#But room that green just gives eerie vibe

[dabblersofnonsense]

Care to sit?

Kofi

[minkydinks]

SeaWings

SeaWings won the latest poll for which tribe I should flesh out next. I had a lot of fun with this one, even though it's stupidly tricky to get ocean vibes out of a big lizard. Forgive some of the messiness.

General

In my headcanon of WoF, SeaWings are very large, powerful aquatic dragons. Most trend toward a resemblance to varanid lizards like Komodo Dragons, or the extinct Mosasaurs. SeaWings sit as the overall largest dragon tribe, weighing the most on average. However, MudWings are dimensionally taller/wider, despite sitting at second heaviest.

SeaWings, despite having a thick layer of fat to insulate them, are incredibly muscular. Their tails especially; a SeaWing's tail is capable of breaking the bones of another dragon with enough force put into its swing.

While they do have wings that can be used for flight, they lack the appropriate wing musculature for extended air travel. Their wings are shaped in a way that allows them to catch ocean currents and ride them.

Unlike most other dragons, SeaWings have quite small scales, somewhat like fish.

A great portion of a SeaWing's scales have the ability to produce light. While not entirely obvious when only a few scales are lit, an average SeaWing with determination can light up a room with their luminescence. Aside from a handful in some places, most SeaWings are able to produce small lightshows across their scales, controlling the shapes the light of their scales make. Some SeaWings prefer to light up in spirals or starbursts, while others may prefer splotches or stripes. This is similar to RainWings' ability to change their scale color at will (and into any pattern they choose), but with light!

While they are primarily water-breathing, they are very capable of air-breathing when necessary. However, they rely on staying hydrated. Most SeaWings will trap water in pockets within their gills, and seal them shut if they plan to be away from water for extended periods. A SeaWing with empty gills can only be away from water for a few hours, while a SeaWing with full gills can be away from water for up to 2 days. Their gills can be refilled by drinking water, but they find it much faster to submerge.

SeaWing jaws have the ability to extend forward out of their mouths when they take large bites; similar to Goblin Sharks. Their jaw naturally retracts inward when their mouth is closed. For small bites, their jaw does not extend outward enough to be very noticeable.

When training for combat against a SeaWing, many dragons are warned that a SeaWing's looks can be deceiving; with this jaw mechanism, they can reach farther than you would expect. Just when you think you're out of reach, they've got you in their grip.

SeaWings can physically vary depending on a lot of factors, and are one of the most diverse dragon tribes.

They are one of only a few dragons with sexual dimorphism; female SeaWings (if they have sensory organs) have two pairs of 'whiskers' extending from their snouts, while males only have one pair. Female SeaWings also tend to be larger than males.

Deepwater SeaWings are one of the rarer variations of SeaWings; they frequent the deepest depths of the SeaWing kingdom and prefer to stay where it's dark. They tend to be very dark shades of blue, purple, green, and red; but their accents are often reds, pinks, yellows, and greens.

Deepwater SeaWings have the best night vision of all SeaWings, and their eyes are fairly translucent-looking, giving them an eerie gaze. They also have the brightest luminescence of any SeaWing, and their glow can be seen from very far away.

Surface SeaWings are the most common type of SeaWing found in the tribe. They frequent the open ocean and are vibrant hues of blues and sea greens. Their accents are usually green, orange, yellow, or red (rarely). Surface SeaWings lack the distinct 'whisker' sensory organs, since the visibility of their most frequented region is high. Their night vision is adequate, but not ideal for the deepest depths, or the darkest nights.

Freshwater SeaWings are the lightest in color; mostly sky-blues, light pinks or greys, and near whites. They're pearlescent and smooth, almost like fish. Freshwater SeaWings prefer the crisp coolness of fresh water in their gills; inhabiting deep rivers and pristine inland lakes, like Lake Crystal (headcanon). But, they are happy living alongside ocean SeaWings as well. When a Freshwater SeaWing wants to join the ocean side of the kingdom, they must undergo acclimation by spending time in brackish water, to adjust their gills to the salt.

Freshwater SeaWings have the least luminescence and minimal night vision. Their night vision is adequate for nights with half moons or fuller, but any darker and they tend to struggle.

Culture

SeaWings are spread throughout Pyrrhia, far and wide. Despite being the largest dragon species, their population is staggering due to the abundance of water (uninhabited by other tribes), and food.

While all SeaWings are ruled by one queen, they are broken up into many different living situations. Freshwater SeaWings prefer the comfort of inland territory, living as far north as the IceWing Kingdom. Ocean SeaWings tend to stick to the luxuries their original territory near the queen's palaces.

In olden days, there were smaller palaces in large inland lakes. Queens would send their relatives — usually nieces and daughters — to rule and watch over the Freshwater half of their tribe. If their relatives succeeded in their trial ruling, they would be ready to challenge the queen herself for the total rule of the entire tribe. This is an occurrence that has long since been retired due to Queen Coral's caution about her daughters' whereabouts; although the princesses have considered reinstating this tradition and making it a peaceful ascension through ruler's trial, like RainWings. (Anemone thanks Tamarin for the idea.)

Nowadays, the old freshwater palaces are communal spaces, manufacturing plants, or major hospitals; where SeaWings gather to help one another and create various essentials.

Despite the vastly different lifestyles of each type of SeaWing, there is surprisingly very little friction between them. SeaWings regularly commune with each other no matter their region of origin, and several members of SeaWing royalty are even mix-breeds of freshwater, surface, or deep water. (Some SeaWings are a bit more judgemental though.)

SeaWing tradition calls for a special ceremony whenever a member of the tribe wishes to life-partner with another dragon. In this ceremony, the SeaWings will celebrate for 3 nights.

On the first night, the pair of SeaWings will celebrate their partnership with friends; dancing and feasting. On the second night, the pair will celebrate with family; introducing one another and receiving blessing and honor from parents and siblings. On the third night, the pair celebrates by themselves, in a Moonlight serenade at the water's surface. They swim and glide and dance, and ask the moon Imperial for its blessing in their partnership. If Imperial remains clear and visible for the duration of the serenade, they take it as an omen that their partnership will be successful.

During royal ceremonies, the Moonlight Serenade takes place above the palace, where the moonlight can shine through the open skylight, and the kingdom can dance with them. The water will also be lit with bioluminescent plankton, creating a beautiful and unforgettable scene.

[reallygroovyninja]

Part 1

Clarke turned off the main highway and onto the winding backroads that led to her inheritance - an old Victorian house that once belonged to her Great Aunt Becca. As she drove through the dense woods, the sun started to set, casting long shadows across the overgrown road. 

Up ahead, she spotted the battered mailbox with "Woodhaven Manor" painted across it in fading letters. She pulled into the long, gravel driveway that cut through the trees, branches scratching against the car windows as she slowly made her way towards the secluded home. 

In the dim light, Clarke could just make out the shape of the three-story mansion, with its peeling paint and creepers snaking up the walls. The place looked forgotten by time, exactly as her aunt had described years ago when telling young Clarke stories about her eccentric old home. 

Pulling up to the creaking front porch, Clarke put the car in park and took a deep breath. She had inherited this place after her aunt's recent passing, sight unseen. As she stepped out into the cool, evening air, she felt both excitement and apprehension about what awaited inside. 

The woods surrounding the old manor house took on an eerie vibe at night. Clarke grabbed her bags quickly and headed to the front door, ready to start unraveling the mysteries held within the walls of this secluded, vintage mansion left all to her. 

Stepping onto the creaking porch, Clarke fished the old bronze key out of her bag, the one the lawyer had given her. She slipped it into the rusty keyhole and turned it slowly. The front door let out a long groan as she pushed it open, revealing nothing but inky darkness within. 

Clarke pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight, casting a dim glow over the entry hall inside. She could just make out the silhouettes of sheet-draped furniture, dusty floors, and a sweeping staircase. 

The lawyer had told her the power was still connected so she just needed to locate the light switch. Clarke waved her phone around, spotting cobwebs in the corners and peeling wallpaper. She found the switch, flicking it on with hope. 

The entry hall remained drowned in shadows. Just the faintest buzzing indicated the electricity was running, but the old bulbs had apparently burned out. Clarke sighed, using her phone to light the way as she gingerly stepped inside. 

Her footsteps echoed across the creaking floorboards as she explored the first room. Aside from her phone's beam, the house remained pitch black. She couldn't wait to get some lights on and really see what this timeworn manor held within its walls. 

Passing through an arched doorway, Clarke entered what appeared to be the living room. Her phone flashed over a vintage sofa and chairs, all covered in white sheets. Clarke noticed an old lamp sitting on a nearby table. She headed over, turning it on with hopes the wiring still worked. 

The lamp flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the room. Clarke could now make out more details - the intricate molding along the walls, the heavy drapes blocking the windows. Over the fireplace mantel hung a large, gilded frame. 

Stepping closer, Clarke illuminated the portrait within. It was of a beautiful young woman with long, chestnut brown hair, piercing green eyes, and a soft smile. Clarke knew this wasn't her Great Aunt Becca, who had blonde hair like Clarke. She wondered who the mysterious woman was. 

With the lamp now giving off some ambiance, Clarke spotted a light switch by the doorway and flipped it on. The antique chandelier overhead came to life, fully lighting up the spacious living room. 

Clarke gazed around, taking it all in. This room seemed rich with history and secrets waiting to be uncovered. She already felt herself growing curious about the house's past inhabitants, particularly the striking brunette immortalized in the mantel portrait. 

After checking out the living room, Clarke ventured up the creaking staircase, her phone lighting the way. She wished she had booked a room at the cozy inn right off the highway instead of staying in this dusty old house her first night. But it was too late now, so she'd have to make do. 

"You just had to try and save money by staying here, didn't you Clarke," she muttered to herself as she climbed the stairs. 

On the second floor, Clarke peeked into several bedrooms draped in sheets. One room looked more inviting than the rest, with a polished wood bedframe and floral wallpaper. Clarke entered and opened the curtains, moonlight streaming through the window's stained glass. 

"Well, at least this room doesn't look completely ancient," she said, running a finger over the furniture and examining the layer of dust. 

Searching the closets, she miraculously found clean linen that didn't smell too musty. Clarke made up the bed, coughing a bit as dust flew up from the nightstand when she spread the sheets. 

"Guess this will have to do for the night," she sighed. 

Too exhausted to explore further, Clarke set her bags down and changed into pajamas. As she climbed into the creaky bed, she heard the house settle and groan around her. 

"Please let me get some sleep and not run into any ghosts tonight," she whispered into the darkness. Despite her unease, Clarke's eyes soon closed, giving in to much-needed sleep. 

That night, Clarke drifted into a deep but fitful sleep. Strange dreams came to her in fragments - she was wandering the house's halls at night, hearing whispers around each corner. Shadowy figures flickered at the edge of her vision. She called out for them to show themselves but woke up before anything appeared. 

"That was strange..." she mumbled in her half-asleep state. 

Another dream found her standing in the overgrown garden outside. The brunette from the living room portrait walked by Clarke with a sad smile. Clarke tried to call out to her but couldn't make a sound. 

"Wait, come back!" Clarke wanted to say but the words wouldn't come. The mysterious woman disappeared into the hazy garden mist before Clarke could follow. 

Clarke stirred briefly from these unsettling dreams but exhaustion kept pulling her back under. When morning finally came, sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, rousing Clarke awake. 

She sat up in bed, momentarily disoriented by her surroundings. "Where...oh right, the house," she muttered, remembering the night before. 

Then the previous night came back - the long drive, arriving at the inherited mansion past dark, making a bed in this dusty room. 

Clarke rubbed her eyes and stretched. "At least I got some sleep in this old place." 

She felt well-rested in spite of the strange dreams. Ready to explore the house in daylight, she got up and changed into fresh clothes, eager to learn more about her new home and its history. 

After getting dressed, Clarke made her way back downstairs. Sunlight now streamed through the living room windows, giving her a clearer view of the space. She paused to examine the portrait above the mantel again. 

"Hmm, you look familiar," Clarke murmured, gazing at the painted woman. "Wait..." 

The young brunette woman gazed back at Clarke with her piercing green eyes. Something about her elegant features stirred a memory in Clarke's mind. Then she recalled glimpsing this woman in her dream last night, wandering through the misty garden. 

"That's so weird..." Clarke said out loud. She hadn't noticed the resemblance when first seeing the woman in her dream last night. She stared at the painting, trying to determine if she was imagining things. 

But the more she looked, the more the woman resembled the figure from her dream. Clarke shook her head, laughing softly at herself. "Get a grip Griffin, just a coincidence," she muttered. With a last lingering glance, she turned and continued exploring the first floor. 

Leaving the living room, Clarke wandered into what appeared to be a formal dining area. A long, polished wood table was surrounded by high-backed chairs upholstered in faded green fabric. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, covered in a layer of dust. 

"Fancy," Clarke murmured, running her fingers over the intricate carvings in the chair backs. "I bet they hosted some elegant dinner parties in here." 

Moving through an arched doorway, she entered the kitchen. It looked straight out of the 1970s with its mustard yellow appliances and linoleum tile floors. The cabinets were made of a dark stained wood that matched the dining table. Avocado green countertops completed the retro look. 

"Hello 1975 called, they want their kitchen back," Clarke chuckled to herself as she opened the refrigerator. Not surprised to find it empty and switched off. 

She tried the faucet and was relieved when cool water sputtered out. "At least the plumbing works," she sighed. 

Clarke opened drawers and cabinets, mostly bare except for some faded cookware. "Sure wish these cabinets could talk," she mused. Clarke wondered if a family had once cooked meals and laughed around this kitchen.  

After exploring the main floors, Clarke's stomach started to growl. She realized she needed to go pick up some groceries and supplies. The lawyer had mentioned a small general store in the nearby town that would have basics. But for more options, there was a MegaValue and bigger stores about 20 minutes farther out. 

Clarke decided to try the general store first. She grabbed her purse and keys and headed out the front door. The fresh air felt nice after being inside the musty house. 

She drove down the long driveway until she reached the two-lane road. Following the lawyer's directions, she made her way toward the center of the small rural town. 

Pulling up to the general store, Clarke could see it looked like something straight from the 1950s. She went inside, greeted by creaky wood floors and floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked haphazardly with food and goods. 

Clarke grabbed a basket and started perusing the aisles. She picked up bread, peanut butter, cereal and other non-perishable items. At the back, she found the cleaning supplies and opted for natural cleaners to help freshen the house. 

Clarke brought her basket of items up to the antique register. An older woman with curly grey hair and kind eyes smiled at her. "Find everything ok, dear?" 

"Yes, thank you," Clarke replied. 

The woman rang up the items while making pleasant small talk. "Haven't seen you around before, just passing through?" 

Clarke explained, "Actually, I just inherited the Woodhaven Manor house from my Great Aunt Becca." 

"Old Becca!" the woman exclaimed. "Oh I knew her well. So sorry for your loss. That's quite an estate she's left you." Her expression grew serious. "But you know, some say that old place is haunted." 

Clarke's eyes widened. "Haunted?" 

"Rumor is there was a murder there long ago," the owner whispered. "Folks claim to see a ghostly young woman wandering the gardens at night. Beauty with long brown hair." She leaned in close. "But mind you, I don't believe in ghosts! Just bored townspeople letting their imaginations run wild cause it's an old creaky house." 

Clarke nodded politely, hiding her unease. She paid for her items and said goodbye, the owner's words lingering as she drove back to the manor. 

Back at the house, Clarke brought her supplies inside. "Okay, let's get to work," she said to herself. 

She put away the food and decided to start cleaning the bedroom she'd slept in last night first. 

Heading upstairs with some all-purpose cleaner and rags, Clarke pushed the furniture to the center of the room and began diligently dusting. "Geez, look at all this dust!" she coughed as she wiped down the surfaces. 

Once everything was dust-free, Clarke began scrubbing the wood floorboards to restore their shine. "These floors are so gorgeous under all this grime," she remarked as she scrubbed on her hands and knees. 

At the windows, she washed away years of dirt, letting sunlight stream in. "That's better," Clarke declared. The white lace curtains were dingy, so Clarke made a mental note to replace them. 

Stepping back to survey her work, Clarke smiled with satisfaction. "Much improved!" The room already looked one hundred times better. She felt motivated to tackle the rest of the bedrooms next. Breathing deeply, she caught a hint of lemon from her natural cleaner, a refreshing change from the previous mustiness. 

After spending the day cleaning, Clarke was exhausted. She tidied up the cleaning supplies and washed off the day's grime. 

Too tired to eat, she quickly changed into pajamas. As Clarke settled into the freshly made bed, she deeply breathed in its clean scent before instantly falling asleep. 

That night the dreams returned. Clarke found herself standing in the overgrown garden from before. She spotted the chestnut-haired woman from the living room portrait sitting on a stone bench reading a book, looking deeply sad. 

Clarke slowly approached, wanting to comfort her. But the woman suddenly glanced up, startling at the sight of Clarke. She quickly rose and hurried away, disappearing into the mist before Clarke could call out. 

"Wait, please!" Clarke tried to yell, but no sound came. She attempted to run after the fleeing woman but found herself moving in slow motion. 

Just before the mist enveloped her completely, the woman paused and glanced back at Clarke with mournful green eyes. Then the garden faded to black and Clarke woke with a gasp. 

Catching her breath, Clarke stared out the window at the moonlit yard. The dream had felt so vivid. She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all before exhaustion pulled her back into slumber. 

Clarke slept soundly the rest of the night, with no more dreams of the mysterious woman. When morning sunshine filtered into the bedroom, she awoke feeling rested. 

As Clarke got ready for the day, her thoughts returned to the strange dream from last night. 

"Who is that woman?" she wondered aloud. "And why do I keep seeing her in these dreams?" 

Clarke shook her head, confused by it all. She didn't put much stock in dreams usually.  

"Maybe I've looked at that portrait in the living room too many times and my mind is inserting her into dreams," Clarke mused and laughed softly to herself. She was probably making this into something bigger than it was. Still, the dreams left her feeling unsettled, like the woman was sad and needed help. 

"Get it together, Clarke," she muttered. "It was just a dream." She finished getting ready and headed downstairs, eager to explore more of the house. 

Over the next several days, Clarke worked to clean every inch of the old mansion. She scrubbed floors, washed walls, and cleared out cobwebs and dust. Slowly but surely, the beautiful home began to shine again. 

During her exploration, Clarke searched for more clues about the house's previous inhabitants but found very little. The identity of the woman in the portrait remained a mystery. 

Each night as Clarke slept, she would have the same dream again and again. She was in the misty garden, chasing after the fleeing brown-haired woman, calling for her to stop, but never able to reach her. 

Every morning Clarke awoke puzzled. She started to wonder if these dreams meant something more, rather than just being random figments of her imagination. 

The woman was clearly connected to this house in some way. Clarke wished she could communicate with her, help ease the sadness that seemed to linger around her. 

But each night the dream remained the same - the woman always staying tantalizingly out of reach. Clarke resolved to keep digging through the house's past, hoping to uncover the secret of the woman's identity and why she lingered here. 

After a long day of cleaning, Clarke's cell phone rang. She smiled when she saw it was her best friend Raven calling. 

"Hey Raven!" Clarke answered. 

"Clarke! How's the mansion life treating you?" Raven asked. 

"Oh, you know, lounging by the pool while my butler keeps my drink filled," Clarke joked. "But it's coming along well. I'm almost done with the main floors." 

"That's awesome," said Raven. "What's next on your list?" 

"The attic," Clarke replied. "From what I could see, it's totally jam-packed with furniture, trunks, boxes. I'm hoping I can find some valuable items from the previous occupants." 

"Ooh, mysterious," Raven said. "Found any ghosts up there yet?" 

Clarke hesitated. "Well, actually, I've been having these really vivid dreams about a woman here." She described the recurring dream of chasing the brown-haired woman through the misty garden. 

"Whoa," Raven reacted when Clarke finished. "Think it's the ghost of someone who used to live there?" 

"I don't know," Clarke admitted. "It feels so real when I'm dreaming it. I want to find out who she is. I'm hoping the attic might have some clues." 

Raven whistled through the phone. "Well now I'm thoroughly intrigued! You'll have to let me know if you uncover anything juicy." 

Clarke smiled. "Will do. Talk soon Raven!" They hung up and Clarke felt motivated to explore that attic first thing tomorrow. 

That night, for the first time in over a week, Clarke did not dream of the mysterious brown-haired woman. But when she awoke the next morning, she still felt oddly tired, as if she had slept at all. 

"Ugh, so sleepy," Clarke grumbled as she dragged herself out of bed. She shuffled to the kitchen and brewed a full pot of strong, black coffee. 

As she sipped, Clarke mentally prepared for the task ahead - tackling the attic. She was eager to uncover any treasures hidden up there, especially if they held clues about the woman's identity from the portrait in the living room. 

"Here goes nothing," Clarke said, finishing her coffee. She grabbed her flashlight and ascended the rickety attic stairs. Unlatching the door, it swung open with a loud creak, revealing a dark and dusty space crammed with trunks, furniture, boxes, and cobwebs. 

"Whoa, jackpot!" Clarke exclaimed, stepping inside. She opened a large trunk first, coughing as a plume of dust erupted. Inside were aged garments, hats, gloves, and shoes. 

"Fancy stuff," Clarke murmured, holding up a beaded flapper dress. She searched the trunk thoroughly but found no clues. 

Moving on, she pried open a cedar chest filled with vintage books. She flipped through them one-by-one, but they revealed no hidden notes or inscriptions. 

Several more trunks contained only moth-eaten linens and faded quilts. Clarke started to feel discouraged but pressed on, determined to leave no stone unturned in her search to uncover this house’s buried secrets. 

Clarke spent hours searching through the attic's dusty contents. As she opened each trunk and rummaged through the boxes, she discovered the attic was packed with antiques. 

There were ornate mirrors, carved bookshelves, embroidered footstools, globe stands, and many other vintage furnishings. She found a silver tea set that just needed some polish, along with framed paintings of landscapes ready to be hung. 

"Whoa, look at all this stuff," Clarke murmured in awe. The shelves contained rows of leather-bound books, many first editions. 

Clarke realized she would need to call in an appraiser to get estimates. While she hadn't found any family heirlooms to keep personally, these antiques would surely bring in good money at auction. 

"I bet I could get the house renovated just by selling a fraction of this," Clarke thought excitedly. Still, she hoped to uncover objects with deeper meaning related to the house's history. 

For now, Clarke vowed to keep digging through the attic's treasures, imagining the fortunes it may hold. But first she had to clean off the layers of dust coating each antique item. "So much cleaning ahead," Clarke sighed. 

As Clarke searched the attic, she noticed an old trunk peeking out from under a rocking horse. Intrigued, she pulled it out and opened the lid. Inside were bundles of aged letters tied with ribbons, along with some charcoal drawings. 

Clarke carefully picked up one of the letters and examined the flowing script. It was dated 1871 and addressed to someone named Lexa. Clarke read on with excitement: 

My Dearest Lexa, 

My father insists I am to marry Bartholomew Smith. He is a 40-year-old widower with two children who owns a small farm. Father says it is a good match, but I confess I find nothing appealing in it. Bartholomew is so boring and stern, not at all like my beloved. I wish I could run away with you, my heart's desire. Please write and give me strength. 

Yours always, Costia 

"Hmm who is this Lexa that Costia wants to run away with?" Clarke murmured aloud. The letter suggested Lexa and Costia shared an intimate bond. Clarke’s mind spun with questions as she eagerly reached for more letters, hoping to uncover the true nature of Costia and Lexa's relationship. 

Clarke eagerly opened another letter from the trunk, this one dated a few months after the first. The flowing script read: 

Dearest Lexa, 

My misery deepens by the day. Bartholomew insists on visiting my chambers near every night, reeking of spirits and the farm. He wishes me to lay with him and provide an heir. I can barely stand when he paws at me with his grubby hands and fetid breath. 

My only hope is to quicken with child so he will no longer force his vile affections upon me. My heart recoils at his very touch. I often imagine I am in your tender embrace instead, the only one who stirs passion in my soul. Please write again soon, I cherish your words which give me strength. 

Ever Yours, Costia 

Clarke felt her heart ache for Costia as she described her appalling marriage. She longed to know if Costia had managed to find happiness, and what became of her relationship with the mysterious Lexa. More compelled than ever, Clarke returned to the trunk seeking the next letter. 

Clarke became so engrossed in reading the letters, she didn't notice the attic growing dark as the sun began to set. When she finally glanced up, she saw dust motes floating through the last rays of light streaming through the window. 

"Wow, I didn't realize how late it got," Clarke said aloud. She carefully stacked the aged letters she had read so far and stood up. 

Clarke stretched her stiff muscles after sitting hunched over for so long. She was eager to continue reading more but would need better light. Clarke carefully picked up the stack of letters, murmuring, "You're coming with me - I need to know your secrets." 

She left the attic, closing the door behind her. Clarke descended the stairs and headed to the cozy den, where she could curl up near the fireplace to read by lamp light. 

Settling into a leather armchair, Clarke placed the letters on the side table. She added some logs to the fireplace and lit a match, soon filling the den with flickering warmth. Clarke picked up the top letter, thirsty to uncover more clues about Costia and Lexa's tragic tale. 

Clarke unfolds another of Costia's letters, this one expressing despair that she has not yet conceived a child. 

My Dearest Lexa, 

My womb yet remains empty, though not for lack of my husband's efforts. Each night he insists on visiting my bedchamber to perform his conjugal duties, no matter how I wish to refuse him. His rough affections repulse me, but I endure them in hopes of conceiving the child that might grant me reprieve. 

My spirit grows wearier by the day under this barrage I cannot stop. I pray fervently that his labors soon take root so I may have respite from his unwanted touch. 

It shames me to confess these intimate troubles, but you alone understand the true nature of my heart. I cherish the love we shared, untainted by obligation or duty. Thoughts of you sustain me as I await the day I will be freed. Please write again soon, your words shine light into my darkness. 

Yours Most Faithfully, Costia 

Clarke's heart ached as she finished reading Costia's latest letter. "Oh Costia, I'm so sorry," she whispered sadly. 

She couldn't imagine the pain and humiliation Costia must have endured, trapped in a marriage to a man she didn't love. Forced to share his bed night after night. 

"You deserve so much better," Clarke said aloud. She got up and stoked the fire, as if wanting to bring light and warmth to Costia's long-ago suffering. 

Clarke thought back to the love and passion Costia had shared with Lexa. Their relationship seemed one of equals who cared deeply for each other. 

"At least you had your true love for a time," Clarke murmured. Though they were separated now, Lexa had given Costia comfort and strength when she needed it most. 

Clarke wished she could reach across time and give Costia a real friend to support her through the difficult trials of her marriage. But perhaps these letters had been Costia's lifeline to survive. 

Settling back into the leather armchair, Clarke opened the last letter from the stack she had brought down. Unfolding the worn paper, she quickly scanned the flowing script. 

Dearest Lexa, 

The day I have long prayed for is finally here - I am with child! My husband came to me one last time before propriety dictates we must refrain relations until the babe is born. 

While this child is his, you remain my one true love. The passion we shared lights my world in a way duty cannot. I cherish the memories of our time together and keep them close always. 

I confess I wish with all my being this babe had been created from our love, not obligation. But I will care for this innocent life fate has granted me. 

My only solace through the difficulties ahead is knowing our hearts remain entwined, no matter the distance between us. I eagerly await your reply, as your words are like water on a parched soul. 

The love we share keeps my spirit alive. Stay true to me, as I will to you, until the blessed day we meet again. 

Ever Yours, Costia 

Clarke slowly set down the final letter, leaning back to absorb everything she had read. Costia and Lexa had clearly shared a powerful, loving relationship. But then Costia was forced to marry Bartholomew against her wishes. 

"You two deserved so much better. At least you had each other for a time," Clarke said softly. She could tell Lexa had been Costia's lifeline. Their poetic, tragic tale had Clarke hooked. 

She wondered what ultimately became of Costia and Lexa. Did they reunite? Or were they forever kept apart by the circumstances of their time? 

Clarke hoped there were more letters tucked away in the trunk that could give her insight. "Please let there be more," she whispered, eager to learn the full story of the two star-crossed lovers. Their passion and perseverance deeply inspired Clarke. 

[usagirln12003]

Rantaro Amami: Hogwarts AU

Rantaro Amami is a Pureblood wizard that was born on the 3rd of October 1982 and started attending Hogwarts on the 1st of September 1994, being sorted into Gryffindor House.

He had an Mable wand with a Unicorn Hair core.

His Patronus was a Green Iguana.

His favorite subject was Care of Magical Creatures and his least favorite subject was Potions.

When Shuichi and Kaede first met him, Rantaro seemed like a mysterious individual. Later they could see that he is a carefree and relaxed person. Despite his mysteriousness, he is described as one of the more ordinary students of his year, with he himself stating that he can sometimes get a bit overwhelmed by the others' stranger personalities. Nevertheless, he is shown to have more patience than others with some eccentric students like Kokichi Oma and Miu Iruma, having a tendency to just laugh off some of the potentially hurtful things they say. Even though Rantaro cannot remember his childhood, he doesn't seem worried about it. Instead, he simply says he looks forward to finding out about it. He is usually seen smiling and describes himself as "not a suspicious guy,". He gives off a really calm and composed vibe, making him seem like a pretty reliable person.

Despite his appearance and manner of speech, he has cold, excellent insight and is both determined and brave. He even has downright frightening expressions whenever he gets very serious. While the other students descend into confusion and chaos when they realize that they had been forced into a killing game like the ones that Junko & Mukuro orchastrated, he is capable of coldly interrogating the mastermind about their motives. He also shows a deep understanding of the situation and often talks and acts like he knows something the others don't know, saying profound-sounding and enigmatic sentences, which often make him sound suspicious or even eerie. He is shown to be very competent in the Killing Game scenario, understanding that to truly win the game, you must end it instead of outwitting other participants. He warns Kaede about her inspirational speeches and strong cooperation with others, making her a significant threat in the eyes of the mastermind. One time while studying with Kaede in the Gryffindor Common Room, she notices that he calmly observes other students and makes logical assumptions about them. He plans to end the Killing Game, telling the others not to intervene, but he ultimately fails because of Kaede's actions.

People (especially girls) occasionally assume that Rantaro is a womanizer. He is aware that he looks like a "playboy," but he always insists he isn't that kind of person and doesn't have a girlfriend, stating that he's just a chill, friendly guy. Apparently, he dislikes it when people assume he is a womanizer or the kind of person to quickly hook up with someone based on his looks, because his father is one. Once when he, Kaede, and Tsumugi were talking on the Hogwarts Express on their way home from their first year, the two girls talk about how his looks give the impression of a playboy. At the same time, he really isn't that kind of person at all. Tsumugi also seems to assume that he might be gay, considering his insistence on not having a girlfriend and his somewhat stereotypical mannerisms. Since Kaede keeps assuming that his nail art skills are related to a possible girlfriend, he admits it's always been "for family, nothing romantic." Furthermore, he appears a bit awkward whenever other people flirt with him or assume that he is flirting with them, sweating slightly and putting his hand behind his head while smiling awkwardly. Kaede tends to assume he is flirting with her, but he always tells her it's nothing like that.

Due to of having multiple little sisters, he acts like a responsible big brother towards some of his classmates. He has great knowledge of concepts that are considered feminine because he used to help his younger sisters with certain things like schoolwork and nail art. However, Rantaro considers himself a terrible brother after an accident in the past, even calling himself the "Ultimate Useless Older Brother". The possibility of his sisters hating him and their safety in general appears to be his biggest concern, and even though he is seemingly a relaxed person, he is actually very stressed during the Killing Game, because he is very worried about his sisters and feels that he needs to get out fast in order to get back to them. He tends to smile constantly even if he's actually feeling bad on the inside, which is supposedly a habit he developed due to having so many younger siblings to take care of. Very few times, when he gets a feeling that his sisters might accept him, he can have a real smile and laugh. His biggest dream is to reunite his sisters and obtain their acceptance, and he is extremely dedicated to this dream, to the point that he once joked that he may have some sort of sister complex.

Rantaro is shown to be a bit unsure of himself. A lot of this anxiety is related to the stress caused by his sisters' situation. Still, he is also shown to be a bit insecure about his memory issues, assuming that others wouldn't trust someone like him and wondering if he can even trust himself. His unsure nature is also seen in the way he often laughs in a laid-back manner and states that he's just guessing after explaining some of his reasoning. Furthermore, he appears surprised whenever someone is really nice to him, as he blushes and states that it's such a sweet thing to do, clearly not assuming other people would treat him like that. Whenever he is in a bad mood, he tends to sigh in slight annoyance and won't hesitate to openly state out loud that he doesn't want to talk. It's also been shown that, despite his rather chill demeanor, he possesses a no-nonsense attitude towards very immature and childish behavior, at least when it comes from people his age.

Rantaro has had the nature of an adventurer since a young age, as he apparently had a tendency to go on small adventures all by himself. He has also stated that he likes to travel and has done plenty of times, having been to some reasonably dangerous areas and popular tourist destinations. He claims he admires travelers and loves to visit new places and meet new people, and would love to do that his whole life. However, he has stated that he dislikes using the term "traveler" himself, as it's a bit "too romantic" for him.

Shuichi inferred that Rantaro's character before he started Hogwarts was selfless. He willingly joined the Killing Game when he started at Hogwarts and let his memories be modified because he chose to sacrifice himself for the other students.

[necessaryvictoriangargoyle]

I have no idea what my biggest insecurity is. I have many and my top 3 changes constantly.

Probably having less muscle on my than a minecraft skeleton

Y'know what? Yeah! I think I do like the person I am becoming!

Crocheting... among other things... that's just the first thing I could think of.

Not that I'm aware

A hospital. I could tell you where/Which one but I think that information is a bit too private for me to just disclose on the internet.

I don't know. Depends on the person I guess.

Oh I have so many idols in so many different fields! It'd take a whole other 101 list to sum them all up.

At the moment? Not studying. I resolve it by studying.

I'm not sure if this can be concidered boring, but I compose (classical) music... I think most people would consider that to be boring?

In general, yes. I mean, like most of us I assume, I do mold my personality to fit who I am hanging out with but I hope I always leave a bit of that core/central personality of mine behind. So yeah, I do like who I am around others.

My current intention is to become a history teacher in secondary school. Personally I quite like that plan. Nothing compared to what my dreams hold, but still. Sounds like a satisfactory life.

No :)

Can't think of one at the moment, but wait until 2 am and I might have an answer for you.

Not often. It differs every time.

Romantically I like both men and women.

I have 2 parents.

Yes.

Also yes.

I have one sibling who I get along with well enough. We do tease eachother a lot though and I haven't really interacted with him much since nowadays I lock myself up in my room more often than normal due to studying.

Yes, although I can't remember a specifica anecdote to tell you.

Idem.

Not really, although I do kinda hope there is one.

If I knew it was a lie I probably wouldn't believe in it so in all honesty I can't really give you an answer to this question...

Average.

So many options! Perhaps something music related? It is my biggest passion after all.

I'd say I have about three of them that I concider to be my most important friend groups. One of them is rather small with a good 4 friends while the other two are of a considerably larger size. They're all a bit... odd? but in their own way and I love each one of them a lot.

I don't work, I'm still a student at uni.

Yeah sure! I think it'd be nice to be able to be with someone, live with someone, essentially experience everything with someone until death do us part. To me there's something so... comforting? peaceful? heartwarming? about the idea of speding the rest of my life with a partner.

I don't think there's anyone that I haven't really forgiven honestly mainly because there aren't many people that have really wronged me.

The day I finish the last exam of this semester...

That I start my musical education earlier (by which I mean violin, piano and composition).

Any green that is more leniant to blue than yellow.

I have quite a few but for the life of me I can't think of one on the spot...

The Hobbit

Has got to be one of the Lord of the Rings books.

Der Erlkönig by Wolfgang von Goethe

Perhaps one of the Lord of the Rings films?

I have too many and my playlist is too long to scroll down and pick one...

I am a sucker for Indian cuisine

Any type of food that has a texture which cannot decide if it wants to be solid or liquid. Brown beans trigger my gag reflex immensly.

A dick in my ass.

Maybe Alexander? No idea why specifically, I just like the name. Ludwig or Frederick are nice names too though.

Oh! I love this question. I don't know why or what this dream was, but when I was about four I would have this "nightmare" (tbf it was quite eery) where I would look as a seemingly invisible bystander at a group of four people who were walking through a desert during a dusk/dawn. I could only make out the silhouettes of the people in question due to the ligthing and the sun was square and I'm not sure if it had a malicious face or not. Eitherway, the vibes were super eery and even thinking about it now I wonder what my brain was doing when it came up with that.

I had a pretty nasty dream a couple of days ago where I had to take my exam History of the Islamic world (which I have on monday, btw) and knew none of the answers. Bonus points: It was an oral exam while in reality the exam is written.

In all honesty, I can't remember in the slightest. I remember a lot of good dreams, but not specifically beautiful ones.

I do not have a car.

I'm not necessarily scared of death, it is more the concept of the fact that it is unavoidable and you don't know when it'll happen that scares me. So essentially I fear time more than I fear death.

Nope! But I have felt the call of the void many a times. Never gave in to those intrusive thoughts luckily.

Be a world class composer.

Not really. I like to look into this stuff on a theoretical level though. I love seeing what different religions believe in and what their practices are and such, but I myself can be best described as agnostic.

Depends on the situation honestly. Music usually works though.

There are so many little, insignificant things that annoy me on a daily basis. I couldn't give you a concrete example though.

I think it can be best described as rural? I think? I'm not entirely sure honestly. I do live in tiny but decently busy village with a good amount of houses, but there's also a forest behind my house soooo... I don't know.

I don't really believe in talent. Talent is only a booster that can sped up your progress in a certain field. But when it comes down to it, it is dedication and practice that is important when learning a new skill.

I'd say I'm doing alright all things concidered. We'll see how the exams go though. This'll be my first exam period in uni ever so I'm stressed out of my mind.

I don't.

The first thing that comes to mind is me almost drowing in a public swimming pool.

Honestly no idea. Too many of them to just pick one.

Late. Always late. Except for hobbies and school. Then I'm usually early or on time.

I'm assuming you mean like a personality trait? I mean, I guess I'm pretty creative?

Nah, I've already made quite a lot of progress and I want to see where this path will take me.

Yes. Just yes.

Oof! Difficult question! I feel like there are a lot of arguments for both humans having a sould and humans not having a soul. I just don't know which side to pick. Ooh! I had a Déja vu while writing this out!

Oh god there are so many... The issue is that I don't know if I will or won't make them again. Can you tell I'm a pretty indecisive person?

I am in quite a number of fandoms, but recently the big brainrots have been Attack on Titan, The Life Series SMP, Demon slayer, and I'm sure a couple of others. As for the top three biggest brainrots of all my life have been Harry Potter, Star Wars and Pokémon.

I'm.... not sure what that's supposed to mean....

Depends on the person. I lie to my parents quite often, but I'm a very honest person to my friends.

In general, yes.

I am! She is very kind and intelligent both socially and intelectually and I like that she is not afraid to express emotion.

I am.

In general? The looming inevitability of the destruction of anything and everything we think we know. At the moment? Exams.

Debit and cash

As I study history, I think you can imagine I have a few. Obviously I love Johan Sebastian Bach, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Ludwig van Beethoven and a TON of other composers, but recently I have been having a slight intrigue into Frederick II/Frederick the Great of Prussia.

The Mario movie. It is my comfort film.

Yes.

101 curious questions. Let’s talk.

What’s your biggest insecurity?

What’s your biggest physical insecurity?

Do you like the person you feel like you’re becoming?

What’s the one thing you feel like everyone knows how to do except you?

Do you suffer from anxiety/depression/PTSD/other?

Where were you born?

What do you think people say about you when you’re not around?

Do you look up to anyone in your life?

What makes you feel guilty? How do you resolve it?

What’s your boring hobby (that you still enjoy anyway)?

Do you like who you are around people?

Do you know what your plans for the future are? Do you like them?

Tell a secret.

What petty event are you still embarrassed about?

Do you get wanderlust? Where do you want to go?

Romantically, do you prefer men, women, both, any/don’t care, or are you aromantic?

How many parents do you have?

Do they get along?

Do you swear?

How many siblings do you have? Where are you in relation to them?

Have you ever had to hurt anyone emotionally?

Has anyone ever hurt you emotionally?

Do you believe in an afterlife?

What lies do you believe anyways?

Would you consider yourself poor, average, or wealthy?

What does your favorite tattoo mean to you? Or if you had to get a tattoo, what would it be? Why?

How many groups of friends do you have? How do they vary?

Do you work? If so, what do you do? Do you like your job?

Do you want to have a partner for life?

Who have you never forgiven? Why?

What are you looking forward to right now?

If you could change one thing about your past, what would it be?

What’s your favorite color in context?

What unpopular opinion do you have?

What’s the last good book you’ve read?

What’s your favorite book?

Favorite poem?

Favorite movie?

Favorite song?

Favorite food/type of food?

What kind of food activates your gag reflex?

What do you feel like you’re missing from your life right now?

If you could choose your own name, what would it be? Why?

What’s the earliest dream you can remember having?

What’s the most recent dream you can remember having?

What’s the most beautiful dream you can remember having?

Do you have a car? What kind is it?

Are you afraid of death?

Have you ever attempted to take your own life?

Describe your dream job?

Are you religious/spiritual?

What do you do to calm yourself down?

What’s the most annoying thing that happens to you on a regular basis?

Do you live in an urban, suburban, or rural area?

What’s the one talent you wish you had?

Do you do well or struggle in school?

Do you have a speech impediment?

What’s the most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to you?

What’s the happiest day of your life you’ve ever had?

Early, on time, or late?

What quirks do you have?

Do you wish you could start tomorrow with a clean slate? Why/why not?

Do you ever get paranoid?

Do you believe in human souls? Where do you think they come from?

What’s one mistake that you’ll never make again?

What fandoms do you belong to?

What are your old URLs?

How often would you say you lie? Why?

Do you like the kind of attention you get from other people?

Are you in a relationship? What’s your favorite thing about your partner?

Are you concerned about the environment?

What stresses you out more than anything else?

Credit, debit, EBT, or cash?

Who’s your favorite historical figure?

What’s that movie you know is bad but enjoy anyways?

Do you masturbate (be honest)?

What’s your kink?

What’s one thing you don’t feel comfortable doing around your friends?

What’s your most prized possession?

Are you ever proud of yourself?

Do you ever tear yourself down?

Do you ever tell people how you’re feeling?

Do you like when people guess how you’re feeling?

Are you worried about someone close to you? Why?

What kind of interview questions do you answer to yourself?

If you could meet anyone, living, dead, or unborn, who would it be?

If you had a clone of yourself and the two of you didn’t have enough resources, would you get along?

What kinds of things confuse you?

Do you feel too hot or too cold more often?

If you had to live in any past time period, which would it be?

What’s your sign? you feel like it matches your personality?

Do you believe in astrology?

Do you like extreme activities, like white water rafting, surfing, roller coasters, etc.?

Are you waiting for someone to save you?

Can you remember the last time you made a deep personal connection with someone?

Do you like where you grew up?

What’s your favorite word?

Would you consider yourself an interesting person?

Which people in your life do you wish knew you better?

Are you okay?

What’s been going through your mind lately?

[lunasilverwolfofthestars]

Land of Piano

Summary

A lone girl living in an abandoned town, happily living her days until a group of pillagers come. This begins a chase ad the girl tries to outrun her pursuers.

One scene is where a poster of a sexy piano girl (Roger rabbit wife) in a wild West bar comes to life and switches on the lights to distract the pillagers. When the girl comes back, the lady is zombiefied, shining a fine green, one eye white the other wine red. Coming back was a trap and the girl gets caught. What follows is an interrogation room where her hands are bound to the ceiling and the lady kisses her, fondling her naked body and making her cum. What she didn't know was the lady's saliva was an aphrodisiac that made her extremely aroused. The lady switched out to one of the grey skinned pillagers and he asks a bunch of questions to which she replies what did the lady do to her. He answers it was a powerful aphrodisiac and continues to tease her until she gives in.

-date written: 11.01.2020

The day started out normally like any other day as Liv pottered about the abandoned town. She didn't know how or when the town was abandoned just that one day she awoke and everyone was gone.

The town was situated in the middle of the nowhere, to the north was a vast desert that stretched out for miles. To the east, was a dark eerie forest that gave Liv dark, strange vibes. She didn't venture there often. To the south and west were mountains, their peaks could sometimes be seen on sunny days, like today.

Liv was tending to her garden when she heard the sound of footsteps and horses. She stood up and turned to face the noise. What she saw was terrifying. It was the Pillagers. Skin ashen grey like the dead and glassy eyes wearing monotone colours. She didn't know how she knew these men were Pillagers but she knew they were bad news if the caught sight of her.

Heart beating a mile a minute, Liv took a step back, noisily treading on a forgotten trench shovel. She flinched at the noise as the grey toned man snapped his attention to her direction. Eyes dilating in terror, the navy haired girl dropped everything and ran; uncaring of the noise she made as she had already alerted her presence to one of them, it would only be a matter of time before all of them would know.

She weaved around multiple obstacles, ducking into alley's and taking the back roads, Liv eventually found herself hiding in a saloon that had a piano inside. Above it sat a poster with a very voluptuous woman of strawberry blond hair, ruby red lips and an hourglass figure. She blinked and all of a sudden, the woman came alive and out of the poster. Giving her a saucy wink, the woman motioned for her to hide in the back and walked towards the massive control centre; legs crossing over in her walk in a sensual manner; reaching it she pulled down the leaver and watched with a smug smile as the surroundings were bathed in light.

When the world returned to normal and somewhat safe again, Liv crept out into the main room. The woman was nowhere to be seen, straightening, Liv cast a wary glance around, stepping tentatively as to not make even the slightest of sound. She crossed the room, nearing the entrance that when she passed the piano, an arm snatched her throat. Frozen in place, Liv could only watch as she was bound in place by something unseen. The woman from before was now changed. Gone was the youthful lustre of life, instead, a pale green tinge replaced it, showing that she was one of the dead brought back. Her once beautiful forest green eyes became heterochromatic; one a milky white and the other a bright wine red.

Those eyes were the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness.

When she awoke, it was to a barren room where her hands were chained above her head to the ceiling. A cold breeze swept by making her shiver and become quite aware that she was naked like the day she was born.

The door opens and in walks in the woman.

-date written: 22.03.2020

[thatesqcrush]

Staycation: Spooky Edition

A very very late Kinktober piece. Rafael x f Reader (established relationship). WC: 5Kish. CW: this got away from me - there is some very rough sex, some dom/sub dynamics, language, impact play (being smacked and spanked), some degradation talk, oral (m receiving).

AN: big thanks to @beccabarba for help & encouragement.

—

The wind howled fiercely and the sky was an eerie green, a sign of an impending storm. You pulled over and put your car into park. You got out of the car and covered your eyes with your hand as you gazed upon the house ahead of you. It was massive, almost looming before you.

The house was advertised as Victorian and it certainly was, with its red brick, steeply pitched roof, gables and round towers and turrets to draw the eye upward. There was a wraparound porch likely intended to give the home a cozier feel, but overall the house gave off a sinister vibe. It was as if the house watched you back.

Your phone pinged and you were quick to check who it was. It was your boyfriend and he was on his way by train and would meet you later that evening at the house.

You quickly texted him back before grabbing your luggage and making your way up the winding path to the house that would be your home for the weekend.

Your boyfriend was one of the top prosecutors in all of Manhattan. Getting time off was rare but this weekend had been locked away months ago. Rather than spend time at a quaint B&B on the beach, you both decided to make the most of upstate New York in the fall with the ever changing colorful leaves and crisp air. You had found the house on AirBnB and it seemed to be a much more appropriate choice.

You knew from a message from the owner, there was a key under a rock. Sure enough you found the key and unlocked the door. The door was heavy, and opened with a creak. The interior design was ornate and eccentric. On the entryway table was a thick binder with the word ‘welcome’ plastered on it. There was a grand staircase and high ceilings. The house was furnished with hardwood floors, dark wood furniture and decorative wallpaper, multiple fireplaces, a formal dining room, a parlor and even a library.

You settled in quickly, spending the majority of the time poring through the thick binder, which gave a detailed history of the home. You also learned that the home was accompanied with a tragic love story –

In 1837, a man of considerable wealth by the name of William Axtell had this home built for his fiancee. His fiancee was educated, graceful and beautiful, but she was not the one Axtell loved — alas, he was in love with her sister, Alva. He simply couldn’t bear to be without her, and so he did what any man would do: built a secret chamber in his house and hid her away in there. Only one other person knew about Alva: a maid who took care of her and brought her food. Alva would wait all day until William could slip away, and then he’d visit her upstairs in their secret sex chamber. One day, when William was away on an extended business trip, the maid died. There was no one to bring Alva food or drink, and so she starved to death. Let that be a lesson to you if you’ve secreted an illicit love away in a clandestine sex chamber: have some kind of food distribution buddy system in place. You know, like how you don’t go swimming alone.

There was a blueprint of the home which notated where the secret chamber was and pictures of William, his fiancee and Alva.

As you traced the photos, a chill went up your spine. While you didn’t believe in the paranormal, you weren’t completely dismissive of the chill. You warily closed the binder. In that moment, your phone began to buzz causing you to jump. It was Rafael again. You saw the curtain of the window move and realized your chill must have just been the wind from outside. You let out a small laugh at yourself for getting worked up over nothing.

After speaking with Rafael, you finished unpacking before going to the neighboring town for groceries. You had planned on making a romantic dinner for when Rafael arrived. You loaded up on groceries and bottles of wine and made small talk with the cashier as you were rung up.

By the time you got back, Rafael had already arrived. He had settled in as well, having changed from his suit (as he had court that morning) into dark blue jeans, a maroon marled knit sweater. His hair had grayed considerably and was slicked back in a perfect coif. He had grown out his beard a bit, but it was still neat. His cologne was a combination that was equal parts earthy, peppery and citrusy.

“You made it!” You exclaimed as you walked in. Rafael pressed a kiss to your lips and then offered his hands to take the groceries from you.

“This place is incredible,” Rafael replied as he followed you through the house. You nodded excitedly.

“Right? It’s beautiful and there are so many rooms and halls to get lost in. I definitely want to check out the library. Though, when I first arrived, it gave me —“

“A spooky vibe?” Rafael interjected. He rummaged for a wine opener, winking when he found one. You reached for the wine glasses and quickly rinsed and dried them. Rafael set the opened wine aside to let it breathe.

Rafael wrapped his arms around your waist. “Yeah, I got the same vibe. You’re not scared are you?”

You ran your fingertips under the hem of Rafael’s sweater, letting out a little hum as his muscles twitched beneath your touch. Rafael pulled you even closer, lifting your chin with the crook of his index finger. His green eyes twinkled and you felt yourself grow warm. “Not at all. I’ve got my big strong boyfriend from the Bronx to keep me safe.”

—

It had started to rain.

Raindrops pelted hard and the exterior board and batten shutters swung wildly, pounding against the house. You and Rafael ran around the house shutting them and making certain the doors were bolted.

The two of you settled in the living room, sitting in front of the fireplace. The fire crackled and popped. Rafael between your legs and leaned back against you. He turned the page of his worn copy of Jekyll and Hyde, and continued to read out loud. You closed your eyes, letting the timbre of his voice envelope you as you played with his hair, massaging his scalp in process.

Suddenly everything went dark.

"Guess it was bound to happen sooner or later," Rafael remarked. Carefully you both stood and you each turned on the flashlights on your cell phones to look around.

You looked at Rafael. “The binder said that the fuse box was downstairs in the basement.”

Rafael sighed. “I guess I’ll be going down to the basement.”

“I’ll go,” you volunteered. “Stay up here and text me if the lights come back on.”

—

All Rafael could hear was the sound of the storm pushing through. He tried to check on the duration of the storm but his phone was loading slowly.

There was a flicker and then the lights came back on. Rafael sighed in relief and texted you that the lights were back. He anticipated the sound of your footsteps bounding up the stairs but nothing came.

Rafael waited a few more minutes, ignoring the knot of worry that was beginning to brew. He texted you once more and called your name.

Again nothing.

Fear pricked at Rafael. It wasn’t like you to not be responsive. He made his way down the basement, his heart thudding in his chest and his palms beginning to sweat. He called for you but was answered in silence. He crept quietly, but the floor still creaked with every step. His pulse pounded in his ears.

Rafael had been a prosecutor for far too long. His mind was racing in all the ways you could have been possibly kidnapped or murdered. He was all set to call Olivia when something caught his eye.

At the end of the hall, a bookcase was turned vertically, revealing a partially opened door. Rafael walked toward it, even though all his horror movie training screamed at him to not to. He called your name once more as he fully opened the door.

The oxblood-hued room was packed with recherché items that wouldn't look out of place in a grand gentlemen's club, including a posh Chesterfield chair, vintage ship model and antique carriage clock. There was a plush bed with bedding that could be described as sumptuous.

Rafael recalled the story of William and Alva that you told him over dinner. It dawned on him that this room was the secret chamber. He walked in cautiously and carefully, scanning the room. There was a knot in his stomach, and he felt tense all over.

He had the sense he was not the only one in the room. When he turned around, he was met with you shouting “Boo!” in his face.

Rafael let out a shout, nearly jumping out of his skin. “Jesus Christ!”

You began to laugh. “I’m sorry but that was just too easy. I couldn’t help it.” You continued to laugh, so much so that you had to double over.

Rafael gave you an incredulous look. “Ha ha, really fucking funny.”

You stood up, still chuckling a bit and wiped your eyes. “Oh come on! It was just a joke! You have to admit that I got you good.”

Rafael glowered at you and took a step closer towards you. “You know, I don't like practical jokes.”

You smirked and cocked your brow, challenging. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Rafael reached for you and pulled you close to him where you were practically chest to chest. Your palms were on his chest and you could feel his heart thundering rapidly. He gripped your chin with his index and thumb. “You’ll see.”

You saw the change in his expression to something more lustful and predatory, the sensual look in his eye sending a jolt of hot anticipation through you.

You jerked your chin from his grip but barely had a chance to look away as he gripped your cheeks, squeezing but not too tightly.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you. Do I look like I am playing a fucking game?” Rafael all but growled, his green eyes burning with desire. You shook your head in response. Your pulse began to quicken and arousal stoked your core. “For the rest of the time we are here, you will answer me as sir.”

“Yes.”

His gaze darkened as he ran his fingers softly along your jawline, holding your chin so your eyes met his. When his fingers flattened out against your cheek, you had an inkling as to what was coming. Still, when the sharp smack landed against your skin, you jumped slightly. The sting bloomed into heat. Rafael knew what that did to you, and you didn't miss his little smirk as he did it again, slightly harder, pricking your skin, watching your reaction. He put a fingertip beneath your chin.

“What did you say?” Rafael prodded, his brow cocked.

“Yes sir.” You breathed.

“Good girl,” Rafael murmured. He then kissed you hard, all teeth and tongue. His hand was tight in your hair, pulling your head back so he could kiss and suck along your neck. His teeth grazed sharply against your skin, causing you to groan in response to the pricks of pain. A dark mark bloomed easily and he ran his tongue over it, soothing the area. He again nipped up your jawline before kissing you once more, the kiss more soft than before, but still full of passion. His tongue licked hotly in your mouth. You could feel his cock, hard against your body. Your were certain you were already dripping and your nerves were buzzing, erotically charged.

“Strip. And get on the bed,” Rafael all but growled.

You looked at the bed and then around the room. You also were certain that the room was haunted as fuck, but you did not want to bring it up lest it change the mood.

“Did I fucking stutter?” Rafael snapped, bringing your focus back to him.

“No sir!” You yanked your shirt off and then sat on the bed to remove your shoes. This was then followed by your pants and undergarments. You laid prostrate on the bed, eagerly anticipating Rafael’s next move.

Rafael stood at the foot of the bed and placed his hands on his hips, his green eyes narrowing at you a little as took in the sight of your naked form. He began to undress himself. Buttons were undone nimbly and quickly, followed by his shoes and remainder of his clothes. He jacked himself languidly, casually spitting into his palm.

The bed creaked under his weight and you felt him move behind you. His large hands ghosted your skin, feeling the knobs of your spine. When he got to your ass, he squeezed your flesh, before laying a hard spank on your ass. You let out a small moan, which garnered another spank, this time harder than before. Rafael sat on his haunches, spreading your ass cheeks apart. Nothing major had even happened yet and he already knew you were dripping.

Rafael sucked on two of his fingers, using his own saliva to lubricate them. The tips of his fingers ghosted over your puckered rosebud before shoving his fingers inside of you. Your startled gasp turned into a breathy moan as he coated them in your wetness before pulling them out to spread it over your pussy, and then shoving them back in, fingering you roughly. His other hand landed sharply on your ass giving you another spank.

“A mess,” Rafael growled. “I can fucking smell how needy you are.” The pace of his fingers increase and the wet sounds of your arousal are evident in the quiet room. “Tonight is about me. Your one job is to make me happy.”

“Yes sir,” you gasped in reply, your hips moving in their own accord to match the thrust of his hand.

“You’re going to pay for your stunt. You’re not going to come until I tell you to. Me entiendes?”

You were completely lost in your pleasure and his words didn’t register. When you failed to respond, he abruptly removed his fingers, causing you to cry out at the empty feeling.

Two more spanks. The skin of your ass was hot and you wondered if Rafael could see the outline of his hand. Rafael grabbed your ass cheeks and spread you apart once more. You felt his stubble, pricking your skin and then you felt the prick of his teeth once more as he bit you - first one then the other, then repeating in a pattern. The bites are followed by additional spanks. It was unrelenting, the sting of the bites and spanks caused your toes to curl. And then it was over and you felt Rafael’s tongue on your skin licking soothingly. His mouth hovered over your pussy, his breath hot. You pushed back, desperate for more.

Rafael smacked your ass once more. “No sweetheart. Your job is to make me feel good tonight. And maybe, just maybe, if you’re good enough, I will let you come.”

You nodded and Rafael’s eyes narrowed.

“Use your words,” he commanded.

“Yes, sir. Going to make you feel good,” you whimpered. Rafael smirked and nudged you to roll over. He wrapped his arm around you, and pulled you flush against him. You could feel his cock on the small of your back, hard and leaking.

His other hand smoothed up your thigh, encouraging it apart from the other one as he reached your pussy and traced his fingers through your folds. He stopped as he pressed down on your clit and drew his hand back to deliver a short, hard spank to the swelling bundle of nerves. You squealed, body jolting at the sudden impact.

“Fuck,” you muttered, biting down on your bottom lip. Rafael’s face disappeared into the crook of your neck, sucking and kissing your skin while one hand grabbed your tit, tugging and twisting your nipple. You let out a small moan in response. His other hand headed back down to your opening, fingers inside of you, pumping. You groaned, your nails digging into the meat of his thighs.

“I want to cum, sir, please,” you begged desperately.

“No,” Rafael replied sternly. “Hold it.”

“Please, please, I’ll be a good girl,” you begged again. A sharp spank landed on your pussy and you squealed.

“What did I tell you about begging me?” he growled. You felt the pad of his thumb tease your clit. “So fucking wet. I bet I could just slide my cock in and make that tight pussy take it. You’d take it, right?”

“Yes,” you hissed, your eyes screwing shut.

You felt your orgasm bubble up in your gut and you tried to ignore it but it was futile. Rafael felt you tense and he removed his fingers from you and slapped your pussy sharply once more. You let out a whimper in response.

You turned to Rafael and leaned down to kiss him. The kiss was sloppy, open mouthed, his tongue licking hotly into your mouth. You pulled away briefly and grabbed his hand to suck his finger, imitating what you wanted to do.

“Want to suck my cock?” Rafael asked. His breathing was already labored, intent on making the evening last but he was already overworked. He knew once he fucked you, it wouldn’t be long.

You nodded, humming in agreement.

“Ask me to let you.”

“Yes sir. Can I taste your cock sir?” Your eyes met his. A delicious smirk curled on his plump lips and lit up his entire face. His green eyes sparkled with mischief.

Rafael nodded and spread his legs wider to make room for you. As you positioned yourself, he gripped himself at the base. You looked up at him and he tapped his cock against your mouth. “Open.”

You follow his command and open your mouth to take his cock. He’s cut. It’s a nice fleshy pink color, but the head is a couple shades darker; when you’ve been edging him, it darkens to almost purple. There are a few visible veins, and an especially thick one that runs along the underside.

Saliva gathered in your mouth at the sight of his heavy cock. A thick line of pre-cum dripped out of his slit, dripping down until it slowed at the base. Your hand ghosted over the patch of dark curls there, sending a shiver up Rafael’s spine.

You wrapped your mouth around the head of his cock, enveloping it in your warm, wet heat. You sucked, pulling the salty liquid from him and onto your awaiting tongue, letting out a small hum. You pulled off briefly and then opened your mouth wider so you could take more of him.

Rafael petted your hair softly, enjoying watching you take his cock inch by inch, until the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. You gagged slightly, and then pulled off to catch your breath.

“Let me change position,” Rafael commented. You remained in place as he climbed off the bed and stood. He beckoned you with a finger and you quickly scrambled over. You looked up at him, batting your eyes. He tapped his cock on your lips and you opened widely.

“Relax sweetheart, open your throat,” Rafael ordered as he began to feed his cock into your mouth. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply through your nose. His hands wove into your hair and he pulled your head forward as he snapped his hips, shoving the remainder of his thick cock into your mouth and throat. His hands were firm in your hair, keeping you in place. Your eyes began to water and saliva pooled from the corners of your mouth. He withdrew and repeated again and again, holding your willing mouth flush against him, your nose buried in his salt and pepper curls.

Finally, he relented and began to thrust into your mouth, a brutal pace abusing your throat with his thick length. Tears streamed down your face, and your eye makeup was smeared. Any gloss that might have remained on your lips was now gone.

“You take my cock so well,” Rafael praised. He pushed you a bit further, your jaw ached and throbbed. “Such a dirty girl with my cock in your throat. Do you like having my cock in your throat?”

You let out a muffled response and Rafael pulled you off of him, by your hair. The pain ebbed into a tingle of pleasure.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

He watched in fascination the spit string that connected your lips to his cock pull thin before finally breaking.

He gripped your chin hard, smushing your lips together. He slapped you once more. “Answer me.”

Your cunt clenched in response to the sting.

“Yes sir, I love your cock in my mouth,” you croaked. Rafael laughed and shoved your head back onto his cock. His hands were on the sides of your head, moving your head over his cock, his hips meeting the movements. He growled as he fucked your face, testing the limits your throat could handle. But you knelt there, mouth open wide as another wave of tears streamed down your face, moaning as he pushed you past the limits of comfort, ruining you. You could feel your juices slick on your thighs and there was a growing ache in between your legs that so desperately wanted to be touched. And while your throat was sore and your jaw ached, you loved it when Rafael used you as he pleased.

“Good girl, take that cock,” Rafael grunted. He bent forward, leaning over your body so he could slip his fingers back into your pussy. Because of the position, you began to bob on his cock, using a hand for assistance. The only sounds in the room were his grunts and groans, mixed with your muffled moans and whines.

“I’m going to cum if we keep this up” Rafael groaned and he withdrew from your mouth and pussy. You watched him as he sucked his fingers clean of your pussy juice. He let out a hum of satisfaction. Your eyes went down to his cock, it stuck out with a slight curve. Cum leaked easily now.

Rafael watched you and he smirked. “Is there something you want?”

“Yes sir.” You replied. Without prompting, you elaborated. “I want your cock sir.”

“I didn’t hear you say please.”

“Please sir.”

“Turn around,” Rafael commanded. You acquiesced to his request, turning around so you were on all fours.

Rafael wasted no time. The bed dipped with his weight and spread your cheeks once more. “Look at that pretty pussy. And it’s mine.”

He thrusted in himself inside of you, burying himself to the hilt. His pelvis was snug against the curve of your ass. He waited a minute, letting you adjust. He saw you nod and he began to move. He started slowly at first but steadily picked up speed. His balls are hefty and you can feel the weight of them slap against your pussy. He held on to your hips steadily, driving your ass lower into the bed until your legs buckled and you landed on the bed, ass up, torso down, face into the mattress.

The pace was brutal as he fucked you hard and deep. His fingers dug into your hips and you’re certain that there will be bruises once done. You felt every ridge of his cock against your walls with each harsh thrust and you needed more of it. You heard yourself - don’t stop, fuck me harder, give it to me - but it all sounded slurred to you.

There are a series of spanks to your ass in response.

Rafael’s legs were now framing your thighs, pounding down into you. You gripped the bedspread and cried out his name every time his cock pistoned into you again.

Suddenly you were aware that your arms were being pulled behind you. Rafael held your arms together, handcuff style, as he continued, giving you exactly what you wanted - what you both so desperately wanted. He’s also chasing his release, but he will give you what you want.

You bit down on your bottom lip as he took you closer and closer to the edge. Your clit throbbed, aching, needing to be touched.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, so fucking perfect,” Rafael grunted. Sweat dripped down his body and onto yours as he kept his pace. “I bet you wanna come.”

A stream of yes, yes, yes, left your mouth.

Rafael slowed his pace and you whined in protest. “Don’t stop, please. Sir, please.”

“Thank me for fucking you. And maybe I will let you come.”

You nodded frantically. “Your cock feels so good! Yes, yes! Thank you for fucking me sir!”

“Atta girl, now you get it. Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours sir!” You cried out.

Rafael released one of your arms. “Go ahead, come.”

You frantically reach below to your clit and your fingers slip due to the mix of your and Rafael’s wet mess. You find your clit and rubbed in haphazard circles, chasing the sweet relief of orgasm. It doesn’t take long and before you realize it, you are coming hard, Rafael’s name escaping from your lips. It had never been this intense before, as if one orgasm rolled into the other. Rafael groaned as you squirted, your juices releasing all over his cock. He inwardly beamed - you hadn’t ever done that before.

“Yes,” Rafael hissed. “Coat that cock, cover it all up.”

You slumped forward, unable to hold yourself up. You are lost in your own haze, unaware that Rafael hadn’t come yet. You let out a yelp as Rafael pulled you upward, thrusting back into you. The pace is somehow even harder than before as you hear the sound of skin slapping on skin.

Rafael is growling and grunting. “You think just because you fucking came, that it means get to be fucking lazy on me?”

“No sir,” you cried out. The ache that had dissipated started to grow again. “Fuck me sir. Use me!”

Rafael’s teeth gnashed together as his release approached. A deep rumble emanated from his chest and you had been intimate with him long enough to know that he was about to come.

He grunted, pumping faster, and then his hips jerked, stuttering in their rhythm, and he came, hard. Ropes of thick white creamy come filled you. “Fuck, fuck, oh my god, fuck!” He shuddered as he finished coming. He stayed there before withdrawing, his cock softening. You felt some of his come dribble out.

You both flopped onto your backs, bodies covered in sweat and heaving, trying to catch your breath.

Rafael shifted and he loomed over you. You furrowed your brows at first but then your mouth formed an ‘O’ as he pushed up your legs. He used his fingers to spread your lips and watched as his release dripped out of you. He scooped up some and spread it along your belly, as if he was marking his territory.

He reached back down to your pussy and scooped some more of his release. He then spread it on your clit, and began to rub you once more.

“I know you can do it again.” Rafael slid two fingers inside of you, curling them.

Your legs trembled as you felt yet another orgasm begin to build. You can almost feel Rafael’s smile against you as he jackhammered his fingers inside of you, fucking his come back into you.

“Come on, one more sweetheart.” His words were your undoing and your hips jerk. He lifted his head and you looked at him with wide eyes. “Give it to me.” He began rubbing your clit roughly and horizontally rapidly. You arched your back sharply, and wailed as you came again. Sound went fuzzy and you squeezed your eyes tightly. Rafael just kept his mouth open by your cunt, collecting your cum in his mouth as you squirted once more.

You collapsed against the bed as you came down back to reality. Rafael covered his body with yours and pressed a kiss to your mouth, sharing your come with you. The kiss was wet and messy but soft, dare say gentle.

“How was that?” Rafael questioned, his eyes searching yours. “Are you okay?”

You hummed ame gave him a smile. “Oh yeah. That was perfect.”

Rafael eventually peeled his sweaty body off of you. You snuggled into his chest, basking in his warmth.

All of a sudden, the lights flickered and the room was plunged into darkness. It was followed by a sound that could only be described as non human. You yelped and then the lights flicked back on.

You and Rafael looked at eachother, eyes wide, both of you clearly spooked. “Let's get out of here!”

Rafael nodded and you both scrambled, grabbing your clothes before peeling out of the room and heading back up stairs.

When you both got back to the main floor, you were both laughing hard as you redressed. “Jesus, Joseph and Mary!” You cried out. “What the hell was that?”

Rafael shook his head and rubbed his face. “Let's not go back down there.”

You nodded. “But what you did down there - that you can do again.”

Rafael gave you a wicked smile, his eyes lighting up in response.

“But first can we find someplace else to stay?” You questioned, your tone hopeful.

Rafael nodded, finding his phone. “Already on it.”

FIN.

--

Tags: @mgarner1227, @madpanda75, @beccabarba, @dreamlover31, @sass-and-suspenders, @melk917 @youreverycolor, @neely1177, @witches-unruly-heart, @skittle479, @plaidbooks, @mommakat32, @garturbo, @sweetsummertime99, @ottosuricato, @qvid-pro-qvo, @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindos, @annabelleb49, @zoeykaytesmom, @bananas-pajamas, @pieceofshittytitty, @itsjustmyfantasyroom, @ktiz90, @evee87, @differentshadesofgray @catnip987 @detective-giggles @alwaysachorusgirl @amelia-song-pond @rachelxwayne @permanentlydizzy @averyhotchner @missirenlove @tintinxtintin @law-nerd105 @bisexual-dreamer02 @rampantmuses @mishaissocoolike @choppedgalaxynerd @beardedbarba @storiesofsvu @a-brignac

[mercedesfiction]

Pleasure House: Witch’s Cottage (Halloween Special)

Female Reader 18+

Notes: So I’m a little late, but this was one of my ideas for a Halloween twist on the story. :D I feel like I continue to 1up myself with each chapter, making them crazier and weirder. Hopefully while still making them attractive but also different. I’ll continue to post chapters to this crazy smut abomination here for anyone that may not have an AO3 to see it on my page. :D

Happy Late Halloween!

You feel a crisp autumn air as it blows over you, as the evening quickly approaches. You hear each autumn leaf you step on with the ground being covered in a blanket of orange, yellows, and browns.

The perfect autumn or fall scene, with an older-style cottage resting peacefully in its core. The hut is covered in the same leaves with matching orange pumpkins scattered around its front door.

The home seems a bit rickety or worn out, giving it an eerie and creepy vibe. There are even a few wooden steps leading up to its front door with metal arm rails wrapped in vines and weeds.

The home appears abandoned until you reach the steps and the front door opens slowly while creaking, welcoming you inside.

You peer in and see that the inside is barely lit with tall candles scattered around its interior. You slowly walk inside and notice the main light source in the middle of the room. It's a huge, metal black cauldron sitting on a lit fire in a pit in the middle of the room. Inside the cauldron is a bubbling bright purple liquid that emits a glow.

The door closes behind you after you come inside and some familiar robotic limbs strip you of your remaining clothes. You gasp feeling your body being exposed before being covered again by a dark purple cloak and a small black lacey thong. The thong barely conceals anything and has a spider web design in its lace. The cloak is light and covers your naked body as long as you're still. It’s velvet and strapped together under your neck. A black witch's hat is also placed on your head before the robotic limbs disappear.

You feel like you fit in well with the atmosphere of the place and location. The garments give you a sense of power and status, completing the aesthetic of this place.

You look around to see the cozy cottage decorated for All Hallow's Eve along with everything to make a Witch feel at home. Potions and jars line shelves on walls, along with herbs, spices, and flowers hanging below them.

A broom leans against the doorframe while a large spell book sits on a podium in front of the cauldron.

The book immediately grabs your attention, opens, and flips through its pages before stopping somewhere in the middle. The words on its pages begin to glow, allowing your eyes to easily read along with the spell or potion it has chosen.

"A Witch's Ecstasy." You read the title out loud and see a list of "ingredients" or items needed to add to the pot. You can't help but let your body feel a little excited just by reading the title. You immediately notice that a majority of the list seems to require a “witch’s aid”. And instantly reading through causes your arousal to stir, reading how dirty and naughty each ingredient is and what it sounds like you’ll have to do.

The first ingredient seems to be the oddest, as it asks for a dried tentacle. You find one on a table close by. It’s only a little longer than your hand and is purple on the back with a bright green underside and suction cups underneath. You quickly toss it in.

You read off the next couple of ingredients as “cum-like lubricant” and “orgasm gel”. You find both of these items in themed jars and containers on a nearby shelf and empty their contents into the cauldron, watching the gooey white and clear liquids pour out of each jar. The brew bubbles more for a moment with each ingredient before calming back down to a neutral state.

The next ingredient causes you to moan out loud as you feel yourself grow wet with anticipation: “Cum and arousal fluid soaked panties of a Witch”, you read aloud. Suddenly, the cauldron boils and bubbles violently to your words, before huge waving tentacles shoot out of the brew. You back up slightly with a gasp as the tentacles flail high above the liquid, towering over you. The tentacles match the colors and design of the one you threw in, but it's grown and duplicated, now hydrated and slick with the purple potion it emerged from.

You have little time to think before a couple of the tentacles quickly reach over the pot to find your wrists. They coil tightly, gripping you and pulling you closer. You tug briefly in resistance, but the tentacles ignore your tugs by picking you up off the ground and bringing you to hover over the large cauldron below you. You look down to see your reflection in the bright purple liquid as you hang helplessly above.

A spare tentacle reaches around your neck to remove and discard the cloak that was concealing your body. You feel the warm air emitting from the potion kiss your exposed bare skin, as more tentacles reach up to coil around each of your thighs, lifting them and spreading your legs wide. You let out a soft moan, feeling even more exposed in the little thong.

The tentacles feel warm, squishy, and soft against your skin. Two more join the fun to wrap and coil around each of your breasts. Suction cups lighting kiss your skin and suckle and pull on your nipples as they glide and wiggle across them. You moan loudly to the sucking sensation, making each of your nipples grow hard and more sensitive with each suction cup. You feel your arousal grow and notice the growing wetness in your panties. The tentacles coil tighter around each boob, causing your nipples to stick out further for more suckling attention.

You then hear the potion beneath you stir as a new tentacle emerges from its concoction. This tentacle is different however and had a bulbous tip instead of a tapered one. It looks like a penis as it snakes up one of your legs before stopping at the thong. It gently begins to rub and flick your wet lips through the sheer lacey thong. You moan again, feeling yourself growing wet to its attention.

The tentacle then slides under the thong to rub against your lips directly, hot dogging your needy cunt. The appendage is warm and glides easily across. You even feel a warmer precum being rubbed into you. You gently rock your hips into the tentacle, letting yourself coat it with your arousal.

The tentacle shifts and turns slightly in the thong, to hog dog you from the back to the front. You watch as its tip pushes into your lips and back out past your hood, kissing the front of your thing each time. The sheer fabric allows you to see the brightly colored penis apply pressure and hot dog you firmly with its precum soaking into the front part of the fabric. The tip pushes against your clit slightly with each thrust.

It quickly starts to pick up the pace, gliding swiftly and smoothly across your pussy while being well-lubricated by your arousal. You moan and toss your head back as the tentacles around your breasts continue to fondle and suck and the tentacle in your panties hot dogs your wet lips faster and faster. You can feel your climax building slightly with your clit being teased with each thrust.

The tentacle rubs your cunt as quickly as possible before slowing to a stop. You look down to see its tip extruding past your hood to ejaculate and coat the inside of your thong. You moan, seeing and feeling the thick, hot white cum spurt covering the front of your pussy and thong.

You feel your clit throb against the bulbous tentacle, feeling the cum drip down and over it. It makes you want to have your release as well feeling the hot sensation.

The tentacle then swiftly removes itself from your panties after fully ejaculating all of its cum into them. The thong now rests against your skin, as the cum begins to feel more cool and sticky on the fabric. The tentacle had quite the load, thoroughly soaking your lips and panties with even some dripping back down into the potion.

The tentacles wrapped around your thighs then uncoil to hook the thin string of the waistband of the thong. They then pull the cum-soaked panties down your legs and off of your body.

More tentacles return to wrap and coil around your thighs to hold your legs up and spread like before. The tips extend higher on your legs, reaching for your fully exposed pussy. Its suction cups lightly grip each side of your pussy and spread your lips wide open, letting you feel the surrounding warm air enter inside you. You muffle a moan and watch as the tentacles holding your panties begin to wrap and coil around one another, wrapping the thong tightly around themselves. Their tips blend into a larger singular one and the two of them make a weird-looking corkscrew shape with their bright green suction cups lining the outsides. Your cum-filled thong is wrapped securely over and around the tip as the tentacles move down to your open pussy and begin to slowly go inside.

You sharply inhale to the sudden sensation, feeling the lace thong being pushed deep inside of you. The suction cups help the tentacles to climb deeper into your open pussy, twisting and wiggling as they go. The thong is so wet that it goes inside without resistance. The tentacles reach a comfortable limit when they begin to wiggle individually. They slip out of you and the thong, leaving it deep inside you. The remaining tentacles continue to hold you open, allowing your arousal to freely drip into the brew below.

You hear the potion sizzle a little with each drop and see its purple color slowly shift to a shade of dark blue. There’s then a pause as the spell book magically floats in front of you to let you read off the next ingredients.

“Arousal fluid of a Witch, Witch-infused cum, and Witch’s saliva.”

The tentacles continue their job as if summoned by your words as a few new bulbous-tipped tentacles appear in front of your face. Another tentacle gently wraps around your neck to tilt your head back, feeling your breasts being squeezed and suckled once again. You moan, hearing your arousal sizzle in the potion as your boobs continue to be stimulated.

The penis-like tentacles in front of you, rub against your lips until you part them just enough to wiggle inside your mouth. You moan around them, realizing they taste exactly like chocolate candy of some kind as they both go inside and slowly start to push themselves in and out at different intervals. Their flavor is almost intoxicating and makes your arousal build more, especially with random tentacles freely fucking your mouth.

The tentacles continue to slide up and down your tongue, feeling them push deep with being too much to handle. They remind you of your open pussy and how you want it to be filled so badly. You feel your panties shift freely inside you when you clench, reminding you of their presence, and provoking a moan around the slippery cocks in your mouth. You thoroughly coat each of them with your saliva before they depart your mouth with a “Pop!” and are quickly replaced by two other ones instead. Giving the same chocolate flavor, making your eyes roll back with them slipping deep inside as well.

Being distracted by everything else, a new sensation makes you jump. The previous cocks in your mouth were now gently rubbing circles over your asshole. You pull away only slightly, before loudly moaning to them slipping inside. The sensation is a bit tight at first, but the two cocks easily squish to fit inside you, filling you nicely. Your saliva helps them glide in deep before slipping almost all the way back out and pushing in faster again. Your moans are muffled as they start to pump your ass, slowly picking up the pace, making your pussy clench and clit throb.

You feel your mind melt with all the stimulation and can even sense your climax climbing once more, but not enough to push you over. The cocks in your mouth and ass both pick up the pace and fuck your body freely.

You moan loudly feeling the cocks continuing to slip and slide in and out of your ass and mouth. Wanting so desperately for your needy pussy to be filled and your throbbing clit to be touched.

The cocks in your mouth cuddly slip out of your mouth completely and start to specially stutter and spurt as they ejaculate and cum all over your face and chest. You feel the hot load hit your cheeks, chest, and nipples making you moan and clench even more.

The cumshot makes your pussy clench enough that your panties finally slip out and fall into the brew with a large spurt of your arousal. Making the potion sizzle loudly and making your pussy now completely empty. The feeling of the cum thong slipping out makes you moan, along with the two cocks still pumping your ass quickly.

Not long after one of the cocks in your ass slips out and you feel its cum splatter and drip down each of your ass cheeks, feeling hot and sticky. The remaining one in your ass then pushes in deeper, before ejaculating deep inside you. You moan along with it, feeling spurt after spurt of hot cum dispense deep in your ass. It goes a lot longer than you anticipated, feeling your ass being filled with the sticky-like liquid. Your stomach even feels tight when the cock finally stops and slowly pulls out.

Before the cock can fully eject, you feel a cold and wet metal being pushed inside in its place. The object is thicker than the cocks, filling your ass and keeping the cum inside. You feel it pushed in until the round hilt stops it from going further and covers your exit. You moan in surprise, not expecting the thick butt plug to be shoved into your ass.

The tentacle around your neck leaves as your eyes are brought back to the book to read the next ingredients

“Laid eggs from a Witch and a melted magic candle”, it reads.

You give a look of confusion for both of these items, unsure of what it means or how to get them.

You're given very little time to think about it before the tentacles holding you change your positioning and point you upside down, your head now directly above the potion. You feel the blood rush to your head and see that the brew is now a bright blue in color and still bubbling calmly.

A new type of tentacle emerges from the potion passing by your face before going above you. The tentacle is smooth and still slightly tapered at the end with a big opening.

You feel it push past the tentacles still holding your pussy lips spread and push deep inside you. You moan, finally having your pussy filled.

The tentacle stays still after pushing deep inside, then you start to watch small lumps push up in the tentacle in front of you. You watch almost in horror until you feel a squishy and warm, round-like object dispense inside you. The feeling almost makes you want to go over the edge with an orgasm, especially having your ass still filled and your tits still played with.

Your arousal builds more and more with each squishy egg being laid deep inside of you, each one filling your pussy more and more.

After ten or so, the tentacle slips out and returns to its potion, letting gravity keep the eggs inside to shift freely. Your clit continues to throb when you feel something new being pushed inside you.

The object is a smooth and thin cylinder shape, kinda grabby in texture and long. It’s pushed in until it meets with the eggs resting inside you. It’s pushed in and out teasingly a few times, before stopping to remain still inside you. The tentacles holding your lips, release to allow you to fully grip the object.

You then hear the ignition of a flame, followed by a growing warmth from the object. You feel yourself start to panic, remember the candle ingredient but calm immediately with a warm hot wax drip down across your clit. The wax is hot but not burning and actually feels good against your clit and skin.

The candle quickly burns, making your inner walls warmer and the hot wax dripping down and around it to make a nice seal. You clench around the candle and eggs with each new coating of wax that cools and hardens over your clit.

It doesn’t take long before the candle burns out, making the perfect pile and seal of melted wax over and around the lips of your pussy.

The tentacles holding you, lift you back up to your starting position. Everything stays inside and in place as the blood rush leaves your head.

You then feel a firm tug on the plug in your ass, as it's swiftly pulled out and removed, feeling the remaining excess cum squeeze out and run down your asshole. The potion sizzles, changing to a dark green.

You clench and moan to the feeling, letting your ass empty all of the cum slowly.

The tentacles over your breasts quickly grope and pull on each nipple, causing you to moan loudly, pushing and breaking the cooled wax in your pussy. You feel the dildo-like candle slip out of you followed by each individual egg. You squeeze them out one by one, rubbing your G-spot on the way out and shifting and tossing inside you with each one that leaves.

You watch as the last one is pushed out and consumed by the potion, turning it into a bright lime green.

Its bubbles appear thicker and more sticky as its whole viscosity of it changes. The book then says the spell is completed and closes itself.

Suddenly, bigger versions of the normal tentacles slowly emerge from the goop, fully covered in green slime.

One tentacle comes up and begins rubbing the sticky, hot, and thick slime over your asshole, before pushing itself inside. The slime coats your canal as the thick appendage wiggles deep in your ass. It’s hot and makes your whole ass feel sticky, but its intrusion immediately pushes you over the edge making you cum hard feeling your mind turn to mush as the tentacle rapidly goes in and out of your ass.

You moan loudly, throwing your head back and feeling another tentacle apply a layer of the slime to your cunt before quickly wiggling inside it too. The slime coats your inner walls, feeling hot like your ass, making your clit tingle as well. The slime in and on your pussy and clit, each gives you different orgasms with the one still going in your ass. Your body spasms and clenches as you cum to the two tentacles fucking your holes mercilessly.

Other tentacles lather the slime over your breasts and nipples makes fully erect and pulsating with pleasure underneath the hot and sticky goo.

You freely drool, feeling a continuous nipple, clitoral, vaginal, and anal orgasm. Your body has rarely experienced two of these together, but never any of them at once.

The tentacles continue to sporadically fuck you senseless, feeling their suction cups get stuck easier with the goo, pulling at your inner walls and putting extra pressure in your G-spot. You easily squirt alongside the tentacles, as your orgasms finally start to come to an end. Your body not wanting it to stop.

Everything pulses and throbs as your body comes down from its climax, with no sign of the tentacles stopping.

Barely giving you a chance to catch your breath, more big tentacles emerge, recoating your private and erogenous zones. They then join the tentacles in your ass and pussy, filling you to the brim and pushing you over the edge to each orgasm once again.

The tentacles continued to swap out and fuck your body senseless, adding cocks to cum with you filling your mouth and covering your tongue with the chocolate-flavored cum, turning you on even more and drawing each burst of orgasms further. The flavor driving you wild, making you only want more, as every tentacle of every shape and size joined in to fuck and use your body. Covering you in white sticky cum along with green sticky slime.

Cocks use your tits and ass cheeks to stroke themselves before ejaculating freely on your body, making you into their cum slut, sex toy.

Your body continues to ride on a roller coaster of orgasms, never wanting it to stop and each act makes you only want more of it. You hope the tentacles never stop continuing to fuck and use you all night long.

[mcmansionhell]

Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response. 

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car. 

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake. 

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

 “Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light. 

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house. 

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers. 

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.” 

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.” 

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that. 

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging. 

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic. 

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.  

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.” 

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs. 

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better. 

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.  

If you like this post, and want to see more like it, consider supporting me on Patreon!

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[koolkat9]

EngIta Week 2022: Day 4

@engitaweek2022

Prompt: Magical creatures/fantasy

Pairing: EngIta

Word Count: 949

For Today

Feliciano never liked going down to Arthur’s basement. Although he held many doubts about his lover’s so-called “magical abilities,” Feliciano refused to go down there, especially when Arthur was working away on a spell or potion. It just had a cold, eerie vibe to it. But when he heard a huge bang, Feliciano’s concern for the Brit overrode his fear of Arthur’s “lair.”

“Arthur,” Feliciano cried, bursting into the room, “What’s going–” before Feliciano could finish his sentence there was another explosion accompanied by glittery, green mist. It made his eyes burn, forcing him to shut them.

“Oh God, love are you okay?” the concerned voice of Arthur called. Before Feliciano could reply, two firm hands grasped his shoulders, making him yelp in surprise. “Shh, it’s just me,” Arthur murmured. 

Feliciano rubbed his eyes, the irritation eventually subsiding. When he first opened them, his vision was blurry which sent him into a slight panic. After a few blinks and deep breaths, everything came into focus. He was met with Arthur’s bright green eyes filled with concern. Everything seemed fine until he saw two bunny-like ears peeking out over Arthur’s shoulder. Feliciano rubbed his eyes once more for good measure, only to open them and come face to face with a strange coloured rabbit with wings. The Italian screamed, stumbling back and tripping over a pile of books. “What the hell,” Arthur exclaimed, rushing over to his lover and pulling him up before he hit the ground.

Feliciano, disoriented from his fall and still in shock by what he was seeing, pointed a shaky hand towards where the bunny floated in front of him. Arthur’s eyes widened.

“You can see him?” Arthur asked softly, disbelief laced in his voice. 

“Him?”

The Brit turned towards the rabbit. “Mint, come here.” 

The bunny obeyed, landing in Arthur’s arms. Feliciano stared in awe, his fear melting away. He was still slightly confused, but seeing how Arthur knew this strange creature, put him at ease. Cautiously, Feliciano reached out, letting the bunny sniff at his hand before head-butting it. Feliciano let out a giggle.

Arthur laughed lightly. “I think he likes you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Well I like you too,” Feliciano cheered, “Mint?”

“Well actually his full name is Flying Mint Bunny, but I’ve shortened it to Mint in recent years.” Arthur’s eyes shone as he began to ramble on and on about how he met Mint, all the strange creature's likes and dislikes,  and most of all, how excited he was now that Feliciano could see him. Arthur suddenly gasped. “If you can see him, maybe you can see all of them,” he said. 

“There’s more?” Feliciano squealed. 

“Yes! Would you like to meet them?”

“I’d love to,” Feliciano replied, a wide smile spreading across his face.

And so, for the rest of the afternoon, Arthur guided Feliciano all around his house, introducing him to all kinds of magical creatures as they went. Their last stop was Arthur’s garden, which was buzzing with life. Fairies fluttered around from flower to flower, a young unicorn laid amongst some shrubs of lilacs, and a cluster of tiny dragons peered down at them from their perch in the oak that stood in the middle of Arthur’s backyard. “Have they always been there?” Feliciano asked, amazed by everything he saw. He had always described Arthur’s garden as something out of a fantasy world, and now, with such spectacular creatures scattered around the landscape, that description was even more fitting. 

“Mhm,” Arthur hummed, “I built this garden for them to give them a little taste of home when they come and visit me.”

“Wow. Who would have thought all of this was right under my nose.”

Arthur gave him a sad smile. “It’s a shame really. As far as I’m aware, my siblings, Lukas and I are the only ones who can see them. It sounds as though Kiku and others once could but…I mean it’s better that way. No one can exploit them if they can’t see them. But…It’s also isolating sometimes, and the ridicule from others can be wearing.” 

Feliciano’s stomach twisted at Arthur’s words. Though he never poked fun at Arthur outright, internally he did, thinking his lover to be slightly mad seeing these strange illusions. But they had always been real. “I’m sorry,” Feliciano said, head hung low. 

Arthur wrapped an arm around the Italian’s shoulder, pulling him closer to place a reassuring kiss on his temple. “Thank you, but at this point, I’m used to it. Now, how about some tea? Rose and Amber have always wanted to meet you.” Feliciano immediately brightened. As he followed Arthur back inside and into the kitchen, Flying Mint Bunny landed on his shoulder. Feliciano gave him a smile, scratching him behind his ears. Part of Feliciano feared that this sight might only be temporary. When those gloomy thoughts started to creep in he shook his head quickly. No, that didn’t matter right now. Right now, he could see all the magic Arthur always tried to describe to him and he was about to have a lovely tea party with his beloved Englishman and his fairy friends. Even if this was only temporary, when everything returned to normal,  Feliciano would still remember that all these creatures would always be there and that what most called delusions made by Arthur’s mind were real. 

“Love?” Arthur called, pulling Feliciano out of his thoughts, “Are you alright.” The Brit now held a tray carrying a teapot, a few teacups, and a dish of biscuits. “Si,” Feliciano replied, smiling brightly. Things may return to normal tomorrow, but today he had a tea party to attend. “We should keep the piccole bellezze waiting.”

[strangerthings4theories]

S3 Is Billy’s Superhero Origin Story - Not The END Of His Story

If you’ve been following my meta, you’ll know I’m in the middle of a discussion of Billy as the mythological “god-king” who dies and lives again. Well, in my next post, I was going to compare him to the three brother-gods of Greek mythology (Zeus, Poseidon, Hades). However, I need to bring up an important point first.

Stranger Things has already raised Billy to “god” status. 

The show is about superheroes - El, Kali, and others like them - facing off against the forces of evil. And superheroes are often modern-day gods with god-like powers. A few are lifted directly from ancient mythology (Thor, Loki, etc). Sometimes, if they aren’t full-fledged gods, they have gods for parents, making them demigods (such as Wonder Woman, who’s the daughter of Zeus in the recent movies).

In S3, Billy becomes a superhero. By becoming a superhero, he becomes a demigod. And, as I’ll explain, the Duffers have already tied that to his resurrection.

>>Explore the definition of “demigod,” and we run headlong into Billy.

When we look up “demigod,” Google comes back with this:

a being with partial or lesser divine status, such as a minor deity, the offspring of a god and a mortal, or a mortal raised to divine rank.

If we look up lists of demigods in mythology, we get some interesting results, like the Greco-Roman Hercules. Hercules was known for his incredible strength (!!), as well for performing The Twelve Labors of Hercules. Among these are slaying the Nine-Headed Hydra and the Nemean Lion.

Oh look it’s Hercules vs. the Hydra/Lion. I’d say Lion because killing it was the first labor of Hercules. Also the Mind Flayer doesn’t have nine symbolic heads yet, that’s probably coming in a future season

Because of his association with the Nemean Lion, Hercules is often depicted in ancient art as wearing a lion skin:

In Roman works of art and in Renaissance and post-Renaissance art, Hercules can be identified by his attributes, the lion skin and the gnarled club (his favorite weapon); in mosaic he is shown tanned bronze...

Gosh. Where have I seen that before?

Damn. A quick Google search about demigods, and we’re already knocking on Billy’s door. I haven’t even talked about him as a superhero yet ;_;

>>Superheroes could be considered modern demigods.

Like I said in the intro, superheroes often embody the “demigod” archetype. They’re gifted with powers that put them a cut above the average human. Some even have explicitly divine origins. This gives them a striking similarity to the demigods of old myths, such as Perseus, Achilles, and our favorite lion-killer, Hercules.

Isn’t it weird how Billy looks like Perseus and Achilles and Hercules though

>>Billy’s S3 storyline mimics a superhero origin story.

Peter Parker gets bitten by a radioactive spider and becomes Spiderman. Eddie Brock is possessed by an alien symbiote and becomes Venom. Billy Hargrove is possessed by an interdimensional monster and becomes... well, Billy Hargrove, but with the added bonuses of superstrength and super-healing.

One article I read has a line about Eddie Brock in The Amazing Spider-Man (1988) that I find especially eerie:

The symbiote enhances Brock's strength and endurance, and since the guy was already addicted to working out, the result is almost equal to Spider-Man in raw power.

Hi there, Billy. How ya’ doin today.

The same article points out that, over his 40-year history, Venom has slowly morphed from a villain to an anti-hero. Look up the definition of anti-hero and you get this:

The term anti-hero has been provided to those who act as superheroes for some time and villains for another. It is not a surprise that fans usually like anti-heroes more due to their rebellious nature...

Oh look. It’s Billy’s trajectory from S2 (villain) to S3 (a villain who becomes an anti-hero). But I’m sure that’s a total accident. Wanna bet he’ll go from “anti-hero” to straight up “hero” in future seasons

But it gets better...

>>The Duffers have already told us S3 is Billy’s superhero origin (!) story.

In the first scene of S3 Ep 4, Max and El are hanging out in Max’s room. Max shows El two comic books and asks, “Which one?” 

I don’t know about you, but that bit always gave me a weird vibe. It’s just one of those things that seems... purposeful... like it has a hidden meaning. So, following my instincts, I took a closer look at the scene.

Y’all.

Y’all.

Look at the comic books.

On one side, we have Wonder Woman. On the other side, we have the Green Lantern. Framed this way, they’re presented to us as dueling opposites. or a superhero dream team, but that’s for future seasons

Wonder Woman is El. The scene tells us this by having El ask about her. She’s drawn to her, sees herself in her.

The Green Lantern is Billy. In S3, he’s the opposing force to El’s Wonder Woman. Also, Green Lanterns draw their power from the aid of magic rings.

Huh. Interesting.

If you need more evidence, just juxtapose the comic book shot with this shot from Heather’s house:

Would you look at that. Max is in the middle, with Wonder Woman El on the left and the Green Lantern Billy on the right.

Furthermore, the Heather’s house shot happens at the end of Ep 3. In the very first scene of the next episode, we get the comic book shot. The juxtaposition in time suggests they’re linked.

Now look again at the Green Lantern comic book.

Origin issue.

Origin issue.

ORIGIN. ISSUE.

Are y’all seeing this.

Not only is Billy a superhero on par with El, he’s also coming back to kick ass. S3 was his origin story, not the end of it. The Duffers are telling us so.

The death and resurrection plotline shouldn’t surprise us. Superheroes die and come back all the time. Just check out this list of superheroes who have done exactly that. Batman, Captain America, Spiderman, Superman... seriously, it’s old hat by now. (The list notably includes Jean Grey, who I consider El’s X-Men alter ego. Kinda makes me think she’s gonna die and rise again too)

It makes sense that superheroes can cheat death. Like I explained, superheroes are basically demigods - humans who are more than human. 

What better way to show you’re more than human... than to beat the one enemy common to all humans everywhere?

»»————-　✼　————-««

P.S. Billy’s superhero status probably explains why he gets an El-and-Kali-style nosebleed in S2 ;) FORESHADOWING, BABY

Oh and I love the idea of Superhero Billy SO MUCH that I made a music video about it...

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The “Billy Is Alive” Meta Series

[chalkrevelations]

SO. Back to the beginning, Episode 1 of Word of Honor. This is likely to be a little bit different experience than the prior posts, when I was watching the eps as they aired, compared to now approaching the show as whole and complete. May be rummaging around for things I missed the first time through, stuff that takes on new meaning set in additional context – we’ll see how it goes.

With that in mind, spoilers for not just this ep but possibly for the entire series. Get out of the car now and come back later, if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch it unspoiled.

First thing to strike me, right up front: You know, I think we tend to lose sight in later parts of the show – when we’re getting Laopo!Zhou Zishu pouting so he doesn’t have to cook dinner - how terrifying ZZS is in his own right (and by “we,” I actually mean the show, too). One of the things the first few episodes gets right, I think, is the sense of eerie inevitability and dread created by both the falling lanterns of Tian Chuang and the blowing paper figures of the Ghost Valley, and how similar they are. I think it’s easy to lose that - when the lanterns and the paper figures are gone and our charming and adorable couple are busy being charming and adorable at each other, in between varying rounds of being wracked by guilt and PTSD – easy to lose that this is there too, part of them – both of them - under the skin. I think it’s particularly easy to lose that for ZZS, when he’s already done a lot of work, off-screen, pre-Episode 1, during the 18 months he was putting in those first six Nails, to come to some kind of equilibrium, and meanwhile we watch Wen Kexing’s entire torturous process play out on-screen. Wen Kexing’s story is one of reaching an equilibrium, but Zhou Zishu’s story is one of maintaining it, which I think may be less showy, but is equally valuable, just as I value the Four Seasons Manor arc, especially, for giving us a vibe of two adults comfortable in an already intimate relationship, as opposed to the veritable sea of will-they-won’t-they tug-of-war coming-together-for-the-first-time-as-emotional-AND-plot climax relationships that we’re usually awash in.

Anyway, straight up we’re introduced to an assassin who, we discover, doesn’t like to get blood on himself. It looks like metaphorical blood is fine, just not actual blood, but then we discover, well, maybe he’s not as OK with metaphorical blood as he schools himself to look. Also that conversation with Li Jingan about her dad having to die because he’s a traitor to the country – I now wonder how much of that particular conversation Zhou Zishu mentally brings to the table in later conversations about his own father being executed for the same reason. Also, wait wait wait. Zhou Zishu tells Jingan that he took Jiuxiao’s body back to Four Seasons Manor and buried him next to their shifu, but I don’t remember seeing another grave there, other than Qin Huaizhang’s and his wife’s. Script inconsistency, or are you supposed to be lying, ZZS? I mean, would you be so downcast at the state of Four Seasons Manor when you arrive with your husband and son for your honeymoon, if you’d actually been there only a couple of years before? It didn’t fall to pieces overnight. Also, HAIRPIN FORESHADOWING ALERT. Our first sign of how important the hairpin is, the way ZZS’s impassive face cracks wide open when he sees the hairpin that Jiuxiao made and realizes he must have given it to Jingan. Clearly important!

Mmm. Here’s a point for the “Prince Jin is a f’kn asshole” list – Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with Bi Changfeng personally when Bi Changfeng requests to leave Tian Chuang. And OK, ZZS is the leader of Tian Chuang. But you’re never going to convince me Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with it personally because Prince Jin is actually so very furious that Bi Changfeng made a mistake. You will never convince me this isn’t a … it’s not even a test of loyalty, at this point, because Prince Jin has no reason to think yet that ZZS is anything other than the faithful hunting dog on a leash that he’s been, lo, these many years. Putting ZZS in a position where not only is he losing the last of the direct disciples of Four Seasons Manor, but he’s being asked to (as good as) kill him with his own hands - it’s just cruelty for the proof of your power and influence over someone. Also, given Prince Jin’s later diatribe about how everyone leaves him OMG (have you considered it’s your personality?) (But also Beiyuan! I know who you are now, and yeah, I would have let Wu Xi bride-kidnap me away from this jerk, too), I have to wonder if Prince Jin isn’t trying to make ZZS feel exactly as isolated as he, himself, feels, as part of his overall desire to make sure that ZZS has no one other than Prince Jin so that their positions are parallel – only having each other in the whole world. I also have to wonder if he’s not hoping for precisely the reaction ZZS has to Bi Changfeng – you’d rather be dead than be with me? Because that hurts, you can see it on ZZS’s face (thanks already, Zhang Zhehan), and I rather suspect Prince Jin wants it to hurt. I notice we get an echo of this later in the ep, with Prince Jin saying pretty much the same thing when ZZS asks for the final Nail. GOOD. I hope it hurts you just as much. I wonder if ZZS realizes this while he’s kneeling there in the throne room. It’s probably too late for him to get any satisfaction out of it.

OH, HEY. That’s HAN YING already, one of the two people accompanying ZZS to put down Bi Changfeng, looking super-pained like he knows what this is all costing his beloved. Han Ying, I really hope you got to tap that at least a few times before ZZS made his break for it. Is that one of the reasons Prince Jin seems to have such antipathy for you, or is it really just that he can’t stand the idea of someone whose loyalty to ZZS is greater than their loyalty to Prince Jin, himself? (Seriously, y’all, why is there not much much more Han Ying/ZZS fic?) Meanwhile Duan Pengju, omg, this asshole, is already looking smug and punchable. Really, he’s kind of enjoying the Seven Nails placement a little too much. Showing your hand pretty fast on the petty evil thing, show.

So, one thing I didn’t catch the first time around, is that ZZS isn’t just self-injuring to punish himself when he takes the knife to his chest – he re-opens wounds on all the places where the first six Nails have already been placed, so it will look like the placement is fresh. If you can’t tell he hasn’t just put them in, there’s no reason for anyone else (read: Prince Jin) to suspect he’s bought himself some time before he loses his senses. As far as anyone knows, he’s going to fall over with locked-in syndrome any day now. Which just makes the implications of Prince Jin vowing that he’s only letting him go for now EVEN ICKIER. For all Prince Jin knows, what he’s going to get back is a flesh doll that will just lie there, although I guess on the plus side, ZZS would never leave him again. Thanks, show, I need a shower, now.

ZZS says all the right things to argue his case to Prince Jin – he’s only good as a weapon, he has no skills nor utility for building and governing the country – and I think partly this is because he just knows the right things to say. I mean, you don’t become the Number Two guy in the country, with thousands under you and only one above you, if you can’t play imperial politics. But I also wonder if deep down he doesn’t actually believe it – he was successful at building Tian Chuang, but he couldn’t maintain Four Seasons Manor and even drove it to ruin. So, I’ll just be over here, clutching my chest, over my heart. Fortunately, Zhang Zhehan provides quick distraction from this pain, and I … Y’all. I can’t. I just. I CANNOT. When ZZS drops to his knees and starts stripping in the throne room. Just. Mmmmmrgh. THIS VISUAL. Although, you want to know what one of the hottest parts actually is? That pair of leather bracers hitting the floor on top of his belt, and ZZS isn’t even in the shot at that point. OK, fine, I am willing to read some dirtybadwrong fic with this whole scene premise at its heart, even if it does include Prince Jin. Zhang Zhehan, you are KILLING ME. I might have rewound this part. More than once. You can’t prove anything.

Aaaand then we get that gorgeous, painful shot of ZZS riding out into the snow that I know I’ve talked about before (including the way I get an odd echo of Lan Xichen off of it). There are several places in this ep where the cinematography is to die for, and this is one of them, the bleakness of the landscape and Zhang Zhehan (and his FACE) deep in that shadowing cloak against the stark snow as he rides out into freedom and the unknown. Then cut to somewhere green and forested. Interesting that the show starts with snow and ends with snow. That parallel with the imperial cage says some things about immortality that could stand to be unpacked – but later. Because ZZS is putting his face on – literally – and I am once again in pain, only it’s not the good kind of pain. It’s caused by that dreadful fake facial hair. There are some things that could be unpacked here, as well, about the fact that making ZZS supposedly unattractive involves a clearly fake goatee, a single aesthetically placed scar, and darkening his skin. I’m going to try to step carefully here, because this is kind of out of my lane, but it is … a noticeable thing. That probably ought to be noted.

So, ZZS takes just a moment to turn his (fake) face up to the sun and feel the warmth on it … and then with 10 minutes left, we’re on our way to Ghost Valley, where there’s some chaos and then Hanging Ghost gets got by a Mysterious Stranger To Be Revealed Later, who chokes him out (remember this). The Mysterious Master of Ghost Valley appears dramatically on his High Ledge to Make Some Pronouncements while playing with some walnuts omg (rolling two of them in one hand – remember this), and we see his eyes, which are partially obscured by chunky sidebangs, which are farther forward on his forehead than we’re going to see later, not only hiding some of his face but making it look more angular. The troops get berated, shit rolls downhill, and another dude gets choked (remember this) as Ghost Valley Master’s hair continues to artfully hide most of his face and he worries about his manicure post-kill (remember this). War is declared on Hanging Ghost for stealing the Glazed Armor, and more chaos is set into motion.

All of that takes literally two minutes, and then we cut to three months later, and no one realizes it yet, but the fam is getting together. ZZS is tits out in the gutter - only beginning his career of being a minx who flashes his collarbones an awful lot for someone who has Very Secret Scars He’s Hiding On His Chest - happily drinking himself to death in the sun (we really need to talk about this correlation of snow and immortality vs. sun and happiness …). Meanwhile, slo-mo shot of Wen Kexing looking precious and perfect, with delicate pink lips and dove-grey robes, as he checks out the rough trade in the gutter. Oh, the expectations this show is getting ready to smash. We cut from a shot of pristine precious WKX to ZZS holding up his hand, and we get a shot of the sun through ZZS’s fingers looking an awful lot like some shots of characters halo’d in light that we’ll get back to much much later in the show. Chengling appears out of nowhere to be Best Boy. A-Xiang is purple and smol and ready to brawl, and I already love her. I already love them all!  So much! Here are my delicate and precious feelings, show, go ahead and stomp all over them!

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow: day 5

Character A and Character B are co-workers, but they barely know each other. But they both have to work through the holidays,, percabeth

Annabeth finds herself staring out the window in front of her desk instead of doing any actual work. She’s been trying to pay attention to the glowing computer in front of her, but she’s accepted the fact that it’s not going to be happening tonight.

She’s too entranced by the snow that is falling outside. It’s a magical sight on Christmas Eve, with the colorful lights of Central Park that she can see from out the window, and the families moving around together. She’s always loved living in the city, but days like this make her fall in love with it all over again.

Her attention is brought back to inside the building as someone coughs. It brings her mood back down as she is reminded that she’s stuck here on the one night that she wants to be home. She didn’t have to work, but she was already struggling to get by and really needed the money.

She sighs, looking back at her computer. She’s not entirely sure what report she’s writing up, but she supposes she has all night to figure it out, and–

Someone coughs again, much more insistent, and she stiffens. The last thing she needs is to get sick, but the coughing persists from right behind her.

She turns in her chair slowly, eyes seeking out them out. She finds a guy she recognizes staring at her from the desk behind her, and she blinks. “Do you need something?”

His mouth drops slightly. “Uh– no.”

With that, she tries to turn back around, but then he seems to choke on his own air.

“What?”

He searches for words, but then all he can come up with is, “I’m bored.” “I’m sorry?” Annabeth is only slightly annoyed, but she is much more amused now because he’s looking at her pleadingly, but she doesn’t have the slightest clue as to what he’s asking her.

“I really don’t want to work anymore,” he says. His green eyes seem to stare into her soul, and it reminds her of the lights right outside the window in front of her. She is tempted to look back outside, to see if his eyes were brighter than the lights, but she restrains. “I get that,” she says, “but I don’t see what you want me to do.”

“Come steal snacks from the break room with me.”

“And get fired? No thanks.”

“There’s like five people here, and none of them care.”

“Do you even know me?”

He shrugs. “I know you’re least likely to kill me out of everyone here. They all have, like, kids and families so they won’t have fun. But it’s Christmas! Do you know what that means?”

“No.”

“It means we have to drink all the eggnog and get drunk, so come on.”

He doesn’t leave her much time to consider it before he’s hopping out of his chair and walking down the quiet corridors. Annabeth is smart enough to know that it’s probably not the smartest idea to get drunk at work, but if she doesn’t get caught, then she’s fine. And if she does get caught, it means she can quit this job that causes her physical pain. There’s no losing, she figures, so she gets out of her own chair, lightly chasing after him.

She catches up as he’s rounding a corner, and she looks around at the empty desks, one or two with people looking as miserable as she’s sure she looked. It’s kind of creepy working so late because the lights are all off, the only things glowing being people’s computers. It all has an eerie vibe to it, and if she wasn’t with this person she still doesn’t know the name of, she would not be caught dead walking around by herself.

He leads her into a breakroom on another floor, flicking the lights on. She blinks as her pupils adjust, and then she’s standing there as he goes to pull something out of the fridge.

He holds it up above his head like he is about to sacrifice it to the gods. “Eggnog!”

She just nods slowly. “You brought alcohol to work.”

“It’s not possible to do this job without being wasted,” he says.

“I do.”

“I’m sure your life is miserable.”

Well, he isn’t wrong.

He begins to pour the drink into two separate paper cups that she’s sure the company picked up from the dollar store. As he hands it to her, she has to say she doesn’t think she’s ever seen people drink out of paper cups. And as she sits onto the couch beside him that is pushed up against the wall, she is reminded that she still doesn’t know his name.

She takes a deep gulp of the eggnog. “What even is your name?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you. You might tell the boss I get drunk at work.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I’m Percy. Please don’t report me.”

“I’m Annabeth. I’m going to report you.”

Percy just gives her a lopsided smile, like he can sense the lie. “Seeing as you’re going to get drunk with me, I think I can report you back.”

“Hm.”

They fall into a silence just long enough for it to become awkward. While she doesn’t hate him, she still doesn’t know him either, and there is not anything she can think to say in this moment. Instead of speaking, she takes this time to look at him. His eyes are trained on something in the distance, so she gets to take in his face, his hair, his torso without judgement. She finds that she quite likes what meets her eyes.

“So,” Percy starts, turning his attention back to her. She quickly averts her eyes. She doesn’t know if he caught her staring, but he doesn’t say anything if he did. “How’s life?”

She snorts, taking another sip. “Not great.” “That’s simply not an acceptable answer. It’s Christmas, so life must be spectacular.”

“You caught me. I’m just faking my awful life. I’m secretly rich and am only speaking to a peasant like you to blend in.”

He touches over his heart. “How sweet.”

“Unlike this eggnog,” she says, lifting it to her nose like she was an eggnog connoisseur. “What did you put in this?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I just put enough of every drink ever so that when you blackout, you see God.”

“Oh.” She shrugs, gulping down the rest. “Sounds good.”

Percy smiles, and she suddenly feels the rush of heat down her back. She isn’t sure if it’s from the alcohol taking quick effect or something else. She holds out the cup for a refill and brings it back to her lips.

“Careful,” he says, “Drink too much and it really will knock you right out.”

“At least you’re here with me to get caught by D in the morning.”

“Serious question. Do we know what D stands for?”

“Dick?” she offers.

“Yes.”

Annabeth shakes her head fondly as she kicks off her shoes so that she can curl her socked feet underneath her. Despite the heat that has been trickling down her spine each time he gives her a look, the building is actually really cold. She shivers slightly, and Percy frowns.

“Are you cold?”

“Only a tiny bit,” she lies.

Percy sets down his drink like it was his prized possession before he pulls his sweater over his head. He doesn’t even give her time to protest before he’s chucking it at her.

“This is your jacket,” she says, tossing it back.

“I’m not cold,” he says, shoving it back to her.

“You’re seriously going to let a stranger wear your jacket?”

“We’re hardly strangers now, Annabeth. We’re best friends.”

“Oh, wow. That’s a big jump.”

“Yes, well, we’re drinking eggnog on Christmas together, so.” With that, Percy pouts his lower lip. “Please put it on?”

He looks so cute like that that she can’t resist. She gives Percy her drink to hold as she wrestles it on, and she nearly sighs in its warmth. She can still feel the body heat from Percy, and it’s surprisingly not as weird as she would’ve thought. It smells really good too, reminding her of the breeze at a beach, of a stormy night, and now, of him.

“Better?” he asks smugly.

She pulls the sleeves to over her fingers. “Shut up.”

“So, Annabeth, tell me about yourself.” He nudges her knee with his foot. “Why are you working overnight on Christmas?”

She shrugs. “Needed the money.”

“No one to go home to?”

“Other than family I’d rather not see? No.”

He gives her a sympathetic glance. “No one special?”

“You mean an extraordinarily sexy, funny, smart husband?” She laughs incredulously. “Absolutely not.”

“Today’s your lucky day! I know just the person for you. They check off all of those qualities.”

“Who?” she asks, disbelieving. “Me!”

She blows a raspberry in his face.

“Okay, I have to admit I’m not the smartest person out there, but I do think I’m not totally ugly.”

He’s not totally ugly. Quite the opposite, in Annabeth’s opinion. She’d never tell him that though.

“Worst comes to worst, you can always marry me.”

“What? You don’t think I can be one of those Hallmark characters who find the love of their life on Christmas?”

“Newsflash baby, we are those Hallmark characters. Meeting on Christmas Eve, working until Christmas day? Love story if I’ve ever seen one.”

She looks at him skeptically.

“Fine,” he says. “Let’s make one of those pacts. If we’re both still single by, I don’t know, midnight? Then we marry each other.”

She looks at the clock on her phone. “You’re giving me one hour to find the love of my life before I’m forced to resort to you?”

“Yes. That’s plenty of time.”

“Sure,” she says, laughing.

“I mean, you’re already wearing my sweater. If that doesn’t make you wife material, I don’t know what does. Besides, it wouldn’t be terrible to marry me. I know you like my body.”

The looks he’s giving her lets her know that he did see her staring at him earlier. She smacks his arm. “You asshole.”

“What?” he says defensively, rubbing his forearm.

“Why didn’t you say anything!?”

“It didn’t bother me! Besides, I think you’re, like, really attractive too!”

She leans back. “So that’s why you want to marry me in an hour? So no one swoops in and steals the love of your life?”

“Precisely.”

Annabeth quickly learns she likes talking to Percy. He’s so easy to get along with, and he’s constantly getting her to laugh so hard she can’t breathe. He’s also really sweet and selfless, and he looks amazing in the midnight haze, and as they slowly both get closer and closer to being totally wasted, it just gets better.

She has no idea how she never knew his name before now because they’re practically best friends already. She feels like she’s known him her entire life. It’s so natural and perfect, the tense feeling long gone.

At some point, Percy falls over her, squishing her into the cushions of the couch. Her drink falls somewhere out of her hand, but that’s okay because she’s already half a bottle deep, and she’d much rather hold him in her arms anyways. Her fingers trace over the lean muscles of his back as he dies of laughter in the crook of her neck. She also quickly learns that Percy’ love language is touch, especially when he’s drunk. He’s an affectionate person, which is good because he balances her out perfectly.

Percy’s weight drops completely as he gives up on holding himself up. She isn’t sure how long they spend like that, sprawled out on top of one another, but she doesn’t care. This is a carefully constructed Christmas feeling she is too scared to destroy.

At some point though, she looks down to check the time on her phone.

11:59

She pokes Percy in the neck to get him to stop chucking into the cushions, and she waits until the clock strikes twelve. When it does, she’s lacing her fingers in his hair so she can pull him up to look her in the eyes.

“Hey, pretty boy,” she giggles, “It’s twelve.”

“Merry Christmas!” he yells a bit too loudly.

She’s laughing so hard that it comes out silent, and she can’t breathe. “No!”

“Oh! You mean the whole marriage thing?”

“Yes, silly,” she says.

Percy’s head drops back to the couch cushions. “So did you find the love of your life, or do you have to settle for me?”

“I think I may have found the love of my life,” she says.

Percy whines into the couch miserably.

“I’d hardly call it settling, though,” is what she says, and Percy’s head suddenly jumps back to meet her eyes.

Percy’s eyes flicker down to her lips, and she wants it so badly. She doesn’t care that they just met because this one hour with him has been better than the past twenty years of her life spent with anyone else.

So she whispers, “You may now kiss the bride,” and Percy takes her breath away.

[babycracker]

Fire Meet Gasoline: Chapter 6

chapter rating: teen & up story rating: explicit pairing: morgan/m!oc (tanner drake) & farah/f!oc (sadie kennedy) word count: ~2.7k chapter warnings: none story warnings: eventual smut, canon-typical violence, au - canon divergent a/n: as you can see, pairings have changed and i've added some warnings for the future bc this entire story has taken an unexpected turn and it's going to be much bigger than manner now. please don't hesitate to let me know if you wanna be taken off of the tags!

read it on ao3 here

--

Sadie was sure that she'd have more time than this. Six months isn't long, after all. Well, technically four months. She's been basically on the run for the last two.

She'd had four months to enjoy being twenty-one before the Agency had contacted her about signing the treaty, and for the two months since not so politely telling them to shove it she'd been dodging the bounty hunter that she'd evidently been assigned to.

He was an idiot. A troll, she was sure of it. Big and imposing and clumsy and menacing… but stupid. She hasn't seen him in a few weeks though, and she's starting to relax, fairly sure that she's lost him.

So, for the first time in the week and a half that she's been in this city she's daring to leave her room at the hostel and check out some of what could well be her new home. She pulls her hoodie on, reluctantly pulling the hood over her head and eyeing the bland grey of the fabric with disdain for a moment. Dreadfully boring, and dreadfully cliché - a banshee roaming around donning a grey hood - but she still needs to keep a low profile. Just for a little bit longer.

Everyone's heard about the supernatural bar in the city, such things are not exactly common, though no one seems to know where it is. It would seem the only way to find out is by word of mouth, and unfortunately she doesn't know anyone here, and she can't exactly go up to random people and ask them where the local supernaturals hang.

It would really be preferable; at just over 4'3 she doesn't exactly fit in with humans, but she supposes she'll just have to make do as she heads down the street. She sticks cautiously close to the buildings, avoiding the laughing groups of people and curiously looking around at the bright and colourful nightlife.

She could get used to this.

But for now, she resigns herself to something less flashy, a not quite as cheerful and slightly shabby bar with a bright green neon sign shining from its façade reading Shakers.

Looks good enough for now, so she steps inside, a grin spreading across her face as she takes in the atmosphere. God she's missed being around humans, and this place is packed with some of the rowdiest ones she's ever seen. Her favourite kind.

There's no dancing space as far as she can see (disappointing) but the bar is huge and there are booths lining every wall, the space in the middle filled with several pool tables.

She weaves her way through the crowd, thankfully remaining largely unnoticed, and slips up onto a stool at the bar, breathing out a sigh of relief now that her height is less obvious. She spins around on her seat, leaning one elbow on the bar and watching a group of guys at the closest pool table, trying (unsuccessfully) to gather some kind of hint at how to play the game, when a voice from behind distracts her.

"What are you drinking, pretty?"

She turns, expecting to find a bartender but instead there's a man on her side of the bar and uncomfortably close, a charming and yet slightly unsettling smile on his face. She forces one to her own to keep her frown away, the eerie sense of this guy being bad news creeping through her mind and making her thoughts slightly foggy.

“I’m really not much of a drinker, thanks anyway.”

He’s good looking enough, blonde hair, bright blue eyes and dimples in both cheeks on proud display as he grins at her. But her advanced senses are ringing every bell inside of her, warning her not to trust him.

“C’mon darl, no one comes to a bar unless they want a drink,” he presses, reaching out and letting his fingertips brush against the sliver of bare wrist peeking out from the sleeve of her hoodie.

She gasps and recoils too fast to be able to reign it in, her face twisting into a frown as she pulls her sleeves down and clutches them in her fists to cover her hands entirely. She really should've worn her gloves.

Demon.

He lifts both hands in front of him, a kind of peace offering, and takes a slight step back. “Woah, take it easy. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“It’s fine,” she clears her throat, hoping it’ll take the obvious rasp out of her voice as she struggles to get any words out at all. He grins and slides onto the stool next to her.

“If I promise not to touch you again, will you come and join us?”

She eyes him carefully for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and giving a small nod. He seems nice enough, respectful enough. And she’s never been given any kind of guarantee that her perception is always one hundred percent accurate. Maybe she gets it wrong sometimes. Maybe she’s been disregarding people her entire life based on what she sees of them on the inside, and some of them didn’t deserve disregarding.

She’s been on her own since she ran away from home after her parents’ relentless persistence that she signed the Agency’s treaty became too much, she could do with some friends. Maybe now she can’t afford to turn down every single person that gives her a slight dishonest vibe. Who is completely honest these days anyway?

He grins again and gets to his feet, nodding towards one of the pool tables as a gesture for her to follow him. “I’m Axle.”

“Sadie,” she replies, reluctantly slipping off her seat and noticing the way he immediately arches an eyebrow at her height. He’s a demon, a supernatural, he’s probably already worked out that she’s not human and she just about winces as she waits for the inevitable questions.

They don’t come, however. He’s either much more polite than she’d expected, naïve and just thinks that she’s short, or he’s already worked out what she is and is choosing to stay quiet about it in this public space.

She follows him over to the pool table where a group of five other men are standing around playing a game, and a brief wave of panic surges through her when she realises that they’re probably all demons. They usually hang out with their own kind, and it would mean that she’s heavily outnumbered by a group of supernaturals far more dangerous and powerful than she is.

They barely spare her a glance though as she comes to stand at Axle’s side, and he barely offers an introduction in turn, instead waving his arm around the group and simply referring to them as “the guys”.

It’s probably for the best. She can handle one demon, should the need arise, she can slink away from him unnoticed, but once she has the attention of an entire group of them she’s not exactly sure how she’d get away if she needed to.

--

For someone that doesn’t talk a whole lot, Morgan sure spends a lot of time on the phone. Tanner hadn’t expected her to be so… clingy. She seems to really miss the rest of Unit Bravo now that she’s stuck away from them, which seems strange to him given that he’d assumed she wasn’t so different from him and would enjoy the break and getting to do her own thing (apart from having to work with him, of course) for a while.

But she’s on the phone again. Granted, she’s talking to Adam about their mission, but still. The number of questions she’d had about what they were supposed to do had been alarming to Tanner until he’d realised that she was most likely just coming up with the need for so much clarification as an excuse to speak to someone from her team.

Whatever her reasons though, he’s bored. He gets bored quite often with her, he realises, and he finds himself watching her on the other side of the room from where he’s kicked back on the couch, obviously and shamelessly checking her out as she paces and speaks in a hushed voice into the phone. Maybe it’d be different if he worked with her a little more; in regard to both her flirtation and their current job. At first, it’d been fun to irk her and get on her nerves but it’s already starting to get old - even for him - and he decides that maybe he should make more of an effort to be agreeable if they’re going to be stuck together for now. Or he could at least sleep with her. That might relieve some of her tension and get her to stop being such a hardass, at least.

She runs a hand through her hair and turns to face him, scowling when she notices his attention and lifting her middle finger at him before turning away.

He grins and sits up straight when she finally ends the call and turns to face him again.

“They want us to go to that bar tonight,” she tells him before he has a chance to say anything, and he groans dramatically and slides down to a slouching position, throwing his head back against the back of the couch and closing his eyes.

“It’s all work with you,” he complains, opening his eyes again when he hears her moving and watching her cross the room and start to pull her jacket on.

“We are on a job at the moment, so yeah, it’s all work.”

“You know this place isn’t gonna be like Mickey’s, right?”

She pulls a face, only small and only for the briefest second but he catches it anyway and for the first time sees how uncertain she is about having to be in that kind of environment.

“You gonna be good?” he adds, trying to sound at least a little sympathetic.

It actually surprises him how much he cares about how much this is going to affect her, and not just for the job. It’s going to be a pain in the ass, definitely. Having to keep an eye on her and make sure she’s not overwhelmed while trying to do his job at the same time, but more than that, whenever he thinks about how painful this is going to be for Morgan his stomach twists slightly, churning uncomfortably and making him feel… he doesn’t even know. Worried? Is this what worry for somebody else is?

Probably not. He’s probably just dreading having to babysit her.

--

He can already practically hear her teeth grinding by the time they get to the door of Shakers, let alone inside. They can hear (to be fair, godawful) rock music as well as the noise of what sounds like a pretty big crowd through the door, and he casts a glance in her direction. Her jaw’s clenched, brow furrowed, and eyes narrowed as she stares at the door before turning to the side and meeting his gaze.

“What? We going in or not?” she snaps, and he shrugs and waves a hand at her, gesturing to her general demeanour.

“I dunno, are we?”

She rolls her eyes and steps away from him, but he sees her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath before pushing the door open.

It’s loud. Really loud. Not too bright at least, but even he immediately catches the faint scent of alcohol, cigarettes and weed in the air. He can only imagine how strong it is to her.

His concerns for her are quickly overshadowed though when it takes less than a minute for his eyes to land on a group of men playing pool near the back of the room. He recognises them straight away, which means that they’re going to recognise him straight away and they’ll be gone before he and Morgan have gotten anywhere near them.

“Shit,” he mutters, ducking his head and turning to face Morgan more so as to turn himself away from them.

“What?” she snaps, glaring at him and not seeming to realise that something’s gone wrong, too caught up in trying to distract herself from the sensations bombarding her.

“I know them,” he answers distractedly, looking her up and down for a moment before casting a quick glance around the room in search of somewhere quieter. Something that doesn’t seem to exist in this bar.

He grabs her hand and pulls her over to the bar, nudging her to sit up on one of the stools and standing beside her, draping an arm over her shoulders and leaning in close to her. The close contact seemed to work the previous day when she was starting to become overwhelmed on the street outside, there’s no reason to think that it won’t work again in here.

“What do you mean you know them?” she asks, her voice a little less impatient as she leans back against him slightly, and he doesn’t miss the soft sigh of relief she lets out as he feels her body start to relax a little.

He doesn’t know why physical contact with him, of all people, seems to help her out but he’s going to count it as a bonus when it means that he’s able to set her at ease enough for her to function in these situations.

He glances back towards the pool table, but looks away again just as quickly, leaning down closer to Morgan to hide his face when he sees that the group are starting towards the door.

“They know you?” Morgan finally seems to click on, looking quickly towards the group and then back at him, and he only just realises how close he’s gotten to her when her nose just about brushes against his when she does it.

“Mhm,” he distractedly hums in reply, and she studies him for a moment before a small smirk crosses her face.

“I’ve been trying to get this close to you since we met, and now you’re telling me all it would’ve taken was a few demons to scare you?”

This bitch. He frowns at her, his arm dropping away from her shoulders as he straightens up again and moves away from her, temporarily forgetting that he’s trying to hide himself.

“I am not scared.” He spits indignantly.

Of all the things for her to say. Scared.

“You sure, sweetheart?”

Condescension drips from every word and his frown deepens into a glare. “Fuck you.”

“They’re going to see you,” she ignores his insult and nods behind him, and his eyes dart towards the group that have thankfully already moved past him when he remembers that whatever she thinks about him, them seeing him would be a disaster and if they knew that he was after them they’d be looking for them for weeks.

He subtly watches them go, waiting until the last two people are through the door, a blonde guy and a freakishly short girl, and then grabs Morgan’s hand and pulls her off of the stool. “Come on.”

He practically drags her out onto the street, making sure to keep a fair distance away from the group without losing sight of them through the crowd until he realises where they’re going.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Morgan mutters from beside him, obviously realising the same thing at the same time, and he stops and watches them step through the doors of the same motel that they’re staying in.

He grins and looks over at her, letting go of her hand. “Our job just got a whole lot easier.”

“You think?”

He doesn’t bother answering, just heads towards the motel once he’s sure that they’ve had a chance to get to their room and he’s not about to run into them in the lobby.

He’s stayed here countless times, he knows pretty much the entire reception staff, it shouldn’t be too hard for him to find out what room they’re staying in and pay them a visit when they’re not expecting it. Then all he needs to do is convince Morgan that he doesn’t need her help with his next job, they can go their separate ways, and everyone will be happy.

--

tags (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @admdmrtn @masonsfangs @homeformyheart @mmerengue @agentsunshine @bravomckenzie @freckles-spangledvampire @mistyeyedbi @kelseaaa @fhauvilles @amlovelies @forestcreatures @maraudern05 @kat-tia801 @alyssalauren @agentnolastname @utterlyinevitable @masonscig

[zephyrnoodles]

Lair Review for scarecrane

@scarecranefr​ 

You have a gorgeous lair with a lot of stunning dergs. I adore your Mint Babies tab!

Kaiju: His shadow pastel eyes had me fooled for a while, ngl. I thought he was an ice derg xD Mint tiger is always a joy to see, and you can’t do anything wrong with noxtide imo. His color combination reminds me of Mint and Straciatella ice cream scoops! And yeah he is very refreshing to look at. I’m currently melting here in my room and just by looking at him I feel a bit cooler. You know those icebergs and/or glciers with this gorgeous turquoise ice? Yeah, another thing I associate him with :D

Aether: Hoooly wow he looks so sonft! The skincent is gorgeous and your choice of apparel is perfect! I love the vibrant hues of blue and violet on his underbelly with the incredibly soft pastels as contrast. He is so nice to look at I can’t even find the proper words to describe the vibes I get from him. The eerie cyan apparel gives him a somewhat creepy layer, which I appreciate.Hwo often do you see something that is both a dream in pastel and also a little but creepy? 11/10, would totally steal this derg!

Les: That toothy grin is what convinced me to choose him. A very charming smile, very creepy, yes yes. The skincent is great and is perfect for him. I love dark browns, umber is among my favs and he has it all! Even his eye color fits! A gorgeous derg! I really like the green accent colors of the noxtide and the skincent, it ties his whole appearance together. The lighter tan color gives some contrast to the otherwise dark colors without beng too obnoxiously bright. He looks like an entity living in the deepest forests. Not something I would want to meet tbh. I shall love him from afar.

Scream: I love peridot. It is such a beautiful color. Midnight as well. And both combined is just sublime. I really like the dark apparel you gave him. It is not flashy at all and does not hide the pretty peridot wings at all. And the peridot does not overshine the dark side of his appearance. It feels very well balanced and I enjoy looking at him a lot. His name and that one line in his bio give me some horror vibes and I’m all here for it. I would love to read more about him some time! :D

Predator: Radioactive sure is a color. Not always easy to work with, but in cases like this it looks amazing. The fact that his sec and tert are dark and not bright really makes his radioactive prim pop out. The dark stripes of the chevron gene also mute the brightness a little, but not to much. He still looks like he would glow in the dark. I appreciate the skincent as well. The red pattern on the wings look soo cool, and the skincent is beautiful in general. A wonderful choice for him! A gorgeous lad! <3

[writingsbychlo]

roses and wine | stuart twombly

word count; 7819

summary; you’re both spending valentine’s day alone, at work to drown it out, and you end up with a better date than you’d ever expected.

notes; a little valentine’s day ditty, all the romance we all want.

warnings; smut, that's about it.

With a sigh, you placed your bag down at your desk, the room feeling emptier and more lonely as you looked around it. In fact, the whole building was practically a ghost town. For some reason, Valentine’s Day seemed to be a big deal at Google. It really was an amazing place to work, you got free reign with holiday days, you got your birthday off, you regularly got to choose your own hours, but almost everyone had taken this special of all days off to be with someone.

Lyle had taken the day with his girlfriend, they were driving down to a little beachside resort for the weekend. Billy had been gone all week, he and his ex had tried to pick things up now that he had his life together, and he took her on a long overdue trip to Barcelona.

Or Barthelona as he insisted it was.

Nick and Dana were off doing some kind of exciting experience that she had never witnessed before, Yo-yo had been roped into a family day by his mother, who wasn’t taking no for an answer, even with his newfound confidence. Lastly, Neha had ditched you last minute when the hot yoga instructor she’d been flirting with for the last six weeks at her weekly sessions had finally asked her out.

You had been offered the day off, a free day to sit at home and do nothing, but what was worse than sitting at home alone on Valentine’s Day because not even your job wanted you on this day of love and adoration? You had chosen otherwise, expecting to spend the day moving around the ‘Team Lyle’ office in silence, maybe play some music and try and find some kind of assignment to complete that didn’t require it being given by a management position, all of whom were absent with loved ones.

The sudden scraping of the glass door across the carpet caught your attention, shocking you slightly as you jumped, and turned to face the perpetrator. “Stuart.”

He was clearly startled himself, his eyes glancing up from his phone as the mug of coffee clutched in his hand sloshed precariously close to spilling over and burning his fingers, his eyes narrowing behind the rims of his glasses as he looked at you curiously, frozen on his spot. “It’s.. um.. It’s Valentine’s Day. What are you doing here?”

You giggled at his words, his frown pulling up into a blank look as he found motion again, stepping into the room and making his way to his own desk across from yours, putting the steaming drink down and lifting the strap of his laptop bag over his head as he placed it unceremoniously onto his desk chair. “Well, it’s slightly less depressing than being at home, alone, so..”

He chuckled lightly, a slight pink covering his pale cheeks as he scratched at the back of his neck. “Yeah, but I just figured you’d be getting ready for a hot date or something.”

“No, I don’t have a Valentine this year.” He met your eyes as you finished speaking, and you gave him a soft smile, your head tilting to the side and fingers linking in front of you as you stepped toward him, leaning against the edge of his desk and looking up at him. “What about you, hotshot? Why are you here?”

He snorted a laugh at your comment, giving you a look that you read all too clearly as complete denial about the day as he rolled his eyes fondly, the rare smile that you loved so much gracing his features. “Hm, someone definitely wanted to spend a whole day with me. You’re funny.”

“Looks like I’m going to be spending the day with you?” You placed a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly and he nodded, licking over his lips as his eyes scanned over your face.

“Unlucky you, then, I suppose.”

You frowned, slapping his arm lightly with the back of your hand before pushing yourself up onto the desk to sit properly, your legs crossing at the ankle and swinging through the air as you watched him. “You stop that. I’m excited. I think any girl would be lucky to spend Valentine’s Day with you, Stuart.”

He watched you pick up his coffee cup, examining the colour of it and how watered down it was, your lips flicking up as he mumbled that he had two sugars in it too, and you lifted the hot liquid to your lips carefully. “You’re cute. Thank you.” Your eyes flicked up to him, twinkling as you sipped at the beverage and he beamed, knowing you were smiling into the glass as he moved his bag and flopped down into the computer chair to look at you as you discussed your plan for the day ahead of you both.

You had ended up scrolling through the list of over-time work to be completed on the company website, the two of you crowded around Stuart’s laptop as you searched for something fun to pass the day with. You had eventually settled on creating some flyers to advertise new products and services that would be coming up, after you had forced him to open the ‘advertising’ column that he claimed to despise.

Following your choice, you’d drafted up ideas and lists of information to be included as you split the workload. The glass boards you had written up the notes on stood before you both, your bodies sitting at each end of the plush green couch at the back wall of the room. A patchwork blanket in the signature google colours sat over you, a smirk on your face as Stuart’s eyes glanced over you, lingering on the soft excess material that you were curled up under, a small sigh falling from his lips as you refused to give him the satisfaction of purely offering him to share.

With a content little whine, you stretched your arms above your head, kicking the material away from you as you glanced at the clock, silently making your way over to your bag to dig out your purse. You could feel Stuart’s gaze lingering on you as you padded your way out of the room and into the corridor, your soft footsteps trailing away. The corridors were desolate, and it gave off an almost eerie vibe, but with the resources and view from the Google HQ, you had long since decided that you would definitely camp out in this building if you ever did get stuck in a zombie apocalypse.

Upon approaching the assortment of vending machines, you opened the wallet in your hand, fishing a couple of notes from it as you began to select all your favourite snacks, bundling them up in your arms as the pile grew. You struggled to hold them all without dropping the treats, and you pushed the door open with your butt as you edged your way into the room, your jaw dropping as you took in the sight on the couch before you.

“Hey! That was my blanket!” He glanced up at you, grinning sheepishly as you looked at the soft wool spread over his lap, his computer balanced on top as you made your way over to him, dropping the bags of chips and the bars of chocolate beside him onto the plush cushions.

“I was cold.”

“I was cold! That’s why I got a blanket!” You huffed, putting your wallet back in your bag and toeing off the heels on your feet as you crossed your arms, pouting as you stared at the man before you. “I bought you snacks, and you stole my blanket.”

“You brought me snacks?” He beamed at you, shuffling all the food up into his lap and peeling back the edge of the woollen material beside him, patting at the couch cushion and you grumbled under your breath before taking the seat that was being offered to you. Folding your legs underneath yourself, he smoothed the soft fabric back over your lap and stretched that same arm out behind your head, sitting along the back of the couch as you brought your laptop back to life.

The heat coming from Stuart’s body beside you under the blanket was comfortable, and you had found yourself sinking closer and closer to him until your leg was pressed up beside his, the soft sounds of his hums and mumbles to himself were filling your ears as the time passed. Your fingers were flying over the keyboard, the two of you working in a comfortable silence as you smashed through draft after draft of work.

You were a dream team, and you were flying.

His voice would pipe up every so often, asking your opinion on what he were working on, or voicing ideas for your next project, and the hours flew by you until lunch was rocking around and your stomach was rumbling. The ache in your neck from looking down at the computer screen for so long was making itself apparent, and you rolled your head side to side, pops and clicks sounding as your joints eased happily.

Rolling your head back onto the edge of the sofa, you huffed out a little sigh and turned your head to look at him, his eyes already on you. His hand moved, sliding forward until his fingers were weaving into your hair gently, his own head tipping back to rest against the cushions as his fingers rubbed at your scalp soothingly, your eyes sliding closed as you let out a small sound of happiness.

“You hungry?”

You merely nodded in response to him, your body relaxed and lazily as he massaged his fingers through your hair and against the top of your head, a cheeky smile on his lips as he watched your whole body slump into his touch.

“C’mon, let’s go get food.” He heaved himself to his feet, holding his hands out to you as you whined but slipped your fingers between his, letting him haul you to stand up too. You tucked your hand into the crook of his elbow, holding onto him as he guided you through the halls. You had to serve yourselves in the little cafe, none of the hot food having been made, and you laughed as you were sitting up on the counter, watching him make you both what he promised would be the 'best meal you had ever had’.

It was beyond entertaining to watch him struggle with the toastie maker, eventually mastering it as he plated you both up a gourmet meal of grilled cheeses, apple slices, and some cupcakes you were certain were not supposed to have been broken into. “Wow, you’re a real chef, Stu.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he bit into his cheesy treat, and you giggled at the face he pulled, his mouth full as he chewed. “My skills might lie elsewhere, but at least this meal is somewhat edible. Remember when Lyle invited us all over for Thanksgiving?”

You cringed at the thought, remembering the tragic meal he had tried to pass off, and despite all your incredible culinary abilities, even you hadn't been able to salvage it. “Yeah, well, next time we do this, I’m cooking.”

“Next time?” Stuart had a crooked grin on his face as he studied you, and you swallowed your mouthful thickly, nodding and licking the dry crumbs from your lips as you finished the hot sandwich he had made you.

“Yeah. Next time.” There was something in his eyes that you couldn't quite read, but the conversation had quickly shifted as you nibbled on the fruit and cupcakes, the two of you sliding into easy chatter and laughs as you sat at the little table of the cafeteria space.

His arm had found its way around your shoulders as you walked back to the office, your fingers playing with his as they dangled from your arm. He never retracted his hold from you, instead choosing to keep you tucked under his arm on the couch as you shared his laptop, balanced on his lap as you curled into his side, your cheek resting on his shoulder as you scrolled through the emails he had, completing the work you had set out for in the day.

You were more than happy when his hand had found the back of your head absentmindedly, his fingers weaving into your hair, nails scratching lightly against your scalp and your eyes slid closed as you held onto him, an arm slung around your waist and fingers bunching in the material of his shirt as you clung to him happily.

Neither of you felt even an ounce of worry or anxiety, you were more than comfortable just holding onto one another as you emailed out the drafts of flyers and presentations you had made. You were beginning to hate the minutes passing, because as they turned to hours you realised you were getting closer and closer to the end of the day, and that soon, you would have to say goodbye.

You had pushed it as late as you could, but as five o’clock rolled around and Stuart shut down his laptop before you, you soon realised that he would be waiting to go home, and the happy bubble you had created throughout the day was about to pop and disappear forever. The two of you packed away quietly, your tote slinging up onto your shoulder as he took his time putting his things into his messenger bag, arranging them to please him before sealing the bag up.

Standing before him awkwardly, you rocked on the balls of your feet as you looked up at Stuart, your hands clasped in front of you as you fiddled with your fingers. “Do you.. y’know, if you’ve not got plans.. just so neither of us has to spend the night alone..” You sighed, rubbing a hand along your forehead as you felt heat crawl up your features, and Stuart bit his lips as he watched you, trying to bite back the smile that was threatening to break free at you cute attempts. “Do you maybe want to come over?”

As you finally spit the words out, and let your eyes roam back up to meet his, he let his head tip to the side, a small smirk pulling on his lips and your heart raced as you raised your brows at him in silent question. “Are you asking me on a Valentine’s date?”

Your jaw dropped at him, your blush only getting deeper in colour and you gaped at him, clearing your throat and licking over your lower lip to wet it as you tried to form a response. “Would you wear your pyjamas on a date? Because I will be wearing my pyjamas.”

“Uh, that sounds like the best kind of date.” Your frown flickered at the edges, and he took a step closer to you, his hand reaching out to lift one of yours gently from where you had released them to hang by your sides, your fingers twitching in his loose hold. “Will there be movies and takeout food?”

You nodded, watching as he smiled and promised that he would be there, and he let you step away from him for just a second as you searched for a pen to write with, scribbling down your address for him and handing him the slip of paper. “It’s.. a date, then. You best be in pyjamas.”

He laughed gently, dipping his head to press a brief kiss to your cheek, leaving your skin burning as he promised he’d be over within a few hours, before he was stuffing the note with your address into his pocket and stepping away from you, leaving you frozen and blushing in the middle of the room.

By the time the soft rapping on your door was sounding through your apartment, you were skidding along the hardwood floors in a pair of fluffy socks, trying to push down the nerves that were electrified along your body. You had expected that when you opened the door, your anxiety would only skyrocket, but once you laid your eyes on the boy on the other side, whiskey-brown eyes twinkling as he smiled at you bashfully, you felt a calm aura settle over you.

Scanning your eyes over him, your jaw dropped, a soft cooing sound leaving you as you spied the bunch of red roses he held gently, a card with your name on it clutched between two fingers, his other hand holding a bottle of wine. Upon seeing your reaction, his head ducked, his smile wide but his cheeks to the tips of his ears were almost the same colour as the flowers he was holding out for you, and you accepted them gratefully as you held the door open for him, allowing him to step inside.

“I thought we had an agreement about the dress code, Stu.” You teased, flicking your sights over the t-shirt and skinny jeans he was wearing, and he chuckled, dipping his head to press another lingering kiss to your cheek, slightly chapped lips scraping against your skin as he pulled away just enough to look at you.

You leaned up, bumping the tip of your nose against his, and he returned the intimate gesture, your noses rubbing together lightly as he let out a shaky breath, fingers coming up to clutch the strap of the backpack slung over his shoulder. “Yeah, I brought some with me. Couldn’t exactly go into the store to buy your flowers in my plaid pants.”

You pulled away, sinking back to your normal height as you laughed happily at the thought, ducking around him and glancing back over your shoulder, tipping your head at him to follow as you all but skipped to the kitchen with your gift clutched in hand. “An overnight bag, already, Twombly?”

“No! I mean- technically, yes.” You smiled at his enthusiastic rambling, filling a vase with water from the tap and placing it in the centre of your dining table. “Only because I wasn’t sure how late we would b-”

Placing a hand on his jaw, your thumb smoothing over his cheek in relaxing patterns and his words died in his throat as he looked at you intently. “I think it’s cute that you pictured us having such a good time that you’d want to stay over.”

“W-Well, yeah..” His brows furrowed behind the thick rims of his glasses, and he pursed his lips together, the cogs turning in his head reflected in his eyes as he mulled over his words. “I know it seems like I’m grumpy and moody, like, all the time. I really like you, I like spending time with you, and I’m really happy to be here.”

“I don’t think you’re grumpy and moody.” Your hand still on his face, holding his head up and forcing him to keep his eyes on yours as he tried to shy away. “You’re just.. quiet. I like it. When we sit together, we don’t have to talk, it’s just so easy and comfortable to be with you. Just like today, it’s lovely to be with you.”

The boy let out a breath, his forehead falling to yours as the warmth of his exhale washed over your skin, his eyes closing and lashes fluttering against your cheeks. “You’re so perfect for me.” He dipped down, his lips meeting yours in a nervous peck. It was soft, and slow, and barely there at all, more like his lips brushing yours, and it was far shorter than you had wanted it to be, but he soon returned, his mouth pressing to yours a little more firmly, with a little more confidence behind it as his own hands came up to hold your face.

His lips slid over yours, dragging together teasingly before he was pulling away, letting the sides of his mouth twitch up in joy as he looked down at you. “Was that okay? You didn’t.. mind me kissing you, right?”

“You can kiss me anytime you want, Stuart. I definitely didn’t mind.” You were slightly breathless. Whether it was from the kiss itself, or from the way his lips were slightly puffy and shining in the dim light of the kitchen as he stared at you with such adoration, you would never know, but it was making your head spin.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The signature mix between a smirk and a smile that you had only ever seen him be able to master took place, and he huffed out a low chuckle, nodding as he pecked your nose before backing away from you. “So, what are we ordering and where can I change?”

With a grin, you pointed him down the hallway to your left, and he was quick to spin on his heel and walk away from you, your eyes lingering on his figure until he disappeared into the bathroom to change. You only tore your gaze away when the door clicked shut and he was concealed from view, your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as you bit back at the smile threatening to reveal itself.

Instead, you busied yourself around your kitchen, grabbing the pile of shiny and odd-sized papers, choosing to spread them out on the coffee table in your living room as you steeled yourself happily into the couch cushions, your legs tucked under you as you flicked through your food options. You were so preoccupied reading about all your pizza options that you had missed the soft sounds of Stuart’s now bare feet padding toward you, and only the sounds of his bag dropping loudly to the floor beside the couch startled you out of your reverie.

His hands were planted on the arm of the couch, leaning down and looking over the menu in your hands as he hummed happily at your choice, your eyes scanning over his attire of blue plaid pants and a grey t-shirt before finding his face, taking in every detail and beauty mark on his pale skin, his tongue peeking out to moisten his lips before his gaze left the paper to move up to your own.

“What are you staring at?”

You shrugged, smiling at him as you continued to take in every detail of his perfect appearance. Twinkling eyes hidden behind cleaned glasses, the golden-brown shining brightly as he watched you look at him, his head messy and tousled but so perfectly Stuart. It looked like that whether he had worn a beanie to mess it up, or whether he had simply been running his hands through it, and your fingers twitched with the urge to reach up and flatten the stray strands. A pink hue rose to his cheeks as you did, your fingers dragging through his hair delicately as you flatten it slightly from its wild position.

Instead of replying to his question, you chose instead to trail your hand along his arm, picking up his hand from where it rested on the edge of the couch and pulling him down beside you, his knees dipping into the cushions as he crawled along the edge and sat beside you. Holding onto him, you lifted your joint hands over your shoulders, a chuckle falling from his lips as you wrapped his arm around your shoulder and tucked yourself into his side. “That was smooth, princess.”

“I was going for cute.” You huffed, your eyes going back down to the stack of menus laid out before you as his fingers drew shapes on your shoulder, a subtle ‘aww’ sound from him as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You’re always cute. Also, I’m kinda’ feeling pizza, is that okay?”

“It’s perfect, because it’s what I was feeling too.” You dropped the flyer back down, Stuart digging his phone from the loose pocket on the front of his pyjama pants as he pulled up the ordering app, handing it over to you as you twisted your body further into his, fingers moving swiftly over the screen as you chose your meal for the evening, and he did the same the moment you handed the device back to him.

Despite it being Valentine’s Day evening, you had experienced no delay in receiving your food. The hot, fresh meal was delivered to your door within the hour, and you were soon opening multiple cardboard boxes as steam poured out into the room as you spread out the feast before you. Each a specially chosen pizza, accompanied by potato wedges, curly fries and cheesy dough-balls, the box with the freshly made cookies in having been stashed in the kitchen to be saved for later.

Once you were full and satisfied, you had spread yourself out, the bottle of wine Stuart had brought had joined yours, and you had quickly drunk them both, only the last remnants of his bottle left and his body shook with laughter as he tried to top up both of your glasses. The two of you were a slightly tipsy and giggly mess. Your legs were swung across his lap, one of his hands sitting on your thigh as he leaned back, the other clutching his glass and raising it to his lips as you snickered into your own drink.

He watched as you downed the rest of the liquid, licking over your lips to clear them of stray drops and he followed suit, both of your empty glasses being placed on the table. This time, it was his turn to observe you, drinking in your features as he admired you. Your eyes were closed, your head lulled against the back of the seating you both shared and a soft, dopey smile on your lips. Your legs were slung over his lap and he liked the way it felt to be so close to you, the way you seemed to fit just perfectly with him, no matter what position you were in.

Lifting a large palm, he closed it over your cheek, your eyes fluttering open to look at him as he shifted in his seat, leaning down to let his lips meet yours carefully. The taste of the pizza and wine you had wasted the evening on still lingered in your mouth. Your own hands slid up his arms, fingers sitting under his jaw as you pulled him closer to you, your bodies moving of their own accord into a more comfortable position. His body hovered over yours, chests pressed together as his lips dragged against yours.

Your tongue trailed along his bottom lip lightly, a whine falling from you as he happily parted his lips, hot mouth slanting over yours as your tongues tangled together. Your nails scratched at his skin lightly, your body flooding with heat and when the burn for oxygen became too much, he pulled his lips from yours. He barely wasted a second before he was dipping his head down to lick and suck along your jaw, your chest rising and falling in quick pants as he soon located your sweet spot, his smirk prominent and pressed to your skin as your body arched up into his, a cry falling from you as your eyes closed.

He was swirling his tongue around the spot, nibbling and working on a dark hickey to decorate your flesh, your hips rolling up into his and he grunted at the feeling, a sigh leaving him as your repeated the motion and he returned the gesture, grinding down into you as he pulled back to admire his handiwork. You could feel his cock hardening through the thin cotton of his pants and your sleep shorts, the material barely providing a barrier to the feeling of him growing and twitching in his pants as he pressed up against your clit deliciously.

He ducked his head back down to kiss you again, but your hands landed on his shoulders to hold him back, his lips barely brushing yours as you whimpered in his hold. “Wait, wait, wait.” Your words were panted and raspy from the sloppy kisses you had shared, and his eyes widened as he looked down at you. He swallowed thickly, rocking back to sit on his heels as he kneeled between your legs, running a hand through his hair and sighing shakily.

Red crept up along his skin as he dropped his hands to his lap, trying to hide the quickly developing boner that had been forming and was straining against his trousers. “I am so sorry, I got caught up in the moment and shouldn’t ha-”

You sat up, propping yourself up on your elbows as you looked up at him through your lashes, your jaw dropping as he began to spew apologies. “Relax, Stu. I was just going to say maybe we should move to the bedroom, but if you don’t want to then I totally underst-” He fell forward in a hurry, his lips clashing with yours in a messy exchange, a surprised squeak leaving you as he moaned into your mouth, his fingers slipping from your cheek to tangle in your hair.

“I definitely want to.”

You beamed at him, pressing a final kiss to his lips before peeling yourself from the couch, standing up on your feet and crooking a finger at him as you took slow steps backwards. He practically stumbled to his feet, tripping and falling as he followed you and a giggle left your lips, followed by a squeal as you turned on your heel and ran.

A growl sounded, echoing from the walls lining your corridors as he gained on you, the chase through your apartment coming to an end as his arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you backward into his chest and his mouth descended to your neck. He licked his way along your skin, nipping along your shoulder as his hands pushed under the light material of the top you were wearing, pushing it up until his fingers were skimming along the soft skin of your torso, brushing under your tits as you let your head roll back onto his shoulder.

“Stuart..”

“Tell me what you want, gorgeous. I’ll give it to you, just tell me what it is.” His words were breathed out, voice raspy as his lips brushed the shell of your ear and you whimpered, his body pressed flush up behind you, his erection digging into your thigh.

“Anything. Everything. Jus’ want you.” He hummed in response, the skinny digits that were digging into your flesh slipped up to cup the mounds on your chest, rolling your nipples between the pads of his fingers until they pebbled into solid buds. A whine left you, your hips rolling back into his, in search of friction, your thighs clamped together and he let one hand snake down along your front, toying with the edge of your sleep shorts.

Daring to travel further, he slipped his hand under them, and under the elastic of your parties, your clit tingling with excitement as he barely brushed against it, but a moan fell from both of you at the touch. Reaching further, he dragged two slim fingers through your soaked folds, and he huffed upon gathering your wetness, swirling his touch before pressing down harshly onto your clit. “So wet for me. Who’s this for? Did I do this to you?”

“Yes, you did. Please, Stu, I need more.” You were begging him, and it felt beneath you because you never begged but at this moment his touch, or lack thereof, was driving you insane, and he grinned, one finger teasing around your entrance before slipping in, your walls hugging around him as you gasped happily, though still not satisfied.

He soon gave in to you though, adding a second finger to the mix and burying his fingers deep into you, crooking them and rubbing them against your walls lazily as he panted into your ear. “Squeezin’ my fingers so good. Can’t wait to have you wrapped around my cock, your greedy little pussy taking every inch of me.” You cried out, the feeling of him picking up the pace inside of you, coupled with his words was overwhelming. You’d known Stuart Twombly for a little while now, and you had never heard this tone of voice before, and you had never heard him speak so filthily.

The heel of his hand was rubbing against your clit each time he moved his hand, his finger slamming in and out of you scissoring you and stretching you as his nails scraped against your walls and the combination of feelings was rapidly becoming too much. The pleasure was blinding, your eyes rolling as the coil in your stomach tightened, and you were glad he was standing behind you because you needed the support of his body just to stay up.

Your hands were scratching at his arms around you, gripping tightly, leaving marks in his skin as wet sounds filled the room, resonating from your core, barely muffled by the fabric his hand and the actions were hidden behind and you had no idea what to focus on. His lips working over your shoulder? His hand grabbing and pinching at your breasts roughly, or his fingers slamming in and out of you without remorse?

His mouth trailed up to your ear, leaving wet trails as he did, until he kissed the sensitive spot below, teeth grazing it. “Cum for me, gorgeous. I know you want to, I can feel it, just let go.”

Your hips bucked upward into his hand as the knot snapped, your body hurtling over the edge of the abyss into pure pleasure as you came around his finger, moaning his name loudly and he grunted at the feeling of your walls clamping around him. He rode through your orgasm for you, slowing his pace as you shook from sensitivity at the feeling before pulling his touch from you entirely.

The hand on your chest dropped to wrap around your waist, holding you up as you shook in his grasp and he chuckled darkly, the vibrations running along your skin. The other hand came up, wet sucking sounds filling your ears as he slurped your arousal from his fingers, a whimper leaving you at the sound as you knees buckled and his grasp was the only thing holding you up.

“Holy shit, Stuart.” When you could eventually form words, that was all you could muster, and he laughed softly behind you, walking you forward until he could place you on the edge of your bed gently, your body fanning out to lie along the sheets as he looked down at you, licking over his lips. His cock was straining against his pants, a handing coming down to palm at himself as he looked over you, his lust-blown eyes finally coming up to meet yours.

Within seconds, he had peeled his shirt up over his head, his hands finding place beside your body on the quilt as he leaned over you, his hips rolling into yours as your mouths clashed together. His hands were tugging at your own top, the two of you desperately and frantically undressing one another as clothes were shed. His skin was hot against yours, the glistening sheen of sweat between you as his body slid over yours left you whimpering and moaning, the head of his swollen and dripping cock pressing to your entrance.

With a hand between your bodies, you lined up him, his hips inching forward as he sunk himself into you slowly, stretching you out with a delicious burn until the curly hairs surrounding his base were brushing your skin, his cock reaching spots within you that had never before been touched.

“Fuck, you’re so damn tight.” His words were hissed through gritted teeth, his face buried in your neck as he gave you time to adjust, as well as settling himself so he didn’t explode on the spot. Running a hand down your thigh, he hiked it up onto his hip, groans leaving you both as he sunk even deeper into your flooded core.

Your hips rolled up into his signal, and he pulled his hips back gently, before snapping them forward into your own, repeating the action a few slow times, test thrusts, before pushing himself up on his arm to look down at you. He sped his movements up, his mouth pressed to yours as he grunted against your lips, mouths barely moving in slow patterns in what could barely be called a kiss.

Your hands moved from his shoulders, weaving up into his hair as your back arched, cries of his name leaving you as the sounds of skin slapping against skin filled your bedroom, the mattress below you squeaking from the ferocity of his rough thrusts.

“Oh God, Stuart!” One of your hands pulled tightly on his hair, bunching up the soft chocolate tendrils between your fingers as the other raked down his back, his hips still snapping forward viciously into your own, your fingers tearing at his skin and leaving it torn up with red welts.

The feeling only made him growl, his thrusts becoming more and more aggressive, cock pounding into you, your tits bouncing against your chest before him and he lowered his head, catching a nipple between his teeth and tugging loosely. The feeling made you mewl lightly, a gasp falling from you as the tip of his cock nudged against your g-spot, your walls hugging even tighter around him.

He was panting, hot breath fanning across your skin as his dark eyes bore into yours, his sight setting your skin alight as fire crawled up along every nerve in your body. His grip on you tightened and he bit his lip, groaning loudly again as his breathing stuttered, bringing you both hurtling closer to his edge.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been fucked this good.” You mumbled, moaning as he pulled your leg further up on his hip, hitting new angles and reaching deeper, head falling back ecstasy. He took the offering of the new skin, licking across the front of your throat, leaving fresh marks along the exposed skin as he laughed breathlessly. “No one fucks me like you can, oh fuck.”

“Is that all I mean to you?” He teased, although he knew it wasn’t true and you huffed out a chuckle that soon dragged into a series of whimpers, hand locking on his jaw and pulling his face to meet yours. Lips clashed, tongues fighting for dominance and he won, arms locking in beside your head and he growled, almost predatorily.

“You know you mean more to me than that, Stu. I have to say though, I doubt anybody else at google would be able to fuck me until I’m seeing stars.” You murmured the words quietly, but he caught them nonetheless and he pulled away, pulling himself out of you and gripping your hips tightly, making you cry out at the loss.

“I don’t want you even thinking about other guys fucking you, do you understand?” His pointer finger trailed over your bottom lip, before his head dipped down, his mouth brushing across yours as he nipped at your lower lip. “These lips, are mine. To be wrapped around my cock only.” Two of his fingers trailed down your front, tweaking and tugging on your nipples as you arched up into him, breathing laboured and strained from all his teasing. “These tits, are mine, for me to mark, for me to play with. Mine.” He followed the touch of his fingers the words whispered against your hot and flushed skin, his wet tongue flicking out to lick across a nipple, sucking it between his lips and rolling it between his teeth.

“Mhm, Stuart, all yours, I promise. Yours.”

“Damn right.” He growled, biting with an equal softness and roughness against your breast and dragging two fingers through your folds, circling them around your clit as your hips bucked up, pleadingly rolling into his palm. “This dripping little pussy is mine. None of them will ever get to know how tight you are, because you said it yourself, baby, no one could fuck you like I can.” He plunged to fingers into your sodden heat, a scream ripping from your throat as his fingers moved hard and fast, curling perfectly and stroking that inner spot that made colours explode behind your eyes. Your body spasmed, jumping vigorously and his mouth met yours, swallowing the screams and moans you made as you came all over his fingers, juices spilling and flowing from you as bliss filled every pore and spot within you.

His cock twitched, just watching you cum was bringing him to his end, his name being screamed from your lips finished him off and his hand wrapped around his shaft, tugging at himself quickly as his head fell back, his back meeting the mattress as he worked himself toward his climax. His hips were jolting up into his fist, your arousal coating him as he jerked his cock quickly, and you drank in the sight. His eyebrows were pinched together, jaw hung slack as his face curled in pure pleasure.

Pushing yourself up on shaky arms, you crawled over him, licking along his shaft and his finger stilled, a shocked shout falling from him as your lips closed around the deep red head of his cock, sucking deeply and sinking along his shaft. The taste of yourself was clinging to his skin, and your tongue flattened, tracing along the throbbing vein running down the underside of his cock until he was nestled snugly in your mouth tapping against the back of your throat.

The second he heard you gag around him, he tumbled over the cliff into ecstasy with you, your name leaving his lips in a mix of grunts and shouts, his voice deep and scratchy as he moaned freely. Hot shots of cum were spurting from his tip and filling your mouth, strangled noises were leaving him as you bobbed your head, lips in a tight seal around him as you milked him for everything he had, swallowing every drop he had to give you.

You lapped at his skin, cleaning him of his climax and dragging your tongue over the slit, his hips jumping as he groaned lowly in sensitivity, his eyes cracking open to send you a mock glare as you winked at him, crawling up the bed and collapsing down into his side.

Your face nuzzled into his neck, your legs tangling together and your arm wrapping around his waist as you settled in happily. Your heart was still pounding against your chest side as your body lay flush to his side, and you could hear his panting as he tried to sort out his uneven breathing. He lifted a hand, running it over his face and pushing his glasses from his face as he tried to steady his own racing heart.

The other arm wrapped around you, fingers drawing shapes on the bare skin of your waist, tickling you lightly and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Do you.. still want me to stay? Or do you want me to go now?”

Your face etched with confusion, and you popped yourself up on your elbow, his face turning so his worried gaze could meet yours as you frowned at him, lifting the hand from his waist to card your fingers through his post-sex, messy hair. Your lips met his softly as your hand closed over his cheek, pulling his mouth up to meet yours in a sweet kiss, slow and gentle, and he sighed happily at your touch. “Why on earth would I want you to leave?”

“I wasn't sure if you just wanted company to pass Valentine’s Day, or whether this was more than that.” You knew exactly what his words were implying, despite the fact that he had crafted them so carefully, and heat flushed your face as you sat up, tugging the blanket around you up to cover your chest nervously.

“Wait, is that the case with you?” Your mouth felt dry, embarrassment and shame creeping in as heat crawled over your cheeks, and your eyes widened, watching as he gaped at you, trying to find words. “You can go if you don’t want to be here anymore, y’know, now that we’ve-”

“I might be in love with you.” When he finally found his voice again, that had absolutely not been what you had expected him to say, your jaw snapping shut as his words rang over and over again in your head. He settled back into the bed, his hands propping under his head as his eyes slipped shut, face blank as he settled into the bedding. “I just wanted you to know that I didn't use you. You don’t have to feel the same, but I didn’t want you thinking I wanted a quick fuck or anything.”

You reached over, lifting his glasses up and placing them back on his face carefully, his eyes fluttering open to reveal the caramel colour to you. “I think I may well love you, too, Stuart.” His jaw dropped, brows shooting up into his hairline and you giggled at his shocked expression, and you leaned over him, placing a kiss to a blushing cheek as he grinned at you.

“Really?”

“Well, yeah. You’re cute and funny, and I know you care about the whole team, even if you do make snarky comments and pretend you hate us. I know that you’re the only one who knows how to change the wires in the coffee machine and set it on it’s clean down spin and you don’t even drink that coffee from the machine, you always get one from the food bar, but the machine is always clean for the rest of us.”

He scoffed at your words, but you could see the twinkle in his eyes to confirm your words, and he puckered his lips, silently asking you for a kiss and you were more than happy to indulge him.

“You always colour-code work you give me, with those cute little post-it notes so I don’t have to work too hard or get stressed. You make me happy, and you’re sweet, and you always stay behind in the office with me to keep me company when I have work to finish. How could I not have feelings for you, Stu?” You settled back into his side, your bodies wrapping around one another and a yawn tore at your lips.

“We can talk more about it in the morning, yeah? Maybe you’ll let me take you out on a real date?” You nodded, and he pressed a kiss to your temple as exhaustion seeped into you.

“Sounds like a plan, Twombly.”