#honestly this is so freaky

[woodelf68]

Quality testing at the waterbed mattress factory.

[thepunkmuppet]

the reason why transfem elias is my favourite theory for gwendolyn is because think about the implications.

so let’s say this alternate universe reveals that elias is actually transgender, and would present/identify as female if they had the opportunity to figure themself out and transition (elias was reportedly very young when jonah possessed them)

then the idea that in the tma universe they not only didn’t live long enough to do that, but THEIR BODY WAS TAKEN OVER BY SOMEONE ELSE WHO THEN PRESENTED IN A MASCULINE WAY AND LIVED AS A MAN USING THEIR FACE AND BODY FOR OVER TWENTY YEARS?!? FUCKING TERRIFYING

as a trans person myself, even though the real elias was dead the dysphoria that idea gives me is absolutely unreal, and really creeps into serious body/existential horror territory which i think would be really interesting and very in-character for a writer like jonny to explore.

[filthyguts]

doodles

[sciderman]

Hi Sci! I hope everything is going well! I was wondering if you have any rare pair ships that you would like to see more content of?

my rare pair whomst i would die for actually but also would love for them to live in blissful polyamory with misty and jess - husbands for hire

colossuspool also please

oh! and taskpool yes please and thank you

bobpool is hilarious and i want to see more of it but only as a jokey joke. i think it's so. so funny.

god. most deadpool ships i'd put in rarepair territory. i'd even say loganpool is a rarepair. i don't see a lot of sincere loganpool shippers. but i really like it. i think they hate fuck on their birthdays. every year.

[theaxolotlkween]

Silly little comic I made.

[janetcage]

I’m titling this, Syzoth and Ashrah go to Walmart. Now accept the shenaniganary.

[lilaccatholic]

Complex feelings about copyright and Disney's appalling ethics aside, it does unsettle me how quickly people jump to make and monetize the most unnerving, depraved content imaginable about characters created for children the second it hits the public domain

[takaraphoenix]

The Clever One

(this is a sneak peek for the Steter fic I'm currently working on, where Stiles realizes in season 1 that Peter's canon behavior toward him is strange, how he never hurts Stiles, never tries to kill him, offers Stiles a choice. He comes to the conclusion that he's Peter's mate. So he sets conditions for Peter, leading to a season 2 rewrite with Alpha Peter. and Alpha Mate Stiles, rebuilding the Hale Pack together.)

--

Stiles walked into the broken, burned out husk of the Hale House like he owned the place. Just to be stopped by a hand on his chest and blue eyes flashing at him from Derek’s annoyed face.

“What are you doing here, Stiles,” Derek growled.

“I’m here to talk to your glorious Alpha,” Stiles tilted his head with an uncaring air.

He was not going to let Derek threaten him. Sure, in the past his heart would jump and he would be afraid, even if he still helped Derek out. Right now, Stiles was fully confident in his own safety. Derek narrowed his eyes in irritation, smelling or hearing that Stiles wasn’t intimidated.

“You fought him, in the hospital. You fought him to protect me,” Stiles argued with a frown. “He killed your sister, Derek. Why did you join him?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Derek was close to snarling.

“Try me,” Stiles threw up his hands. “I understand a lot more than you think.”

This time, Derek did snarl. Just to receive a warning growl from upstairs. A cocky grin spread over Stiles’ lips. He’d known the Alpha was here too. He’d known that as long as Peter was close by, Derek wouldn’t get to do any threatening or bodily harm. The beta ground his teeth and stepped back. Hah. Oh, Stiles was absolutely going to revel in the fact that he now outranked Derek. Alpha Mate beat out the Alpha’s right-hand. His grin turned a note of shit-eating.

“He was in a coma for six years. Slowly healing. Aware of everything around him. You couldn’t understand what that is like for a wolf, especially…” Derek swallowed hard, looking away. “Everyone was dead, me and Laura were gone. He was alone with it all.”

“He went insane,” Stiles nodded. “I feel like we established the insanity part in the hospital. You fought him in the hospital. I want to know what changed since then.”

“He’s still healing,” Derek’s voice dropped even more. “He wasn’t fully healed when he killed Laura, he was… feral. Acting on instincts. Seeking to get better. Becoming Alpha… did that.”

Stiles could hear it. He could hear the despair in Derek’s voice. Stiles closed his eyes and heaved a soft sigh. Asking Derek was useless, Derek desperately wanted to believe this. Because what was the other option? That his only living family had willingly, or even joyfully, murdered Derek’s sister? No. Of course did Derek cling onto the hope that things could get better now.

“Okay,” Stiles sighed. “You can go now, Derek.”

The beta stared at him incredulously. “You don’t tell me what to do, Stiles. Werewolf, human. We established this. Why do you think you can tell me what to do, in my own home.”

With all the confidence he could muster did Stiles raise his head, not cowering, holding Derek’s gaze with a calm pulse. “Because Alpha Mate outranks right-hand.”

And oh this felt good. Stiles smirked cockily. Even as a not werewolf, he could feel the tension in the air. The shocked look on Derek’s face – genuine shock, meaning Derek hadn’t put it together yet and Peter hadn’t told him, oh damn, Derek hadn’t even known. A laugh barked out from upstairs.

“I knew you would figure it out on your own. I didn’t think so soon though,” Peter sounded both amused and nearly fond. “Leave us, Derek.”

Grounding his teeth together, Derek shot his uncle one last look before he headed out. Peter only walked into view at the top of the stairs after they could hear the Camaro roar to life and drive off.

“Tell me that he’s right,” Stiles ordered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell me that you are still healing. Getting better. Because, you know, the bit where you mauled one of my best friends-”

“She was all over you,” Peter growled, his eyes flashing red. “You were all over her.”

Stiles swallowed, the cockiness cracking some. Not because the growling and red eyes intimidated him, but because of how much they turned him on. No one had ever been possessive over him. Heck, no one had ever been interested in him. Sure, Lydia had gone to Homecoming with him in the end, but that had been more coercion from Allison and pity than Lydia actually wanting him. Lydia still wanted Jackson. Still loved Jackson. Might always love Jackson.

Peter cleared his throat, all calm and professional again. “I am still healing. The outside heals the fastest, it’s… the inside that needs more time, even with wolf-healing. A large part of me is still very… feral and reduced to base instincts. I attacked her because my inner wolf felt threatened by her, threatened by the way she was making advances on my mate.”

Stiles’ heart jumped a little at that. So he had figured it out, but actually hearing himself referred to as Peter’s mate was something else entirely than figuring it out on his own, for himself. Stiles bit down on his cheek, his arms tightly crossed in front of his chest. Part of him was grateful Peter was still at the top of the stairs. Physical distance between them. This whole conversation was a lot. Though Stiles had come to the realization that he was Peter’s mate, he had not fully come to terms with that fact. He didn’t know what to do with it, or what it could or should or would mean.

“I’m not going to do anything to you,” Peter’s voice was soft, which might be the weirdest part of this entire conversation. “Or with you. Not yet. You’re more child than man, Stiles. But I can already tell why my wolf chose you as my mate. You are clever. Brilliant. Tricky. Manipulative. Cunning. Quick-witted. All the qualities I cherish the most.”

Stiles couldn’t help but flush at that. “Yeah, well, don’t make it sound like that’s your grand gesture there, I am not exactly tripping over myself trying to get into your pants either. You turned my best friend into a werewolf, without his consent – even though you proved that you are capable of asking for it when you asked me if I wanted the bite – and you mauled Lydia. I’m not considering you Prince Charming. And from what my research showed, a werewolf mate-bond is something that strengthens and grows over time. So, I guess, you still have time to prove yourself.”

Peter quirked his lips, looking absolutely amused by him. “Prove myself, mh?”

“Again. Maiming and mauling of people I love,” Stiles narrowed his eyes. “You say you don’t want anything romantic or sexual with me yet, but this mate-bond thing is a life-long bond. At one point, you will. Because you’re the wolf here. You can feel it. So, if you want me to be on the same page by then, you better prove yourself to me.”

The grin on Peter’s lips looked near amazed or excited and Stiles didn’t know what to do with that. It was like the Alpha enjoyed being challenged, enjoyed that Stiles wasn’t just swooning at the prospect of having a soulmate, but gave Peter conditions to earn it. Weird.

“You’ve seen what I’m capable of,” and it was clearly implied here that Peter didn’t just speak of his werewolf abilities but morally, the depth of the things he was willing to do. “So tell me then, what do you think you can demand of me?”

“What I think I can demand of you? Pretty much anything, as long as it’s about me,” Stiles huffed amused, cocking his head. “You can’t hurt me. I mean, physically can’t. And I think that… even emotionally, you couldn’t, not intentionally. Heck, part of me thinks that you turning Scotty was for me, in a twisted, weird way, because your wolf could smell me all over him, thought it would appeal to me if you had my best friend in your pack. And Lydia. You attacked her irrationally, feral and threatened, but when I asked you to let someone come and help her, you agreed. Because you saw how much her condition was getting to me. I think I can ask pretty much anything of you.”

“Manipulative,” Peter pointed out, and he sounded proud and impressed and pleased. “Well, then.”

“You will never lay a hand on anyone I love again,” Stiles eyes were hard and his voice was cold, his body-language conveying how serious he was. “Not my dad, not Scott, not Scott’s mom, not Lydia. Reign your possessive wolf instincts in. She’s not interested in me anyway. If you ever hurt any of them again, I will put a wolfsbane bullet in you myself.”

“Threatening,” Peter smirked. “Cute.”

“I’m not joking,” Stiles frowned annoyed. “I’m the sheriff’s son. I know how to use a gun. And I know where to get wolfsbane bullets from.”

The playfulness left Peter when he realized that Stiles needed to be taken seriously here. “Okay. Noted down. I don’t plan on hurting my pack anyway. Of which Scott is a part of now, whether he likes it or not. And Lydia, well, the cuts were deep so who knows if she will end up joining my pack too. Your father is safe, I promise you that.”

There was still quip and snark in his voice, but that last sentence was spoken with sincerity and Stiles nodded pleased. “No more turning anyone without their consent. Scott hates this, hates being a werewolf, if he’d had a choice he would have said no. I get that a pack of three isn’t going to do you much good, I know you’re going to turn more people, strengthen the pack. But everyone you bite will first be informed of both the good and the bad, they will be given a choice, and that choice is going to be respected by you. The way you gave me a choice, and respected it.”

“I have no problem with that condition,” Peter waved a dismissive hand. “Scott is more trouble than he is gain to me, as is. A beta who doesn’t want to be a werewolf is not an asset to the pack. Betas who are loyal to their Alpha, who will be willing to listen to their inner wolves, will be assets. I only turned him out of instinct, the need to strengthen my pack while not being… mentally there enough to actually think things through. Believe me, I will plan out my pack in the future.”

“Our,” Stiles corrected unflinchingly. “Alpha Mate. Makes this my pack too, doesn’t it?”

The look on Peter’s face was nearly smug with delight. “Our pack.”

[ennard-is-near]

Henry was lying, I think, about Michael finding a job listing not intended for him. I don’t know why he would do that, why he wouldn’t talk to Michael first or be upfront with him about the plan, I could guess, but I’ll never know. But I believe that there’s no way anyone else would have taken a job running a franchise for a failing 80s child murder restaurant, and I believe Henry knew that.

But the way he speaks about ensuring nobody remembers the Pizzeria, the fact that the office is set in the middle of everything so it would be nearly impossible to make an escape route for a person without having animatronics loose, the fact that he trusted a seemingly random employee to do what needed to be done for his plan to work, hell even the way the promotional and welcome tapes frame the restaurant seem to want to scare people off. It just doesn’t add up to “let’s get a random guy in here to do the dirty work and go home safe.” Instead, it seems more like “Let’s make sure that there are no more cryptids running around as a result of William’s actions. We can lure them, make them come willingly.” And Michael is easy to lure to the restaurant. In fact, Henry knows that he’ll apply to work there.

[gerrykeaysbathmat]

Caught up with Malevolent. Except for the new season 5 ep. I'm too scared. My brain is,,, so fuzzy. Nothing but Jarthur in there... the way I wanna

[funkyfreshinthebuilding]

arching my spine so my ass still looks fat when im on the phone alone in my room

also he's smoking the truffula weed if anybody was curious

[thegreatyin]

this nemesis ambition started out a little slow but I am getting closer to finding that bastard who killed my wife, and I’ll not rest a minute now that im far closer to on his trail

sorry got in character for a second

Anyways fun ambition so far very fucked up though

congratulations on joining the murder club anon!!!! depending on who you ask the name refers to either people who have murdered or people who have witnessed murder. usually both. actually extremely often both. it's a swell time you'll feel right at home (don't mind our collective skyglass knife collection in the back)

[shalom-iamcominghome]

Newest gym motivation: getting buff enough to be physically intimidating so I can be the Resident Golem

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 1

I don't like the fated mates trope. But I think it's because I don't personally like how people write/interpret it (no hate, just not for me. Also I'm asexual so...I'm built different or something. shrug). So this is me trying to write fated mates my way.

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28 Word Count: 2443 (average 18 min read) Content Warnings: mention of mating, nothing happens....yet ;) All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil. Not beta-read. Criticism is welcome, but be sure to distinguish criticism from hate.

My world shattered the day I saw him, my raebukan, my mate.

The pride of Orc tribes is centered on two things. The first being the pride of our warriors who defend and conquer in the tribe's name. The second, the pride of bearing and rearing many children together as a tribe through the groupings of mates. To ensure that all children be born strong, our bodies experience lordhovid - an intense physical pull that is described as a boiling in the blood that occurs upon seeing your mate. Lordhovid does not still until physical intimacy.

Most orcs experience lordhovid many times in their lifetime, gathering multiple partners that together rear large broods of children. The larger the brood, the greater pride the patriarch of the brood holds within the tribe and rises in rank of influence.

I, Drunrag Ularat, had never experienced lordhovid.

There had never been signs that I would ever feel the sensation of my blood burning for another. And while my brood brothers and sisters from my litter all began to bear children of their own, I remained. I remembered the way my broodmothers whispered to one another behind my back about me. I heard theories that I was unlucky, cursed, born dishonorably. My broodfather soon pretended that I didn't exist. My brothers and sisters did the same.

I tried to remain faithful that Gruumsh would change my fate, that I would lock eyes with a fierce orc-woman and feel the burn I heard so often about. But each looked back at me with only a coldness I had become too familiar with.

I left home, unable to bear the dishonor I continued to bring to my family. And I struggled through my young adult years earning my pay through hard manual labor. I learned to read and write in common to gain favor with those who hired me. I learned that my brute strength wasn't the only quality about me that could bring me honor. The older I got, the less I travelled, until I settled into a small merchant town on the coast, and worked in the forges during most of the year, crafting weapons and tools. The guilt and shame that I carried from my failure as an orc soon faded as the years passed and I settled into a rhythm that worked best for me in the quiet buzz of my coast town. I soon understood my true feelings from my childhood. I was relieved that I never had to juggle romance and physical intimacy. Even despite my lack of mate - I don't know that I ever really understood mating the same way as my tribe. It didn't make sense to me, and I didn't really want anything to do with it.

Until that fated day.

I had woke that morning with a pounding headache, and I remembered grumbling about it as I shuffled out of my room. The space was always cramped - due to my size - but it felt near claustrophobic that morning. I ran the back of my hand against my blurry eyes and blinked furiously as I peered into my food storage - only to find an onion as my offering for breakfast. I grumbled and reached for the snapsack I kept draped on my single chair and the pouch of coins that i shoved deep into the pockets of my breeches.

The morning was quiet, and the sea air was invigorating most mornings, but that morning, breathing it in only made me sneeze and the pounding in my head knocked harder against my skull. I groaned outwardly. As I walked down the cobblestone path towards the market circle, I felt a tightening sensation in the pit of my stomach with each step. Nausea overwhelmed me. Strange, since orcs have excellent constitution and I hadn't eaten a thing since the day before. I swallowed down the bile that built in my throat and forged ahead.

The market was always busy at any hour and I learned to know which vendors were more kind to me than others. It was still fairly common - and expected - to get strange lingering stares and off-kilter remarks made in my direction. I learned to ignore it, but today I already felt too unsettled to be able to shrug it off as easily as normal. I stopped by a bakery and exchanged my gold for a warm loaf of bread, then made my way down to where a stall was selling freshly picks fruits. Golden globes of fresh juicy fruit tempted me and I retrieved another set of coins before reaching for three shiny, firm globes into my sack.

As I deposited each one in one by one, I felt the tingle on the back of my neck that was someone was staring at me. With a fruit still in hand, I glanced to my right, ready to face a disgusted customer.

It was then that I looked up and met his gaze.

He was small. Maybe not by human standards, but I still considered most humans small - so he was also small to me. Willowy and thin, brown skin and long coppery curls, the ends teasing his skin around the base of his smooth, tantalizing neck. I spotted the soft pointy ears of a half-elf. Not quite as long and slender as an elf, but gently sloped up to a rounded point that poked through his mop of hair. Green-gold eyes - reminiscent of the fruit in my hand- met mine. They were large, curious eyes that looked back at me unflinching and kindly.

I couldn't look away. I didn't want to look away. He was beautiful. His lips were curled upwards naturally - like he always had a joke or funny story to tell. His lips parted as he gazed back at me, an open mouth smile just for me. There were no thoughts in my mind.

The burning began in my heart. A strong pulsing rush of boiling blood that started to spread and sear through every part of me. I stood there, unable to move and unable to look away from him. I felt so much joy, so much elation upon the sight of him, but it quickly was overrun with panic, confusion, and fear.

Never in the history of orcs had I heard of a male orc experiencing lordhovid with another male orc. It was common to have casual lovers of the same sex - but never mates. Mates were ones who promised children and the continued growth of your broods. I didn't understand - how could this man be my mate? I didn't want this. I was happy alone. Happy to be left alone. I gazed at him and the burning desire surged and bubbled until a loud, explosive breath escaped my lips. An exhalation of panic.

"Fuck." I breathed. I didn't want this.

"Sir, you alright?" The vendor asked me.

I grunted in response. I didn't break my gaze, everything in me was screaming inside me to take the half-elf and claim him here in the streets, in front of everyone. I hated that I even considered it. I didn't want that. My body and my brain remained at war, and I unable to move.

The half-elf's eyes narrowed. And he approached me slowly. The way he moved, the way his long legs and slender hips weaved through the crowd with ease, like water on glass. His eyes didn't leave me, and the walk towards me felt like it was a hundred miles between us. My breathing was growing ragged with each step. I was fighting everything not to run away...or run to him.

"I apologize if I have offended you." The half-elf said as he approached me. "I didn't mean to stare." His voice was gentle, smooth and rough at the same time. It reminded me of the sound of a harp, smooth and flowing out like song. I shuddered, my fists clenched. Closer up, I could see he had a spattering of freckles across his face, they were adorable and I wanted to spend the rest of my life counting how many existed on his body. I wanted to die for thinking of this stranger in front of me in such a base manner.

I blinked and swallowed heavily, my brain moving slower than normal. What could I do? What do I say?

The half-elf hesitated, reaching a hand out to me. I jerked back, fear and alarm and lust seizing me at once. He also jerked back. I saw that his hands were shaking. Was he afraid of me? I glanced up to his face again and saw that his eyes were wide and his lips were parting, he was breathing heavy.

He let out a heavy breath and whispered, "Can we go somewhere private? Something has come over me and I need your help."

Somewhere private.

Alarms bellowed in my brain. No. I can't be alone with him. I can't trust myself.

Before I could react, the half elf snatched my hand with both of his own. The warmth that radiated from his touch was cooler than the burning inside me and I felt my panic still. For how long I didn't know.

I let him drag me through the streets. My size didn't allow for a smooth walk, and I wasn't right in the head. I brushed and bumped against dozens of people. They likely glared at me, but I could only look at the back of my mate's head and wonder at how someone's hair could be so long and so curly at the same time and what it smelled like, what it would feel like against my cheek.

I found myself being pushed against a wall in a lonely street. I didn't know where I was. I looked down at the half-elf. His breathing was harder than before, and he stood very close to me. He only reached to my chest. My hands lingered close to his shoulders, eager to wrap around him. Around his waist. His neck.

"What did you to do me?" He said, an edge of desperation in his voice. "I don't know what I did to offend you...but please I beg you to remove whatever this curse is."

I may not be an honorable orc like my brothers and sisters, but hearing lordhovid be equated to a curse felt culturally offensive. It was true that I too didn't have any interest in these emotions, these urges. But it was the honor of an orc to experience this and feel the binding between one's self and their life-partner. And though I had grown to appreciate and become comfortable with my fate...I couldn't deny that there was a building excitement that I was finally feeling it with someone. The excitement also scared me too.

"Do you understand me?" He said pleadingly, and then he muttered to himself. "Damn, maybe he doesn't speak common."

"I understand." I managed to rasp out. My hands itched to hold him. I ignored it and wrestled through the rest of my words. "I - You are not cursed. What ails you also ails me."

"What is it?" He asked. "I'm feeling sensations that I am unfamiliar with."

"It is lordhovid. My people's mating instinct."

His eyes widened. "Why...why am I feeling it?"

I shook my head, "I don't know. This has never happened in our tribe. I am sorry."

"How do we stop it?" He asked. "Don't tell me I have to sleep with you?"

I looked away from his gaze, I couldn't bear to see him look at me with disgust. I felt a whimper escape my lips. It was too much to be so close to him and not hold him. I didn't want to hurt him, I didn't want him to be scared of me.

"I'm sorry." I breathed out.

"You...have you experienced this before?" He asked. "You seem more scared then me."

I shook my head. "I am krandad. Broken. I brought shame to my family because I was unable to mate."

"I see." He said, his voice sounding very calm under the circumstances. "And so now you experience your first...impulse...with me?"

I nodded. "I'm sorry."

He sighed. "Please stop apologizing. I'm starting to understand that this isn't really your fault."

I dared a chance to look to him. His hands were caught running through his hair, and he was also looking down. He was truly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I don't know if the lordhovid would change that for me either. He was simply radiant.

"What's your name?" he asked. "If I am to sleep with you, I'd like to know who you are." He put a hand on his chest. "I am Altan."

"Drunrag." I said.

"Drunrag." Altan said, and a smile returned. My knees weakened when he said my name back. The orcish name on his tongue sounded like poetry, like art. Oh, if I could hear him say my name again and again and again.

"You...are not afraid of me?" I asked.

He shook his head, "I think I'm faring better than you right now actually." He laughed.

I had to close my eyes to his radiance, his laughter was too much and I clenched my fists.

"Sorry," He said. "I can tell that I'm affecting you."

"Not your fault." I breathed. "I should just go. I can't do this to you unwillingly."

"What?' He asked.

Before I could say any more. I surged all of my strength to rip myself away from the wall and I ran and I didn't look back. My body continued to burn, and I felt an aching inside me that stretched from my body and remained with Altan. It was trying to pull me back. But I would not go. With each moment I spent with him, it had only become harder to deny my body's instinct to mate with him. I didn't want to do that to him. He was too good

None of this made any sense. I couldn't experience lordhovid so late in my years. I couldn't experience it with another species and I certainly couldn't experience it with another man. I didn't even want to begin to process the anger I felt when I had finally made peace that I didn't even want to mate with anyone.

My broodmothers had been right all along. I was broken. I was flawed and I never would have brought honor to my tribe.

I didn't open the forge that day, but instead crawled back into bed where i remained shaking and shivering.

[persistentplums]

Billy going from big fan of Rusty to positive friend of Rusty is beautiful but I still think he would looooose his mind when he finds out Pete and Doc have an off and on sexual relationship that kinda happens sometimes but not as much.

Ik Billy eye twitches when he thinks about it too hard but he is normal about it mostly just like. Your childhood hero/sorta hear me out/kid crush hooked up with your older years crush/other hear me out/kinda in a committed deep relationship with would make a mix of “okay stop bragging you guys fucked” and “Rusty that i know now making anyone cum wants to make me torpedo something”

Billy conflicted and also distantly like it’s weirdly good for him? Worlds collide and it’s mildly intriguing in a way where he’s like 🤔 am I…into it🤔

[romeactivelycries]

Note: Yall don’t even at me idk where this came from 😭😭 watcher school detention with professor Giles that is all

Pairing: Giles x Reader

Request: no,,,

Gender: Neutral!!! (reader does wear skirt but no gendered language)

Warnings: 18+, and im serious yall 😡

——————————

Maybe it was just time for the legacy of the Watchers to die out with you. Perhaps your great, great, great whatever wouldn’t mind the fact that you were going to completely flunk your dead languages exam, not to mention the fact that you were also missing all your extracurriculars stuck in detention. Guess that dream of being a chess champion really did die with your great aunt.

It was almost underheard of really to be in detention, watcher school was more of a college and you were all adults, and yet here you were wasting away and watching the time tick by as your dead languages professor scribbled some nonsense in the margins of some old demon journal. He huffed, slamming the book closed and letting his pencil drop on the table next to it as he turned and looked at the clock and then at you.

“You could at least try to do your work,” he grumbles, motioning at the abandoned Latin vocabulary sheet that was sitting at your desk covered in poorly drawn doodles. “You know I want to be here just as much as you do.”

You scoff, meeting his gaze and sitting back in your chair. “Then lets just go! No use in driving both us mad, and really who even uses Latin anymore? I bet even the demons don’t know-“

“Y/n.” His voice is stern as he brings his hand up to his forehead massaging his temples and wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“I mean really Giles, Latin?” His deadpanned stare causes you to shift in your seat as you look away and down at the sheet in front of you. Your voice comes out a soft grumble as you pick up your pencil and look at the first question “I don’t even know what it’s saying.”

His chair squeaks against the floor as he rounds his desk over to yours, resting one hand on the back of your chair and the other adjusting his glasses as he looks at the first question.

“A posse ad esse, would be used in what type of spell?” he reads off looking at you expectingly only to be met with your blank stare. He grumbles out a sigh grabbing your textbook from underneath the paper and flipping to the vocabulary in the back and pointing at a passage, “it means from being able, to being, or in plainer terms possibility to actuality.”

“So the answer is summoning spells?” you offer a small shrug and smile as you look up at Giles, only for your breath to catch in your throat as you realize the closeness of you both.

“Yes, good!” He smiles, motioning for you to write your answer as he adjusts his grip on your chair and clears his throat to read the next question. “ad libitum is often used in love spells, but why can this wording cause them to go awry?”

“Oh! I know this one!!” Your excitement startles him and you offer an apology with your eyes as you turn to face him, “It means your desire, so maybe the wording can make the spell to powerful.”

He grinds his teeth together, making an unsure noise as you roll your eyes at him and ask what the correct answer is. He motions for you to begin writing as he once again leans down by your ear.

“Sometimes our desires are unknown to us,” his voice is hushed, darkening as he continues his lecture. “We may think we desire one thing when really we desire something else, for example we may think we desire dropping out because we don’t understand the course material when really you’re too busy thinking about fucking the professor to pay attention to his class.”

Your thighs clench as your breath catches in your throat, the lead of your pencil snapping off as you push down too hard on the paper. Had you really been all that obviously?

“Giles I-“

“That’s just an example though,” he’s too nonchalant as he rounds his way back to his desk, sitting in his chair legs spread wide in invitation as his eyes dared you to make a move, to deny his accusation. He takes off his glasses, folding them and gently setting them atop his book, before looking at you expectantly and checking his watch. “I believe by now we must be the only ones left, janitor shouldn’t arrive for another hour.”

Your feet move themselves as you round your way to his side of the desk, anxiously picking at the hem of your skirt as his eyes trail up and over your figure. He reaches to take your hand, pulling you forward till you’re seated on one of his thighs, skirt riding up your waist, and damp underwear pressing against his pants.

“If you truly don’t desire this-“ he begins but you cut him off with a gentle kiss, letting your hands find their way to his hair tangling themselves into the soft locks.

“I want this Giles,” you pepper soft kisses along his jaw and he moans lightly as you pull his head back by his hair. “Please don’t stop.”

His hands begin tugging your shirt out of your skirt, cold fingers pressing their way underneath to find your stomach, causing you to gasp as his mouth finds your again. His tongue floods its way in and dominates over yours, you both moan as the kiss continues, salvia dripping down to your chest and wetting the fabric where his hands explore underneath. His nails lazily scrap as his finger press and twist all the right spots, doubling down on the places that make you gasp louder and moan sweeter.

Your lips are swollen and bruised as he breaks the kiss, eyes widening as you bite at his bottom lip and try to regain some dominance, leaving little love bites down his jaw and neck, his chest rumbles as he chuckles at your attempt. That stupid, smug accent ringing in your ears.

“You do have a lot of learning to do, don’t you?” He sneers, moving you off his lap and onto your knees on the floor as he scoots to the edge of his chair. You look up at him, waiting for his next order as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss, letting the string of salvia connect you as he pulls away and sits back.

“What do you want me to do?” You gasp out, shuddering at the thought of just letting him do whatever he wants.

“Whatever you truly desire.”

Your hands are on him before he can even get the words out, grasping at his belt and undoing it just enough to unbutton his dress pants and pull them down along with his underwear. You hadn’t expected him to be as big as he was truth be told, but it didn’t even matter as you began to kiss and lick your way down his length and then back up again. He reaches down, guiding your head to take his cock in your mouth as he grabs his belt from beside you. He roughly pulls you back by your hair, standing up and grinning down at you.

“As pleasant as this is, I believe you desire something more,” He motions for you to tuck your arms together behind your back and he loops his belt around your wrists securing them in place.

He thrust his cock back into your mouth causing you to gag as you look up at him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you choke on his dick. You whine and attempt to beg as he thrusts in and out of your mouth, you needed more, needed him.

“You’ve been a bad student,” his voice drops even lower, as he pulls his cock out of your mouth, slapping it against your cheek as your mouth hangs open and drool rolls down your chin. “I think you desire to be punished, so you can become good. Do you wanna be good for me?”

“Yes, please Professor.” You whine, opening your mouth to take him once again as he sets a brutal pace fucking your throat. You gag as he pulls you down to the base of his cock, holding your head before letting you up gasping for air and then doing it again. You loved every second of it.

Once he felt your throat had been fucked enough, he pulled back causing you to whine at the loss only to shriek as he tugged you up and bent you over his desk, hastily sliding his books out of your way. He makes quick work of flipping up your skirt, tossing your undies aside on the desk next to you, before making sure you’re ready for him, kissing and licking his way around before inserting a few fingers to make sure he wouldn’t hurt you, stopping with just the tip of his dick nudging at your entrance.

He’s pants as he leans down over you again, his lips against your ear as he tugs at the bottom of your earlobe with his teeth before letting it go, “Are you-“

“Enough Giles,” you whine pushing your entrance back against him. “Please fuck me, please! I’ll be good, i’ll do my work, please-“

He cuts you off as he pushes in completely, both of you moaning loudly at the feeling of him filling you up. He grabs your wrists and sets a slow pace, gently dragging in and out of you whilst letting a string of salvia drop from his mouth to where you connect. He tugs you even closer to him and your legs shake as he picks up the pace, fingers moving to dig into your hips probably leaving bruises you’ll be fond of for the next week.

“You gonna be good and cum for me?” He teases, fucking you even harder as you babble out nonsense unable to form a coherent thought. You were close, whining as Giles pulled out and flipped you around on his desk, lifting your legs up to his shoulders before plunging himself even deeper into you than before.

He was close now too as you clenched around him, squeezing his dick tighter and tighter with every thrust, and he leans down to capture your lips once again. It was all too much as he bit at your neck, continuing his relentless pace and flooded your senses with his hands everywhere. You strained against his belt, you wanted to hold onto him, pull his hair, push him away, and pull him even closer. It all became too much as you finally snapped and came hard on his cock, whining and saying his name over and over in broken sobs as you felt him release alongside you.

His lips found yours once again, placing soft kisses in between pants as you both came down from your highs. He pulls away, gently flipping your skirt back down and smoothing it out before helping you up and undoing your restraints. He kisses your wrists, looking deep into your eyes as he returns them to your side.

“Giles,” you begin, handing him back his glasses which he’s quick to put on as he buttons up his pants and tucks in his shirt.

“I believe we’ve learned quite enough,” he grabs your undies off the desk tucking them into his pocket and grabbing his briefcase from beside the desk. “Do remember there is a test Friday.”

You mouth hangs open as you stare at him, worry filling your gut. Your eyes meet and he leans forward pulling you into yet another heated kiss, before taking a step back.

“If you need any more tutoring, don’t hesitate to visit my office hours.”

You can’t help the grin the spreads across your face, one thats mimicked on Giles’ as he places a soft kiss to your forehead and then hurries to leave so he doesn’t get caught up in yet another make-out session.

You would definitely be visiting office hours.