#boyd’s long ass neck

[bludpudding]

teenage corinthian if he was capable of physically aging

[girlboybug]

writing request for a smut fic with established relationship with javi x reader? dialogue prompt: javi: “he looked at you funny” reader: “i didn’t know you were the jealous type..”

OOO i like this muahaha >:) i hope you enjoy hehe, thank u for requesting!! <3

art deco

"shining like gunmetal, cold and unsure. baby you're so ghetto, you're lookin' to score."

or the one where jealousy happens to be a good look on javi.

what’s playing 🎧 : art deco by lana del rey

content warnings : SMUT, jealous!javi, blowjobs, face fucking, car sex, semi public sex (?), unprotected sex (extremely unwise w javi idk wtf he got goin on down there), creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, themes of slut shaming, threats of exhibitionism, threats of restraints e.g cuffs, brat tamer!javi (been dying to write that)

trigger warnings : mentions/threats of gun usage, alcohol, both reader and javier are tipsy at best, if there is anything i missed pls lmk!

word count : 4k

a/n : im pulling SO MUCH out my ass w this bc i havent finished narcos and only rlly pay attention when pedro or boyd is on screen and even tho im half mexican my ass cannot speak spanish for the life of me teehee sorry yall

you’re a bad actor. 

you’re also bad at lying and honestly, just generally bad at the things javier happens to be especially good at. 

but that’s okay, javier likes you like that. it’s refreshing, endearing, to be with someone who hasn’t gotten good at lying or pretending to be someone they’re not. and actually, he’s currently watching you fail at that right now. 

you’re at the bar, swirling around your drink that he bought for you, pretending to not notice the way he’s eyeing you from across the club. he thinks it's cute how you keep stealing glances at him, giggling to yourself whenever he catches you.

you two do this little song and dance every now and then, it keeps things exciting and fun, and you never have complaints about it. 

you pretend to be the single, bored girl sitting alone at the bar, and javier just so happens to swoop in, introducing himself as the man who’s been ordering drinks for you all night, ready to charm you into his bed for the night. it’s stupid when you say it out loud, but the way he fucks you when you do this little act makes it seem like the best goddamn idea he’s ever come up with.

it’s harmless fun between a couple, and the tension you two create throughout the night is always a recipe for mind blowing sex. however, it seems things are going a bit off script tonight. 

a man invites himself to the empty barstool beside you that was reserved for javier, but he’s oblivious to the little game you’re playing right now. “hi there,” he says, grinning, and you try your best to hold back a long sigh while you greet him back politely. 

javier’s hand tightens around the beer he’s got, wishing the neck of the bottle belonged to the man staring you down. he decides he’ll keep watch for awhile, he trusts you, and wants to see how this’ll play out, despite his patience already wearing dangerously thin.

“can i buy you another drink?” he asks, motioning towards the dwindling liquid in your glass. its not a difficult question, but the answer isn’t coming to you like it should be. 

you are playing the role of a single woman tonight, and you won’t let anything go further with this guy than receiving a free drink. 

eh. why not? 

“yeah, sure, thank you.” you smile back, and he hurriedly calls over the bartender, asking for two glasses of whatever it is you ordered. javier shifts in his seat, his jaw coming down harder than it was just a moment ago as he watches you share a drink with someone that isn’t him. 

javier follows his wandering eyes, how they trail up and down your figure, making it obvious he’s wondering what you’ve got on underneath.

javier wants to walk up to him to tell him how he knows what you’ve got under that dress, because he picked it out. 

god, this night fuckin’ sucks so far. 

“i noticed you for awhile now, what’re you doin’ here all alone?” he asks, and you get a little nervous with the way he gets closer to you. “i’m just waiting for my boyfriend to show up.” you answer, deciding the single woman role didn’t feel as fun anymore. 

“ahh, i see.” he replies, and you expect him to scoot farther from you, or better yet, leave. but much to your dismay, he stays. 

“it’s just,” he starts, and you glance down at your shoes, saying a silent prayer for him to get on with what he’s got to say before he leaves you alone for good. 

“you’ve been here for awhile now, you sure he’s comin’ honey?” he questions you, faux concern in his voice and you close your eyes for a moment to hide the way they roll at him.

“yeah, i’m sure.” you reply curtly. “how about i keep you some company while you wait for him then, how’s that sound?” he gets closer than you would’ve liked, boldly resting his arm around your shoulders, and yep, that’ll do it. 

javier’s beer clatters down onto his table as he shoots up from his seat, stalking over to you. he’s quick to join you, standing tall behind your seated figure, his strong chest a familiar surface against your back. 

“uh who’re you–” 

“her boyfriend.” he answers, eyes lowered testingly, practically itching for him to give him a reason to swing. “hi baby,” you beam, turning around and craning your neck up to give him a kiss. he leans down, holding your chin while he kisses you. 

with your lips still connected, he stares at the scoffing man that just sits and watches. 

“yeah well i wasn’t the one who kept her waiting all night so why don’t you get lost? we were havin’ a conversation, weren’t we sweetheart?” he looks at you as if you’d actually agree, and you open your mouth to defend javier, but he doesn’t need you to, he’s more than eager to put this guy back in his place. 

he steps away from behind your back, moving right in front of you now, leaning in close to the man. he reaches around to his lower back, sliding his gun to the side of his waist before he’s got it in his clutch, pressing it to the man’s ribs.

“you have 3 seconds to get the fuck out my face before i stop being so polite.” he whispers in his ear, and the man stiffens with immediate fear once he registers what’s being pointed at him. 

he swivels out of the stool, hastily hopping out to make his way out the club all together. javier turns back to you once he’s out of his field of vision, expecting a profuse thank you javi, but he gets quite the opposite. 

“what the hell was that?” you question, sounding angry, and uh oh, you saw that. 

“baby,” he starts off but you just huff, climbing off the stool. “that was way too far,” you point at him and he sighs, holding your arms, rubbing them up and down, trying to settle your irritation down. 

“but he was making you uncomfortable, and you didn’t see the way he was looking at you–” 

“and what way was he looking at me for you to pull a gun out on him?” you whisper yell and he starts to join you in your frustration. 

“he looked at you…funny, like he was just thinking about fucking you the entire time.” he sounds upset that he even has to explain himself to you about this, and you catch it, deciding to throw it back at him when you turn on your heel to leave. 

he growls with annoyance as he follows you out the club, grabbing your arm and forcing you to turn back and look at him.

you exhale sharply, looking up at him, switching your weight onto your left foot. “i knew you could be a little…impulsive sometimes but jesus jav, i didn’t realize you were the jealous type that would do something so…stupid.”

his annoyance is fast to turn into a hard glare, and you see the sudden shift, instantly feeling regretful. he purses his lips to the side, laughing dryly. “stupid huh?” he clicks his tongue and you shake your head, walking closer to him now.

“javi, i’m sorry,” you try to remedy the mess of this situation, but unlucky for you, what little patience he was holding onto is now gone. 

he grabs the hand of yours that’s reaching towards his jaw, he isn’t in the mood for it. he pulls you along by your wrist to the parking lot. 

“yeah, you’re about to be baby,” he mutters, and your heart picks up, your heel clad feet in turn picking up speed to keep up with him. 

he ushers you into his backseat, slamming the door behind you once you’re both in. he tugs you into his lap, your legs on either side of him, your knees making contact with the cold vinyl. his hands find their way to your ass, squeezing it hard.

you gasp a little, arching into his chest. the second you move in closer, his lips are on your’s. it’s not gentle, it’s not slow paced, and it’s not soft, no, that’s for when you’re good. and you’ve been anything but. 

you’re grinding in his lap, his growing bulge feels perfect right up against your dampening panty clad cunt, too perfect that you can’t stop yourself. you’re moaning in his mouth, struggling to keep up the pace and intensity in the way his lips are moving with your’s. 

he tastes like beer and cigarettes, smells like it too, with traces of his cologne that you love. he’s like paradise incarnate and you want to live in him forever. 

when he pulls away you're left panting in his hold, lips parted, brushing against each other, stealing the other person’s breaths. “you know,” he sighs lowly, his words trailing up your spine, leaving shivers in their wake. 

“just because i let you pretend you’re single for the night doesn’t mean you actually are,” he says, and he sounds serious, but there’s something hidden in his air, something challenging, like he wants you to argue just so he can put you right back where you belong. 

you nod heavily like he speaks words of righteousness, cupping his jaw in your hands. “i know javi, i know,” you pepper his face in kisses, but he remains still, outwardly unphased.

“guess you just got too excited at the thought of bein’ a slut huh?” he breathes out flicking a brow at you, keeping you in close when you try to inch away from him at his accusations. 

“i’m not a slut–” he unfolds your offended arms, hands leaving your wrists to hold your thighs that rest on either side of his lap. “no baby it’s alright, s’not a totally bad thing. i like sluts. they let you do whatever you want to ‘em,” he grips your thighs, forcefully sliding you off his lap and letting you land down on your knees before him. you gasp, holding onto his legs for steadiness. 

“and they let you all while tryin’ to convince you they aren’t sluts. isn’t that funny? he chuckles, caressing your cheek, peering down at you while he does so. 

“javi,” you say, you don’t know what to say next, the only certainty that remains is that his name never sounds wrong coming from you. 

“if you wanna be a slut so bad then go ahead, i won’t stop you.” he shrugs, leaning back into the seat, arms stretched out beside him. you swallow away your stuttering, running your hands up and down your thighs. “what do you want me to do?” you ask smally, looking up at him from under your lashes. 

he readjusts, lifting his hips in the air, settling back down closer to you. he tilts his head, eyes flickering from his crotch back to your gaze, “what sluts do best baby.” he says under a gravelly breath. your thighs close just a little tighter at that, feeling eager to oblige to his insinuations. 

you unzip his levi’s, unbuttoning them before you’re pulling him from out his boxers, throat getting tight at the way he pulses in your hands. precum is already beading at his tip, and you lean forward, flicking your tongue over it. he hisses quietly, a hand coming behind your neck. 

your lips envelope the tip, shutting your eyes when you trail down until you can’t take any more of him down your throat. he groans, throwing his head back, bucking his hips into your mouth. you gag around him, hand trembling while you try to jerk off what you can’t fit into your mouth. 

he rolls his head forward, holding you by the back of your head, starting to thrust further in, chuckling to himself at the way you gag. he lets you slide off him, jerking his slick cock off while you catch your breath. 

you’re staring at each other in the thick air, the night breeze sneaking in from the cracked windows, making your nipples perk from behind your lacy bra. 

the moon glimmers through the side window facing javier, and it panels his cheekbone, across his jaw and down his chin, trickling over the curve of his collarbones. 

he looks so beautiful like this, sitting tall in front of you, looking at you like he could tear you apart with one hand, jaw clenching when your thumb slides over the head of his cock. 

the way he’s looking at you elicits a reaction from your body before your mind can reach it. you lean back down, taking him deeper into your mouth. 

you don’t mind the way he keeps your head still, using your mouth the way he likes. 

he fucks your mouth like he wants to prove a point, and at this moment he doesn’t even know what the point is, he hardly even remembers where he’s currently at, the only thing that makes sense is how fucking good you’re taking him down your throat. 

you’re being so good, so perfectly compliant for him, and what’s fueling you is the tingles exploding between your thighs at the way he’s using you. 

the grunting utterances of your name in his spewing breaths adds propellent to the roaring fire building in your lower tummy. 

his groans get a little airier, picking up in quantity, coming out one after the other, fucking your mouth so deep your nose brushes against the brown curls sitting just above his cock. “look at me,” he instructs through gritted teeth, and you listen, blinking away your teary eyes to look up at him. 

he sends one, two, three, hard thrusts into your mouth before he pulls out, resting the tip over your lips. he pants to himself, shutting his eyes closed while you take this time to do the same and catch your own breath. “what’s wrong?” you sound a little rasped, and he can’t fight the smug look on his face at your voice. 

“as much as i’d like to let you continue, i got better things planned baby,” he chuckles breathlessly, pulling you back up into his lap. 

he pushes your dress up, exhaling when he sees how wet you are in the panties he picked out for you. “javi, i didn’t bring any condoms, do you have one?” you press your hands to his chest, momentarily halting him, and he looks at you, scoffing quietly. 

“huh. sluts don’t usually care about that kinda thing.” he rubs the head of his cock over your clothed clit, watching your lowered eyes fully shut, a moan slipping out at his ministrations, proving him right. “s’not gonna fit like this,” your whimper when he moves your panties to the side, flicking himself up and down your folds. “it will baby, i’ll make it fit.” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips.

you rarely ever got on top, he was always very adamant about taking care of you, whether that means you’re on your back, legs thrown over his shoulders or you with your wrists being hoisted by his tight grip while he fucks you senseless.

the constant is, he’s always on top. 

he’s big, no matter the position he’s got you in, it’s always a stretch he has to ease you into. which is why you’re typically reluctant to get on top, but right now he isn’t asking, he’s telling. 

“javi, s’not gonna go in like this,” you whimper nervously, curling into his chest. head on his shoulder. he rolls his eyes, fingers gliding right over your clit to shut you up. and it works, naturally, he chuckles. 

your breath gets faster when he swirls over your clit with his fingers, squirming around in his lap. he holds himself from the base of his cock, circling over your fluttering hole. your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, fingers playing with the back of his hair. 

he starts crowning into you, pushing in the fat head of his cock, pausing the breath in the middle of your throat. it rumbles out as a pained moan when he continues pushing in. “god javi,” you whine, legs on either side of him flexing with nerves at the intrusion. 

“doin’ all the work for you baby, jus’ take it for me,” he mutters in your ear, his mustache tickling your jaw while he rubs your clit to ease you into it.

“actin’ like i haven’t fucked this pussy before, know you can handle it, sè una niña grande para mí,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, and you melt, nodding desperately. “i am,” you mumble, bracing yourself for when he bottoms out inside you. he thrusts upward, holding you by the fat your ass, pulling you down onto him. 

the air is knocked out your lungs, and all you can do is hold on to his leather clad shoulders for dear life. your hips start moving in sync, rolling into each other, and you feel insane, it feels so good, you start thinking maybe you’ll do this more often.

the sting from the stretch subsides soon, but the feeling of being full stays, and you keep it, loving how good it feels. the head of his cock nudges deep inside you, bobbing up into your throat and you fall apart, fucking yourself on him, addicted to the way he hits every little spot inside you that you need. 

you’re moaning, panting loudly in his ear, and he eats every single one of them up, gripping your hips when he guides you down onto him. kisses lay wetly across the side of his neck, teeth graze over his ear, praises of how fucking big he is, and how good he feels inside you, relay to him over and over, making his cock twitch when he picks up the pace in his thrusts. 

“you’re so nice while i fuck you baby, maybe this is how i should shut you up more often huh?” he teases, but you don’t care, you’d start arguments with him if it meant he’d always feel this good in you. 

“in so deep,” you whimper more to yourself but he hears you, he hears it all. he hears how fucking soaked you are around him, hears every little breath, every little moan that comes out of you. 

he smacks over your ass, chuckling to himself when you whine and clamp down around him. “maybe i should go find that guy huh?” he leans forward, lips on your shoulder when he ruts up into you deeper, right there to hold you closer when you keen into him at the hard thrust.

“ ‘should find him and fuck you in front of him, show him how its done, what do you think of that baby?” he grunts, hands tightening over your hips. 

you just moan, babbling something incoherent when you grind down onto him, his words acting as a lighter underneath the growing flame while you bounce on him. you squeeze around him, your body unashamed of how much you like the idea of such a dirty act. 

he feels the way you clamp down around him, chuckling breathlessly, his hand traveling behind your neck to force you to look at him. “or maybe it’s you who’d like that,” he taunts, expecting a shy shake of your head, but you just nod, trying to meet his thrusts. "i'll do whatever you want javi," you whimper pathetically, and god, that does something to him. 

"know you will, so sweet baby," he groans, leaning back to watch where you both meet, loving the sight of his cock entering and disappearing into your cunt. 

you tug at the hair from the back of his head, messily kissing all over his jaw and cheek, and he takes it all, adoring how clingy you are with him right now. he pulls the front of your dress down, hooking his fingers under the cups of your bra and groaning to himself when he sees your tits, pretty and pert under the bra, he of course, picked out for you. 

black see-through lace, his favorite. 

"gonna be the death of me, mi vida," he murmurs to himself, latching his hot eager mouth over them. he assaults the soft skin with his tongue, teeth grazing over your sensitive nipples, a smirk forming around the flesh when he teases the ghost of a bite, wanting to laugh when you squirm and arch your back at his actions. 

his fingers find their place back to your clit, rubbing over the nerves like clockwork, syncing the way you bounce on him with harder thrusts, making the pleasure surrounding you inescapable. 

breathing is getting harder, but it feels unimportant, everything does when it comes to javi. in this moment if he told you to stop breathing altogether you honestly just might listen to him. 

but it's so much so soon, and you want to hold onto the moment for as long as you can, enjoy each stroke of his cock deep inside you longer, and if he keeps touching you like this, you know you won't last. you paw at his hand, trying to push the relentless wrist away. "no more javi, m'gonna cum too fast please," you whimper, but he doesn't agree. you're finished when he's finished. 

"do i need to cuff you to the headrest or are you gonna keep those hands to yourself?" he spits, sounding harsh, sounding serious. you whine like a wounded puppy, shaking that empty little head of yours. 

"but javi," he grabs your chin, guiding your gaze downward when he moves his jacket to the side, revealing the cuffs that hang from his belt loops. "think i'm kiddin'? hands to yourself or around me. otherwise you get these. your choice," he's still inside you, and you can't take it, you throw your arms around him, hugging him close while trying to get him to move again. 

"gonna be good, gonna listen, m'sorry, please move javi, please?" 

he senses your desperation, and gives in, continuing his thrusts. you sigh in relief, following the way his hips piston up into you with your own. 

"can i touch you?" you whisper, unsure if you're allowed to, but javier relents, nodding with a kiss to your neck. you slide his jacket off eagerly, quickly unbuttoning his shirt before your hands are running along the warm skin of his shoulders, squeezing them when he thrusts right there. 

your hands drag down his chest, nails lightly digging into his tanned skin when your head falls back, rising and falling up and down on his cock. his mouth is on you again, tongue swirling over the curve of your chest, gripping them roughly in his wide palms. 

he watches you from this view, how you lose yourself when he's got his cock in you, and he thinks maybe he should have encouraged you to ride him earlier. 

he's getting close, watching you has only pulled him closer to the end, his cock twitching the more he imagines how good you'd look dripping in his cum. he imagines your trembling thighs being parted by his hands, your abused hole just leaking and leaking from his cum. 

"m'close, gonna let me finish inside mi vida?" he grunts, and you nod heavily, clamping harder down around him when he asks. "please, please javi," you beg, and who is he to deny you? 

his fingers run around your clit once more, those tight circles from the pads of his fingers bring you right there alongside with him, moaning his name in an incomprehensible voice while his face rests in the crook of your neck, bouncing you on top of him. 

"always wanted to cum in you baby, always wanted to fill you up nice an' good —fuck—, make you fuckin' full of me, just know you'd look so fuckin' good just drippin– shit," you're squeezing him like you never have before, his confessions, the ferver in the way he fucks you is just too much, your body acts before you can even process what’s happening. 

you cum all around his cock, and the pulsing of your walls, the whimpers of his name from your pretty lips is all he needs to join you in your blinding orgasm. he's cumming inside you, grunting your name and how fuckin' good you are for him, his mouth hot on your neck while he fucks you through your shared orgasms. 

he doesn't let up on your clit until the pleasure bleeds into pain, and you can't take it. with heavy breaths you collapse in his arms, panting like you've just ran a marathon, sweaty forehead resting on the cool leather of the seat. 

he gently shifts your hips backward, looking down at his cum that pours out of you. he likes the mess, likes how your cunt looks when he rubs his cum across your throbbing clit, you jump at the stimulation, begging him in a tired voice, no more javi. 

he listens, taking sympathy on your spent body. he puts your panties back over you, tucking himself away before he repositions you so you're properly sitting in his lap, letting your legs stretch across the rest of the backseat. 

"you okay mi bebita?" he murmurs softly, and you hum a sleepy yes, still buzzing from your orgasm. "still mad?" he asks jokingly, pulling a hazy giggle from you.

“i think you just fucked any anger i had left out of me." he laughs proudly at that, rubbing your back. "yeah? maybe that's how we should settle all our fights then." 

[willowmckinley]

I decided this ask game would be the perfect time to take you up on your recommendation and read “leaving the candle behind.” Would love to get the director’s commentary on this bit:

“This place’ll kill me.”

“The mines?” Boyd asks. His voice sounds hollow and tinny. Raylan can’t tell if he’s had as rough of a go as Raylan has, or if the rumbling from the collapse is still in his ears, vibrating the sound to wrong.

“All of it,” Raylan answers. “All of it. I can’t. I can’t die here, Boyd.”

“I see,” Boyd says.

Raylan locks his fingers into the soft fabric of Boyd’s flannel. He weeps into Boyd’s neck, now that the shock no longer protects him from the hideous goddamn truth that he’s about to lose Boyd. That he’s going to leave his heart in Harlan of all places. He can’t do it. He doesn’t have the strength to do it.

“I have to leave you,” Raylan says with a sob, because he is going to anyway.

Boyd freezes underneath him. Raylan takes in a shaky breath. He feels Boyd’s hands on his shoulders. “You’re leaving me?” he asks. He sounds wrong. Nothing has ever been right for long. His mama’s lullabies had turned into haunting dirges. Aunt Helen’s soft blankets had turned to a bag of cash and instruction to get out. And now Boyd’s steady tenor is distorted to this hollow echo.

Oh my gosh, I'm so glad you read "leaving the candle behind"! That was so quick! Love you love you love you!

So, context, I wrote this scene to inform Boyd and Raylan's reunion in "swiped the fire in you for myself," and what misunderstandings would occur that would need to be resolved for them to have a happier meeting.

In this scene, this is the beginning of them talking cross purposes, with Boyd think Raylan is cursing him, and Raylan thinks Boyd is making their parting easier. Boyd says the mines, and Raylan says "all of it," and Boyd includes himself in "all." Raylan doesn't think Boyd could possibly fit in "all," because he's Boyd and he is the only thing that could make the all of it bearable at all.

Boyd's "I see" is devastated, and Raylan can't even hear it yet, still so wrapped in his own head, in the devastation that he can't stay with the man he loves, that he has to leave his whole world behind (Boyd, Helen, the home he grew up in, Boyd again) just so he doesn't become a man like Arlo.

Raylan's "I have to leave you" is reflective of that, the "have to" meaning he doesn't want to, meaning he feels his hand's been forced, because he wouldn't otherwise, but now the pain has already jarred Boyd to missing the point. Boyd thinks he's part of "all of it," so he focuses on the "leaving you" part, and how Raylan must have wanted this all along or how Raylan must think "I have to leave you, or I won't like myself/this place/my life," when Raylan feels so strongly otherwise.

Raylan says, "leaving you" as in, I'm going to a place where you aren't, and Boyd hears "leaving you" as in, I'm dumping your fucking ass.

And this moment, when Boyd responds, is the first Raylan hears Boyd's pain as well, but he thinks Boyd's pain is the same as his own, in the direct simplicity of parting, while Boyd's whole world view is being shaken, that the man he loves so desperately wants to dump him so badly, that the one constant he thought he had, his and Raylan's mutual love, is being rocked so badly. I hope this causes more pain than even before, justie.

[norgbelulah]

I! Got! Asks! First up, from THE "Set Fire to This House":

Raylan let Boyd have the bottle, watched him take another drink from it, and bend to set it on the stair below them. “Ha, ha,” Raylan breathed to Boyd’s lips as they met again, this time, softer, lingering.

When Raylan moved onto press his lips to Boyd’s neck and collar, Boyd said quietly into his ear, “I think we should save this too, Raylan. Anybody could walk through that door, at any time.”

Raylan wasn’t done kissing Boyd, but he paused long enough to answer, “I’m flying back tomorrow. Fuck anybody.”

Boyd pushed Raylan away, rough but not exactly a shove. “Shit, boy, what’d you do that for?”

“Last time I came back I was here for the whole weekend, but you were gone. How’m I supposed to know where you are, what you’re doing? I had to take this time off too, Boyd. I do work for a living,” Raylan snarled. He wasn’t at Boyd’s beck and call, he didn’t have to justify his choices.

Boyd didn’t take the easy come back of what Raylan had chosen to do for his living, and Raylan was grateful for it. He didn’t want to have that argument at that precise moment. Instead, Boyd sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, speaking tightly, “When your mother died, I had two months left on my tour. It wasn’t like I could just call up command, tell ‘em sorry, I had to be in Harlan that week to take it up the ass from an old friend.”

I wrote this fucking fic from an LJ comment meme prompt from LJ user write_light (LJ tells me today is his birthday!) who I will never forget. The prompt was literally, "set fire to this house porn." And here we are fucking eleven or twelve years later at least. This is the start of something so long and so beloved to me...

I'm clearly feeling very nostalgic.

I don't even remember how I came up with the idea for this setup. I think I just wanted them to be young and have a reason to fuck. And it was definitely because they wanted to when they were 19 and didn't get to. And I needed to create an opportunity where they would, when the stakes were relatively low and it could just be extremely hot.

But then I had to go and throw in the idea of the house.

How much Raylan didn't want it because of what it represented. And so, he gifts it to Boyd, almost carelessly. He doesn't want it. Why not let Boyd stay there, and MAYBE he'll come back.

I think you have another ask about this though, so I'll save more thoughts about this for later.

[selfawarejester]

Hey can u please do a teen wolf imagine set in season 2 where she is either Scott or stiles sister and she is sneaking around with isaac (they kinda had a thing before he got the bite and after isaac got more confident so he made a move)and isaac sneaks into her room at night and instead of Allison it’s is y/n that Matt was stalking and taking pictures of and obsessed with and he had pictures of her and isaac kissing and stuff and maybe he leaves the pictures in her locker and it freaks her out and you decide the rest. (Sorry it’s a bit dark)

Oh, I love me some Isaac!!! Forgive me if I get some details wrong, it’s been a while since I saw s2. And I’m gonna make you Scotty boi’s sister, because Melissa 🥰

You weren’t the dating type, much to the relief of your mother and your brother - and for some reason, Stiles, but you preferred to pretend that you didn’t know that. - which is why it was such a shock when you drag Isaac Lahey of all people to sit with them during lunch one day.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Y/N-“ Isaac tires to say, shooting the boys a wary look, but you just shush him and shove him into a seat. You brightly grin at the shocked faces Scott and Stiles before confessing that you’d been dating Isaac for a while now.

Scott freezes for a full thirty seconds.

Stiles chokes on his hashbrowns, and almost dies in that same time period.

“Da- you’re dating him?” He splutters, pointing at a smirking Isaac. “You’re dating him? Oh my god, what the- Scott, say something.”

Stiles gives you a look that says ‘you’re gonna get it now’ which slowly slides off when Scott just keeps quiet, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Wha- Scott, say something.” He grits out, and you roll your eyes, tired of their dramatics.

“All right, enough! Seriously, people are staring.”

That gets Scott moving again, as he looks around to find that people are, indeed, staring. He’s still shocked because when did you start dating?? But now he’s asking questions like when did you two start dating? Why did you keep it a secret so long?

He always knew you kind of had a thing for him: all the flirty banter, and the lovelorn glances…

You and Isaac started up two months ago, you explain, but it’s been pretty low-key so that he can hide it from his dad. (You don’t outwardly say this, exchanging a specific look, but both you and Scott have been pretty sure something was going very wrong in the Lahey household — Scott had smelt blood and fear wafting off of Isaac way too often for it not to be.) So he kinda just?? Accepts it??

He’s concerned, duh, but you’re so happy and he doesn’t want to get in the way of that. But he sternly tells Isaac he’ll kick his ass if he hurts you. Isaac, to his credit, stifles his laughter and genuinely tells him that he’d rather die than hurt you; and that’s good enough for Scotty.

Of course, all of this changes when Isaac becomes a beta.

He does it for you. He wants to be able to protect you, to love you without fear of losing you or getting you in trouble. Derek’s assured him that your protection is a priority of the pack, because even in his slightly power-greedy Alpha state, Derek wouldn’t let what happened to him and Paige happen to his beta.

Stiles and Scott hover around you throughout the whole time Isaac is suspected of murdering his father. Sheriff Stilinski tried to kick them out during your questioning, but they squeezed onto the small couch in his office and just stared at him the whole time. You were shocked and scared and obviously didn’t know anything, so he sent you home pretty quick.

Melissa’s freaked out because 1) you lied to her?? 2) you’re dating now 3) and it’s a boy suspected of murder. So, yeah, maybe she’s questioning her parenting a bit, but she’s really trying to be supportive.

Scott corners Isaac at school (Stiles is there too, naturally) after the whole ice rink thing, without Erica or Derek, and he swears he’d never hurt you. Unfortunately, you walk in right at that moment.

You know when both of them are lying, so you force the truth of them, then and there. You get thrown off guard, of course — they thought you’d react like Stiles, or just like most of the people in those movies react: with a lot of surprise but general and immediate acceptance.

You do immediately do something: leave and avoid both of them for the next couple of days. Your mom’s curious as to why you’re so distant, and why Scott keeps begging you to talk to him, and why you’re avoiding him -- but ultimately, she lets sleeping dogs lie, because she hopes you’ll come to her with something really important.

You hang out with Lydia and Allison a lot more, Allison backing up for Scott by keeping you safe — she tries to defend him for you, but you make it clear you need a lot of time before you can think about that stuff. She also tries to turn you against Isaac, but you’re even more closed off to that.

Lydia is a fresh breath of air, because she is just as confused about this (even if it’s only possibilities and vague stuff) and she doesn’t wanna know more either. She keeps things light between you and Allison, and keeps your mind off of things. But it doesn’t work when Allison and the others drag you guys to your house for a weird “study session” that gets crashed by a giant lizard thing- god, this was your life now.

Isaac grabbed you, and locked you in a bathroom before the whole thing really started. You scream at him to stop, scream for Scott, and beat on his chest, but he just screws his eyes shut and forces you in there — he knows you’ll hate him afterwards, but he also knows you might run straight at the Kanima if it came for him or Scott.

You do hate him afterwards. A little part of you understands why he did it, and it’s unfortunately the same part that still loves him. But you’re still hugely pissed off, especially after Scott and Stiles tell you that he tried to kill Lydia. So the next day, when he tries to talk to you at school, you glare at him until he goes away.

In swoops Matt, all “charming” smiles and “funny” jokes. He sees his chance: months of watching you and Isaac be all cutesy had paid off. He knew what kind of humor you liked — unfortunately, all it did was remind you of your boyfriend and keep you guys at a distance.

God, he hated it. Bad enough that someone was keeping you from him, but that it was Lahey. The brother of the guy that drowned him, the son of the guy that screamed in his face about how it was his fault- no. He had to break you up.

So he consolidated all the pictures that he’d taken of you: candids of you at school, at home, at the coffee place you liked. He slips them into your locker, and watches you squirm and look around. It’s working. Then, it’s those pictures of you and Isaac, kissing at your secret spot, necking in your bedroom, smiling at each other — labels it “Remember the good times?”

You’re trying to talk about it to Scott, Allison and Stiles, but they’re busy with the Kanima. Lydia tries to help, but she’s so out of it and she has been for a while and you’re starting to get worried.

It gets to a point where you run to Isaac, tears in your eyes, and photographs in your hands. “Is this you?” You sob, and he just pulls you into his arms shushing you - “No! No, babe, I’d never do that!” - and promises to keep you safe. You stay glued to his side after that. Boyd is nice and calm, a contrast to Derek who creeps you out a little.

Through his first full moon, you stay with him and keep him grounded. Your voice keeps his father’s out of his head, keeps him in control.

You’re standing off in a corner, watching with a smirk as Erica - who you’ve gotten weirdly close to in the past few weeks - and Isaac double team Jackson (it’s actually… kinda hot? Especially because damn Isaac keeps looking at you); but your view gets obstructed by Matt. He’s trying to talk to you but you barely listen, keeping eye contact with Isaac over his shoulder. Then they leave with Jackson, and Matt makes a move on you. You flinch away so hard, you hit the counter and get the bartender’s attention.

You confront him about the pictures and he splutters for an excuse. The bartender kicks out Matt, seeing your distress, who’s now more desperate for your attention than ever.

Matt - or the Kanima- kidnaps you during Lydia’s party and keeps you in his basement. You’re scared out of your mind, begging for him to let you go, but he promises you that there won’t be anyone in your ways from now on. While everyone’s dealing with the fiasco at the police station, Isaac, Boyd and Erica come get you.

He’s trying not to cry when he sees your busted lip, the bruises around your wrists where you were tied down.

Boyd and Erica decided to leave, but Isaac didn’t want to leave you behind. So he goes to Scott and Deaton, and becomes a good guy, helps out with Jackson and everything!

He also starts living with you guys, which you’re very excited about ;) But Melissa is very careful about leaving you two alone. And Scott’s stupid senses screw you over in that he interrupts every time you get to more than kissing.

But you find ways. 😉😏😏

Hope you liked it! I think I changed a few things, and I tried to keep the canon timelines for everything, but yeah!

[itsme-basil]

Gang rape - read on ao3

Tags: Stiles x Hale pack, omegaverse, non-con

Part 1 of 2

Tagging: @therogueheart

Derek smells the omega first. It's ripe, in beat, and his mouth waters. It doesn't take long before his betas smell it too, eyes flashing. Derek bolts from the clearing, paws beating against the hard packed soil. Behind him, Boyd, Erica and Issac are at his heels. 

The moon is high in the sky, and Derek howls as he follows the trail. An in heat omega in their woods wasn't something Derek or the betas could pass up. Unmated omegas weren't allowed out in public. This one was definitely unmated, and the scent of heat pulled to the werewolf pack's instincts like a fish on a line. 

The closer Derek got, the more the scent of the omega told him. The omega was male, young. He was lost, afraid. The smell had Derek's saliva glands working overtime. He licked his muzzle as he ran. 

The omega is in a clearing not far from the lake the pack goes swimming in during hot days. Derek growls a barked warning to his betas as they charge forward and they quickly lose steam. Derek takes the lead once more, shifting mid stride and standing over the omega. 

His betas shift as well, the four of them watching as the omega whimpers, arms around his stomach and shoulder leaning into a tree for support. 

"You lost?" Erica asked, voice a rumbled growl, eyes flashing gold. 

The omega looks up, eyes a bright, whiskey brown. Pupils dilated. Derek takes a step forward, unsure what he intends to do as he reaches a hand out. Does he want to see if he's okay, needs help? Or does he want to mount him? Both options tug at his gut. 

The omega smells heady, wet and inviting, and Derek's eyes flash red as he inhales. The omega instinctively takes a step forward, and the close proximity answers Derek's question. 

The omega staggers forward, into Derek's chest on a whine, nose and mouth pressed into Derek's neck. He's too far gone in his heat. Derek wraps his arms around the omega and pulls him in closer. 

"It's alright, omega," he breathed, cock thickening. "We'll take good care of you."

The omega shakes his head even as he grips at Derek's bare sides, practically rubbing his scent all over the alpha. 

"I need- I need to go to a clinic," he rasps. Derek turns to face his pack, hands working on their own to slide under the omega's shirt. 

"What's your name?" Erica asked, sliding up behind the omega. 

"Sti-Stiles," the omega whines. "Please, I need a clinic."

Derek lifts Stiles' shirt up, exposing his torso. Erica's hands slip around to his front, unbuttoning his jeans, which are soaked with slick. 

"We'll take care of you," Isaac hums. Boyd is there too. They're crowding the omega, keeping him from wiggling free. 

They get him out of his clothes even as he struggles weakly against them. Poor thing is too lost, too dazed to really fight the four of them. Too human to go up against the pack. 

"Shh," Derek breathes into the whimpering omega's ear, lowering them to the ground. Stiles has tears in his eyes. He's fighting weakly, but Derek knows what he needs, and somewhere in Stiles' mind, he knows it too. 

He doesn't fight as Derek turns him around, so his back is to Derek's chest. His cock slits in between his ass cheeks, coated with slick. Stiles moans and rocks back onto him, head dropping back. 

"There we go," Erica purrs, crowding in front of them both as Derek adjusts Stiles in his hold. 

"Please," Stiles whines. "Please I need -hhhnn- I need a clin-"

He doesn't get to say much else. Derek's too lost in his own instincts to claim to really focus on the weak attempts at persuasion. Stiles says he doesn't, but Derek can smell he does. 

His hole is sloppy already, heat making the rim lose and ready without much prep. Derek gets an arm under one of Stiles' legs, lifting it enough that he can try and get the right angle. 

He growls when his cock slips, the omega too slick for him to slide in without help. Erica grabs him by the base and Derek lowers Stiles onto it. 

The omega wails at the intrusion, head falling back onto Derek's shoulder as he sinks down to the hilt. 

Derek drops onto his back and fucks up into the omega. Around him, his betas growl with want, envy. 

Boyd is the first to move. He drops to his knees at Derek's head, holding his own cock firm. Stiles -lost in the feeling of having an alpha inside him- barely registers what's happening. His mouth parts when Boyd presses the tip of his cock against soft pink lips. He takes the beta in smoothly, choking when Boyd hits the back of his throat, barely fitting all of him inside. 

Erica is quick to scramble up next. She straddles Stiles' hips, eyes flashing as she grabs his omega cock and lines herself up. She sinks down and Stiles moans around Isaacs cock. Derek growls a moan of his own as the omega tightens around him. He fucks up into him harder. 

The force of his thrusts sends Stiles' cock up into Eric's cunt. He can hear Stiles choking on Boyd's dick, and that's all it takes for Isaac to break and drop to his knees in the clearing. He grabs Stiles' hand, forces it around his cock, curls his own hand around it to keep Stiles put, and fucks into his fingers. 

Derek already feels his knot forming, his teeth sharpening. The omega pants and whines between them, overstimulated and satisfied all at once. Derek's pack knows how to pleasure the oenga. They take everything he's willing to give and more. More slick drools past Derek's cock, coating his thighs and setting the soil under them. Erica's cunt creates slick of its own, leaving the poor thing a mess. 

Derek revels in the choked off moans and gasps in his ear as Boyd fucks into his throat, and with a final thrust, Derek locks into the omega. Stiles' back arches, he crows around Boyd. Derek howls, cumming heavily into the omega's tight clutch. 

He bites down hard on Stiles' neck, breaking skin. Isaac shouts his own release at the sight. 

Stiles cums seconds later. Derek can smell it. Can feel the flutter of his asshole as he spills his infertile load into Erica. 

Erica continues to rock on his cock, using her fingers to rub at her clit, panting and growling as she brings herself closer to her own release. 

Stiles eagerly swallows Boyd's. Derek pulls his teeth from his neck, licking at the bond bite he's placed there. 

"Such a good boy," he breathed, hips twitching as he continues to empty himself into Stiles. The omega whimpers at the praise, cum glistening against his lips. 

Erica pulls off with a sigh, leaning down to lick up the mess at Stiles' groin. Derek watches with baited breath as she opens her mouth, sharp teeth grazing the sensitive skin of the omega's inner thigh as she sucks up slick and cum. 

"Bite him," Derek demands, voice alpha sharp. The betas around him whimper. The omega in his arms lets out a reedy "please."

Please don't, or please do, Derek doesn't know, but he doesn't care to ask. His own bond bite is on Stiles' neck. The omega is his, his pack's. 

Erica bites at his inner thigh, breaking the skin just as Derek has. The omega screams, arching and tugging on Derek's knot as he cums again. Isaac bites down on the soft inside of Stiles' forearm. Boyd's teeth break the skin on Stiles' shoulder, on the opposite side of where Derek had bitten him. 

From how cognizant Stiles had been before they showed up, Derek knows he's only at the beginning of his heat. It could last up to 3 days. He curls his arms tighter around the loose body laying on top of him, his betas soothing their own bond bites with soft lips and tongues. 

"Please," Stiles sobs, chest heaving. 

"Shh," Derek breathes. "We're going to take good care of you."

It takes a few minutes for Derek's knot to deflate and he slips out of the omega with a groan. He lifts Stiles up as he stands and the betas quickly follow. Their full moon run is cut off short, but no one minds as they follow Derek back to the pack house. 

Stiles -momentarily satiated and sleeping from the thorough fucking Derek and his betas gave him- rests his cheek against Derek's shoulder. 

"Do we get to keep him?" Isaac asked, looking as excited as a puppy at the prospect of a new toy. Erica and Boyd look at Derek expectantly as well, and Derek nods easily. 

"He's ours now," he decides. He knew the moment he smelled the omega in the wind that he'd be theirs. The omega whimpers against his neck, bleeding from his various bites, cum and slick on his skin, inviting the pack to stop right there and fuck him into the ground once more. 

Even if the omega didn't want them, it was too late. Derek wouldn't let him go. He was too perfect. Perfect for his pack. For his betas. He'd kill anyone who tried to take him from them. 

[darkisrising]

Honest Work, by DarkIsRising,pt1

Another night, another possible Steter WIP.  This time we have a GayBar! AU. Canon compliant? Yeah, I don’t know her. We’re just here for a good time. If this becomes something more it’ll find a home on ao3 but for now it’s a tumblr exclusive.

Enjoy!

Honest Work, Part One There’s a werewolf in the bar. Stiles clocks him the minute he walks in.

He’s an attractive guy-- maybe too attractive-- in a v-neck that’s clinging to his chest, designer jeans that wrap around his thighs like kudzu suffocating a couple of oaks. He catches Stiles staring as Boyd checks his ID at the door and sends Stiles a smirk that hits like a crossbow bolt to the chest.

Not that he’s ever taken a crossbow bolt to the chest, but he’s seen it happen plenty. Hang around with the Argents long enough and you’re bound to see all kinds of weapons do all manner of damaging things to people. And places. And things. No noun is safe from that family of hunters, which makes it a hell of a shame there aren’t any to be found at the Booty Barn tonight since there is, and Stiles can’t stress this enough, a werewolf in the bar.

The werewolf settles into a seat at the other end of the bar and Isaac is there, taking his drink order with a shy smile.

“Jackson,” Stiles hisses over the music rattling through the air, dropping a bass line that’s stronger than a heartbeat. “Pretty sure that dude’s a werewolf.”

Jackson only rolls his eyes as he fishes for a Heineken and pops the lid off. “No shit, I can smell him from here.” He slides the bottle into a patron’s hand with a wink. The guy peels off an extra dollar bill and adds it to the tip that’s been left to soak up a drink ring. Jackson mouths a sultry Thank you as he gives a little pec flex that leaves the poor guy blushing and uncertain where he’d rather be looking: at Jackson’s matinee idol face or his Magic Mike chest, baby oiled to perfection.

Stiles catches Jackson by the arm, or at least tries to. His hand skates right off his slick skin and all it manages to do is piss him off. But the days of Stiles being scared of Jackson are long past, so he just hisses again “Did you hear me? That guy over there is a werewolf!”

���So? I’m a werewolf. Long as he tips, why should I care?”

“Why should you care?” Stiles repeats, wide-eyed and flailing. Sometimes it feels like Stiles is the only one of their weird, hodge-podge pack that’s still deeply scarred by their high school years, fighting for their lives as literal monsters had come out of the woodwork every other week to off a bunch of teens. “Why should you care? What if he’s here to start trouble, huh? What if he’s here to kickstart some kind of turf war and plans to take us all down?”

Blue eyes flicker sideways, assessing. “Pretty sure he’s just here for a beer and to stare at some ass, like every other guy in this place.”

Jackson tries to step away, but Stiles steps along with him, and for a moment they dosey-doe. “Shouldn’t you have some kind of deep, primal need to defend your packmates here?”

“I’m feeling a deep, primal need to beat your ass for being so annoying about this. Does that count?”

Danny swings down from the bar and onto the stairs tucked quietly beneath it. He steps between them, a fistful of dollars in his hand with a few more tucked into the waistband of his tight aqua briefs, even though they’re supposed to discourage that kind of thing.

Stiles is the only one that insists on every dollar bill going in his hand rather than letting the patrons shove them into any bit of fabric they can reach, which is probably one of the reasons he generally makes the least tips of any other mover and shaker in this place. His comparatively scrawny body doesn’t really help much either, but measuring up to guys like Jackson and Isaac is something he’d mostly made his peace with back when he was still a teenager, running around with a bunch of lacrosse-playing ‘wolves with perfect six-packs who could bench press cars without breaking a sweat.

Danny shoves his tips into the lidded tip jar by the registers and shoots them a quirked eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

“Stilinski’s just being a fucking spaz as usual,” Jackson bites out before jumping up onto the bar for his turn dancing on the counter top-- a move that really only a supernatural being could pull off without eating it spectacularly-- and wolf whistles greet his athletic entrance.

Stiles rolls his eyes and tells himself he’s not jealous at the dollar bills that are flung in Jackson’s direction. He does well enough for himself in his own way, doing what he does best: running his mouth and chatting up the customers. Scanning the bar, he looks to see if there’s anyone trying to hail him down for a drink, but everyone’s eyes are on Jackson.

Everyone’s eyes but one pair.

One shining, knowing, confident pair that are staring straight at him.

Stiles watches, heart kicking into high gear, as the guy that’s definitely a werewolf crooks a finger at him in a wordless and unmistakable command.

“You gonna go help him?” Danny asks, sweating from his temple and still a little breathless from dancing.

Stiles wants to say no. He wants to make Danny do it for him, but for one thing, despite being literally surrounded by werewolves and whatever-the-hell Stiles-is every day at work, not to mention surviving countless run-ins with the supernatural through their high school years, Danny still has no idea about any of it, and for another, Stiles has the sinking suspicion that he’d only be delaying the inevitable if he doesn’t go himself.

“Yeah, I got it,” he grumbles because never let it be said that Stiles Stilinski ever meets adversity with any sort of grace. He’ll meet any challenge thrown his way, because he’s stubborn as hell but he reserves the right to whine about it first.

“Hello, gorgeous,” the probably-werewolf says when Stiles is close enough, his smile slicker than Jackson’s chest. “Took you long enough to come see me.”

“What can I get you?” Stiles tries to put as much hostility into the question, narrowing his eyes with a threat that only makes the werewolf’s grin grow.

“Oh, there are so many ways I could answer that, sweetheart,” his eyes skim the plains of Stiles’ bodies, in no rush to drink their fill of lanky limbs and naked torso and clinging, red underwear. “But for now just answer me one little question, will you?”

“Maybe. What is it?”

A crisp fifty dollar bill appears in his hand and he tilts his head to the side, his stupidly handsome face a parody of lovelorn innocence. “Are you going to dance on the bar for me? Because I’ve got something for you if you do.”

“We take turns,” Stiles spits out, unimpressed and crossing his arms over his naked chest.

“Good.” He takes a pull of beer and his cheeks hollow with it as he swallows. Stiles keeps his eyes steady, refusing to become distracted by the long line of the werewolf’s working throat or the rugged stubble on his cheeks or the broad hand that’s wiping at his mouth when he’s done with his sip. “I can wait.”

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

Grady's Homecoming

“Grady! You always talk about bein’ fucked. Fuckin’ all ‘ese German women, you got a woman waitin’ for you?” Bible’s voice crackles through the headset.

Grady’s mind travels to you. You were at home in Arkansas, probably keeping the farm afloat while he fought for your safety. He played the ladies’ man role well these days, because he never wanted anyone to know about you; to hurt you.

“Grady Paul Travis! Git over here!” you shouted as you chased him through the yard. He remembered this memory well; you chasing him around with a wooden spoon in your hand.

“That’s a mighty fine pie, ma’am!” He shouted to egg you on, begging you to keep chasing him. His path lead you through the yard, over a couple fences into muddy, sloppy pens and finally into the barn where he hid from you.

“Grady, hunny, come on out. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” You called, looking over the hay bales. He had watched you creep through that barn with that spoon at the ready. When he finally could land, he dropped from the hay loft and rolled you into a straw bale. You screeched and smacked his back with that wooden spoon, but he just roared with laughter.

“You make the best pecan pies, my beautiful lady. You also make the best wife.” He smiled, kissed your cheek with a loving smile.

“Yer damn right I do, Grady Paul Travis. You had to stick your grubby little paws into my pie.” You had hissed, letting him pepper your face with kisses as he rolled to keep you from being stabbed with straw. “Hunny? I love you.” You drawled, putting down the spoon on the bench and laying across his body fully.

“I love you too, baby.” He cooed, kissing your face and hugging you against him as his lips got lost with yours on a grand adventure that lead to his dirty, oil covered hands sliding up into your work gown and massaging your breasts. You careened into him and gripped his curls tight in your fists.

“Grady! Grady get down! Jesus christ!” Bible’s voice brings back from his daydream and he ducks hard into the tank.

“Grady are you with us now?” Don shouts, grabbing his coat collar.

“Ye-yeah. Yeah sorry.” He coughs, tears almost spilling over his cheeks.

“Grady, you okay buddy?” Norman calls, looking up at the Coon-Ass with a sad, sorry look in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine, dammit.” He barks, scrubbing away the tears.

Once they get into the crossroads, Grady and Norman head into the building near there and search for parts.

“Grady, listen. Whatever happened back there--” he grabs Norman around the neck and drives him against the wall.

“Nothing happened.” He spits through his clenched teeth. Raising his hands up, Grady lets go and heads to keep looking. “I do got a lady back home. I try not to think about her because she fucks me up. But yeah, she’s my world. I’m sorry you lost your German girl back there, I really am. If I could 'a saved her I woulda. But I couldn’t.” He offers, toeing at the dirt.

“Thanks Grady.” He huffs, deflating the breath he’d been holding.

“Don’t thanks me. I ain’t do nothin’.” He shakes his head as he turns and starts out the door.

After the dust and blood settled, troops came to the Fury team’s rescue. Not single Fury member was dead, wounded, yes. But dead? No. It was a miracle and Bible babbled about it the whole way back as the troopers told them they were heroes. Grady didn’t care to feel like a hero, he hurt and he was ready to see his lady. It’d been a long four years, a few letters, but a long time since he’d seen your face.

“You guys are gettin’ patched up and sent home. You can’t fight in the shape you’re in.” The man had said. Tears filled Grady’s eyes then, as he knew he’d get to see you.

“A broke wing and pure heart, Mister Ass, you get to go home and find you some American ass, aye?” Don cheers, and Grady just nods, giving a wave to him.

“I’mma go home an’ kiss my woman hard and fuck ‘er hard too.” The three men from the Fury, Don, Bible, and Gordo, all looked to Grady with wide eyes.

“Your woman?” Bible asks, looking to his best friend with shock.

“Yeah. I’m a taken man, Boyd.” He chuckles, patting the man on the knee.

“So all this talk about fuckin’ these German women, and you never fucked one did ya?” He asks, punching him in the shoulder. Grady only shakes his head.

The men board the air carrier that flew them into the depths hell and they all hoop and holler as they lift into the air.

“They say the war’s all but done anymore. You boys did a hell of a job out there.” The pilot talks over the intercom as they fly over open water.

“I can’t wait to take a fuckin’ shower.”

“I can’t wait to sleep in a bed.”

“I can’t wait to find me a woman.”

“I can’t wait to see my woman.”

Each man had a different dream, but all the same, they all were excited to go home.

“Wardaddy, Gordo, Coon-Ass, War Machine, I never wanna hear those names again.” Bible cheers as the plane gets close to landing. Women, children, and even men waited cheering as the plane dropped to the ground. The five Fury survivors of war hug tightly, and go their separate ways.

“Grady Paul Travis? Have you seen him? He’s tall, busted up crooked nose, cute, dumb smile, have you seen him? They told me he’d be on this flight.” Bible’s head whips around and his eyes lock with Grady’s as the woman shoves a photo into Bible’s face. He’s sees Bible’s finger point to him and he ducks, his heart racing. He hadn’t seen you in four years, he didn’t even think you’d be here, but he heard you calling for him. When you come around the corner where Bible had pointed you, you don’t see anyone you recognize until you see the man of your dreams rise to his feet above the crowd and you give a screech, letting into a dead run through the crowd, across the lot and springing into his arms.

“Even with a busted wing, he caught her.” Don chuckles to the crew, watching on for a moment as Mister Ass himself sinks to the ground holding this petite little woman against his big, blocky frame like she was the last ass he’d ever see.

“Wow, crazy huh?” Gordo states, his hispanic accent poking through. “Mister Ass had a girlfriend this whole time. They watch a moment longer as she slides a ring from her neck onto his finger.

“I’ll be damned. Mister Ass is a married man.” Bible laughs.

No closer as you got in the door, Grady was driving you into the couch, tugging off your dress as fast as he could.

“I promise, slow later, baby. But fast now.” He grunts, shimmying from his pants. Grabbing his throbbing cock, he gives you a sweet smile and you nod, nails digging into his shoulders as you wiggle your hips closer to him. He slides into you and and rams in deep.

“Grady!” You shriek, nails digging harder into his shoulders as he fucks you hard against the sofa.

“Yes baby. I love you. I love you. I love you. I mis’d ya so much. Shit baby, yes.” He grunts, feeling himself twitch inside you as your walls constrict around his cock.

“Grady. Grady, yes. Please.. I’m so close. C’mon baby.” You encourage, ramming your hips up to meet his in sloppy thrusts. He leans down, hugging you tight against him as his thrusts get sloppier.

“I love you.” He sobs, cumming as you roll your hips into his once more, orgasming blissfully in his cock. He grabs you tight, holding you against him as he sobs hard against you. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’ll never leave you again.” He assures, his cock still in you as his arms grip tight against you so hard you gasp for breath. You love every minute of him holding you, pressing infinite kisses to your bare skin as he holds you.

“I love you too, Grady. I love you, baby. I love you.” You whisper, gripping his arms.

[knivesareout]

steve murphy nsfw alphabet

because steve murphy fucks and @emmikmil​ and i will not stand for that slander any longer!! anyway, this is a collab with em and i and we love steve and just boyd as a whole. 

2.5k words of filth about our favorite hillbilly DEA agent! enjoy xx

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

It doesn’t matter if it was soft and slow or hard and rough, Steve is always on top of the aftercare. After taking a few minutes to catch your breath he’s there with a warm rag to clean you up. He’ll make sure you have water and will tuck you into bed before crawling in after with cuddles, kisses and plenty of praise. His first priority is taking care of you and making sure you’re okay.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Steve favors his hands and what he can do with them. How well he can manipulate your body with just a single flex of his wrist. The long digits of his fingers always reach places you can never seem to reach and how the veins on the top of his hand are more prominent when he’s pulling your hips against his or tightening around your throat when he fucks you from behind. 

As for his favorite body part on you, well. Steve’s a boob guy. And a thigh guy. And really, just anything soft. He’s constantly staring at any piece of exposed skin when you’re out in public, licking his lips in anticipation for more. He loves nuzzling into your belly after eating you out, rubbing the scruff of his facial hair on the soft skin. Your pussy is also a favorite of his- the warmth, the sensitivity of just a whisper of a touch making you instantly wet and leaving evidence across his mouth.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Steve definitely has preferences where he cums. Always safety first: with a condom in a newer relationship. If well established he loves to cum inside of you and watch it leak out after, before licking it all back up. He won’t not deny his other favorite is seeing your face dripping with him. Ruining your pretty face with his release, marking you as his. He loves scooping the cum off your face and feeding it to you, watching you suckle his fingers, cleaning them. Any opportunity for either of you to eat his cum he’ll take.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves the thrill of public sex. The thought of someone seeing him fingering you under the table, your panties pushed to the side. It’s lucky most places are louder otherwise the table over would hear the wet noises coming from between your thighs. He loves pushing you up against a wall in a semi-secluded place in the hopes someone might see you desperately riding his thigh because he left you high and dry during dinner. You never know what to expect when he calls you at work with the amount of times he’s left you breathless with his words, trying to get you worked up.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Steve definitely has experience, the most being in college. As he’s gotten older he definitely doesn’t sleep around as much. He’s very much a relationship man, enjoying the learning process of what you like, what makes you tick, etc. He has skill and once he learns the ins and outs of your body? He can play you like a well tuned instrument.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position where Steve can look at you when you cum is his favorite. He loves seeing you falling apart for him and seeing what he does to you is his biggest turn on. The desperate look on your eyes as you silently beg him for more is something he always wants to see. Accessibility is also a factor- being able to kiss and nip along your body, bury his face into your neck and mark you. He does love it when you ride him and take what you need though, his hands on your ass to help you move along his cock.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really does depend on the moment. After a long day spent teasing each other, there’s no room for giggles. He’s focused and serious on pounding you into oblivion. Then there are the lazy weekend mornings where it’s spent rolling around in bed teasing, giggly and sweet. He can do both very easily and doesn’t really prefer one over the other.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Steve’s decently groomed but he doesn’t have much body hair to begin with. He keeps things trimmed and neat, the thick and wiry hair just a darker shade of blonde. Not to mention he loves the feeling of a little tug on the hair there when you slide your hand down his pants before you grab his cock; not to mention seeing your nose buried in the hairs when you deep throat him is always a sight he loves to see.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It doesn’t matter what kind of sex you two are having or how long the session lasts, his hands and lips rarely leave your body. Touch is Steve’s love language. He is very attentive and romantic, whispering his love and praises. If he has time to prep before he would absolutely light candles to set the mood.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

While he prefers release with you, he doesn’t mind taking things into his own hands when you’re busy. Steve’ll get lost in his own head at times with what new thing he wants to try with you and he’ll find himself hard. He likes to take his time when he’s jacking off, slow and tight strokes to emulate the feeling of your pussy before he starts to get desperate for his release. A sharp tug on his balls and he’s done for, white streaks on his chest and he pictures you cleaning it up, having to groan as his cock twitches with interest. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Steve has a fair few and highlighting some are:

Edging - Steve gets great enjoyment in seeing you writhe and pant as you get closer to coming and even more enjoyment in hearing your whines and breathless curses as he stops you just moments away from bliss. Edging you while he’s eating out is probably his favorite, hearing your moans with your thighs wrapped around his head and the solid grip in his hair. If you have the time he could spend hours between your legs, until you’re a blubbering mess wanting nothing more than to cum.

Breeding - This is the one kink he’s never told to another partner. He keeps this one under wraps, not even telling you until you both have the talk of starting a family and trying. When revealed, it’s not really a surprise to you. He just loves the thought of breeding you and seeing your belly grow with his baby. There would be nothing sexier to him than you pregnant, round with the clear evidence that he’s the cause.

Bondage - Having you at his mercy is a high for Steve. He’s done research into the best restraints to keep you comfortable, making sure they’re never too tight and always showing you a way to get out. Tying you to the bed and getting his mouth on you is a personal favorite, marking you and making you cum with your hands tied.

Voyeurism - Steve cannot get enough of watching you. Watching what gets you off, what parts of your body are more sensitive. It was how he first learned what got you off, watching you masturbate for him. Just watching you in general though makes his thoughts go off into a space where he’s thinking filthy things almost immediately. The most innocent things you do set him off, like rubbing your neck when you’re tired or the soft sigh you let out after a long day.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Any place Steve can have you is a good place. Public or not, if he wants you then and there it’s happening. Up against the cabinets in the kitchen, bent over your desk at work during your lunch break, the seedy bathroom at the bar him and Javier frequent after a long day- it doesn’t matter to him. He does prefer a bed so he can lay you out and take his time, making you quiver and cry for him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It doesn’t take much to turn Steve on but, hearing the noises you make when he kisses your neck or fondles your breasts. Every whimper, gasp and soft whisper of his name gets him harder than anything. Steve also loves a challenge- loves when you challenge his authority, teasing him and pushing his buttons to get a reaction. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that puts you or him at risk or in danger. Steve is all about making sure you’re comfortable and anything that even presses a boundary you don’t seem into, he’s instantly changing gears. With how much violence he sees in his day-to-day life, that’s a hard limit for him- seeing you hurt. He doesn’t want it turned back on him either, it’s an easy trigger.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Steve will never turn down a blow job from you but, he thrives between your thighs. He loves to eat you out and he has the skill to make you shiver with every stroke of his tongue and fingers. He won’t stop until his head is pinned in place by your thighs with your hands in his hair tugging him off you when it becomes too much.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

After a long day at work dealing with Javi and the ambassador and literally every other frustrating person he has to work with, Steve loves a good fast and rough fuck. It helps release the stored tension he keeps in his body. Weekends are when Steve can take his time with you. A long and slow Sunday morning fuck is his favorite, drawing it out until you’re shaking with your 3rd orgasm.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are a necessity during the week. Hurried touches in the shower before work and fucking you into the mattress before bed. It's definitely not his preferred way to fuck you but with a busy schedule he will take you however he can.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Steve doesn’t mind a little bit of risk, especially for someone with an exhibitionist kink. He loves the thrill, gets off on it and it drives him crazy at the thought of someone seeing what he does to you. He loves to experiment- testing your body and what it can take and how it gets you going. Steve is always the one to bring up something new into the bedroom and you’re on board fully, trusting him implicitly with your pleasure.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His stamina is something Steve prides himself on. Especially since his focus is always on you- how you’re feeling, making sure you’re getting your pleasure, he’s not worried about his own until he’s made you cum at least twice, if not more. There have been times when he’s let you take the reins and you’ve had him cumming so often he was orgasming dry but it’s not an often occurrence. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

What toys doesn’t Steve own is a better question. Well, you and him. You’d come with a few of your own toys: a trusty wand, a plug, a dildo- all things he loved using on you and watching you use. After some time you add small things: padded handcuffs, a silk mask, soft cotton restraints. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

It may be hard to believe but under the southern gentleman facade, Steve is the absolute biggest tease. The light tease in public and normal conversation is nothing compared to how he is in the bedroom. It can be teasing touches with his lips and hands or whispered taunts in your ear. He knows the teasing and taunts rile you up like nothing else, and the man always aims to please.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Steve isn’t particularly loud, just soft grunts and shaky breaths but he loves talking. He’s a talker through and through and loves telling you just how good your body is treating him. How well you take his cock, how beautiful you look all fucked out after your 3rd orgasm, how fucking hard it makes him seeing his cum drip out of you. The talking had taken you by surprise the first time he spoke but now you can’t get enough, can’t deny how much more it turns you on.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

While Steve is most definitely the dominant partner in the bedroom, he does enjoy being pegged. He was extremely hesitant when you brought the idea up initially and it took awhile for him to consider it and be comfortable. Yet, once he actually tried it with you he felt like a changed man. The absolute bliss of being truly taken care of for a change was unreal to him. Plus he couldn't remember ever coming that hard in his life, he damn near blacked out.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

With being 6’2, Steve is pretty big in general. Long limbs, lean muscle, and a big cock. You’d been surprised when you first saw him naked, eyes wide. He was a shower and does he show. Sometimes Steve’ll lounge around in his dress pants from work and it’s so easy to tell when he’s turned on when he wears them, the outline clear as day against his thigh. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Steve's sex drive is pretty high, with the stress and adrenaline mixing low in his gut and sizzling when he comes home to you.  It’s almost funny how quickly he comes on to you, whispering something low and filthy in your ear when you’re doing chores around the house. Expect some kind of sex a minimum of 4 times a week.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not too quickly because Steve is all about making sure you’re okay. Cleaned up, hydrated, and well taken care of before he can think about his own needs. After you’re tucked into his chest and breathing slowly does Steve even think about finally sleeping, a kiss to your forehead and closing his eyes.

[blessednereid]

Just Stay~ Isaac Lahey

Randomizing my Prompts to write an Isaac Lahey oneshot, which is probably only gonna make me cry more.

Mentions of: Major character death, spoilers, Cursing, Heartbreak, Marriage and Children, pregnancy, violence in rage cages, confrontation. She/her pronouns. Please notify me for any other mentions I may need to add.

Pairings: Pack x Reader (Platonic Friendship), Stiles x Reader [(brotherly) (If you don’t look like Stiles, you can imagine the reader as adopted, I just like the idea of Stiles as a protective brother.), Isaac x Reader (romantic).

Prompts:  A10 "You came into my world and you made it worse" and A14 "Just stay"

Word count: 3,381 words

~-~-~

Allison is dead. 

She is gone.

And there is nothing we can do to bring her back. 

It hurts like hell.

But what made it worse.

My boyfriend told me the next week he was leaving for France.

And breaking up with me,

Because he can't do long-distance.

~-~-~-~-~

"What do you mean you're leaving?" I said to him, tears running down my face, and he could hear every trickle. He wouldn't even look at me.

"I'm leaving (Y/N), I can't stay here. Mr. Argent is going to France, and I'm going with him."

"Why can't you stay? You don't have to leave. It's not like the McCall's won't let you stay at their place."

"It's not that," he sighed, exasperated at my attempts to make him stay.

"Then why can't you stay? Just stay with me." He turned to face me at that. 

"(Y/N) I can't do it. This town is full of death and pain. My dad, Erica, Boyd, Allison, Aiden. DON'T YOU SEE?" his voice was full of hurt. "I can't sit around and wait for someone else to die, for me to get closer, and for them to die. I can't do it (Y/N)."

"Isaac… your pack is here. We're here. I'm HERE!"

"But for how much longer? How much longer until you die too (Y/N)?" He turned back around and continued packing. "I don't think this is going to work."

"What? What do you—?" The tiny beaver dam holding my tears had already burst, but the floodgates holding back my sobs had just cracked at his words.

"Isaac, what do you mean?" Complete silence.

"(Y/N) I can't wait for you to die. And I sure as hell can't protect you from five and half thousand miles away." His voice was just above a whisper, but it was enough for me to hear.

I sobered up, my tears stopped coming, my heart dropped, but it wasn't as erratic as before.

"So that's it then. You're just giving us up?"

He said, "Just leave (Y/N)... you can't change my mind on this."

"No. Say it, and say it to my face. Say it, and I'll leave, but I need you to say it." I choked up in between words but managed to get the sentence out nonetheless.

He turned around. "I'm breaking up with you. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"No, It's just what we both needed to."

I turned on my heels and left. I immediately went to Lydia's house. 

The music playing on the radio sounded all the same to my ears, no matter how different the melody. 

I didn't look back. If he wanted to leave, I would let him go. I knew I didn't deserve that. But that realization didn't prevent the way I felt for the next month to come. 

~-~-~

Lydia and Kira tried putting me back out there, setting me up with other guys. Many people tried to break down the walls I put up, but Stiles, being the overprotective brother he is, never let them get close. Every time Isaac came up in a conversation, Malia would swear to the air. Giving empty threats to no one in particular, seeing as how he was never coming back.

I don't think I ever fully healed. He always came back to my thoughts, it was senior year's end, and I still thought of Isaac from time to time. Fondly or otherwise, it really depended on my mood. 

I still thought of him coming back, apologizing, us getting married after college, settling down in the suburbs of California, and having a family. Our kids, a boy and a girl loving their fun and witty Uncle Stiles so much they ask for him to come over all the time. 

"Uncle Stiles!" Grace and Tyler shouted and jumped away from their toys when he walked into the room. 

Isaac stood behind me, his hand on my stomach where our next child rested. He chuckled, his face buried in my neck, lightly nipping at the skin in between my neck and shoulder. 

"How are my favorite niece and nephew?"

"Silly Uncle Stiles! We're your only niece and nephew." Gracie, who was seven, stated as-a-matter-of-factly. 

"That doesn't mean you're not my favorites," he sassed before extending both of his hands and tickling them, where they fell to the floor. 

"Come on, let's leave them be." I turned to Isaac before backing out of the room.

As I said, I was about to graduate, and I still thought about him. 

But on days near the full moon, where my "bloodlust is heightened" as Stiles would say, I would go to rage cages to take out my anger. Often imagining the objects to be Isaac's head. His gorgeous head, but soon blasted to smithereens.

I walked into the building, people wore goggles and other protective equipment. I paid my fees, accepted the safety suit and the wooden baseball bat, and walked towards the room. The room with the breakable shit that would soon be shattered for my sick enjoyment. Because that's what heartbreak can do to you. 

SMASH

There goes a plate, but to me, it was his head.

The sound of glass breaking resonated through the room. 

That was a TV, but to me, it was his gut.

A dull thud

But that time, it was the wall. 

Sometimes when I saw my friends who were happy in their relationships. Sweet moments they shared would make me think of my relationship with Isaac and wonder if that's how they felt when they were heartbroken. When Isaac and I would be doing lovey-dovey things in front of them. 

"ISAAC STOP! PUT ME DOWN NOW!"

He was spinning me round and round. My torso was leaning over his shoulder onto his backside, and my legs were dangling by his chest.

"No can do, princess!" 

"Isaac, this isn't fair. Stop it!"

"What's the magic word?"

"Hmm…. How about… I'll literally kill you?"

"Fine." 

He set me down on my feet on solid ground, and very dizzy at that, he still pulled me in for a passionate kiss. And the world stood still. 

He always knew what I needed and how I was feeling. 

But that didn't stop him from walking out of my life without a second thought or notice.

I remember when Mr. Argent came back, and I was frantically asking where Isaac was.

"Mr. Argent! Hello!"

"Hello (Y/N)."

"How have you been holding up recently."

"Life has been as good as life can be."

Beat. 

"Um… Forgive my inquiry…" I hesitated. "Did Isaac come back with you, by any chance?"

"No, he preferred to stay in France. I'm sorry." My heart dropped

"Oh. Well, has he asked about us? About me?"

The deafening silence made my heart stop completely.

"Oh. Ok then. Nice having you back." I ran before he could say anything

~-~-~

It was graduation.

After the ceremony, we had a party in the backyard of Lydia's house. I guess it was to celebrate, not graduating, but making it through high school alive.

And guess who decided to show up.

Isaac Lahey.

In a fucking black suit, with a white collared shirt, with white tulips in his fucking hands.

I didn't notice him at first. Not until Stiles' fist connected with his jaw.

"Ok, I deserved that." Blood from his lip started running down his chin.

We made eye contact, and I wished we hadn't. His face softened and reminded me of every single time he told me he loved me.

My legs started walking to him mindlessly. I didn't even know what they were doing. It was as if I was a doll being controlled by someone else.

When I got to him, he reached out to me. I responded by slapping his hand away and bringing my fist to the other side of his face.

"There. It's even."

~-~-~

He'd been here two weeks. 

I hadn't uttered a single syllable to him since 'It's even' I had run back inside to Lydia's bathroom and locked myself in there. Lydia, Malia, and Kira came to my rescue a little bit later with all my comfort foods. We watched stand-up comedy movies until we passed out. 

I didn't know who kicked out Isaac, and I didn't want to know. Stiles just came to the room a little bit after I left to tell me he was gone. He didn't say anything else. 

I thought I could get away with not talking to Isaac for the rest of eternity, but I was hit with reality sooner than I thought. 

My phone lit up with a message from an "Unknown ID." All it said was, 'I'm outside.' 

I put on my sandals and walked outside to my front door, where the sapphire-eyed love of my life stood, eyeing me as though his life depended on it. 

"You do know I have a gun inside that Mr. Argent gave me, right?" I bluffed. 

"Your heartbeat jumped, so either you're lying, or you're excited to see me and wouldn't use it anyway."

"Fuck you."

"There's the (Y/N) I knew all those years ago."

"Yeah, before you left and never said anything after that." 

"You're an asshole, you know that?" I deadpanned, squinting my eyes when a breeze blew past me.

He was attractive, and I couldn't deny it. 

He was wearing a cardinal red and gold hoodie. The jumper read the words "Stanford University." Just my luck that we would end up going to the same school.

"You know that I never meant to hurt you." 

"No, you just wanted to save your own ass from a natural human emotion of grief and instead had me experience so fucking much of it in your absence."

"Do you know I still remember the entirety of our last conversation?" I continued. "The one that ended with you telling me you were breaking up with me?

He looked at me solemnly. 

"You gave me no heads up, no warning. I just walk into your room at Scott's house and find you packing. If I hadn't gone there, I wouldn't have known."

He looked at the ground. I began stomping towards him.

"You can't just show up here and expect everything to be normal again, Isaac," I shouted. "You can't show up here and expect everything to be ok without addressing the fucking issue."

Nothing, his eyes, and the air around him reflected shame, but he said absolutely nothing. 

"LOOK AT ME!" 

"Look at what you did. You changed my world, but you made it worse."

"I'm sorry. I was a coward. And an imbecile." He paused.

"I took the easier way out because I was scared." "I didn't want to have to see you die, so I let you go. And then Chris told me what happened and how you almost did, and I fucking regretted leaving you so much."

I stared at him lifelessly. 

"I was an idiot, and I'm still an idiot, but I'd never have  forgiven myself if something were to happen to you and I couldn't tell you that I—"

I interrupted. "Just stop. Don't. You don't get to come back here and tell me that you love me. If you loved me, you would have stayed. You wouldn't have left me to mourn you as if you died. Because that's what you did. You left, and you didn't say a word," I ranted. "If you loved me, you wouldn't have done to me exactly what you were scared of. I loved you endlessly. I was there with you for everything, with your dad, when you shifted for the first time. I even got into a fight with my brother for you. When everyone died, I WAS THERE WITH YOU. You aren't the victim here. You certainly don't get to act like you are." 

A quietness passed between us, and all that could be heard was the breeze. I walked back into my house without another word, disgusted at myself, n0t for what I said, but how I felt. 

No matter how much I could deny it, I was still in love with the bastard. I still wanted to jump into his arms and cuddle with him and kiss him all over his face. I had always wanted that with him, but he broke me, and I was still hurt.

~-~-~

No matter how much I could deny it, I was still in love with the bastard. I still wanted to jump into his arms and cuddle with him and kiss him all over his face. I had always wanted that with him, but he broke me, and I was still hurt. 

Another few weeks had passed before I saw Isaac again.  It was July. In two months, we would all be going to college. It just so happened that both of us got into one of the most difficult universities to get into across the country. So, at the moment,  I was currently hating the universe. At least Lydia would also be there. 

There was a pack meeting we all had to attend, so we had to meet at Derek's loft. 

I got dressed in a navy blue jean jacket, a white thrashers t-shirt, light wash jeans, and combat boots. 

I got into Roscoe, and Stiles drove us to the loft. He tried to make small talk, but my mind was somewhere else, somewhere it shouldn't have been.

"Hey (Y/N), When do you think is a good time to name the baby now that we know he's a boy?" 

"Hm… how about when you pay your dues for the bet?"

"I thought we weren't doing the bet anymore, love?" 

"No, we were. You only tried to drop out when you found out you lost, and then you tried to bow out because you didn't wanna pay. "

He chuckled and tightened his grip around me, bringing me closer to him. 

"Fine, you won fair and square. You'll have your fifteen dollars on your nightstand by tomorrow morning. Now can we please cuddle?" he whined. 

"Mhm… yes! Yes, we can."

Stop it. Stop thinking about things you shouldn't want (Y/N). 

When Stiles pulled up to the complex, he pulled out his phone and started typing what I assumed was a text message.

We started walking up to the front door, and when we entered, there was no one to be found. Absolutely no one in sight except Stiles and me standing in the door frame.

We went upstairs to find everybody else and almost gave up until the last door.

Everybody else was in there, but so was Isaac. Standing there in a grey shirt and black jeans. Pictures of us taken by either ourselves or by our friends throughout our relationship. Everyone was backed against the walls, but he stood there in the center looking at me, and I knew this entire thing was a set-up.

"Stiles?"

He sighed.  "Just listen to what he has to say, ok? I already tried kicking the shit out of him."

I gulped, but I stood there, feeling very out of place and very betrayed.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing to the black leather book he held in his hands.

"I have something to say before I tell you what it is," Isaac whispered.

"Isaac, I don't have time for this."

"Please?" He was desperate, and I'm pretty sure everyone in the room could tell, but nobody was looking at him. Everyone was looking at me.

I nodded towards him reluctantly.

"I wanted to write to you. To call you every day. I wanted to come back with Mr. Argent, but I knew you would hate me, and I couldn't bear to see that look on your face, even though I knew it was my fault." He tried looking into my eyes, but I wouldn't let him, looking at everyone in the room beside him.

"I left, and I broke your heart. I know that, and I thought that because I broke your heart, you'd never want to see me again. No matter how much my heart begged to be with you, I wouldn't let it. Because that wasn't what you deserved."

He lifted up the book, and I stared at it curiously.

"So I kept this, and I filled it with everything I wanted to say to you. Stories about my day, times I remembered things we did, things that reminded me of you, places I wanted to see with you, poems, songs, drawings. Anything and everything I could think of to keep my distance so that I didn't hurt you again."

My eyes started to water, but I wouldn't let the tears fall, unlike last time.

"And I'm so fucking selfish for saying this, but I  keep hurting myself trying to stay away from you. And I don't want to do it anymore. Because if I'm with you, at least I can try to take away the pain I'll end up causing you. But if you're not with me, there's no one to take away mine."

He opened the book to a bookmarked page and started reading.

"Eyes as big as Venus

"As enchanting and magnetic 

"as the moon to the tides

"With her heart so divine

"I'm caught like a spider,

"In charlotte's web."

I bit my lip. As cheesy as it may be, he wrote a poem for me.

"Good morning, love. I just thought of what a future with you would be like." He paused. "Probably full of adventure. You would probably want to go exploring the world after college. All I would want is to have you around. I was thinking maybe when we're older we could have a baby. Start our own little family."

Fuck.

"I was thinking if we have a boy we could name him Noah, for your dad, and a girl we could name her Claudia, after your mom and that pen pal you told me about who you were very close with. In all honesty, I just want to wake up with you in my arms and go to sleep just the same. I love you."

A tear slipped. I think I'm about to pass out.

“"I've been planning to come back for a while, love. I was just a coward who didn't want you to hate him any more than he knew you already did. So I stayed. But I'm here now. And I'm not leaving this time. I don't care what you say, I'll always be there for you when you need a shoulder to cry on, or someone to laugh with, or talk about your book that no one else has read with. I'm always gonna be that person for you because I'm so in love with you, it hurts. And it hurts, even more, to be away from you, and I just can't do it anymore. So I'll be in your life in every capacity that you will let me." 

Apparently, I had started walking towards him. Who keeps controlling my feet like this?

Tears were coming out of my eyes, and I wanted to scream.

"Fuck you. Fuck you for leaving me and then coming back and pulling this bullshit."  

I turned to my friends. "And fuck you guys for tricking me into this crap." I turned back to Isaac. "But most of all? Fuck you for being so goddamn addicting that after nearly 2 fucking years, I'm still so in love with you even after all you've done to me, I would let you back into my heart.

“Because that is what you have done, Isaac Lahey. You have worked your way back into your home in my heart, so if you hurt me again, I swear to all that is good, I'll kill you."

Before I knew it, his right hand was on the small of my back, his left hand on the back of my neck. He pulled me to him and kissed me. The kind of kiss that makes the world pause. The kind where you forget who and what is around you. Even the cheers of your friends as they celebrate their one true pairing reunited and the scoffs of your brother ready to kill someone for his baby sister.

[mimiri22-6]

Let's do this. One last time.

Ducktales 2017. I didn't think I was ready for the end, but the finale was too perfect to be sad nor angry.

There's so much to say-too much to say...and I'm going to try my best to say all of it.

EVERYONE IS HERE!! ENDGAME WHO?! DUCKTALES!!!!!

Seeing Webby and Scrooge interactions now, after watching this once, is just-They're So Soft! AND everything is just-AH I love it. It's so weird, but when is the family tree not screwy(also, Webby=Scrooge's clone? Webby=female? Trans Scrooge=Cannon?! I think Fucking So!)

Aaaaaaannd that's all we get from Gladstone and Fethry. If there's one thing I wish was in this episode more it would be more cousin interactions and Daisy. Though, Daisy not being too into it makes sense. Loved what we got of her tho. At least we got a little bit of them this episode, it was already pretty character packed

Well...Launchpad is only half wrong.

Oh wow. Oh Wow, I love this dynamic between LP, Drake, and Fenton...ot4? because I refuse to leave Gandra out. I love how Drake doesn't know about Fenton and Gizmo while it seems like everyone else in the world does. Still, LP/Drake and Gandra/Fenton some of my faves. So good

OH YEAH! Even the other 2 Caballeros are here!!

And the last adventure STARTS

I find it Fantastic how Dewey and Launchpad will probably die thinking F.O.W.L used the last level of a videogame as their secret layer layout

*sigh* This is why I avoid previews and wish I was better at avoiding theories from after those previews. I would have been more surprised and probably would have enjoyed this ep even more if I had Nothing to expect. But the theories were right. Tho, I did not expect how (or should I say Who) Webby was cloned from...though also I was spoiled by that when I was looking for the ep. Some ass used "Scrooge is Webby's dad" as a video title. I didn't think it was real, but I was wrong.

Awwww. Don has such a soft spot for kids

I love Lena and her development.

...*sigh* ok. "you've already got sisters" with this line, I am obligated to drop the Webby/Lena ship. I'm sorry, but it's one of my many rules for being ok with a ship. If the characters Ever say, even just once as an afterthought, they see each other as siblings or something similar, I will see them as that. It's why I've never been ok and have been uncomfortable with Shiro/Keith since Keith saved Shiro from...his clones...huh. So, from now on, I'm going to be Very uncomfortable with anything Weblena...even though the thought of them in the future was cute

HOW does a show about building ottomans have plot???

I wasn't sure how to feel about the clones All throughout this

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO HUEY JUST FIRST NAMED BEAKLEY!!!!!

GOLDIE AND DAISY ARE ON THE BOARD!!! SCORE!!

Oooooh. That picture of Webby's parents...is fake. It's like some picture Beakley took off the internet.

I saw a post saying how Della had to convince Donald to go on one last adventure and how she had to watch him almost die, but she really Didn't. She helped him pack and she was ready to let Donald go on his adventure("but Daisy's my adventure" They are too damn cute for their own damn good. I love them. donsy for the win), but an actual Crisis came up and he had to stay. Donald nearly dying by void was not Della's fault and if I see any more posts about how she roped Donald into a death mission, I will go up a wall and break a neck on my way down

Man, it's weird hearing this and knowing that Webby's parents don't exist

Wow! Beakley just knocked out Scrooge! Damn!

Oooh! The girls are fighting

...Woah. I just realized, the blood and brain of Scrooge McDuck and the training of Bentina Beakley. Webby is even more of a beast than we knew.

IS THAT DEVELOPMENT I HEAR!!! YOU KEEP THOSE KIDS BEHIND? YOU LOSE!!! GOOD DAY SIR!

Pepper. Just Pepper. She seems like one of your parent's nice coworkers that brings you brownies and pinches your cheeks

"Look after your brother." YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I JUST WANNA-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DADRO YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!! IT IS OFICIALLY BOYD GEARLOSE NOW!! YEEEEE!!!!

I also really like that you can't tell which Gyro is telling that to

God, I Fucking Love the concept that is Manny. He's one of those things that if someone asked you about him outside of the fandom, you wouldn't even know where to start. It's absolutely FanFuckingTastic. He's the most magical thing in the universe? Fuck Yes, give that to me Now!

HE SPEAKS!!!!!!(I couldn't place his voice actor, but I when I looked him up I realized recognized him for Glossaryck from SVTFOE)

(Edit: Just found out that the scene with Manny was a Gargoyles ref. Nice!)

Once again, I love everything about LP, Drake, and Fenton

And then Lena Died

Aww, they both have such soft spots for children

LUDWIG VON DRAKE?!?!!!?! WHAT THE FUCK?!

(that had to be a different font because really, what the fuck)

He really did just say he was too busy to die. This duck is too powerful

(I really just don't have too much to say between all of this. I just love all of it)

Woo! Louie with the motivation!

Pft-how both of them are singing? Love to see it...wait, we don't see Don Karnage after this...DID HE DIE IN THAT CRASH?! DID DEWEY COMMIT HIS FIRST MURDER?!

"Welcome home, April." I hate you.

Of course he dabs

"he was like this when we found him." Nice to know Gos knows what to do in the event that she kills someone

Oh that's horrendous. I hate that

"Now, let's get down to business." TO DEF[get's shot]

Why is Manny like actually the best?

God, Drake and LP really are two halves of a whole idiot huh? They're soulmates, your honor

"I. Am." "Not alone in this." That was so sweet, but also JUST TELL HIM!!

And now Glom is dead

Oh, that's a lot of mind control

"Even by our standards, this is a weird day." Couldn't say it better, Lena

"How do you think Della found out about the Spear of Selene?" OH, YOU MOTHERFU

"Oh, Bradford, how villainous." DAMN! HE REALLY DID JUST DO THAT, HUH?!

"MOOOM!" "NOOO!" OH NO, MY HEART! IT FUNCTIONS!

"Do you know how replaceable clones are?" Oh yeah, that's right. You're probably not the og Gyro

Man, we don't ever have Von Drake for long but I always love him

Those lights are really only there for dramatic effect, aren't they?

...Close enough.

Launchpad moment! Yeah!!!

HEY! I just noticed. While wearing the suit, Launchpad didn't crash...idk what to do with this info

The fine print is usually good to read...we people just don't do it apparently

"...your most trusted ally?" *picks Donald* Wow. That's right there with the feels ain't it

"it's not worth the risk." Fuck, I love them

Oh that sounds so weird. Scrooge has never been a dad, always Uncle. So Weird

And Gandra, Gyro, and Von Drake are dead. There is a Body Count this episode

"Donald Duck." "Uncle Scrooge." I SEE YOU! I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE! AND I LOVE IT!

Hehe. From Bitchford to bird brain.

EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS ENDING SCENE IS THE BEST!

Beakley thinking she's no longer accepted? Nah, she was granny first and foremost

ANOTHER FENRA KISS?! DON'T MIND IF I DO!

DADRO AND GOSALYN AND DRAKE?! LOVING IT!

MORE FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS?! WOO!

DONALD IMMEDIATELY ADOPTING JUNE AND MAY?! ONLY THE BEST FROM HIM!!!!

PROTECTIVE SCROOGE?! YOU DON'T SEE ME COMPLAINING!

"We're smarter" "We're tougher" "We're sharper" And we'll earn our way square." AH-I'M GOING DOWN LIKE THE SUNCHASER, GUYS

AND THE END CREDITS WILL NEVER BE MATCHED!!!!!

I don't know what else to say.

This show was amazing from beginning to end. I may not have cried, but I didn't need to cry. It wasn't sad and there was nothing bittersweet about it. Just pure perfection, just like the rest of the show.

Perfectly Preen, not a fether out of place.

Goodnight Ducktales, you were perfect

[creepsmcstuffins]

Living with a Irish Fae

I live with a Dullahan. No, it's not some grotesque headless horseman that throws its head at you or takes its spine whip and snatches you up into a skeletal wagon. Nor does it throw a bucket of blood on you when you get too close to it.

Sorry, if you think that, but its.... Rather HE is just an asshole. Who eats all my food, leaves the lights on, terrorizes (not really though) my dogs and shits with the door open to the bathroom. He's am Irish bloke, with a smart damn mouth. And yes he does, indeed, own a horse. His horse is better company than the loud asshole that lives with me. His horse is a black stallion that goes by the name of Caboose. A friendly boy, and I even get to ride him, when the dullahan isn't working.

Cullen O'Houlihan. That's his full name. He's a bastard man. But I'm sure your wondering how we met. Well, I'll take you back a bit.

My name is Ebonie Brown. And I was driving home one morning after working a long 10 hours. The old country roads that I drive are usually empty. Save for the occasional deer or possum in or on the side of the road. And maybe if a neighbor, I say that lightly, left one of the gates open and a cow might be grazing along the road. In the early hours of the morning, the sun could be seen peeking over the mountains. I live in a heavily mountainous area, where a lot of agriculture is farmed. Mostly corn, if I'm honest. The sun was leaving the sky pink and red, lovely hues that I enjoyed seeing.

Without warning, a horse was in the middle of the road, barely smashing into the animal, I turned the steering wheel, swerving away from the horse. Not completely hitting it, but not missing it either. I hit its rear, or what seemed like a hit. Spinning out and luckily not going into a ditch or being bent around a tree, I got out.

"What the hell!? I could-" the horse still stood. Like nothing happened! Though it... It shimmered like a... Phantom of some sort... it... looked at me, with... Big black eyes... Empty hollowed eyes, black as night. It snorted at me, black smoke pooling out from its nostrils. I took a glance at the rest of it, like it's head, the body shimmered. Black shadows enveloped it, shifting at the horse moved his neck to look at me better. I shivered as it moved.

"Uh... nice horsey?" I asked, more of a whimper, and holding my hands up. In defense, hoping this... Nightmare wouldn't decide I was food... or something... Jumping at a rustling sound, coming from the tree line near where I was standing. The horse let out another snort. And a... A man came out. Tall... tall as shit. Im a 5ft 2in woman, a little overweight, if I'm honest. And he was a giant! At least 6ft... He was wearing black armor, accompanied by an obsidian sword and a spine whip.

I know. I know, I said that he doesn't use the whip, but let me continue.

This man... He didnt have a fucking head. Scratch that, he had a head, he was just holding it in his arms. The head looked at me. At my eye level. He had brown thick hair, and golden eyes. The eyes were shimmering like the horse's eyes and body. The head had gold light flowing from it and the body had a purple aura pouring from it. Power, dark power came from both, the horse and its rider. I stepped back, and stared at the head.

"The fok you starin' at?" It spoke, thick Irish accent prominent, "You ever seen a man at night like this, ya idiot!?"

I was speechless, frozen. I didn't expect the head to talk. It frowned at me,

"Well!? Don't stand there gapin' like a fish! SPEAK!!" His voice rang out loud and even made some sleeping birds flutter past us. The horse snorted, pawing at the ground. The head looked at the horse then back at me.

"You hi't 'em?!" He barked at me, snapping me out of my stupor,

"N-no? I.. I mean... he... i..." I stuttered, still not moving. The head huffed and the body moved, reattaching the head to itself.

"Whats your name?" He crossed his arms, and leaned his weight off to one side, the sword swinging as he shifted his weight.

"Ebonie... Brown." I spoke slowly, eyeing the sword more than the whip. Then looked back up at him.

"Well I'm Cullen O'Houlihan. And you hit Caboose. You hurt his feelings. Now. You owe us." He smiled evilly at me. I frown, starting to drown in whatever shitty possibilities he had in mind. The male bent down and smiled at me,

"Well Miss Brown. Where ya live at? I'm gonna need a place to rest m' weary 'ead." I shutter, and nod, getting back into my car. He mounted his horse and followed me home. We arrived at my mother's home... Thankfully she and my sister were sleep still. I parked and got out.

"Uh... what are you gonna do with... Your horse? He-"

"He'll be fine out here." Cullan yawned and dismounted. And strode up to me.

"Cute lil' house. Your Ma?" He nodded at the house. I nodded,

"Yeah. Come on... I only have one bed so..." I walked to my door, and unlocked it.

"Oh?" I could hear the smug look and smile on his face,

"Care to have a night with an Irish lad then?" He bent close to my cheek. I could feel Cullen's breath. It was cold, like a frozen wind, on a snowy December night. I hit him with the screen door.

"You can sleep on my dogs bed. I don-" Cullen barked out a yelp of surprise, rather than pain. I smirked and walked into the door. Slipping my shoes off. He followed, having to bend a bit to get through the door.

"Well. This is... not what-"

"Shut up. If your staying the night-" He threw a bag of money, gold rather at my head. And shot me a look, that said "that aught to be enough." I rolled my eyes. His armor melted, and transformed into comfy pajamas. Cullen gave a stretch and looked at me.

"Bed? I'm quite tired." I nodded, pointing at my room. Walking through the doorway, he plopped, face first into the bed. Snoring before I could walk in after him. I sighed, stupid bastard was supposed to sleep elsewhere. It's fine I guess... just for one night. I slipped in next to him, careful not to get to close to him. I pulled my plaid blanket close and then reached over pulling another blanket over Cullen. I huffed and fell asleep.

I woke up to clattering and a scream, I shot out of my bed. Cullen was looking for whatever, not stopping to look at him I rushed outside, snatching my gun and pulling the slide, loading a bullet into the chamber. My mom was screeching at the black (non shimmering) horse standing in the garden. Caboose was eating her cucumbers... I lowered my gun.

"Shit...." Cullen followed me out, spoon in hand, eating out of my applesauce jar. He was snickering.

"WHO ARE THEY!?" my mom yelled at me, pointing at Cullen and Caboose. I held my hand up and she stopped panicking.

"This is..." I paused... I didn't know what to say! What was I supposed to say!? As if reading my mind, Cullen stepped forward, pushing the jar into my hands.

"Hello!" His voice clear and friendly, he stepped forward and extended his hand,

"Im Cullen! Cullen O'Houlihan! Pleasure to finally meet you Miss Boyd! I'm your daughter's boyfriend." He smiled widely and as charming he could.

My mom took his hand and her eyes grew clear, as if I had mentioned this random ass man before.

"Oh! Cullen! I remember Eb saying something about you! Wonderful to finally meet you!" She smiled at the man, then scolded him,

"You need to move your horse though! He's eating my garden!" At a snap of Cullen's fingers, Caboose, the nightmare horse moved.

"So sorry about the inconvenience. I'll make sure he stays out of the plants Miss." He walked back over to me, flashing me a look. And he plucked the applesauce jar from my hand, and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. And pressing our cheeks together.

"I hope you don't mind me crashin' here! I've got rent money for us." He pulled out a stack of money from his pocket and held it out to my mother. She gratefully took it and nodded. Leaving us alone outside to stare at Caboose who was eating the weeds next to my old red Chevy. Cullen didn't move, but stood still smirking at me, and gave me a pointed look.

"Well, Darlin'," he drew out the word, "Darlin'", "I guess your stuck with me." He kissed my cheek, his lips cold. And walked off. I sighed, now I have a.... I realized I didn't know what the hell he was. I turned and followed him inside,

"What-"

"A Fae. Specifically a Dullahan." He mused. Ok so he could read my mind. Cullen looked at me and smiled, sitting in my spinning computer chair. I opened my mouth again, he spoke, this time in my head, smiling that stupid ass Cheshire cat grin,

"I'm here cause I'm curious. Tired living in the fuckin forests and meadows of Ireland. But the civilization was a bit much for me and Caboose, so I opted for a cooler area. The mountains was what he and I agreed on. You just happened to be unlucky to come across us. I found a dead dog in the road where you "hit" Cabose. And I wanted to give the poor thing a decent burial." Cullen finished his story and plopped the empty applesauce jar on my computer desk.

"This is my new home.... But if you move, I'll move with you."

So... I guess that'd the first thing? To write about... for now. My new boyfriend is a Dullahan. A legit one... his... head is floating over here now. I gotta go... I'll write again soon.

[spurgie-cousin]

WHW In Memoriam: Unarmed, Murdered Black Americans from History

(Content Warning: Violence, murder, abuse, racism)

So this is definitely not the same kind of ‘weird’ history I usually post about (and it’s not Wednesday quite yet), but in light of the George Floyd verdict I thought it was important to take a moment to remember some of the unarmed, murdered black Americans throughout our history, most of whom have never received justice. Whether their lives were taken by the police or violent, racist vigilantes, their memories should always be a reminder that though we’ve come a long way, we still have a long, long way to go. 

This is in no way a comprehensive list, in fact I start at Emmett Till because the *known* lynchings pre-1955 are too numerous to include in one, two, ten posts. I know I will not have room to include even everyone post 1955 (god there are so many) but please know that all of them, from the unknown to the infamous, from our country’s beginning to today, matter the same.

“History, despite it’s wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again.” - Maya Angelou

 1. Emmett Louis Till

Born: July 25, 1941, Chicago, IL Died: August 28, 1955, Money, MS

Emmett Till was a 14 year-old child from Chicago visiting relatives over his summer break in August of 1955. Unfamiliar with the strictly racist social codes in the American south, he spoke to a white woman at a grocery store, and was accused of flirting with her. A few nights later her husband and his brother abducted Till, brutally beat and mutilated him, and then shot him before letting his body sink into a river. When he was found, his body was barely recognizable even to his mother. 

In an act of grief and defiance, his mother held a highly-publicized, open casket funeral to show the brutality of what had happened to her child to the world. 

It’s believed that before her death, Carolyn Bryant, the woman from the grocery store, recanted key details from her original story, including that Till whistled or flirted with her. 

2. James Earl Chaney

Born: May 30, 1943, Meridian, Mississippi Died: June 21, 1964, Philadelphia, Mississippi

James Chaney was a 21 year old field/social worker working for Congress of Racial Equality (CORE). He was murdered along with two colleagues, Andrew Goodman and Michael Schwerner, by the Ku Klux Klan while they were in Mississippi investigating the burning of a church. The 3 were pulled over by a patrol car being followed by 2 cars full of Klan members, who shot Goodman and Schwerner, beat Chaney, and then shot him 3 times. 

3. Michael Donald

Born: July 24, 1961, Mobile, Alabama Died: March 21, 1981, Mobile, Alabama

Michael Donald was a 20 year-old who on March 21st, 1981 was walking down the street after purchasing cigarettes for his sister. He was chosen at random by a car full of Ku Klux Klan members, angry that a recent Klan members court case had been declared a mistrial. He was beat, hung, and his throat was slit, and was left hanging dead from a tree in a secluded, wooded area. 

Three Klansmen were convicted of Donald's murder. Henry Hays was sentenced to death and executed in the electric chair in 1997. James Knowles and Benjamin Cox were sentenced to life in prison. A civil suit against the United Klans of America caused their bankruptcy.

4. Yusef Kirriem Hawkins

Born: March 19, 1973, Brooklyn, NY Died:  August 23, 1989, Brooklyn, NY

Yusef Hawkins was a 16-year-old black teenager who was shot to death on August 23, 1989, in Bensonhurst, a predominantly Italian-American working-class neighborhood in the New York City borough of Brooklyn. Hawkins, his younger brother, and two friends were attacked by a crowd of 10 to 30 white youths, with at least seven of them wielding baseball bats. One, armed with a handgun, shot Hawkins twice in the chest, killing him. Hawkins and his brother were in the neighborhood to inquire about a used car. 

5. Nicholas Heyward Jr.

Born: August 26th, 1981 Died: September 27th, 1994

13-year-old Nicholas Heyward Jr. was playing cops and robbers inside the stairwell of a Brooklyn apartment building when officer Brian George mistook the boy’s toy gun for a real gun and shot him in the stomach, killing him. 

6. Amadou Diallo

Born: September 2, 1975, Liberia Died: February 4, 1999, NYC, New York

In the early morning of February 4, Diallo was standing near his building after returning from a meal. At about 12:40 a.m., officers Edward McMellon, Sean Carroll, Kenneth Boss and Richard Murphy were looking for an alleged serial rapist in the Soundview section of the Bronx. While driving down Wheeler Avenue, the police officer stopped his unidentified car and interrogated Diallo, who was in front of his apartment. When they ordered Diallo to show his hands, he supposedly ran into the apartment and reached into his pocket to show his wallet. Soon afterwards the four officers fired 41 shots with semi-automatic pistols, fatally hitting Diallo 19 times. Eye witness Sherrie Elliott stated that the police continued to shoot even though Diallo is already down and that McMellon is still shooting even though he is lying on the ground.

7. Kendra Sarie James

Born:  December 24, 1981 Died: May 5, 2003, Portland, Oregon

21-year-old Kendra Sarie James was shot and killed by Portland Officer Scott McCollister when she attempted to flee a traffic stop for a minor violation. Portland police initially said it appeared the car had run over the officer's foot but he did not receive medical attention at the scene or at Northeast Precinct. Police repeatedly refused to identify the alleged traffic violation that caused them to stop James and two companions in the car. Police had taken the driver out of the car and was checking his identity when they saw James slide into the Chevrolet’s driver’s seat. Both officers, while standing on the driver’s side of the car, struggled with James to stop her from driving away. One of them fired a taser gun at her to subdue her. McCollister fired a single round from his 9 mm service pistol at James, killing her.

8. Deaunta T. Farrow

Born: September 7, 1994, West Memphis, Arkansas Died: June 22, 2007, West Memphis, Arkansas

On the night of his death, Deaunta Farrow was walking with his 14-year-old cousin from Farrow’s home to the nearby Steeplechase Apartments where Nash lived.  Along the way the two made a stop at a gas station where they purchased soda pop and chips from the station’s convenience store, and continued down the street. Farrow and Nash turned up the street leading to Nash’s apartment.  At that point two undercover West Memphis police officers, Jimmy Evans and Sammis, who were on a stakeout in a narcotics investigation, appeared from a nearby dumpster.  According to some eyewitnesses, the two police officers confronted the young men and soon afterwards Sammis, noticed something bulging in the 12-year-old’s coat pocket.  As Farrow removed the item, Sammis shot and killed him.

9. Rekia Boyd

Born: November 5, 1989, Chicago, IL Died: March 21, 2012

On the night of her death, Rekia Boyd was hanging out with friends at Douglas Park on Chicago’s West Side at a party listening to music while having a few drinks. Around 1:00 am, Boyd and some of her friends walked to a nearby liquor store. Around the same time, officer Dante Servin was just finishing his shift on his second job. He was off duty, heading to a fast food restaurant for a hamburger, but Servin drove to Douglas Park after a citizen called police about a noise complaint. Servin saw Boyd and her friends and later claimed they were arguing in an alley. Whether Servin calmly approached Boyd and her friends or was rude and aggressive is still debated. One of Boyd’s friends, Antonio Cross, claimed that Servin attempted to buy drugs from the group. When Cross told Servin to “get his crackhead ass out of here,” Servin pulled a gun, stuck it out of the window of his car and fired into the group, hitting Boyd in the head. She was instantly killed.

10. Eric Garner 

Born: September 15, 1970, NYC, New York Died: July 17, 2014, NYC, New York

On July 17th, 2014, NYPD officers approached Eric Garner on suspicion of selling single cigarettes from packs without tax stamps. After Garner told the police that he was tired of being harassed and that he was not selling cigarettes, the officers attempted to arrest Garner. When Pantaleo placed his hands on Garner, Garner pulled his arms away. Pantaleo then placed his arm around Garner's neck and wrestled him to the ground. With multiple officers pinning him down, Garner repeated the words "I can't breathe" 11 times while lying face down on the sidewalk. After Garner lost consciousness, he remained lying on the sidewalk for seven minutes while the officers waited for an ambulance to arrive. Garner was pronounced dead at an area hospital approximately one hour later.

11. Breonna Taylor

Born: June 5, 1993, Grand Rapids, Michigan Died: March 13, 2020, Louisville, Kentucky

A narcotics investigation regarding suspected drug dealer Jamarcus Glover, led detectives to Breonna Taylor’s residence in the South End. Glover was a previous acquaintance of Taylor and she was under suspicion for using her home to his receive mail, hide his drugs, and stash money earned from his drug sales. Taylor, who was 26, at the time, lived in a Springfield Drive apartment with her 27-year-old boyfriend Kenneth Walker. Taylor and Walker were asleep in bed, on the night of March 13, 2020, when they were awakened by a loud banging at the front door. Taylor called out, asking who was there, but heard no response. Walker, a licensed and registered gun owner, armed himself and headed towards the front door, when it suddenly came off its hinges.

Under a “no-knock” search warrant, Louisville Metro Police Department Sgt. Jonathan Mattingly, Detective Brett Hankinson, and Officer Myles Cosgrove, all in plainclothes, stormed into the apartment. Taylor’s boyfriend Walker, thinking this was a home invasion robbery, fired one shot in self-defense. Sgt. Mattingly was hit in the leg, and in response, the other officers opened fire, releasing more than twenty rounds into the apartment. Taylor was shot eight times and collapsed in the hallway of her apartment. She was pronounced dead at the scene.

12. Daunte Demetrius Wright

Died: April 11, 2021 (20 years old)

On April 11 of this year, Daunte Demetrius Wright was fatally shot by police officer Kimberly Ann Potter during a traffic stop and attempted arrest for an outstanding arrest warrant in Brooklyn Center, Minnesota. After a brief struggle with officers, Wright was shot at close range by Potter, who had confused her gun with her taser. Officers pulled Wright out of his car and administered CPR, but were unsuccessful, and he was pronounced dead at the scene.

[niallloverontheloose]

https://princeescaluswords.tumblr.com/post/650079336900313088/for-years-fandom-has-talked-about-wanting-stiles#notes

@russianspacegeckosexparty: For years, fandom has talked about wanting Stiles to “heal” Derek but what they mean is they want self insert stan in a Stiles Nametag/Fanon!Stiles to *enable* Derek’s toxicity, and also while claiming that Derek’s way of running a pack is the Right Way, they suspiciously have him acting exactly like Scott who’s methods they sneered at

@princeescaluswords:

I wish I had a simple answer for you. It would be easy to laughingly dismiss it as ‘just racism’ and move on. Racism is a huge part of it, but it’s not the only part; it’s a situation-well mixed with patriarchal precedence and a fundamentally self-serving and immature application of Christian doctrine (I’m speaking as a Christian myself). Our culture has created certain expectations in the way we approach the behavior of white men.

As long as they show emotional depth, attractive white men are entitled to forgiveness for their bad actions without the need to redress those actions.

The sad part is that this phenomenon exists outside of the world of fiction and fandom. How many white men have had tearful press conferences apologizing for their bad behavior and then its back to business as usual?

When the Sterek shippers create a Fanon Stiles to support/heal/enable Alpha Derek, they very often indulge in this idea. To them and their insert, who Derek hurt is immaterial. To them and their insert, what Derek did is immaterial. The only thing that matters is that a powerful and attractive white man was openly emotional, and so, to them, it’s simply unjust for the narrative or the audience to treat him as less than fully redeemed.

What did Derek do in response to his betrayal of Paige to her death? He cried about it. What did Derek do when he unwisely bit Jackson and then abandoned him to become the kanima? He looked pained and stomped around the screen yelling at people who weren’t responsible. What did Derek do when his decisions to conceal information got Erica and Boyd killed? He looked sad and stricken. The show, in a completely inadequate display of consequences, ‘redeemed’ him by having him give up the alpha power to save his sister (and fandom reeled in shock at this tiny bit of redress, so much that they kept rejecting it).

Fandom doesn’t even recognize all the things that Derek did to Scott - from concealing information, to bullying, to selfish manipulation, to betrayal, to brutal assault - as bad behavior. How many times have you read Fanon Stiles say “he may have been an asshole, but he was trying to help!” when Derek lied to Scott about the cure, betrayed him to his uncle, and have his or his minions try to beat Scott into submission?

Derek experiences strong emotions, therefore, all his actions are immediately ameliorated by his pain, but only because he’s white and good looking! His family burned! His sister was murdered! So that makes his attempt to hunt down and kill Lydia on a hunch absolutely okay.

Compare this to the absolute condemnation of Scott for saying an insensitive thing to Derek and to pretending-to-be-catatonic Peter after nearly getting caught by Kate and Chris stealing a bullet to save Derek’s life. Compare this to the raging hellfire wished upon Scott for being blackmailed by Gerard with a knife to his gut, a tail wrapped around his mother’s throat, and claws to his lover’s neck?

It doesn’t stop there. Peter Hale has legions of defenders not because he expressed remorse for his terrible onscreen actions but because he refused to express remorse for them. In fact, he defended his vicious murders and attempted murders and violations with passionate bullshit. They swoon over the fact that he murdered his own niece so much that they make up excuses for him that he refused and create fantasies of the Left Hand.

That’s why, when grappling with Season 5A, they don’t care that Stiles was a lying traitor. They only care that he felt really bad while he was being a lying traitor. (And they’ll come at me, screaming, that he was being blackmailed too, while turning around and call Scott a rapist in Master Plan. And no, Scott wasn’t a traitor in Season 2; he was deceiving villains – both Derek and Gerard. That’s the difference between Scott and Stiles. Scott finds a way to defeat the villains while Stiles… Stiles cries about it. But that’s all a white male character has to do be considered a hero.)

My problem is that fandom’s reflexive urge to forgive every single good looking white male character not only permeates the fandom but it also influenced the show. That’s why Scott had to listen to Stiles whine about the way Scott looked at him in Codominance but the fact that Stiles assaulted Scott was never mentioned again. That’s why Liam’s apology tour was so completely fixated on Liam finding a way to live with himself, that he never bother to ask if Scott was okay, or Mason didn’t scold him for leaving Scott dying on the library floor to go hug a girl that was already dead. After all, Liam was feeeeeeeeling.

Art imitates life. Fandom has lowered the bar so much for attractive white male characters that all they have to do is… I don’t think there’s anything they can’t do to be automatically healed by the fandom. Yet they cover that with making the act of forgiving white male characters an act of love.

//

So Stiles is a “lying traitor” because he’s a victim of assault and blackmail and because he didn’t share his own traumas with Scott like Scott and his Stans demanded… but Scott is a “hero” even though he kept lying like a rug, sold Derek Hale and his Pack out to the hunters in exchange of Allison, conspired with Gerard behind everyone’s back, and violated an incapacitated rape victim to save his own ass? Make it make sense, antis

“How many times have you read Fanon Stiles say ‘he may have been an asshole, but he was trying to help!’ when Derek lied to Scott about the cure, betrayed him to his uncle, and have his or his minions try to beat Scott into submission?”

Funnily enough, I never read a Sterek fic in which the author uses Stiles to justify Derek’s behavior. But I’ve read PLENTY of fics written by the Scott McCall defense squad members in which Stiles, Lydia, Kira, Allison, Mason, Liam, Chris, Cora etc are reduced to he author’s Fanon Self Insert and used to excuse/justify Scott’s toxic behavior.

But maybe PrinceEscalusWords is referring to when the TW writers & producers had Masson Hewitt (a gay black character) justify Scott and tell Corey Bryant (a gay character and the boy Scott assaulted and mind raped) to get over it, because:

“I know the last time you saw Scott wasn’t his best day. But he’s trying to help! More than most people would!” (5x09, Lies of Omission)

‘cause apparently nothing is more ‘romantic’ and ‘progressive’ than telling an abuse victim to get over their own trauma and abuse and then trying to paint their abuser as a kind, compassionate hero who just had a bad day in Jeff Davis’ book

“My problem is that fandom’s reflexive urge to forgive every single good looking white male character not only permeates the fandom but it also influenced the show. That’s why Scott had to listen to Stiles whine about the way Scott looked at him”

Actually, Stiles is the one who had to listen to Scott whine about the way Liam looked at him.

[Teen Wolf 5x13, Co-dominance]

STILES: So, what did he want?

SCOTT: To help.

STILES: You gonna let him?

SCOTT: Eventually, I guess…

STILES: Okay, but shouldn’t he be a little higher on your priority list right now? I mean, since he’s the only other actual werewolf, your only actual Beta.

SCOTT: You didn’t see the way that he came at me! You didn’t see the look in his eyes!

STILES: Well, I’ve been with you on a full moon, so I’ve seen that look.

STILES: You want to get the band back together, Scott, you don’t leave out the drummer.

“And no, Scott wasn’t a traitor in Season 2; he was deceiving villains – both Derek and Gerard. That’s the difference between Scott and Stiles. Scott finds a way to defeat the villains while Stiles cries about it”

Except that Scott never defeated a single villain in the actual show. He even failed to assassinate a terminally ill old man who was already dying in Master Plan. Scott is pretty good at whining and at taking credit for his friends’ heroic actions and achievements, though. And that’s all Scott has to do to be considered a “hero” or become a “true alpha”

[ofpackandpride]

Good time

A/N:Takes place post season 6B. Erica, Boyd, Allison, Aiden, Josh and Tracy are all alive in this,  Jackson,Isaac, Ethan and Hayden never left and Kira is returning from training.

Pairing: Derek Hale x Male Reader

Requested by: @softboi-vibes

Derek’s loft became the unofficial official place for pack meetings and the place where a good portion of the pack lived, mainly Derek, his bitten, and the twins. He more or less adopted the chimera pack after he came back and found out about what happened while he was gone and how you and the rest of the chimeras, excluding Hayden, were living in what used to be the Dread Doctors lair.

His loft and life becomes a lot more lively after that.

Now having an oddly domestic life with the teenagers he turned years ago teaching the younger betas and being care-free and messing with each other, the twins that are now trusted packmates instead of the Alphas they fought long ago.

Derek thought it was nice having a large home with lots of people, until he decided not as much so when you’re trying to be romantic and you have teenagers yelling at each other or causing trouble.

After a full week of repeated attempts of trying to surprise you with something romantic that constantly got annihilated by the other pack members, he was ready to scream. First Lydia found a way to get Erica drunk and that was a disaster, then Theo and Malia got into a fight which took Scott to defuse, Mason spraining his ankle while Allison and Chris trained him for being second-in-command for stand in Alpha Liam, Josh had short circuited the school while trying to get a fix and Corey had to sneak him out, Peter made comments on Kanimas which made Tracy and Jackson aggressive towards him. To put it simply, Derek was done with everyone and everything, he just wanted to have a day for the two of you without something happening. So when you walk into the loft to tell Derek that you got Stiles to have Scott take the pack on a vacation he was about to cry in frustration, why couldn’t the two of you just be alone? You saunter over and straddle Derek as he leans back on the sofa “Scott thinks this will be good for packbuilding. Melissa and the Sheriff get a nice dinner date, Peter and Chris can do whatever it is they do together, the teenagers will probably shop around a little and sight see. Stiles and Lydia get what’s happening and are convincing Scott that it’s fine that we are going to stay here.” You explain as you smile down at your boyfriend

You drop your voice down to a whisper as you continue “It’ll be just us and no interruptions, Der.” Leaning down, you press your lips to his and your hands rest on his shoulder, pressing against his front as his hands slide down your sides. “Just one more day, then we get a week of just us.”

——

You were lying underneath Derek on his bed as the two of you made out, his hands riding up your chest to remove your shirt as you broke away and lifted your arms so he could remove it, Derek taking his own shirt off as soon as he got rid of yours.

You feel Derek’s hand tug at your pants as he kisses you again, you put your hand on his as you break the kiss.

You give him a breathless “Wait” and he immediately shoots off of you like a rocket.

“Oh my god, Y/N” Derek says as he looks like he’s torn between running and holding you. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”  

You sit up and lean forward, silencing him with a reassuring kiss and not moving till he responds by kissing back. “You didn’t hurt me, you didn’t rush me. I just wanted to ask you something.”

Derek nods, still looking like a sad puppy. “Yeah?”

You smile and lean back, pulling him back over you into the position you were in before as you whisper “Be gentle? This is my first time.” against his ear.

Derek tenses from above you, looking down at you with eyebrows raised in shock. “You’re a virgin!?”

You laugh and smile up at him. “Yeah, You’re my first everything. Crush, Date, Kiss, you were my first for all of those.” You tell him as the two of you adjust so he’s on his back and your head is on his chest.

You can feel him the gears turning in his head before he finally asks you “So that time we snuck away during Lydia’s party?”

You nod and give an acknowledging hum. “Yup, ”

You trace patterns on Derek’s stomach and glance down, seeing the tent in his jeans. “No wonder you were so responsive.” He says, causing you to playfully slap his abs.

“It was my first time getting a blowjob, of course I was going to be responsive.”

“Then that time in the Camaro when we were waiting for Stiles?”

“Uh huh, first time giving you a bj”

Derek lets out a quiet ‘fuck’ before he pauses and asks “Then this is?”

You move so you’re on top of Derek and smile down at him. “Me placing my trust in you and hoping you’ll make this night unforgettable” You tell him before leaning down and kissing him, breaking contact just long enough to say. “You don’t have to be gentle”

Derek didn’t need anymore encouragement. He grabs your hair in one clawed hand and puts his mouth to yours, sliding his tongue against yours as his free hand cuts your sweatpants from your waist.

You let out a noise of protest that turns into a moan as you fumble his belt buckle in your hands while he slides sharp nails down your back light enough to only sting before grabbing your ass.

He flips the two of you over and lets go of you just long enough to slide his pants off before hovering over you, one hand searching the nightstand while the other held your face and slid a thumb into your mouth.

You close your eyes as you wrap one hand around yourself, holding his hand with the other, satisfied at the way Derek’s breath hitched when you did that as he retrieved the desired item.

You whine when he moves his hand away, opening your eyes when you hear the click of a cap, annoyance turning into arousal as you watch him put lube on his fingers.

He smirks and leans down, running a fang against your lower lip. You open your mouth for him in a breathy moan and grab his hair when he lightly bites your lip, his tongue sliding into your mouth as a lubed finger teases your hole.

You were about to tell him to hurry up when he slides a finger in, causing you to moan and tighten around his finger, bucking your hips into his.

Derek gives you a little approving grunt and eases in another finger, curling them upwards to hit your prostate. You moan into his mouth as you press back against him, putting your arms around him in an attempt to keep him close as if he’d leave. Sliding a hand down your front, he takes the two of you in his hand and lazily strokes causing you to jump between trying to hump into his hand and press back against his fingers.

Derek murmurs encouraging praise into your ear as he lets go of himself to hold only you, adding in a third finger and pumping them in and out of you slowly, making small thrusts and twirls against your prostate with his fingers.

“Derek, please just fuck me already” You say, trying to sound commanding but only sounding needy and impatient.

He chuckles against your neck and moves off of you with a cheeky grin, grabbing the lube and squirting a generous amount onto his length. “Are you ready?” Derek asks you, adjusting positions so your legs were to the sides of his waist and pressed up against him.

“Yeah, Der, please. Please fuck me already” You beg, not caring how you sounded.

Derek nods and lines himself up, grabbing into your hips as he slowly slides into you. Both of you moaning when he enters you, Derek at your tightness and you at the stretched feeling. “Fuck, Y/N. So good for me, so tight” he moans as he presses in a little further

You don’t say anything in reply, moaning loudly as he brushes against your prostate. You put your arms back around him, pulling him down to you to reconnect in a kiss as he begins bottoming out.

Derek pauses once he’s all the way in. “You OK?” you nod quickly and try to move your hips, not succeeding in much as he is holding you still with an iron grip. “I need you to say it for me, how are you feeling?”

“Good, so fucking good. Move, Der. Please, I need you right now. Need you so fuckin’ bad. Don’t wanna be able to walk in the morning.” You blabber, putting your head in the crook of his neck, whining in an attempt to make him start moving. Letting out a little chuckle on how needy and desperate you sound, enjoying how you are already begging for him.

“Slow down there, Baby. Maybe we should start a little slow, I don’t wanna hurt you.” Derek reasons, now knowing this is your first time.

“Don’t care, I’ll heal, need you now” You tell him, holding onto his shoulders.

Derek pauses for a second before responding. “If it hurts, or you’re uncomfortable, say something and I’ll stop. Got it?”

You nod against his neck and give a little mh hm.

“Got it?” Derek asks you again.

You groan into his shoulder. “Yes, Derek! I got it, now fuck me!” you whine, moaning when he slowly pulls himself nearly all the way out and pushes back into you.

“Like that?” Derek taunts, repeating the process in a slow rhythm.

“Fuck, yes. ” You beg, moaning when he pulls back and buries himself in you again.

“So good for me” Derek’s growl reverberates through his chest as he sucks a hickey on to your jaw.

You let out little moans consisting of pleasured little whines, whimpers and ‘Derek’. You can tell he likes when you moan his name, he would make this rumble in his chest or give you a firmer stroke all while keeping his tortuously slow pace.

“Derek, please!” You whine as he sucks a spot on your neck that makes you melt, Derek sliding back into you just as you relaxed, making your hips just and sliding more of him inside of you.

“Please, what? baby boy.” You can hear the smile in Derek’s voice as he talks. “You gotta tell me what you want.”

You were already blushing,this made it even worse “Iwantyoutofuckmeintothemattress.”

Derek’s hips stuttered into a pause as his eyebrows scrunched, replaying what you said in his head. Smiling when he figured it out.

You didn’t like the smile he had on his face, like he was about to do something he shouldn’t.“I’m sorry, what? I didn’t hear you.”

You repeat what you said, mumbling into your shoulder.

“One more time?”

Groaning, you quickly say “I want you to fuck me into the mattress so hard I can’t walk in the morning!”

Moaning when Derek pulls out and flips you over on to your stomach,  your erection caught between you and the covers as Derek pressed you down into the mattress. “I heard you the first time, just wanted to hear it again” Derek teases you, ignoring your grumble.

Tilting your head up as he presses his muscular chest against your back, teasing your hole by rubbing his tip against it as he nips at your ear. “You sure you want me to be rough? I don’t mind-”

He cuts himself off with a hitched breath when you press back against him, moaning as his tip pushes in to you. “Fuck, Y/N.” Derek groans as you test his self restraint

“Derek, I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now I’ll-” You get cut off as Derek slams into you fully, causing you to moan and arch your back against his toned chest.

Derek putting more of his weight on you as he continues with fast, sharp thrusts. “You’ll do what, exactly?” Derek asks from behind you ear, pushing your head into the covers and teething at your throat with a threatening growl.

Caught in the pleasure of Derek hitting all of the right spots inside if you and him marking your neck. Reduced to the blabbering of Derek’s name and begging for more.

“That’s right, you’re so good for me. Go ahead, make some noise. Fuck you’re so hot, Y/N” Derek praises you while he works at your neck, loving the way he can feel you moaning as he marks you up.

You could feel yourself nearing the edge, that familiar warmth spreading through you as you fisted the sheets, Derek must have picked up on it since he slid a hand down your front and wrapped a large hand around you.

Moaning loudly when jerks you to the fast pace of his thrusts, moving your hips to try and escape and chase the overwhelming pleasure at the same time. “You close, baby boy? Huh? Gonna cum for me?” Derek gruff voice growls from behind your ear, hips stuttering in their lost rhythm as you tightened around him when you came with a moan of his name.

Derek following you into orgasm moments later, a reverberating rumble sounding from his chest as he presses as far as he can into you, lowering you flat against the bed and pausing his movements as he came inside of you.

You give a pleasure sigh when he lays his weight on you, placing his head into the crook of your neck near the areas he marked only minutes ago, feeling his hairy chest against your back as you are happily trapped against the bed beneath his weight.

“Was that good?” Derek quietly asks, sliding his hands up your arms and holding your hands.

You let out a content hmm as you feel yourself drifting off.

“I’ll take that as a yes” Derek interprets as he listens to your breathing and your heart return to a resting rate.

After a few minutes of content post-orgasmic bliss Derek goes to move off of you, pulling out in the process.

You whine at the loss of his warm body, causing him to chuckle. “I’ll be right back, I’m just starting the bath.”

You reply with a grunt and a weak thumbs up from a hand that never left the bed. A minute later you are being scooped up, immediately resting your against Derek. Being lulled to sleep by the bounce of him walking as he carries you.

“Ok, in you go” Derek says as he begins to maneuver you in a way he can place you into the tub without just dropping you. You let out a whine and press into him more, smiling when he gives you an irritated sigh. “I will drop you” Derek says in a serious tone.

You reply with a quiet “Jerk” as you get into the tub with his help, sighing contentedly when the hot water touches you.

“See? Nice isn’t it” Derek says, easing you into the rest of the way into the tub as you close your eyes.

Replying with a pleased ‘hmm’ you slide down a little farther and say “In.” Derek replies with a confused “Huh?” as you turn to him and open a sleepy eye. “Get in” You tell him as he smiles and gently nudges your back.

You move forward and sit up a little, leaning back against him when you feel his legs slide alongside yours and arms wrap around you.

The two of you adjust positions for a few seconds until you are in a position where Derek is able to clean you off.

Dozing off somewhere after Derek cleaned your hair and started on your body, only waking after he came back in and dried you off after putting new sheets on the bed. Falling straight back asleep as soon as he covered you up.

[itsme-basil]

Party Favor - read on ao3

Tags: Stiles x Hale pack, knotting, gangbang

Tagging: @therogueheart

Stiles was sprawled on his stomach, leaning over the kitchen table with a blindfold on and his hands duct taped to the sides. He moaned loudly as someone rammed into him, hard and fast, his own cock leaking into the groind between his feet. 

"He loves it," he heard Boyd say, a grin in his tone. Stiles did. He loved every second of it. Being passed around and fucked. 

"God, his ass is sucking me in," Isaac growled, clawed fingers biting into Stiles' hips as he thrusted in and out. He couldn't remember how many times he had been used. He could barely tell who was fucking him when. Pleasure had his thighs trembling and he moaned loud as Isaac finally came in his ass. 

Another tally mark was sharpied into the skin of his pack as Isaac pulled out, patting Stiles' ass appreciatively. 

He felt the air on his gaping asshole and he whimpered, feeling cum dribble down his perineum, over his balls to join the rest of the mess on the floor. Everyone's cum mixed together sweetly in his ass. 

Another hand settled on his lower back, and he knew from the size of it that it was Boyd. He braced himself, giddy to feel his thick cock split him open. 

Out of all the werewolves that had partaken in Stiles, Derek and Boyd were the thickest, and his favorites. Boyd sank in with a smooth glide and a breathy noise. Stiles lifted onto his toes, pulling at his arms still taped to the sides of the table. He wanted to touch himself. Wanted to cum so bad. 

He'd managed two orgasms since the start of the party. Once when Derek knotted him, and the second when Jackson angled himself just right and fucked into his prostate nonstop until he was sobbing and shaking. 

Being fucked and passed around like he was felt amazing, and he never wanted it to stop. But he wanted to cum again. Needed it desperately. 

"Please, please, please," he groaned into the wood of the table, wriggling his hips, hoping to get some type of friction against his no doubt red and leaking dick. 

Boyd only chuckled as he fucked him harder. They could hear the game in the living room, the other guys cheering for their team. Stiles wasn't much of a sports fan, at least not when it came to football, but he was glad he came. 

Boyd emptied himself deep in Stiles' ass before pulling out. Stiles clamped down on him as he did, whimpering at the loss and begging wordlessly for him to continue. 

"Such a cockslut," Boyd said, putting his own tally next to Isaac's. He couldn't wait to go to the bathroom and see how many are there. 

Someone removed the tape from around his wrists and he was lifted into the air. He barely reacted as his legs were forced around someone's hips. He curled his arms around their neck, moaning at the feeling of fabric against his cock. He rocked into their stomach as they walked away from the table. They chuckled and Stiles knew it was Derek. 

He set his mouth against Derek's collarbone, rocking into Derek, trying desperately to get off. The sounds of the TV grew louder, and then they were in the living room, Derek sitting down with Stiles straddling his lap. 

He was manhandled until Derek's cock was pressing into his entrance. Stiles eagerly lifted himself up and down, using his hands on Derek's shoulders for balance. He couldn't help the soft whimpers and little breathy moans that fell from his mouth, the tip of his cock rubbing against Derek's torso as he fucked himself on the alpha's dick. 

Derek didn't last long before his knot caught on Stiles' rim, locking him in place and filling him with cum. He settled for rocking softly against Derek's stomach, chin resting on his shoulder. The alpha yelled along with everyone else at the tv, for the most part ignoring Stiles on his lap. It made Stiles' cock twitch, the need to cum intensifying. 

He was so close to actually cumming when a hand slipped between him and Derek and got ahold of his cock, pinching just under the head and stopping his release. Stiles let out a frustrated groan, head falling back and teeth biting into his cheek. 

"You don't get to cum yet, little party favor," Peter hummed. "Not until you're on my cock." 

Stiles whimpered, struggling to stay still on Derek's knot and not thrust up into Peter's hand. The werewolf held onto his cock until the need to cum went away. 

It felt like too long before Derek's knot went down enough for him to slip out, and just as it did, Stiles was grabbed under the arms and lifted off of Derek's lap. He landed on Peter's with a gasp, cum drooling out of his ass and making a mess everywhere. None of the other werewolves seemed to mind. 

"There we go," Peter murmured, slipping into Stiles' soaked and gaping hole easily. Stiles wrapped his arms around Peter's neck, letting the werewolf bounce his hips up and down. A hand went to his cock and stripped him to the rhythm of Peter's thrusts and he wailed in pleasure, thighs tensing as he came all over the werewolf, hole milking Peter through his orgasm until Peter came right after him. 

He barely had time to catch his breath before someone else got ahold of him and put him to work.