight,’’ Billy gritted out.

He didn’t move, staying still as your body adjusted and then pushing more in. After a moment, the burning subsided, making its way into pleasure.

Billy gave the first thrust and sighed, feeling you tight around him. ‘’This is even better than last time.’’

Beneath you, Stu figured it was okay to do the same and thrust up, eliciting a soft moan from your mouth at the simultaneous sensations. You had never felt more full.

‘’How does that feel, babydoll?’’ Stu asked, watching your face twist with pleasure.

‘’Feels so fucking good. So fucking full.’’ You rocked back against Billy, signaling for him to go again.

He did and soon enough, Stu was snapping his hips up and ramming into you at fast speed while Billy grabbed firmly at your hips and drilled into you, your loud moans echoing through the four walls of the bedroom. Your body was in overload, every sense heightened, every feeling magnified.

‘’Fuck, right there!’’ you cried, throwing your head back as Billy smacked your ass cheek.

‘’You take our cocks so well,’’ Billy praised, seeing both himself and Stu slip in and out of your holes, eliciting a series of mewls from you. ‘’Looking so fucking good stuffed like that.’’

Unable to form words, you just moaned.

You would have wanted the intense pleasure to never stop, but all good things had an end. You gave the boys a warning that you were about to cum and, just as you were about to conclude, your walls clenched around Stu and he spilled inside you, joining you in your orgasm, cumming all over his cock as Billy continued his assault on your ass before following shortly.

You fell against Stu’s chest, completely and utterly exhausted. A wince of discomfort stretched across your lips when Billy pulled out. He smiled as he watched his cum slip out of you and dripped down to where Stu's softening cock was still inside you.

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh  @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore  @Meadzy21

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully

#billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis imagine #billy loomis x stu macher x reader #stu macher x reader #stu macher #scream #scream imagine #billy loomis x reader x stu macher

[goodluckclove]

Tag Game - Questions for Fellow Writers!

I was tagged by the talented @mushroommanchanterelle but I'm going to be a dingus about this, just you wait.

Last book I read: I'm reading an encyclopedia about birds that I got from a used bookstore because it's little and cute and I wanted it to get inspiration for Edgar in Songbird Elegies. I'm also reading The Dead Beat, which is a book about obituary writers. It's pretty good!

Greatest literary inspiration: I definitely get a lot of Vonnegut and maybe Hemingway in terms of accessibility in prose? One of the most important things to me in what I write is making sure that language is beautiful, but simple enough to be easily understood. I think the highest praise I've gotten is from non-native English speakers like my beloved compatriot @ivaspinoza who still really enjoy the excerpts I post.

Maybe also Palahinuik with some of the content and narrative gimmicks? Lil' bit of Kerouac, but like before On the Road? Does that sound like anything?

Things in my current fandom(s) I want to read but I don't want to write: My greatest shame of mine is that I don't really actually have a fandom. I don't like to admit that because it makes me sound like some hermit who only fixates on their writing, but that's...not entirely inaccurate. I consume a lot of media, but nothing that I'd consider myself part of the fandom of.

But I still want to be included because my friend Mushy wants to include me, so I'm making up a fandom. It's a TV show called Jonathan's Food Truck, staring Don Cheadle as Jonathan Fudtruk, a man with aspirations to start a food truck.

I really want to read an AU of Jonathan's Food Truck where he has to sell the food truck. What would happen? Where would he go? Imagine the outage. He fucks that food truck. I'm a Jonathan/Food Truck pro-shipper.

Things in my current fandom(s) I want to write but I think nobody would be interested in them but me: a whump fic where Jonathan is forced to operate a brick and mortar restaurant and also he can't stop pissing himself.

You can recognize my writing by: Apparently elaborate food descriptions. I think my dialogue is pretty distinct from what I've been told. Kind of experimental and not super literary. I don't really know how to answer this, maybe you guys can tell me.

My most controversial take (current fandom[s]): The analog horror ARG for Jonathan's Food Truck was not as bad as people say it was. And since it came out before The Mandela Catalogue, they're actually the originators of religious trauma in modern online horror.

Top three favourite tropes: Pathetic characters, abstract narratives, radical softness

What’s your current writing mood? (10 – super motivated and churning out words like crazy, 0 – in a complete rut) I mean it's mildly annoying to me but I'm deciding to put aside Book Two for like a week or so and re-edit Book One for a final run before I consider it fully ready to publish. But I'm down for that so - 10?

Share a random frustration: Itch on foot. I don't have one right now but I don't like when I do.

I tag @mercuryytheraven and @rkmoon and @ratracewriting, and I highly encourage you all to make up a fandom like I did because it's a very funny additional challenge.

#writeblr #writing community #writers on tumblr #on writing #writing asks

[strawberrysoup]

Please don't get your hopes up, this is not about me returning from a four year hiatus or coming back to any fics I've started. This is an apology and acknowledgement of problematic content I've written - not the dark!fics or horror content, for better or for worse - regarding subjects I didn't and still don't fully understand.

I started writing Let's Review in 2019. At the time, I didn't know much about Israel. I knew that the United States overall supported Israel, but I didn't know why they needed to be 'supported'. I knew Israel came about after the Holocaust, but I didn't know how. I equated Israel with Jewish people, to my understanding Judiasm and Jerulselem were equitable to Mecca and Muslims. They were places I associated with religions; the historical home of the Jewish people was Israel and that was about it. I didn't know about Zionism or the history of the area or the displacement and genocide of the people of Palestine and the horrors they've endured under the Israeli State.

At one point, someone sent me a message asking about my opinions on Palestine and Israel and I replied something along the lines of, I don't want to discuss politics or political opinions on my Dark/Dead Dove Do Not Eat Fanfiction Tumblr. I don't know if Let's Review implies Penny supports Israel or if it implies I support Israel, I don't know the dog whistles to listen for or that I might have repeated without understanding their meanings - yet. I am actively attempting to learn more. I will not edit out any of what I wrote, I take responsibility for my ignorance and I won't try to erase or hide it. If I ever decide to return to writing, I will add disclaimers to every chapter of the original version of Let's Review with a more condensed version of this post. For now, I will pin this post to serve as a constant apology and acknowledgement for anyone new who stumbles across my fics. If I rewrite Let's Review, Penny and Peter will remain Jewish, but I will omit Penny's Israeli heritage - regardless of my determination to acknowledge my mistakes, I also acknowledge that building a character with that backstory is beyond my ability to accurately and respectfully portray.

I apologize to anyone that I marginalized with my writing. I apologize for writing off the message I received asking my opinion, that should have prompted me to do more research to understand why the question was even posed. I still do not fully understand the intricacies of this situation, history is written by the victors and religion is complicated.

What I do know is the actions of the Israeli/Zionist state do not represent the Jewish people or religion. I understand that the actions of the Zionists are antithetical to the Jewish religion. I understand that supporting the Zionist state is supporting the genocide and ethnic cleansing of the Muslim and Arab people of Palestine that has been happening over more than half a century. I understand that the 4th largest military force in the world is working to eradicate 2.2 million people who have no military or government to protect them in the Gaza Strip.

I've written a letter to my state congressmen and senators. If you've read this post and agree with my perspective, please consider reaching to whichever official is meant to represent your interests in your government. I've included mine below because I know the process of writing that sort of letter can be daunting. It's not perfect - it's probably not even good, it could be fucking stupid, but I think it gets the point across. Copy and paste it if you're comfortable with that, take it and edit it to make it your own, I don't care - what I care about is you contacting your representatives to make sure they understand you condemn the actions of the Israeli state's war crimes and human rights violations. I tried to include as much as I could while keeping it just under 2,000 characters.

You might think this is stupid of me, to return after so long just to make this statement. But I think it matters. Even if I hadn't written a character with a backstory that was beyond my ability to write respectfully that I needed to take responsibility for, requesting and attempting to facilitate anyone who still follows me to do what they can is something I will do to the best of my ability. Share your opinion. Be loud. Make them listen.

[Representative],

I'm writing to you today regarding the war crimes and human rights violations occurring in Israel, occupied Palestine, and the Gaza Strip. Foremost, I hope you understand that supporting the Jewish people isn't the same as supporting Israel. Supporting Israel is supporting Zionism. Supporting the Zionists is supporting the crimes being committed against a population marginalized due to their religion and ethnicity.

Israel doesn't exist as a country, but it does exist as a hostile military force actively committing acts of genocide and ethnic cleansing. We know what apartheid policy looks like and how quickly it devolves into fascism. The Muslim and Arab people of Palestine have been relegated to second class citizens and it keeps getting worse.

Those living in the Gaza strip, the largest open air prison in the world, have no voting power under the Zionist State. They have no military, no government, no airport. They have no control over their electricity, imports or exports, internet access, or movements in or out of the strip. These 2 million people have been forced to live in a territory that is 25 miles long and 6 miles wide, and the Zionist army is eradicating them.

You can't blame the population of Gaza for the crimes of Hamas. As I mentioned before, the territory is occupied by more than 2 million people. You can't equate the entire population with their most radical terrorist faction.

We've seen this happen before. How many people will die in bombings and massacres before we stop turning a blind eye?

This cannot be ignored or supported. Every government should loudly and clearly condemn these inhumane crimes. Please bring this to your colleagues' attention. Please support Palestinians, support the Arab and Muslim populations living in what they call Israel, condemn the actions of a hostile occupying force commiting real time genocide while we watch.

[Your Name]

[sarcasmandships]

his! do you have any peterick fic recommendations? i've already read all your works on ao3 and i'm waiting desperately for updates so until then i need something to read because i feel like i've already read soooo many fics and i'm running out of material plz help :)

hiiii, im glad you like my fics and I'm sorry im terrible at updating i used to be so consistent but uni is just killing me with assignments rn! but i promise the restaurant au will get an update soon and im planning to edit death by a thousand cuts before i add to it again cos im just not really happy with the quality of it, but that will also be coming soon i promise!

anyways onto what you're really asking about; recommendations. im not sure if you're looking for smut or stories with plot so here's just a mix of things i've really liked ( i suck at bookmarking things so I've just searched through my history and there's deffos stuff i've missed im sorry)

Literally just read kick me in the face & ask me how my head feels by fkingdeathwish today - devoured this in a few hours and this fic made me like stories in first person. its so good and also has the best andy/joe/pete friendship dynamics i was smiling the whole time. but also features a lot of petekey tho which might not be ur thing

(smut) going down, down by @pyrchance - i read this the other day and its 10/10

Anything by snitchesandtalkers but some of my favourites are i've been checking my list, crooked love, making out inside crashed cars (smut), silver screen dream, the antidote to everything (except for me), we're friends when you're on your knees (not finished but still so so worth reading), amateur pornographers (smut obvs), a little less 16 candles (a little more bite me)

brutal love by @notastumph- this one is so good but like i also had to take a 5 min break between chapters cos the angst and heartbreak was getting to me so much (in the best way)

and i'll burn by jiksa - just read the tags first

the house on rosewood lane by scarredsodeep - this one is so fucking good, i don't even like horror and i was obsessed with this and couldn't stop reading

hey doctor, i'm certifiable by derridoid (smut) - so good and the ending made me laugh sm

husband on the payroll by das_verlorence-kind - what can i say, i love the fake relationship trope

also ive changed my plea to guilty by das_verlorence_kind - again just check the tags incase it’s not ur thing

accidents will happen by rusty76

again pretty much everything by @annoyingpetekey but some favourites are (i just wanna) get some, so pretty (when you're on your knees), and come on (and fuck me like you doubt me) - all smut

That Schrodinger guy made some really good points, you know? by @earlgreytea68

but i'm reflecting light by looks_a_scream - this one is deffos a favourite

the purgatory of my hips by auralcosm

edgar allan potato by emeralcitydowntowngirl - another absolute favourite, i have such a soft spot for soulmate AUs but I've never read one as good as this, again features a lot of petekey but it is all in the past

to take what i'm given with grace by likeasugarcube - their whole 'marriage of convience' series is amazing but this is the main fic and it is sooo good

anything by littlesnowpea but favourites include love in the middle of a firefight, but there's no preparing for this, and nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy (pls read tags first tho)

december is for cynics by looks_a_scream - another favourite

secrets i don’t want to keep by perceived_nobility (although i think they’ve changed their name to invisible_man now) anyways this one is only accessible if you have an ao3 account but it is so so good an hurts in all the best ways, would advise paying attention to some of the tags tho

Also pretty much anything written by appleremix or vampyerika

Ok so I have like another 30+ pages in my history but this is already so long, so i hope you enjoy some of these assuming you haven't read them already!

#anon #fic recommendations #peterick

[scuddisher]

IMMINENT

Tales of a man nearly killing an entire village breaks through the papers, but the lacerations done are that of a beast. Whisking away to meet the man himself, Lawrence Talbot, you’re faced with the utmost assignment to help aid him through a full moon—which includes confrontation with the curse that once mended him.

RATING — MATURE & EXPLICIT (18+) PAIRING — lawrence talbot x gender-neutral! reader GENRE(S) — fic, werewolf! au, horror, thriller, slight gore, romance, angst, smut WORD COUNT — 7.2k WARNINGS — mature content, blood, cuts, killings, death, light mentions of suicidal thoughts, violence, use of a gun, mentions of losing a soul SMUT WARNINGS — biting/marking, borderline monster-fucking btw, power-bottom! lawrence, grinding, dirty talk, degradation, corrupt kink, big dick! lawrence, creampie RELEASE DATE — FEB 26TH 2023

AUTHOR’S NOTE — i wrote this fic so long ago and used it for something else, but now that i am (finally) writing for benicio, here it is in its entirety! this is probably going to be the longest fic i have for him for a while lmao. may contain some mistakes due a quick editing! dedicated to the sweet anon who requested to see this (already written) wip <3 ily

ONE.

The rickety buggy pulled you along, your hand clenched over the other in your lap. Nervousness boiling within every nerve of your body, the extension of your mission was that of the most frightening experience you knew you would encounter—if you were welcomed.

Blackmoor Manor was gloomy beneath the purple and orange rays of the dusk, nightfall counting down minute by minute as the carriage made a full stop at the steps of the main entrance. Your knees were weak as you stepped out of the cart, belt tight around your waist as you took in a sharp breath and pulled a single bag out with you—the only thing you could ever travel with. Payment to the driver and a spin on your heels, the transportation sat idle as you clamored up the steps to confront what was inside.

Your fist clenched, hand rising to pound your knuckles against one of the double doors. A crack behind the aperture startled you, the door pulling open at the mere sound of your breath.

Ecstatic, you feared this the most. The front paper had been displayed with only a myth—soon becoming the talk of the entire country. Mysterious deaths done by a serial killer of a nearby village close to Blackmoor, all signs pointed to those within the home. No one had come close to conceding the truth of the tale, the bite marks and slashes of the victims otherworldly, done by a beast. Not a single person could admit that the occupants of the manor were considerably reclusive; specifically a man who began to live in the large building alone after the death of his late father.

Lawrence Talbot had heard the crunching gravel up the long driveway much before you stepped onto the welcome mat of his home. His figure standing above your own in height, the dweller’s irises flashed in the falling sun as the door opened.

“S-Sir.” Your voice was hoarse, his brows immediately furrowed. A soft grunt from the man made a shiver run up your spine, his intense glare through the breach between the door and frame unsettling. “H-Hello. I have been sent on my own accord, sir.”

“Which is?” Dark horse of a man, his voice told you that he didn’t speak often. More graveled than his driveway and heightened in tone, his eyes gazed upon your shaking figure.

“I have a proposition.”

The door slammed shut. Your light whine went unheard by the driver within the carriage, but clear as day to the man on the other side of the wooden gate. You blinked slowly, turning your head to place your ear against the cold wood, the piece almost freshly painted. No sounds emitted from the other side, your eyes growing teary from the frigid temperature of the countryside and the situation at hand. This was your chance, your break—and you couldn’t allow him to let you leave in such a way.

“Plea-” Begging cut short, your head against the door jolted, a loud clack and screech of metal echoing from the opposing side.

Unlatching an unseen lock, Lawrence Talbot returned to your view as a full body. The door creaked open, your eyes taking in his form. Comforted by his casual attire, the aristocrat was still within his old ways—the thin button-up coated with a velvet blazer, soft slacks around his legs and loafers unshined.

He was said to be mysterious—a vexing man with a range of emotions that could snap at any moment—but here he was, only gentle.

His eyes mocked the bright sunset, glistening with the faint colors as he stepped out into the cold air. His hair thick on his skull and falling across his forehead, the strands blew with the breeze, his eyes blinking to keep from drying. Chiseled features wounded by the flat smile he wore, his sight grew even softer when he took notice of the bag’s handle in your grasp.

“Traveling lightly?” he questioned, the dimmest laugh at the end of the sentence causing a warm feeling to rush into your chest.

“Yes, sir.” you nodded.

He hissed, top row of his teeth grazing over his bottom lip as he stared past you. The man on the cart tapped his wrist, Lawrence’s hand rising into the air to give him a respectful leave. The carriage parted, the owner’s eyes trailing back to your form.

“It’s nearly dark. I suggest you come in and get warm.”

His bulky form stepped to the side, his hand falling flat and gesturing within the manor. Gravitating, you caught sight of the sky above one last time. The moon was layered with fluffed clouds, the cobalt texture littered with specks of gray as it floated before the moon. Costly, your breath sucked into your lungs. Filling your chest in a tight puff, the bright ball behind the veil presented itself—a full moon.

“You’re just in time for a meal.”

His voice broke your allured gaze around the large foyer, his cologne filling your nostrils along with the scent of dust. The tiles were laminated by dirt and leaves, the large home surely impossible to clean as just one person. Leaves crunched beneath your feet as you walked through the open room, a grand staircase leading to the second floor towering and barely curved ahead of you. Your mind attempted to count the stairs, attention recaptured by the man stepping into your perception.

“Are you alright?” he asked, a concerned look on his face bringing wrinkles to form on his forehead.

You nodded quickly, eyes shifting to the floor in embarrassment. “So many stairs.” you mumbled.

His hand made a similar motion to when you stood at the frame of the double doors, eyes soft and cold. He was like a match in a dark room when he walked, breathing steadied as if he had to remind himself to breathe naturally, state almost on edge at every motion you made as you walked along the space.

You halted at the sight of the candle-lit dinner. One of the wax candles had been melting for a long while, and a man stood at the middle of the obscenely long table. Bowing in respect, the lanky man darted around the diameter of the dining table, rushing to Lawrence’s side before clicking his heels together. He was on alert, the butler ready for any task the man told him—but Lawrence’s hand rose again in your direction.

“Please, allow me to take this.” The butler requested, your nod simple as your fingers released the handle of the suitcase.

The man spun on his heels, walking towards a bench to set the bag down and return to your side. Lawrence’s gesture had been for the butler to accommodate you, the man walking you to one of the ends of the long table. Pulling out the seat as you sat down, he gently glided the chair’s feet against the same flooring as the foyer. The screech against the floor made you wince, a light sigh coming from the butler before he stuttered an apology.

“Oh, it’s alright. Really, I have a busy home-life. That’s truly nothing compared to what I hear within the town.”

The butler’s teeth broke through his lips in a bright smile, his index finger rising and pointing at you with small words. “Good one you are, dear.”

“So-” Lawrence’s chin poked out as he bent over, taking his own seat at the opposite end of the table. Almost yelling to speak, his trailing voice caught in your ears. “I believe you mentioned a proposition for me, yes?”

���I u-uh, uhm.” It was a moment to break, your reasoning for the trip on the tip of your tongue.

“Dinner is served.” Called out the butler, opening the lid of a tray as he sat the main course of the meal in the middle of the table. Two plates stationed before him, he began splatting down the spoonful of side dishes. Lawrence’s attention was still on your lips, your state obviously nervous and overwhelmed by the stature of the butler forming the plates for you.

“It’s alright.” A moment of clarity, Lawrence’s voice didn’t reach a high volume in order to reach you. Tone supple, his two words calmed your senses, sitting back into the plump seat to catch a moment of rest.

“I’m aware of your reputation, Mr. Talbot.” you claimed, his brows rising in tandem with your tongue forming his name in such a proper way.

His lip was soothed over by his wet muscle, saliva coating the dry skin as he swallowed harshly and sat forward in his seat. Fingers lacing together, his attention was on you and you only.

The butler’s grasp on a golden spoon was lost within the bowl of food the moment you spoke, the loud ring of the two hardware clinging together boisterous in the man’s ears—but he didn’t move.

Not startled by the noise such as you, his elbow propped against the fabric of the tablecloth, placing his chin into his palm. He was watching you attentively as if you were a painting he couldn’t quite figure out. The butler’s light motions of placing his plate before him went completely ineffective towards his stern glare aside from the light "Thank you, sir." that slipped from his mouth out of respect for the man that made his meal.

“Is that right?” Quick witted just as his response, you could already tell the man would be a tough shell to configure. “About the killings, or may it be that you read the paper about the strange markings on those not too far from me?”

The man had you on leash before you could even speak, now stuck teetering between hot coals and thrashing lava as he soared holes into your face with his eyes. Lawrence’s tongue was now bitten by the teeth that had run along his lip, purposely giving you the juncture to speak. His eyes appear glassy, the pads of his fingers dipping into the skin as his narrow face protrudes around the digits.

“T-That’s accurate, yes. Sir, but—” You couldn’t hold it within yourself to keep eye contact with the silently deadening man across from you. His panning glare turned your skin into a rash just at the feeling of him staring. “I am a scientist.”

Ice breaker, the man’s stomach went flat as he sucked in a breath. It was another ounce he would sculpt on an occasion, listening to the words of professionals that knocked on his door. His mistake, allowing one in.

“But I have come for one reason only.”

He nodded, sight dulling from his heavy looking eyes. The window from behind him glared with the moonlight, enwrapping his silhouette with the yellowish tint. He was fighting the purpose for you being there, that you could easily tell from even a side glance.

“You’re nocturnal. You feed only at night, mainly when the moon is full. Am I ringing a bell, sir?”

His cackle was louder than his voice in the echoing tunnel of a room, watching his butler grab the last of the empty plates to take away. He was toying with new grounds, his jawline growing stiff as his eyes finally dropped to the table before you.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the taste for blood. The undead are too enticing to me. Context wise—I am rather a dog person.”

“A wolf?”

His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth. Pink lips parting with a seductive chuckle, his eyes glanced to the side of you as his tongue pressed into the edge of his mouth. Watching the muscle push against the inside of his face, your pupils blew at the sight of a healing gash along his temple.

Squinting in the dim lighting of the candles, his fist clenched out of your sight. Riled, the side of Lawrence’s fist clamored against the long table just as his butler reemerged, rushing to his side and whispering within his ear. A warning—sometimes he had a temper.

“Unbelievable, I allowed another one of you doctors to spew your nonsense.”

You wanted to reject his statement, explain your reason is only to help aid him and learn—but he stood up too quickly. His chair screeched even louder than your own had as his legs straightened, expression fed up as he shook his head and pushed through the gap between his chair and the table. Your time of acquaintance had grown short, the tedious man taking his leave at the first bit of your proposal.

TWO.

A light knock at the door you had been sent into to stay for the night startled you once more, barreling towards the wood to press at it as you lifted your shirt over your head. “Just a moment!” The clearing of someone’s throat made you lift onto your toes, curiosity struck as you pulled the article down your front and twisted the handle of the door.

Lawrence’s form was pressed against the frame when you pulled the door open. Positions now swapped, the man’s anguished eyes beckoned an apology, his words delicate as he spoke.

“Please.” His bottom lip almost quivered, dark irises skinny as his pupils blew with you in his sight. “I am so sorry for how I acted at dinner.”

“Sir, if I must.” Your voice shattered his own, hand rising to open the door more and allow his frame to press into the room. “I’ve been rejected more than once in my line of business. This is all but a contestant’s perspective—I would never dispute with you until you grow uncomfortable. My work is sufficiently study-biased.”

“That is why I came.”

Your brows creased, his slight hiccup in an act to cover up his quick response diluting your senses.

“I mean—” He knew he came across in the wrong way. “—that and to apologize. Please, come have a drink with me?” His eyes were begging, attempting to unsheathe the cover over the blade and get to the grit he knew you held.

“I don’t drink.” Statement making the man visibly shudder, he was like a puppy in the way he nodded at your response.

“Tea, then?”

You shuffled out of your room, pulling your soft coat over your shoulders and trailing the man down the dark hallway. Each room’s door was cracked open, the windows uncovered as the moonlight creeped inside. Every doorway Lawrence passed, his eyes would glisten. Out of your sight, the knowledge was unattainable—but he knew what was occurring within himself.

“I must admit.” He welcomed you into another room, an office stationed with a large desk and smooth, leather chairs. Gesturing down at the seats, his butler seemed to appear out of thin air. The man was conscientious, placing a bare teacup onto its plate at the table next to the chair you sat in. He didn’t hiss in pain at the heat of the hot pot, tilting the container to release the steaming water inside down into the small cup. In one swift movement, he placed down a small glass for Lawrence and put a tea bag into your cup at the same time, shuffling his long body out of the room to allow peace and quiet.

The moment didn’t suffice, Lawrence’s irresolute actions dismissing your worry for dealing with the man being intoxicated. He sat down into the chair adjacent to you without tapping a fingerprint against the bottle of alcohol, the corners of his lips rising into a curved smile. Respectfully, he had taken back his own words and tasks.

“I really don’t have a knack for guests.” He admitted a second time, gaze weak and falling to your knees in embarrassment. “As you can see—” he lightly smiled, running the pad of his index finger over the thick coat of dust along the desk off to the side of his seat. “I don’t have a knack for getting around my own home much, either.”

“Sir, if I may—" you initiated what you set out to discuss, a second chance bringing a light gleam in your eyes. “You know why I am here, don’t you?”

“I believed you to be another pesky doctor attempting to breach my mind.” Lawrence managed to sum up his latest years in one sentence, his voice drawing back at the last word in realization of how hard he had it recently. Alone in the manor aside from his butler, anyone would go mad. “But I was misled.”

“And how did you come up with that conclusion?” Reteaching him how to converse was difficult, but he was playing with his dominant hand. Pressing into the leather chair harder as he separated his knees in different directions to show how comfortable he was getting—you knew you were on the right track.

“You didn’t follow me when I left the table. Any other doctor would have tailed me to hell to make a deal and bury their instruments within me, but you stayed sat and obedient.”

You swallowed hard at how attentive Lawrence was, watching his teeth grind and thighs clench when he spoke of how deferential you had been. The man’s eyes glazed over again, an absorbed appearance cascading over his face. The shadows of his cheekbones gloomy in odd placements, his eyes grew darker and body got tighter as he eyed you from across the room.

“My father.” Mentions of the late man drew him back instantly, blinking away the deep glare as he hissed at his own words. “He was the original.”

“The original?”

“Wolfman.” His eyes paired with yours as the word slipped off his tongue. The whites of your eyes—once rippled with red veins from exhaustion—melted into a full ivory color, your mind drilling a hole for the new information he gave out.

“He terrorized that town. I had only put the puzzle together at the last minute. The strange disappearances.” His eyes squinted in pain and memory, firm arms shaking as he spoke. “The full moons were when I was fatherless. Howls from outside my bedroom window. It all made sense then.”

“But it was too late.” You nodded towards him, following along.

“I was. He had ripped through that small town like a tornado, leaving me in his path.” he sighed. “I was his last victim. A solid bite to my shin, and a silver bullet blasted through his head killing him in an instant.”

He shook his head, sight now on the floor as his gaze shifted back up to you. He seemed clouded like the night sky when you ventured into his home, eyes glowing a white glaze just as before. Lawrence noticed your stares, blinking rapidly.

“I’ve never done any work on a patient that involved physical contact, Mr. Talbot.”

His name formed on your lips so easily, erupting from your tongue like a laugh. His ears perked up at his name like it was a blow of a dog whistle.

“I study, listen, and write. Please believe me.”

“I have no other reason to dismiss that what you say isn’t true.” He was back to stern, index finger creating a circle pattern on the padding of his thumb—stuck in thought. “I had to endure the first full moon alone.” Finally, after word and word, his voice broke. Emotion billowed through the sentence, the man allowing himself to shatter in your view like a breaking vase with the most beautiful flowers inside. “Almost killed the rest of that town, too.”

“You were in a blood-thirst. Tenure, even as the beast itself—you gained reasoning.”

“I didn’t want to be my father.” He gritted, clearly gaining agitation as he vibrated in the seat. “Wind up an old man locked away in his home to scour away during full moons and shred innocent people. Children, mothers, elders—he had no mercy for the innocent.”

“You’re not like that.” Your voice was now the most stern, his eyes colliding with yours to reassure your words were true. “You held yourself back.”

Lawrence no longer needed to speak to have spoken, the theory in your mind was all too accurate. Locking away the beast on a full moon would only increase its power, but come forth the man with a soul within the position of the creature—Lawrence anchored himself.

“I am in no position to tell you of yourself, Sir.”

Lawrence hissed at your continued formalities, raising his index finger into the air and demanding a new layer to the relationship. “Continue to call me Lawrence.”

“As I’ve stated, I am only here to study under your escort. The full moon is almost risen, and you’re bound to change, aren’t you?”

Lawrence was biting his tongue another time, rocking in the seat in a losing battle between his temptations, structure, and tendencies.

“I forbid that you use me as a pet rat.” Another grain-like sound, you didn’t wince this time. His rebuttal was sincere, but you couldn’t avoid the wall between emotions and science because of a skinny dispute.

���Why?” Your voice wasn’t a whine, opposite of the sound—a bite.

“It’s not just dangerous—” The man balanced his arguments with his heart on his sleeve, a heavy load in the sense of the beast. “It’s also outright stupid.”

His fingers poked into the armrest of the leather chair just as they had his face. A provoked expression on his face, his chin tilted towards his chest, and a rumble suddenly vibrating through him. That of a bear, the sound made you curl into the seat, blinking towards Lawrence. He took notice of his actions, claws outlining his human nails as his anger internally boiled over, ripping into the fabric of the armrest. The man stood, startled by his own power as his eyes delved into your own.

“I forbid it. I cannot put anyone else in harm’s way. If I do—then I am nothing more than a monster.”

THREE.

Pain rumbled in his body, feverish skin sweating drips down his limbs. You broke his request, following along far behind him as he stumbled through the manor. It hurt to watch him wince and squeal, the echo of the home causing his sounds to reverberate for so long that tears pricked your eyes.

His knees gave out at the staircase beside the shelves, disappearing into the darkness as he fumbled down the marble steps. A loud thud called from below, his whines pricking your ears as you heard his bones crack. Standing, the man lifted just in time to spin and fall back into the leather chair within the basement.

Your feet were silent, thin slippers pattering across the marble. You descended the staircase as far down as you could before getting caught, Lawrence’s mumbled words growing faint. He was growing weak as the power of the moon took over, the curse within him billowing his body to be in pain and turn.

His fingers worked at a leather restraint, nondominant hand fighting to proceed with the task. Once fitted, his eyes shut, head falling to the side as his wrist fought at the restraints. Pain in his loins and muscles clenching relentlessly, he didn’t have the extra hand he needed to tighten the other restraint to his wrist. Falling back into the seat in defeat, the main artery in his neck bulged out at the man releasing a cry that developed into a growl. Not even a howl of the beast could break through the manor, your form rising into the light of the never-ending candles.

You came into his view just as his head rutted into the back of the chair, the soft leather breaking what would be another painful blow to the man’s body.

“Don’t you listen?” He growled, whimpering as he tugged to reach past the gap between his hands.

Your hand reached out for him, his teeth barring at your form closing in on him. Stumped, you took a step back. His eyes were slowly becoming enveloped with cold, black irises. The sight made you shake, head moving side to side until you broke from the fear and moved forward. Another growl from Lawrence and your hand was clutching at his shirt. Balling the fabric into your fist, his teeth released the tight grip as his eyes recoiled to a natural look—you had pulled him back.

“Don’t do this to me.” Lawrence looked visibly confused, your pull at his shirt enough to rip the fabric. You let out an annoyed yelp, tossing the fabric off to the side as his eyes watched it float to the ground. “You don’t get to play feral dog if I can’t watch.”

You had come so far, studied lycanthropy for years to be led to this moment—whether or not you were in potential danger, Lawrence was locked into the chair for the time being, unable to drag you away from the case.

“You’re mine to study now.” You gritted your teeth, the beast within the man finding it a threat as a snarl ripped from him. Teeth protruding from between his lips, his jaw grew a few inches in size as the canines shifted and became elongated.

Your hand pressed into his cheek, his grunt weak as you straddled him. His free hand moved to your waist, clinging to the fabric of your coat. The edges of your fingers found the mark on his temple, Lawrence wincing at you touching the spot.

A mark from his becoming, the brisk touch of a silver bullet the night he went into the same village as his father—but only the animals were discarded. No human blood yet taken by the beast, your valuable form sprawled yourself above him with a gentle aura.

Lawrence’s eyes turned predatory, black irises barely moving with every little motion you emitted. A whine came from your lips when his hips rushed up into you, the hand on the side of his face falling to his shoulder for grip.

“La-Lawrence—” You moaned on accident, the man’s bloodlust turning into a different state. Aroused by his name falling from your mouth, he jerked up harder into your crotch as you fell over him. “Oh-fuck, wait.”

“What?” he growled, eyes shifting up to your tilted head. He hesitated licking at the skin of your neck, eyes trailing the drips of sweat cascading towards your collarbone until he couldn’t take it anymore. His cock throbbed in his thin pants as his tongue pushed past his lips, the tip of the wet muscle hardly making contact with the salty taste of your skin before he was a moaning mess below you.

Lapping at your neck as his sharp canines threatened to bite you, your hand pressed into his chest. Lawrence’s body turned into a ragdoll, falling back as his neck throbbed in tandem with his cock. Your hand traced the crevice of his tight chest, the ripples of his abs making you bite down into your bottom lip with another moan. He was entranced, elevated by the way your hands traced over him in wonder.

But he was still transforming, the battle of the enlarged cock between his muscular thighs extruding into your own aroused patch, the thickness of your juices leaking from your body enough to have the man panting. It was clear Lawrence was out of it, blown by lust. But as your name chanted from his mouth and he grinded up into you—neither of you could help yourselves.

He was stronger than a normal man, the restraint at his wrist tearing with every beat of his heart and thrust of his cock. In a moment’s time, you reached between your bodies to undo his pants, releasing his tense cock from the tight hold. Pumping at his length with your dry hand, his free hand took hold of your wrist. Turning your palm to his face, his extra wet tongue laced a clean stripe from your wrist to the tips of your fingers. Eyes onerous and focused, you swiveled your thumb around his tip, his jaw going slack when the saliva from his own mouth turned hot against his cock.

Your hand moved in the motion of his thrusts, whining as you pumped him. Jerking him as he fucked up into your touch was enthralling, his free hand lacing into your hair and yanking your head back. A sloppy kiss was pressed against your mouth, his tongue lingering over your own to allow you a gingered taste of him before he was pushing you off and forcing you to release his length.

His legs kicked at your own, spinning you until your back faced him. A game of cat and mouse, his fingers dipped into the waistband of your pants, shredding the fabric in one go. The waistband was too loose to fit around your body tight enough, the fabric falling down your legs and slipping past your ankles. He pulled you backwards, your soaked body lubed by his alluring glare alone.

You heard the smack of his tongue, three of his fingers burrowing between his plump lips and coated by his saliva. The pop made you thrust against the air, whining as if he were already inside of you when his fingers tapped at your lower body.

One finger sunk in all the way to the knuckle, your body leaning forward and giving him more space to rock you on his thighs. Once straddling his waist, he had moved you to a vulnerable position, balancing over him as a single push to your abdomen would bring you sinking down onto his length.

“You like that?” he asked, feeling you clench around his fingers. “Ever been fucked at one of these little experiments, hmm?”

You shook your head violently at him while well aware that it wouldn’t suffice, a broken word of 'no’ keeping his flattening palm from slapping at your arousal. Another finger joined into the fun, the squelching sound was enough to have him pulling his fingers out. Aligning his length with your entrance, he slipped you down, warmth filling your body as he brimmed you.

His head fell into the crook of your neck, growls and pants fabricated as he fought the real release. He throbbed inside of you as you clenched harder, a tell for him to move. Your eyes shut tight as he slammed into you, rocking you forward as your hands fell between your bent legs to hold onto his meaty thighs. Your life depended on his hold, risking any second of falling forward onto your head. A firm hold of his arm wrapped around your waist, thighs bouncing you like you weighed nothing.

He was fucking you senseless. The prodigy of your time, a werewolf connoisseur—it meant nothing with your hole filled with the man said to be the beast himself.

“Are you going to cum?” Rhetorical, he fiddled with you as he brushed deep inside. “Cum on my cock like I couldn’t rip you open any time I want. You know, doc—I think you’re a little unprofessional right now.” Every word was a thrust, your body clenching to whatever you could grab of Lawrence as your orgasm rushed through you. White light filling your vision, his hips sputtered up into you until you felt the warmth rejoice. His cum leaked from you as he hissed at his own release.

His hands guided you at your lower back until you were all the way off him. His length grew more inches as he fucked you, the sight of his cock made you lightheaded. Your hand reached out for the bone-chillingly cold wall, Lawrence’s pants and hoarse voice calling your name from behind you.

You spun slowly, watching as hair ripped through his skin. Bones cracked, things shifted, and his eyes were attempting to alter to a bright yellow. He was stuttering, trying to warn you of what was to come, but it was too late.

His hair grew longer, matting as his jaw curved deeper and a howl of pain erupted from the man. Lawrence was no longer himself, a pull at his pants up his legs to clothe his length as the leather restraint on his wrist gave way. The beast was alive, and you were in the line of fire.

He stood without stretching, skin turning darker as the thick fur continued to pry through his follicles. He was more than feral, turning to kick his leg through the restraining chair as his foot broke clean through. The furniture was mutilated, his eyes befallen.

“Please.” he winced. Lawrence’s voice was far inside the beast, escaping for only a moment. “Run!”

FOUR.

The beast had fully captured him, growls and grunts echoing up the staircase. Lawrence’s form hurled towards the marble steps, the white button-up along his torso shredding as the fur sundered the fabric. Your calves heaved you up the steps, a sharp pain diffusing from your achilles heel. His nails hardly grazed the socks on your feet, the tight hold on your ankle enough to lunge you down the last three steps you managed to pace up.

“Lawrence!” You cried—but the man was no longer there.

Gnashing at your leg, his jaw snapped as you kicked at his arm. One full blow to the bend above his elbow and the wolf barreled back, releasing you. You stumbled, wincing at the gash on the back of your heel as you climbed the remaining steps, finding yourself heated by the moon’s rays coursing through the large window of the foyer.

Eyes shut tight as the snarling not far behind you regained, your eyes found the long staircase leading to the second floor. A harsh journey with your ankle scraped, you leaped up step by step. Lawrence was so close, the beast still fighting to overtake him. Crashing down onto the marble steps once more, you could hear the commotion as you rounded the giant staircase, finding yourself back in the same hallway you had partnered with the man before.

Every door was now shut, your eyebrows knitting as you raced to one. The knob was unable to turn, the locked space continuing with every door you went to. Lawrence sounded as if he were closing in on you, the first two steps of the staircase to the second floor obtained and a third on the way.

You flung yourself to the middle door of the hallway, the knob a handle as your fingers clenched around the gold. Cold to the touch, the door didn’t make a sound as it opened, your frame whisking inside and shutting it. Your chest heaving, your palm covered your mouth when the rumbles of the beast made it close to the door. Tears falling from the corners of your eyes, your aghast state couldn’t save you.

The moonlight was even brighter, incandescent blinding behind you. Your eyes squinted, spinning to watch the same clouds as before cover the moon a second time. The dimness was your advantage, a single beam illuminating the nightstand beside the bed.

The same scent from the office filled your nostrils as you paced towards the square, wooden table. A sign of the times, your resolution glistened in the night.

A tray, a single silver bullet, and a pistol beside the plate. Your heart stopped beating for a moment, eyes shutting tight as silent sobs fell from your lips. The amount of nights Lawrence had sat in this room staring at the same table, the same objects—you wanted nothing more than to rid him of the curse.

Your head nodded, pulling the heavy bullet from the tray and stashing it into your pocket. You felt the coldness of the pistol delving into the waistband of your ripped bottoms to only be held up by your underwear, hissing at the metal at your lower back as you made your way back towards  the door.

Don’t use it, find another way. He’s still in there, but so far in—how could you save him from this?

Grown used to danger lurking around every corner from your occupation, the silence that filled the mansion had you anxious. Beside yourself, terrified, your fingers pushed at the handle of the door. Dark hallway now pitched black, even the moon was hiding from you.

Steps somber, slow and tired, you found yourself at the top of the marble staircase once more. Descending the restless amount of steps until the cold wind sped past your form, the iced touch of the laminated flooring was on your toes. A second door was opened, your body turning around to find the back door creaking open from another gust.

The moon regained the night sky, lighting the path for you to exit the manor. Stood on the stone path, you weighed your options.

“Only a man.” you spoke. “Only a man.” you repeated.

It was just that, a curse. A man’s heart deep within the beast still pumps blood through every vein, feeling the kick in every nerve, adrenaline leering him forward with a crimson filter over his eyes.

Green garden pulling you within it, the layers of bushes crowded around you. Chanting, the mantra of the moon was loud to your senses, a hot rush of air past your body enough to have you spinning. Lawrence’s frame now towered over you, your eyes catching a glimpse of his long calves now coated with fur. You didn’t have to see the beast to know where he stood, teeth baring as blood filled his eyes and the moon wept above him.

A shadow created, his arm stuck out. Nails the length of match boxes, teeth sharper than razor blades—he was reaching for you. A final spin for the animal, your head tilted back as you peered up at him. Tears in your eyes, his hand enclosed on your shoulder, tight grip breaking the skin of your blade. With a loud cry, you attempted to retreat. The thick coated gaze of the man’s eyes under the face full of fur was frightening. Pulling to defend yourself, his grasp only got tighter. His palm went flat as he released you, your knees locked as you were entranced by his gaze. He saw within your soul—Lawrence so far deep in the beast.

His hand reeled back, one hard punch of his palm to your chest knocking you to the ground and removing the oxygen from your lungs. Unable to catch your breath, the beast hovered over you. Pacing around you, stalking his prey, his form overlapped your own as he fell above you. His hands on either side of your head, your own grasp slid between your back and the hard rocks below. You winced as the skin of the back of your hand scraped off onto the gritty rocks, pulling the pistol from your back in time for the silver bullet to fall out of your bottom’s pocket.

The beast too entranced with you, he didn’t watch what you were doing. Panting, mouth watering and drooling down onto your chest—he was out for blood, and you were the only obedient donor in range.

Saliva pooling into the fabric of your shirt over your chest, his eyes flashed white. The moon was at its peak, caverns of the object in the sky conveying the lust of the animal inside of Lawrence. His teeth shined, pearled as the man’s but yellow as the beast’s. He had lost all morals, his stern hips protruding into your abdomen to hold you down as his mouth opened and teeth became exposed. A dark position, the gun in your hold fell towards the ground, your index finger and thumb pushing the bullet into the chamber.

He was lost, fist clenching into your shirt to lift you from the ground and bounce you harshly down into the rocks. Everything emitted from the blow, the breath that had made its way into your chest escaping just in time to pull the silver weapon between your bodies.

“Don’t.” you whined. The beast had no care for your moral dilemma, nor the cold silver aimed at his chest. “Don’t—” you repeated. “He’s j-just a man.”

Jaw going slack and widening to its full capacity, the man shifted above you. Jawline protruding as his head tilted, the matted fur of his legs ran across your bare skin, a moment of warmth as his breath fanned down on your face. Hair on your skin blowing with the breath, your soft eyes matched with his own, his jaw moving on its own accord.

“Please.” Lawrence spoke so softly through the pace of the beast, your eyes shutting tightly as the ring of the gun sounded.

Breaking through his skin, breaking past the bones of his chest, the silver bullet found the pumping organ. Red blood flowing from within the grotto of his body, Lawrence winced—the beast howling a fretful cry. His strong arms clamored his body to the ground, the smoke of the gun filling your nostrils as you sobbed. Heavy form holding you captive against the path, the tears streaming down your face ran into your hairline, eyes cloudy with the full moon uncovered directly above you.

Jekyll and Hyde in one form, the moon’s rays combated you for the last time. Beaming down like a spotlight, the shifting light found the wolfman’s form over yours. The hollowed corpse belted you to the painful texture of the rocks, engulfing a deep breath as the fur began to recoil back into his pores. Eyes peeling open and only met with the sandstone and gray rocks underneath, his skin began to replenish.

Palms meeting the ground, his bare hands lifted his form from you. Captivated in the moment, your eyes had hardly caught the scene, a small fissure of your eyelids allowing you to watch the dark shadow rise. Warmth in your chest and butterflies in your stomach, your sight reopened to Lawrence’s delicate face hovering over yours.

“Do you have a permit for that weapon?” He questioned with a groan, a light chuckle rumbling from his pained chest. No marks fractured his body, only the mere pain of the beast dismissing within him.

A puff of dust left his opened mouth before turning into mist. His eyes moved down to find your gaze, head tilting just as he would go in for a bite. Your breath shuttered when no other touch came but the silk of his lips capturing your own.

A prevail; a tale told over time, but never told quite right. It is not that the silver bullet kills the werewolf, but the beast within—leaving the man to be a man. For his father, he was only a walking killer in the voice of the moon. Lawrence’s soul was too cordial. Even as the beast, he fought to reconcile the soul down under, rejoiced as he released the last breath of the wild animal’s existence, left only as himself with you in his arms.

© scuddisher — all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission. do not post my content on other sites, especially claiming them as your own! reblogs and feedback are seriously appreciated <3

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[quinnthebard]

wip wednesday

still on my Astarion bullshit, this is a snip of a future chapter of my fic Siren Song on AO3. Full rough draft, no editing passes yet, I'm just happy with how it's coming together.

After the encounter with the Gur, Astarion senses that Sarynna is avoiding him and that wouldn't do for his plan to manipulate her so--sigh--he supposes he'll check in on her.

CW: Self-harm

Sarynna had been avoiding him.

Not that it bothered him—not in any way that mattered. It was just such an inconvenience to his plan. He had to ensure she wanted to keep him around lest the others decide he was no longer worth having at camp. Pouting, he stared at the mirror where his reflection did not stare back. Perhaps a show of good faith, checking in on her, was in order. Yes, that’s what friends do. She had squirreled away into her tent nearly an hour ago and hadn’t peeked out since. Maybe he could help.

Ew.

Hopefully it wasn’t anything too bad and they could go back to bantering like fools again. That was fun. Teasing Sarynna was much better than brooding Sarynna and few others were as open to his favored discussion points as she was. In some ways, she was another boon gained after being kidnapped by the ilithids and one he didn’t intend to lose quite yet.

Heaving a sigh, he turned and made his way across camp. He could see the flicker of candlelight through the canvas and hear her rustling within as he approached. Out of habit, he knocked on a pole outside before remembering he didn’t have to be invited in and just strode through the flap.

Then it dawned on him just what she had been doing.

“I couldn’t help but notice that my favorite—” He had begun carefree with his words, expecting her to be simply reading or meticulously cleaning her weapons as she seemed so fond of doing.

Astarion hadn’t expected to walk into her tent to see her bandaging her thigh. First, the scent of her blood was so strong, so suspiciously fresh. Then he saw her weapon out, cast aside, blood still on the blade and glistening in the candlelight. Last, he saw the look of horror on Sarynna’s face, as if she were caught doing something awful.

“What the fuck, Sarynna?” Misplaced anger laced his words and she flinched at the bite behind them.

“It’s nothing. Just wrapping an old—”

“Don’t lie to me. I can tell the difference between old and fresh blood.”

Approaching, he ignored the tension in his chest as she scrambled to hide what she had done from him. As he knelt beside her, her fingers gripped the bandage roll tightly, knuckles white, and on her leg next to the eight scar lines was a ninth newly added, angry, and red.

“Past reminders.” The words were hissed out from between clenched teeth, his jaw aching as he tried to overcome his anger. Anger he didn’t understand. Why would he be upset about this? He didn’t care what she did to her own body. He didn’t care why she’d choose to—

“Why?”

She looked away, staring at the ground. The silence lasted so long, he thought he’d have to press her for answers, demand an explanation but just as he prepared to try again, she spoke. “To remember those that didn’t deserve death.”

He considered their day. The redcaps, the hag, Mayrina’s close call, and— “The Gur.”

“He was just doing his job.”

“He was out to get me.”

“I know. And we did what we had to for ourselves. That doesn’t make killing him right.”

“What else would you have proposed?”

“He didn’t know! He had no clue who you were. By all rights, you shouldn’t have been able to stand before him in the daylight like that. We could have fed him misinformation, lied, misdirected him far away from us and yet safe.”

“You don’t know that would have been enough.”

“I also don’t know that it wouldn’t have been.” Her fingers dug into the dirt floor of her tent. “I don’t enjoy killing, Astarion.”

“Then why did you—“

“I allowed it because, in the moment, it felt like the only way. I take care of my own and—for better or worse—that includes you.” He hated how that stung, but she continued before he could react to them—words tumbling from her mouth as she confessed her guilt.

“That man was a threat but that doesn’t mean I don’t regret what I did.”

“You did what was right.”

“Just because you hate the Gur doesn’t mean he deserved it.”

“The feeling is mutual. They hate me just as much as I do them.” He’d argue they hated him far before the seeds of his own distaste were even planted. For what? He still didn’t know why but they were there and integral in the event that changed the course of his afterlife. That was reason enough for him to foster a healthy distrust of the people.

“You don’t know what they’ve done.”

“Don’t judge the actions of a few on the whole of a people.”

Astarion scowled, unsure how to respond. He knew the Gur and they were not trustworthy but arguing this was pointless. Not while Sarynna laid here bleeding by her own hand. He needed her.

So, taking the bandage from her firm grip, he began to wrap her wound with practiced motions. He’s bound his own many a time before, ensured all was cared for and treated to prevent infection. This was no different—barring the fact that he was treating someone else but the fundamentals were the same.

“You don’t have to.” Her protest was weak, the usual strength and bite in her words lost in the vulnerability of the moment.

“I do.”

And he did. He couldn’t help but feel a little responsible for this—as much as he hated it. They sat in silence as he worked, neither willing to break the tension between them quite yet. It felt as though the world was holding its breath, waiting and watching to see what would happen next.

Would this flimsy alliance fail?

He tied off the bandage, tight but comfortable. Sarynna hardly winced as he did so, unwilling to show discomfort.

Finally, he broke the quiet in a rare moment of vulnerability. “Thank you.”

Her brow furrowed and she hummed in question. Of course she didn’t understand, he barely did. For so long it’s been him against the world, survival his only goal. He never had protection that he couldn’t manifest on his own. Until now.

“Thank you for choosing me. For choosing to protect me.”

“Like I told you before, I protect my own.”

“You’d be surprised by how easy it is for people to turn on a monster.”

A pause. He could feel her eyes on him, surveying him. He refused to meet her gaze, instead pointedly staring at the candle resting on top of a crate, but then he felt her warm fingers turn his head to look at her.

“You are only the monster you choose to be.”

He’s not sure what he recoiled at—her words or her touch. Both felt like alcohol on a fresh wound, intended to heal yet stung with the intensity of a roaring fire. Their truth rang between them as her hand remained suspended in the air, her lips parted in surprise.

“I’m sorry.” Sarynna put her hand in her lap, wincing as it laid on her bandaged wound before she shifted more comfortably. “I just meant… I meant that our choices are what makes us and while I have made some poor choices myself, that doesn’t mean I can’t make better ones in the future. Everyone has that chance.”

“Not everyone.” Spawn don’t. They only have orders and pain and torment and if they exercise their free will outside of their master’s wishes, that too was taken and swiftly squashed.

“Perhaps.”

“But now you do. Right? Along with being able to stand in the sun?”

He pursed his lips. He did have freedom, at least a little. He proved that when he broke Cazador’s edict and fed from her. But acknowledging that meant accepting other truths, taking responsibility for things he’s done. No. He’s what Cazador molded him to be. Nothing more, nothing less.

--------

Bonus from later in the chapter:

He saw her shift her hand, almost reaching out to his before she settled it on the ground beside her, obviously unsure of what was fine after earlier. The restraint was meaningful and he felt a tell-tale twinge in his chest, one certainly not related to his centuries dead heart.

#cw: self-harm #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 oc #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfic #wip wednesday

[loveyouanyway]

about me and this blog

hi i'm nolan! 19. they/he/she (if you use them all together, i will receive so much gender euphoria) i have no gender, it's just vibes 😌 asian canadian goose. queer as fuck and aroace spec. a huge simp but also insults are my love language. a silly loser guy who is occasionally cool and funny. probably procrastinating and avoiding my problems 🤠

this blog is sometimes nsfw and primarily 911

@sillygaygoose is my sideblog for random shit and other stuff

icon and header are mine | 911 fanfic snippets | ao3 | my edits

i like to say my sexuality for media is also pan because i'm attracted to music / shows / movies regardless of their genre lmao

my fandoms include (but not limited to) 9-1-1, shameless, friends, umbrella academy, brooklyn 99, hannibal, yellowjackets, heartbreak high, the wilds, sex education, community and young royals

also please give me queer horror movie/tv recs

some music artists i love: lorde, renee rapp, chappell roan, xana, dermot kennedy, conan gray, maisie peters, sabrina carpenter, taylor swift, arctic monkeys, clairo, girl in red, noah kahan, lizzy mcalpine, nirvana, yungblud, mgk, def leppard, maneskin, ac/dc, 5SOS, waterparks, paramore

basically i listen to all the variants of alternative / indie / pop / rock but i do listen to selective songs from pretty much any music genre jskdjd

chat and keysmash about anything i mentioned here or on my blog with me!! send me fic and gif prompts!! give me tv/movie, song and fic recs!! or just say hi and we can try our best to start and continue a conversation sdjskdf

my discord is buzzcut.season if you want to chat there since tumblr messages suck

#nolan nonsense #personal #name change #time to change my tags lol #about #intro post

[mrsaltieri-real]

His Perfect Victim (Mickey Altieri X OC!Dahlia Levine)

Chapter 4: Friends

Word count: 3k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, a little angst, fluff, Mickey being a dick, (obviously) Mickey being sweet, flashbacks to Stu, brief mention of death

The smut is COMING I promise, I’m just fleshing it out. This fic is immensely fun to write, so I’m fr bashing out the chapters but it’s so so enjoyable I can’t seem to stop myself. Thank you again to @bisexual-horror-fan for editing and beta reading this for me. I know the extremely subtle reference to Stu and Billy hit! Kisses dude love ya!!

Gotta include the moodboard you made for me in this chapter because it’s fucking chefs kiss.

⬆️⬆️THIS. THIS IS THE VIBE⬆️⬆️

I’d never been this hungover in my entire life, my head is pounding as if a marching band is walking around the perimeter of my skull.

I groggily forced my eyes open only to recoil under the comforter at the harsh light streaming in through the windows with a low groan. Fuck the light, fuck me for not closing the curtains, fuck alcohol.

But especially fuck Mickey.

It took longer than it should have for me to realise I wasn’t in my own dorm. Once I finally resurfaced from beneath the sheets I took in my surroundings, blinking rapidly at the familiar dorm that didn’t belong to me. The posters littering the walls, the small figurines on the desk and I glanced down, noticing the Star Wars image on the comforter and frowned a little, lifting a hand to rub my eyes.

“Morning!”

I jumped, hand clutching the side of my throbbing head as my eyes settled on Randy’s goofy smiling face. He was holding out a cup of coffee for me, but he lowered it a little when he saw I was staring at him with a look of horror, mouth agape.

“Oh, God. What- what am I doing here, Randy?” I asked weakly. My voice sounded hoarse and raspy and I flinched at the sound of it, eyes darting down to my body quickly, hands pulling the blanket back to see I was not in fact naked. Thank God I was still dressed in my jeans and crop top I was wearing last night.

Randy chuckled a little, placing the steaming mug on his bedside table before sitting on the edge of his bed. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I found you last night throwing back shots with a couple of frat bros and decided it was time to take you home but you told me you didn’t want to be alone so I just brought you back here. I assumed it was safer than any of your other options and you clearly didn’t want to stick around Hallie and Sidney’s.” He stopped, eyes scanning over my face before he jerked a thumb behind him to his sofa which was covered over with a rumpled blanket and a pillow, “See? I slept on the couch.”

I relaxed a little, sighing in relief which made him roll his eyes. “Damn, D. Would you really be so disgusted if we hooked up?” He placed a hand over his chest in mock offence.

“Yes and you’d be too.” I said, reaching forward to nudge his shoulder which made him laugh again and nod his head in agreement.

I grabbed the coffee off the table, leaning back against his headboard and closed my eyes.

“Wanna talk about whatever happened with Mickey?” He asked hesitantly.

“I didn’t tell you?” I mumbled into the mug, glancing up at him as he shook his head before replying, “You weren’t really making a lot of sense. You kept shouting about a ‘Stupid blonde slut’ and that you were going to, ‘Kill that stupid fucking mouse’ but I didn’t get much from that.” For every quote his fingers came up in quotations and I rolled my eyes, unable to stop from smiling.

I shook my head before telling him, “It doesn’t matter. I’m not really sure if I really saw what I thought I did anyway, I was pretty drunk.”

“Pretty drunk? I had to brush your teeth for you, Dahlia.” Randy shivered as if the memory haunted him and I shoved his shoulder, scoffing at him before taking his hand with my free one, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles. “Thank you for taking care of me, Rand.” I said softly.

He clicked his tongue against his teeth bashfully, his cheeks flushing just slightly, “You don’t have to thank me, Dahlia. What are friends for?”

Before I left Randy’s I fixed my hair in his bathroom, giving up at the lousy attempt and rifling through my backpack for something to cover it with. For reference, my hair is dark, thick and curly, waving down to the middle of my back. I pulled out one of my favourite bandannas; maroon and patterned with flowers, with a relieved flourish and placed it over my head biker style, staring at my reflection.

God, I looked like shit.

Randy enjoyed teasing me for my quote “rustic bohemian” sense of style whilst Sidney absolutely adored it, constantly telling me as much. During my depressed period the upkeep on my fashion sense has faltered and I practically lived in sweats and oversized T-shirts that belonged to my dad, but I made the decision that when I went to college, if I wanted everyone to think I was truly getting better I’d have to act and dress like it. So for me, I was back in my comfort zone. But right now, it really didn’t look like it. Even in my favourite outfit, my brown and white soft striped cropped jumper and my cargo pants, I still looked horrifically hungover.

I quickly splashed some water over my face, stole some of Randy’s deodorant before pecking him goodbye on the cheek at his door, eager to get back to my own dorm to shower and change.

And who should appear as though from thin air?

“Walk of shame?”

I yelped, practically jumping out of my skin as I spun around seeing Mickey leaning against the wall of Randy’s building, toying with his video camera in his hands.

“Fuck off.” I snapped, turning back round to get as far away from him as possible. He caught up with me easily in just a few strides and I internally groaned. What the fuck was this guys problem?

“So you’re fucking Meeks? Guess that shouldn’t come to any surprise really.” I didn’t look at him as he spoke, I didn’t want to properly dignify such a ridiculous claim instead just replying with, “What do you care?”

“I don’t, really. Just think you can do better.”

I stopped so quickly he took a few more steps ahead before turning around and looking at me. Fuck, he looked good. He was wearing a dark blue button down shirt and black pants, his dark hair ruffled and messy as though he’d been running his hands through it.

Or as though some girl had been running her hands through it.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone? Go bother your girlfriend instead.” I was too tired, too hungover to put any emotion in my voice, looking at him blankly. He frowned slightly, tilting his head to the side as he looked down at me before asking, “What girlfriend?”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms tightly across my chest and gripping my elbows, “Blonde girl? Under you last night? C’mon Mickey it’s been all of less than twelve hours.”

A smile played on the corners of his mouth as his eyebrows rose, his finger tapping against the side of his camera, “She wasn’t my girlfriend. Just some girl I fucked.”

I couldn’t stop the disgusted expression from taking over my face as I stared at him, “Oh, nice.” I muttered, “Aren’t you just charming.”

“I try.” He said cockily, shrugging his shoulders as he pointed, “It’s cute that you're jealous though.”

A surprised laugh burst through my lips and I shook my head, hands coming up to run over my face as I managed to get out, “Jealous? You think I’m jealous? You’re the one who lied to Sidney about wanting to apologise to me for being a jackass and trying to kiss me so I’d walk in and see you screwing some girl.”

His smile faltered slightly, arms dropping to his sides with his camera still clutched between his fingers, “Ah yeah, that. I guess I can be a bit of a jackass, huh?”

“More than a bit.” I muttered under my breath, starting to walk again. He walked beside me easily and I glanced at his face. He looked deep in thought, hands brought back in front of him as he played with his camera before he spoke again after about thirty seconds, “Sorry about that.”

“Hm?” I hummed as though I didn’t hear him.

He stifled a smile as he sighed, head tipping back a little, “I’m sorry about that. That was a fucked up thing to do. I just… I don’t know, I’m not used to rejection. Suppose I don’t take it well.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.” I scoffed and saw him smile down at me from the corner of my eye.

Damn him.

“Can I confess something to you?”

His tone made me look up at him in surprise, he sounded almost… Nervous? At this point I was so used to him being arrogant, confident and just a downright dick it completely caught me off guard.

“I guess?” I replied suspiciously.

“You have some kind of effect on me, Dahl. I don’t quite understand it to be honest. So yeah, when you physically fucking recoiled I assumed I read the signals wrong. So I kinda wanted to test it, you know? See how you would react if you saw me fucking some chick.” He spoke so candidly as though this was completely normal and average behaviour. Could he really not see that it wasn’t?

We were outside my building at this point and I paused, leaning against the cool brick and looking up at him, saying as softly as I could muster, “You know that’s not like… Normal, right? You could have just spoken to me.”

He looked thoughtful for a second as he nodded his head, eyes meeting mine. “Okay, I’ll talk to you. You wanna fuck?”

My eyes widened and I laughed in surprise. He was grinning at me cheekily, dimples pronounced in his cheeks and it didn’t falter as I laughed, only grew wider.

“No I don’t want to fuck you, Mickey.” I said once I stopped laughing, cheeks heating up a little before I continued, “But why don’t we start trying to be friends.”

He cocked his head to the side, smile shrinking just a little, “You wanna be my friend?”

“You said it yourself, we’re going to be around each other a lot. We might as well try. Besides, if you’re good enough for Sidney you’re good enough for me.” I held out my hand and his eyes dropped to it before looking back at my face, looking deeply amused by my formality as he asked, “Really? A handshake? What is this a fucking job interview?”

I looked down at my hand and back to him pointedly and he rolled his eyes, another smile stretching across his face as he took my hand and shook it gently, squeezing it softly. Mickey’s hand was calloused and rough. An unfamiliar but welcome warmth spread through my chest as he touched me, his eyes looking down into mine with a strange kind of affection.

The contact lingered a couple of seconds longer than necessary before I gently withdrew my hand, dropping it at my side.

“Okay, so we’re friends. That entails not fucking girls in my best friends bed and tricking me into watching it, alright?”

“Ah damn, we can’t build a foundation off of that? Not much of a voyeur, huh?” He teased and I shook my head, leaning up from the wall and pulling my keys from my jacket pocket before unlocking the door.

“Yeah, no. I’ll see you around, Mick.” I froze for a second before continuing, “-ey. Mickey.” I corrected myself quickly, wanting the ground to swallow me up.

He laughed again, holding up his hands. “Call me Mickey if you want, I’m not going to stop calling you Dahl.”

I smiled over my shoulder at him, finally pushing the door open and stepping inside.

“Wait, Dahl?”

I turned around, Mickey reached out and kept the door propped open with his hand just by my head. He stood right over me, so close and I noticed he smelled incredible, like spices and vanilla. His scent filled my nose and made my head spin and I subtly leaned against the door so I wouldn’t fucking fall as I breathed, “Mm?” Not at all trusting my voice.

He seemed to notice my little head rush and seemed to openly completely relish in knowing he had this effect on me as he leaned just a touch closer before he spoke, “I didn’t get the chance to say last night, but you looked hot. But honestly, I think you should wear the bandana more often, it suits you.”

I know I blushed, I know my cheeks completely stained pink as he glanced at them, his smile turning cocky as he pushed himself off the door and it swung closed as I stepped back, leaving me standing in the stairwell completely bewildered.

How the fuck did he do that, have this kind of instant effect on me? I’d never experienced this level of attraction to anybody before and I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with myself.

I’d never slept with anyone before. I hadn’t even fooled around and never really had time to do anything to myself. These feelings were just as endearing as they were confusing but at the moment, I wasn’t ready to explore them, right?

I thought about it as I walked up the seemingly endless stairwell to my dorm. Was this something I’d simply been putting off and making excuses for? I didn’t date in High School, too focused on school and life to even look at people in that way. Stu used to endlessly tease me for it, finding it truly hilarious that I was, at the time, seventeen and still hadn’t slept with anyone.

“What are you waiting for, D?” He’d teased, poking me in the ribs as I sat cross legged with him on his couch. I laughed, slapping his hands away from me before the guaranteed tickle fight began. Our respective parents were out of town yet again so we’d decided I’d stay over at the Machers instead of sitting home by myself for the weekend. I much preferred this anyway, Stu was more like a brother than a cousin to me.

“Stop fucking doing that you fucking ass.” I kicked out my foot but he caught it quickly, laughing as he pushed it down before continuing, “Seriously, Dahlia. What’s with the hold up?”

“You know what Stu, I don’t think I want to talk to my cousin about how I haven’t had sex yet. It’s creepy.”

Stu scoffed at me, leaning back on the couch and rolling his eyes, “Oh, please. That’s not why you don’t wanna talk about it.”

I leaned toward him and shoved his shoulder and he grabbed it in mock pain.

“No but seriously, I’m getting a bad rap. Why are you putting this off?” Stu seemed genuinely curious, fingers tapping on the upholstery of the arm of the sofa as he spoke.

I sighed, deciding to give in and tell him so he’d just let it go, “I’m not putting it off. I just… I want it to be with the right person, you know?” I spoke shyly, eyes dropping to my lap.

“Awe, how sweet and boring is that!” Stu teased but his eyes were still affectionate, “You want my advice?”

“Trust me Stu, I really really don’t.”

He ignored me, starting to talk again before I even finished my sentence, “Stick to that. Stick with your gut and wait till you find someone you really care about.”

I glanced up at him, seeing an expression on his face I hadn’t seen before as I asked softly, “Sounds like you wish you’d waited for a certain someone, huh?”

Stu smiled halfheartedly at me with a small upturn on his shoulders.

“Is it who I think it is?” I asked gently.

He nodded his head with a sigh, picking at the loose fabric of the arm of the couch, “Yeah, it’s who you think. You’re right for wanting to wait, trust me. Because man, when you find that person? Fuck, nothing else matters.”

By the time my little trip down memory lane was over I had finally made my way into my dorm and was relieved to discover my roommate wasn’t home. Karla was a nice enough girl, but I’d always found small talk insufferable and we just didn’t have the kind of relationship where talking came easy so I just hadn’t bonded with her the five months I’d been living with her. Lucky for me, my classes were in the morning and hers were in the afternoon and more often than not she would stay out at her boyfriend's off campus apartment so I pretty much had the place to myself.

I dropped my bag on the bed and walked to the bathroom, stripping off on my way and popping my clothes in my hamper by the door. I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror and had to do a double take.

I didn’t look at all like myself, or at least the version of myself I’d grown accustomed to looking like.

My cheeks were flushed and my lips were upturned in a smile, but that wasn’t what caught my attention.

The thing that was most surprising was my eyes. They looked bright, lively and almost wild. I hadn’t seen myself look this way in forever and it caught me completely off guard.

I spent a lot of time faking being happy, mainly to appease friends and my parents but now? There was nothing artificial about the way I looked.

I looked happy.

Usually even if I happened to be in a good mood, reminiscing about past conversations with Stu brought me down and crushed me all over again. As my reflection stared back at me in the mirror I realised for the first time since Woodsbro thinking about him didn’t make me depressed, it didn’t make me wish I in fact stayed dead.

Thinking of that playful conversation made me realise how right Stu was. I never wanted to make the same mistake he made, I was one of the only people that knew what he was hiding from everyone and although this was different, I knew that that memory didn’t pop into my head out of nowhere.

I didn’t know Mickey well, we were just starting to become friends after all. But I hadn’t felt this happy, this content for far too long, if ever.

I touched the corners of my eyes as I looked at my reflection as I thought, maybe he was the right person?

Chapter Five HERE

#chapter four #my babies fr #they’re getting closerrrrr #expect a lot of flashbacks of Dahlia and Stu #they really did love each other like siblings #babies :( #ANYWAY #i love dahlia and mickey bro #so fucking much #scream #mickey altieri #dahlia levine #stu macher #his perfect victim #scream 2 #mickey altieri x dahlia levine

[alien-magnolia]

Eddie Munson x fem! reader - Period Pains

Edit: this is my attempt at writing some good old Eddie smut. (Bc we all love him sm ✨🥰) But I did try to include a story too, of course. Barely edited.

Pairing : Eddie Munson x fem! reader

Summary: Reader is on her period and Eddie comforts her. Smut below—MINORS DNI!!!

Fic warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, p in v, reader is over 18, fingering, kissing, penetration, unprotected sex, slight dom/top! Eddie, handjob/blowjob, teasing, Eddie being a bit possessive, a bit of breeding kink if you squint

Tags on bottom of the post

Period Pains

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, messy white sheets surrounding you. It was a rainy October afternoon, about 4pm. You and Eddie had just come back home from school, and his uncle had left for the night shift at the factory, about an hour ago. So you had the place to yourselves.

“Ah…,” you flinched, drawing one of your hands to your lower abdomen. “Hey. You okay, sweetheart?,” you hear your boyfriend’s voice from the other side of the trailer. “Yeah. Yeah — I mean don’t worry about me. Just a little pain, that’s all,” you sheepishly smiled. You didn’t want Eddie to worry any longer about you. He was already so sweet to you, always checking in, asking how you were, whether it’s on the good or bad days.

“What??…” you muttered as Eddie walked over to you with a concerned look on his face. “Y/n… tell me. This isn’t you usually. I mean I know you’re unhealthy as fuck …” he guffawed. “Eddie!,” you scoffed and batted him on the shoulder lightly. “But, seriously, I can tell when something’s wrong,” he continued.

“Should I tell him…” you wonder. He was sitting there, patiently waiting for you to answer, his deep brown eyes fixated on you. “Well, Eds, you know, I have my um… period. It’s been hurting me a lot these past few days.” He sat still for a second, and you were beginning to fear that he would be one of those men who didn’t understand. He was the opposite.

“Hey, that’s totally understandable with me, sweetheart. Women get periods, and they hurt. My poor girl. Come here.” He offered you a smile and pulled you in closer to him, so your head was now leaning on his chest, as both of you got comfortable on his bed. He slid his hand over your cheek, bringing you in closer and kissing you lightly. You practically melted at his touch. This, he knew. Eddie then slid a hand over to your shirt. “Ed’s…” you warned, yet quietly. “You wanna show me where it hurts, princess? I bet I can make the pain go away,” he mumbled, with a smug tone.

You knew this could go one of two ways. The first way would be that this would just be a quiet autumn night, the two of you cuddling on his bed with snacks and a horror movie. Both you and Eddie were suckers for horror, and lately you have been watching A Nightmare on Elm Street. The second way — he would fuck you senseless. You had a feeling this would incline towards the second way. Eds was sweet with you — even in the bedroom. But there’s always a cloud beneath the silver lining. He was rough, too.

“What do you say, y/n? Where does it hurt, baby?,” his voice snapped you back to reality. He was looking down at you, and you mumbled to him that you didn’t know. “You don’t know, hmm?,” he taunted. “Says the great y / n who always makes decisions first.” “What’s it to you, Munson?,” you jokingly snapped back. “Just concerned, is all,” he leaned closer to your face as he said it. Definitely the second way, you thought. He smelled like cigarettes and cheap cologne — your favorite. You couldn’t keep your eyes off his pink lips, as he brought you in for a deep kiss. You smiled into the kiss — he could always make you feel so good and you knew it. “Let me take care of you, sweet thing,” he crooned. You were done for and he knew it. As he deepened the kiss, he pushed your body back towards the headboard of the bed. “Show me where it hurts, princess,” he said once more, this time with a dark glint to his eyes. You moved his hand down your stomach, closer and closer until it was between your legs. “Hurts right here Eds,” you whimpered quietly.

“Tsk tsk tsk, he chuckled. Is this where it hurts the most?” He asked, so innocently. It was going to drive you insane. “Yeah Eds,” you looked away shyly. “Lay back for me sweetheart.” You do just as he says. With one motion, he pulls off your shorts, and then your panties. “Open,” he says as he spreads your legs. You feel his hair tickle the side of your thighs, as he rubs his nose against you. “Such a pretty girl…,” he coos, and starts to slowly glide his tongue over you. You practically beamed from the praise. You were so wet, and all you could focus on were those brown eyes looking back up at you. His metal rings felt cold against your thigh, his big hands leaving marks from where he’s gripping you.

He ran his tongue expertly around your folds, using his fingers as a guide. He finds your clit and starts sucking on it — making you about to burst over the edge. “Ah… Eddie…” you stiffly moan. “N - I’m gonna…”

He then pulled away as you let out a small whimper. “Now, now, y / n. I can’t have you cumming just yet. Wouldn’t it be much better if you came on my cock instead?,” he asks sweetly. You can’t even look at him right now. “On your back for me, sweet girl.” He then pulls you further down, running kisses all over your neck and chest. He fumbles a bit trying to undo your light pink bra — you picked it out just for him. “Shit.,” he grimaces. “Eds, babe do you need a little help with that?,” you tease. Eddie sighs, defeated. You take that as an answer and unclasp your bra for him. “So big…” he stares in awe at your boobs. You and Eddie have sex a lot, usually every time you see each other. Yet he still can never get used to your boobs — he found them incredibly hot. He suckled your boobs as you ran your hand through his thick hair. You ran your knee over his jeans. You could feel that he was rock hard now — the sight of you and you alone drove him feral. And you loved it.

“Eds,” you whined. “Let’s get these clothes off you.” He obliged as you pull off his shirt, revealing his skinny frame with a few tattoos scattered all over his chest. He wore a guitar pick as a necklace, which you found to be incredibly cute. “Eds…” you say, looking up at him while giving your best puppy face. “I want a turn too,” you say, tugging at his belt. “Please?” “I can’t say no to that pretty little face of yours, princess. I’m all yours,” he motions and then sits on the bed, legs spread. You get below him and start unbuckling his belt and jeans with fervor. Finally, you get all that off and see his thick cock protruding through his boxers. One of the many things you loved about Eddie — he was, unlike other guys, quite well endowed. Maybe about 7 and a half inches, he bragged to you about it once. It was so pretty, his cock. Thick and long too, but skinner near the top. It was aching. You needed to soothe it. You traced the large veins that were bulging out of him as he moaned.

“What’s the matter, big girl? My cock too big for your pretty little mouth to handle?,” he crooned at you. “N-n-no Eds. It’s just fine,” you reply back to him. You begin to pepper some light kisses all over his swollen cock, especially the soft little head. You could see some pre-cum leaking out already, and you wipe that off with a little kiss, while your other hand holds his balls in place. “Feel how full they are, sweetheart? All full of cum, just for you,” he taunts. “You ready?,” he asks. You nod. He lifts your chin up with one hand. “Open that mouth for me.” You do as he says. He brings his face down to yours, and spits in your mouth. Leaving your mouth open, he slowly slides his cock in. You can feel all the veins and the warmth as he begins to fuck your face. You gag as you look up at him. “Doing so good for me, pretty girl. Taking my cock so well,” Eddie moaned, smiling. You loved looking up at him from down here. “Shit.. gotta fuck you right now.” he pulled out, you gagging. You okay?” “Mhmm.. you nodded, eager to take him down your throat again.

“Okay sweetheart…, he says with a grin. Want me to fill you up?” “You do nothing but nod vehemently. “Use your words, baby.” He says gently, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “I want you, Eddie. Please. Want your cock in me, filling me up,” you whimper. “Jesus. Now how can I say no to that face?” he moans.

He flips you over so you’re now on your Stomach. You arch your back and he uses his hands to spread you open a bit. “What a good girl. So ready for me,” he croons sweetly, before slowly sliding his length into you. Your eyes roll back into your head as you feel yourself stretching around him. Ever so slowly, he reaches deep in you, and you felt his cock twitch inside you. “Eddie… you moan. So big…” “Yeah? He asks, with his eyes fixated on you. Well you be a good girl and take it now, okay? Think that sweet little pussy can take daddy’s cock?” His hands rightly grip your hips as he starts to pound into you faster and faster. “Fuck, princess… he moans. You’re so tight. His moans get louder and his voice gets deeper. He presses himself against you, you can feel his breath on your ear as he relentlessly pounds into you. Your vision getting blurry, you feel that coil building up in your stomach.

“Fuck Eds - gonna - ah - gonna cum,” you whine, your face all red from the overstimulation. “G-good, Eddie barely mutters out. M- I’m close baby,” he replies. Your eyes roll back into your head as you stop breathing, arching your back towards him as the orgasm rocked you in waves. He finishes soon after you, you feel the rumble of his grunts against your back. He then slowly slides out of you, his cock going limp. “Let me clean you up, you giggle, breathlessly, as you lick the cum right off him and swallow. “Taste any good, y / n?,” Eddie chuckles, smiling that infectious smile of his. “So good,”you chuckle. After you’re done, he brings a towel and gently wipes over your pussy, all red and sensitive.

“Not hurting you, am I, princess?” He rasps. “No Eds. Feels much better, actually.” “Oh yeah?” he asks. “Looks like all my girl needed was a bit of cock,” he chuckled, and gave you a few quick pecks along your cheek, running his fingers through your hair.

You put on a fresh pair of panties and his Hellfire shirt, which he found incredibly cute. You slowly walked over to the couch where he was waiting for you, and pulled you into his lap. “Hey y / n …” he starts. Yeah, baby? You reply. “I love you. You know that, right?” You chuckle. “Of course baby. I love you too. And I love that you care for me this much.” “You know it princess. You’re mine, don’t forget that.” “ I won’t, Eds.” You giggle, and bring him into a kiss. “Now how about a little Freddy Krueger to get us going?” Eddie stands up from the couch and comically does a little jig. Boy do you love him. Looks like you get both options after all - a cozy movie night, and some sweet time with your man. Best of both worlds.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #st 4 #joseph quinn #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #smut #eddie munson headcanon #i want him #i need him

[emilykaldwen]

Definitely issues within the different communities on here including the OC community in the past few years for different reasons like stealing ideas etc and having all these people come forwards saying they had been stolen from and they'd been saying it for a long time but they were constantly told to basically shut up because the instigator had a huge following and influential friends. The person in question was part of a group of people who held hierarchy here once but the thing is a good percentage of them were fine, they didn't act like they were the hierarchy. It was others who made them like that through perception and the way they treated those people wanting their attention etc. It was the minority who abused the position they found themselves in.

However I feel the OC community is now currently dead in the water because that hierarchy has been dissembled, and it shows how much we gathered around them as an epicenter. They dictated trends for fandoms and what we made OCs for etc. There is people trying to form a new hub by making challenges etc but it feels like flagging a dead horse. Plus some of them have bad rep for just courting so called popular people. You can't build community that way but I think they're making the effort now to be better and make a difference.

A few people in the hierarchy who I admired well their true colours show now like hate reading fic etc. I still can't believe they believed their own hype to the point they thought they were superior to other creators on here. Also the person who stole from so many people. That was really bad. Another person I admired would get upset if a new 'contender' emerged whose amazing edits and ideas would naturally get attention. They would openly say how upset they were at this, say they saw this other person as a rival and anyone who sent this rival asks was a backstabber and it was up to the rival to comfort and reassure them and downplay their own talents to be accepted. This person was then applauded for being vulnerable and open? Like what? You rip down this other creator passive aggressively resulting in them crawling on their belly to appease you and offer comfort, as if THEY did something wrong. Again this was a person I really admired once. But talent doesn't make them good people.

Fandoms are the same there is all these toxic elements. I would just love to enjoy the view and share my stuff and other people's stuff. But people only want to like stuff for some reason. I don't mind if it's to bookmark it but for real I wish they would goddamn disable the like button. If you like it enough to like them surely it stands you like it ro reblog?

You're doing the right thing keeping to your friends. Ignore people who call you a clique. They're the reason why we build walls around our friendship groups and ourselves. People are always on the attack or dictating or social climbing. If you find a good person then ofc you're going to protect that friendship and yourself.

Anon, first off, I just wanna say I'm really sorry you've dealt with all of this. The last majorly active fandom (fic wise) I was involved in was over two decades ago, but I have heard and seen the horror stories. I've had friends cry over having things stolen, of hearing the horror stories over people out there who want to rally up and drag anyone who dares call out the theft and bad behavior.

We are human, and we are creative human and wanting recognition and validation for our hard work is never a bad thing. We love being told good job! Well done!

I have dealt with a person like this last summer who I thought made friends with, but then twisted themselves into thinking everything I did in pursuing my own stories was a direct attack on them/in direct response. I had to have friends step in because I was so utterly fucking confused and frankly hysterical.

I'll say this: it's rarely ever just one person. It's the people around them who enable it, who don't call out behavior, because again, we like validation, we don't want to rock the boat. If someone is stealing, or being a bully, call them out. And if they don't listen, just dump them. You and everyone else will be better for it.

I'm in my mid-30s at this point. I've been around the drama friends before and I want no part of it. I'm not here to have a million followers. I'm here to make connection with people that feel meaningful. And others may see that connection as alienating. But I mean... I walked into this fandom and saw... a lot happening. A lot that I didn't want a part of.

Fandom is meant to be a place where we can support each other creatively. And if you're jealous, that is a you thing and it's nothing to be ashamed of feeling, but it is your responsibility to handle. (and I mean a general YOU, not specifically you, anon). This was the issue with the friend I broke away from last year.

There is, in fact, enough internet to go around. How often do we go searching for stories of the same trope and same pairings? No one is going to complain about more chocolate chip cookies at the bake sale.

As an OC writer, I don't know where I stand in fandom. I try to keep my nose out of it, but I do get heated when I see friends and otherwise chill people getting caught unfairly. I just want to write my fic that I'm working really hard on, and I'm sharing it because I want to reach other people and make connections.

#I don't know where I'm going with this #but I want you to know you're not alone #and I'm sorry this person is an asshole #I don't know what's happening over in that part of fandom #like I said I just stick here #but I'm really sorry for everyone involved in whatever is happening #and I just want people to know it's okay to just do your thing #everyone wants to belong #we all feel lonely

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Since I was gone so long I thought I might do a little reintroduction 🧠

Hey people I love! 🫀

My name is Colson but you can call me Col or Jinx. I was on here originally as Jinx before my Tumblr disappeared but for about two years I've been back and mostly used Col. I'm great with either 🌹

I'm a trans man, he/they 🏳️‍⚧️

I'm mostly a Yungblud and Machine Gun Kelly fan page, I do fics, updates, and pic edits but I do a little bit of everything with a lot of my life sprinkled in, sometimes including my health problems (I'm open about all of it if you ever have questions) I actually love questions and asks as long as people are nice 🖤

Just thought I'd introduce myself in case any of my mutuals are new. This is somewhat of an 18+ blog, at least leaning that way but all I mean by that is sometimes subjects are a little mature. Thank you for stopping by and I hope you enjoy! Stay a while if you want just please be respectful. I don't tolerate any racism or hate against the LGBTQIA+ or mental or physical health hate. I'm sure I'm missing something but you get the idea I'm sure. I love you all and I'm here if you need me!

-Col the Jinx 💕

🖤 Masterlist 🖤

Yes Daddy Verse/Saga of Smut

Dom x Colson

Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly

I Think I'm Okay (prequel)

5 Times Col Came in His Pants and 1 Time He Finally Made Dom Do It

Drown Out The Demons

Romcom Bullshit

Much Better Workout

Sex and Candy

Claimed in Ink and Cum

Sweet as Sin

Yes Daddy

Spoiled Princess

What Daddy Likes

Like I Love You

Reverse Cowgirl Barbie

Sex on a Stick

Baby Boy

Pure No Longer

Sext Edits

Adventures in Toyland

Full on Sex Symbol

They Felt Eternal

Their Natural State

Ride or Die

Sin on Stilettos and a Cotton Candy Soul

Crimson Coated Candy

Piss Drenched Devil

Chocolate Kisses and Golden Showers

It's a Nice Day for a White Wedding

Sin in Snow White Taffeta and Latex

Freshly Fucked and Beautifully Filthy Manhandled Marionette of a Bride

Watercolor Wet Dream Come to Life

Drifting Deep in Hopefully Wet Dreamland

Flesh to Flesh

Five Times is a flashback series in the Yes Daddy Verse, it is set between the prequel and the first chapter- Yes Daddy. I placed it all in order 🖤

Adventures in Toyland is a follow up series to the Yes Daddy Verse, I'll still list them all in order and may add to any sections at any time. Let me know if you have ideas! 🖤

It's a Nice Day for a White Wedding is a follow up series to the Yes Daddy Verse happening after Adventures in Toyland, they're all listed in order and you guessed it, the boys finally get married! 🖤

-Omegaverse AU-

Gunpowder and Watermelon

Autocorrected Anxiety Attacks and Messy Sexts

Pachyderms and Pointed Teeth

Knocked Up Knockouts and Cheesy Puns

A Little Less Sparkle, A Little More Reality

The Overwhelming Significance of Surprisingly Small Jellybeans

The Folly of Fracturing Sharp China and Soft Hearts

Fear and Lusting in London Flats

The Inevitability of Egos Clashing and Vicious Tongue Lashings

Of Sugar and Spice and Virgin Tight Asses

A Rebel's Yell and a Gangster's Paradise

Candy Hearts and Paper Cut Families

Photogenic Admissions and Confessional Panic Attacks

Little Shop of (W)horrors in a Pastel Hell

The Inescapable Moment of Truth and the Consequences of Open Black Hearts

Milk Chocolate Cherry Kisses and Birthday Wishes

Working Out the Kinks Under Hot Lights and Wanting Stares

The Taming of a Wild Boy

The Dynamics of a Bright Future and How to Reach It

Pride and Phenomenal Passion

Stereotypes and Salt in the Wound

What to Expect from an Expecting Omega

Patched Up Cuts and Mixed Up Blood

Alpha, Omega, a Nuisance, a Rebel

Lost Boy in Toyland

Starry Eyed and Punch Drunk

Mirrored Reflections and Babes from Outer Space

Believing in Love Songs and Tall Tales

Go Down Just Like Holy Mary

Piss Kinks, Morning Drinks, and Brand New Nicknames

Animated Arguments and Matching Love Languages

Screaming and Dreaming for the Future

Son of Rage and Love

Son of a Bitch and Edgar Allan Poe

Couch Confessions and Heavy Petting

Early Spawning and Other Lessons (Family Don't End With Blood)

One Flew Over the Klepto's Nest

Old Magic and Animal Aptitude

Strawberries and Cinnamon Toast

Your Body is a Wonderland

Born With Horns

In the Midst of Mild Madness

What's in a Name?

Spare the Rod Spoil the Alpha

To Cut or Not to Cut

Our Blood Got Mixed Up So I Guess We Belong to Each Other

Feels Like the Very First Time

Headboards and Scratched Tats

Best Alarm Clock

The Beasts Inside Disguised as Beauty

Popsicles and Pink Cheeks

The omegaverse AU is separate from the Yes Daddy Verse. The boys are still themselves but in an ABO world. Alpha Col and Omega Dom

-The Viking and the Fae- (an AU)

Where the Sea and Land Kiss

A Chieftain's Vow

Under the Thrall

The Long Sword's Hilt

Taste Like the Sea

Inga Knows Best

Feast Fit for a King

How the Waves Dance

The Forest Meets the Sea

The Soulmate Stalemate

The Taste of Truth and Tall Tales

The Wave Cresting

The Wave That Drowns

The Red Sea and the Viking Who Conquered It

Seal With a Kiss

A Broken Past and a Sea of Tears

The Siren's Tease and the Secrets Spilled

War and Pieces of Each Other

The Storm that Rocks the Waves

The Hush Between

Viking/Selkie AU. Separate from other fics but still Dom and Colson

#introduction #life update #col rambles #jinx rambles #my fics #masterlist #com #yes daddy verse #yungblud and machine gun kelly #dom and colson #yungblud #machine gun kelly #5 times col came in his pants and the 1 time he made dom do it #adventures in toyland #its a nice day for a white wedding

[astralpenguin]

you're the only newtmas author i still read regularly, so:

what's one fic you'd rewrite if you had the chance? favorite newtmas trope? favorite trope overall?

and one fic you would write if you could, but you never found the time/energy to do it!

dfjgs i'm honoured <33

i don't think i'd rewrite any of my fics. my writing has definitely improved since writing the lead me to a future series, and it's noticeable to me whenever i reread it (which is fairly often) that it could be better, but the occasional awkward turn of phrase or noticeable crutch word isn't enough to make me want to rewrite it. i plan on making some edits to wckd academy over the next few weeks (i want to finally remove all hp references and alter some minor backstory details that upon reflection were Bad and should never have been included), but i won't be touching any of its awkward turns of phrase either kjdfhsg. i'm proud of what i've achieved, awkward phrasing and all!!

favourite newtmas trope is a hard question lmao but my first thought was: newt falls first, thomas falls harder. i will not elaborate <3 (unless i'm requested to kjshdf)

favourite trope overall is an even harder question and my first thought for an answer is something which is totally irrelevant to tmr which is: depictions of and explorations of consensual and/or collaborative possession and how it can possibly morph to and from non-consensual possession. possession as horror (see: supernatural, undertale/deltarune depending on your interpretation of the player character) and possession as a fun way to get super close with your non-corporeal bestie (see: venom, undertale/deltarune depending on your interpretation of the player character) and the interplay thereof fucks severely. i very recently upped my rating of a book by a whole star (from 4 to 5) because there was some funky possession shenanigans at the end

does finishing the tmr death note au count for that question? i feel like it should lmao i got 70k in and newtmas had literally only just met each other. i think that fic will be great once it's finished! i think it'll make people cry a lot! but i haven't touched it in over a year so who the fuck knows when that will actually happen lmao. i also had an idea for a yuki yuna is a hero au (i think it would work very well - kids being exploited in order to fend off an apocalypse that's never going to stop coming no matter how many lives are lost in the process) but that would be another novel length fic in itself so it's never even been written down. also i have this whole plan for a rewrite of seasons 8 and 9 of supernatural where dean brings emma back from purgatory that i would very much love to write one day but alas. time and energy say no

#ty for the questions this was a lot of fun!!! i hope my rambling makes sense sdjfhgkj #asks #fixation-central #tmr #newtmas