#prompt: author of colour

[thereadingchallengechallenge]

JOMP BPC - Feb 19th - Pure Gold

[thevillainswhore]

A Balm To The Heart

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: After a long day at the woodyard, Bucky finds peace in his best girl’s arms.

Warnings: Pure unfiltered fluff, like the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed, Bucky’s POV, driving while sleepy (don’t do it!!), pet names, established relationship, oh and did I mention fluff?

Author’s Note: Divider by @saradika-graphics. Proofread by @buckys-wintersoldier thank you so much my darling, you’re my rock 🧡 This is part of @elixirfromthestars cafe writing challenge!! Using the prompt 🍞 “I like hearing your heart beating when I put my head on your chest.” My first ever challenge I’ve been apart of and I had the most fun with it!! Thank you, my sweet Mel! 🥰

The Love In The Woods Collection ❄️

The sun began to lay on the precipice of the day, the light slowly fading out to make way for the dark of the night. Bucky fought the tiredness claiming his eyes, tempting him to fall asleep at the wheel. If you knew he was driving in his state, you’d throw a fit. 

But he had to make it home to his baby. 

Exhaustion weighed Bucky down from a long day at the woodyard. Hauling timber all day to prepare the town for the harsh winter coming up was enough to make his old joints ache with pain. However, with the lack of staff due to the storm blocking most of the roads, he had to do it all himself. 

Bucky just wanted to sink into you. 

All day, he was tormented by the prettiest image of you snuggled into your shared bed, pouty lips and pleading eyes begging him to call in sick, to stay home with you. 

And even though his sanity was tested, Bucky regretfully declined. All the old folks needed wood to keep their homes heated in the cold season and his mind wouldn’t have settled knowing a full day would be lost to his own selfishness. 

Though as he drove back to his cabin, rivers of golden beams shining into his truck, Bucky wished he had taken your offer.  

Although, his sourness sweetened into a warm affection as he caught the glint of his wedding ring in the dying sunlight. 

You love sunsets, Bucky smiled to himself. He had to take you to the top of the mountains to watch another one soon.

He could imagine you at home, watching the remnants of the day with its beautiful colours reflecting into your eyes. 

Sunsets mean the end of the day, fresh starts and hope that tomorrow will bring us more peace than today. Remember that, Bear. 

Your voice instantly calmed the mess in his mind, the stress that had wound his muscles tight. With a heavy sigh, Bucky let go of the toll the day had taken on him and instead focused on where the path ahead would lead him — you. 

The truck grumbled to a stop in the driveway and Bucky didn’t bother stopping to grab his tools or his bags. The pink painted door called to him, called your name, his home. 

Throwing the door open, Bucky quickly shook off his coat and boots. His steps didn’t falter as he made his way to the bedroom. Not when he began peeling his clothes off one by one on the way. Not when emotion clogged up his eyes at the smell of your sweet scent lingering around the house. 

And there you were as he entered his bedroom. Once crafted by his bare hands as part of his first home after he left college, now his safe space in which he was lucky enough to share with his wife. His haven. 

It looked like you hadn’t moved from the morning. Still tangled in the sheets, your hair was messy from your tossing and turning, though your skin glowed beautifully in the golden sunlight that shimmered through the window. The orange tones that tattooed your body almost gave you a vintage look and the sight was enough to render Bucky speechless. 

Just like the day you showed up on his doorstep after years apart. 

Your smile was blinding as you looked up at him, tearing yourself away from your fantasy book he knew you loved so much and placing it on the nightstand. “Hey, baby. I missed you.” 

If that didn’t do things to Bucky’s heart. 

“Dolly,” he gasped, a slight whine to his voice. 

Instantly, because you’re so well in tune with him, your arms opened wide — an invitation to join you. “Come here, you big lug.” 

Bucky didn't waste another second. Clad in only his underwear, he all but jumped onto the bed, the pristinely crafted wood of the frame creaking from old age. 

You shifted the duvet to swaddle around his frame once he reached you, cocooning him in your accumulated warmth over the day. Feeling your bare skin against his after hours away from you was liberating, like he had ascended to heaven. Even after years of wedded bliss, Bucky still got tingles whenever the two of you touched. 

You were pure magic wrapped in a bottle. 

“Can I lay my head on you?” Bucky asked quietly, relishing in the serenity you so easily provided him. 

You laughed, the sound mesmerising to his ears. “Like you even have to ask. Tell me about your day, Bear.” 

Needing no other permission, Bucky laid in your arms. Positioning his head on your chest, his arms wrapped around your stomach and his legs intertwined with yours. He was so much bigger than you, comically so. But Bucky needed to lose himself in your softness from time to time. 

He groaned as the muscles in his joints finally had a chance to relax. “I would much rather hear about your day, sweetheart. Lemme hear your voice for a while, will ya?” 

Bucky looked up to find your cheeks tightened from the large, bashful smile on your face, one that he knew you had tried to smother but failed to do so. They were his favourite. 

You shook your head fondly and squeezed him before beginning to recall your day. It wasn’t filled with much — mostly with bathroom breaks when you could rip yourself out of bed, a trip to the home library down the hall to pick the next book of your series, and lastly an hour of baking. Even so, Bucky listened to you intently, his soul replenishing more with each activity you listed off. 

Because that was his goal in life. His vow to you in marriage. To make your life as easy and simple as possible. To bring you peace when the world threatened to dull your sparkle. 

And boy was he satisfied to know he had achieved that. 

Bucky’s eyes began to grow heavy, the kind that he couldn’t fight any longer. You must have noticed from the loosening of his limbs and the sudden lightness to his body. “Are you sleepy, baby?” 

The rhythm of your heart soothed him as he murmured a lazy hum of agreement. 

“You can rest now, Bear.” Your soft voice sounded further away as sleep started to overtake him, like the prettiest lullaby he’d ever heard. “I’ve got you.” 

Before the whispers of slumber could steal him, though, Bucky smiled — drunken and free. “I like hearing your heart beating when I put my head on your chest.”

The giggle that vibrated from your body to his only made him fall even more in love with you. Bucky purred like a cat as you ran your nails through his hair and finally let himself go. 

The last sensation that registered in his mind was the feeling of your lips pressed against his head and a last declaration of love. “Thank you for being the reason it does.” 

[izurou]

“say ‘i’m the man!’”

eren’s voice carries down the hall, boisterous and loud as it easily reaches every corner of your small one bedroom apartment.

you furrow your brows and glance in the general direction of the sound, but decide to ignore it and continue on with breakfast—gathering a dollop of strawberry jam on your knife before spreading it onto a piece of toast.

you’d rather not know what the two of them are up to, eren and your two year old son that is. he’s supposed to be getting the kid ready for the day, but whether or not that’s actually happening is a different story.

“i’m da man!” his little voice repeats the sentence—not quite as powerful as his dad, but still loud enough to find your ears.

“louder!” eren shouts, and you immediately drop what you’re doing to head towards them.

your slippers scuff against the floor as you shuffle down the hall, following the source of sound until it leads you just outside the bathroom door. you nudge it with your foot, causing it to creep open and reveal the duo—your son, who’s standing on the counter, and eren, who—at the very least, is holding onto him.

“hi,” eren grins, prompting his mini me to do the same. you note the atrocious man bun, well, little man bun your son is sporting—hair haphazardly pulled together at the back of his head.

eren gestures to him, pride flooding his features as he mumbles, “he’s the man.”

“oh yeah?” a smile tugs at your own lips—every ounce of authority you waltzed over here with threatening to vanish into thin air as you look at your little family. nevertheless, someone has to enforce the rules around here. “well, tell the man that if he doesn’t keep it down, he’s not getting any chocolate milk with his breakfast.”

the two of them exchange a glance, an identical look of concern—real and genuine from your son, dramatic and over the top from your fiancé.

“should we go eat?” eren whispers to him, naively expecting him to follow in his footsteps again.

“yeah!” your son yells, excitement filling his eyes at the mention of his all time favourite beverage. he sets a new record every time he chugs a glass, and always gets a kick out of the little moustache he gets afterwards—loving that he looks like dad.

“buddy,” eren laughs as he lightly cups a hand over the toddler’s mouth. “shhh, quiet okay? you heard the boss, no chocolate milk if you yell.”

your son puts his hand over his own mouth and nods his head, prompting eren to lift him onto the floor and send him scurrying off into the kitchen—little feet padding against the hardwood.

“what the hell?” you say, keeping your voice low to ensure your baby doesn’t hear. “it’s 8 o’clock in the morning, why are you shouting?”

“hey, i’m instilling confidence in him,” he pouts, having heard you mention something along those lines once or twice—about how important it is for him to be proud of who he is.

“eren,” you sigh, because you know he means well—he wants nothing but the absolute best for your son too, which is why he more or less lets him do as he pleases.

he encourages him to jump around and dance to his favourite songs, and doesn’t care that he gets marker all over his face when he colours. he’ll give him bear paws before dinner, and hold his hand as the two of them run and giggle down the halls of your apartment building, because they’re just so happy to come home and see you after a trip to the grocery store.

eren lets your kid be a kid, and while that might put a scowl on the face of those around you, all that matters is that your son is always smiling.

“i know, just,” you pause, searching for the right words—the ones that won’t paint you as the bad cop you feel you’re being. though, you look into eren’s eyes, and see nothing but the purest love and adoration overflowing from his pupils, and you know—he thinks you’re doing perfect. “just, wait until after ten at least, okay? that old couple next door already has us on their shit list.”

“course, ‘m sorry baby,” he hums—cupping your cheek with a grin that’s a little too smug and out of place to be there right now. “but you know, you got us on that list, not him.”

“me?” you tilt your head, racking your brain for a time in which you might’ve pissed them off. did you forget to hold the door open? shit.

“mhmm,” he hums, moving his hand to the back of your head to hold you flush against him, and you look adorable—in the reflection of the mirror, with your little thinking face on and your cheek squished against him. he almost feels guilty.

“what did i—”

“nghhh eren, that feels soooo good,” he moans, quiet and sultry—changing the pitch of his voice slightly in an attempt to mimic your own.

“eren!” you gasp, planting your palms flat on his chest to push him away. “shut up, you’re the only reason i sound like that.”

“damn right,” he grins, pulling you right back in for a messy kiss—hands sneaking underneath your shirt and travelling up your—

crash.

“oh no,” you mumble, peeling yourself away from him once more. your son—who’s been alone and suspiciously quiet for the last five minutes, is now doing god knows what in the kitchen. “go check on your satan spawn, would you?”

“hey,” he frowns, swiftly backing out of the room and towards the noise, but not without putting on a quick smile to clarify, “our satan spawn.”

you roll your eyes, but still feel the corners of your lips tug upwards. eren is far from perfect, but he’s pretty good at keeping a smile on your face too.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Indelicate proposal

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: @thatawkwardlittlefangirl and @itzavahere I told you I'll blame you both for planting this idea into my head. So here it is and I've no idea why this initially short drabble grew into something so monstrous as it is now. I just hope you'll enjoy. And this is the meme that actually triggered it all 😅

Warnings: fluff, SMUT 18+, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, sub/dom undertones, slightly dominant reader, praise kink, hints to past abuse, Sihtric being a bit lost but absolutely the sweetest (don't know whether this is a warning but just in case 😅)

Summary: an unexpected proposal leads to more unexpected actions as you discover the surprisingly soft core of the young warrior seeking your attention. Can't claim there is much plot despite the word count

Word Count: 7,1 K

"Sihtric is with us now," Uhtred declared simply, devoid of any pomp or solemnity. The decision was made, requiring no further confirmation.

From the sidelines, you had observed the scene unfold beside Lady Gisela, your hand poised on the hilt of your sword, ready to spring into action if need be, prepared to protect her if necessary. Your eyes scanned every slight movement of the young prisoner, who held Halig hostage.

His slender yet well-built frame was taut like a drawn bow, every muscle vibrating with tension. His eyes darted nervously around the gathering, briefly meeting your scrutinising gaze before settling on Uhtred.

Wide and expressive, his eyes, framed by thick lashes, gleamed with a blend of despair and determination. Despite the tightness in his jaw and the flaring of his nostrils, there was no hint of malice or cruelty in his gaze, only a fierce resolve to endure, akin to that of a trapped wild animal.

A fresh wound above the Dane's temple left a hint of red in his short-cropped hair on the sides. The purple blue bruise marrying his left eye, the fresh cuts and scrapes on his arms, and his bleeding nose and lip added to his battered appearance. He was young, likely even a few summers younger than yourself, but the way his muscles rippled beneath the skin, told you there was much more hidden beneath his youthful and even soft features.

A smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you observed the young Dane, realising that his greenness might have lulled the vigilance of the guards tasked with watching him. It was a tactic you knew well, one you had used to your advantage countless times before.

Gisela's worried whisper broke through your thoughts. "Do you believe he can be trusted?"

"We'll have to see," you responded with a nonchalant shrug, drawing your dagger from its sheath, prompted by Uhtred's nod in your direction.

Approaching the young man cautiously, your eyes locked onto his, noticing the dilation of his pupils and the tense set of his muscles. It was evident he was unsure of what to expect from you and braced himself instinctively for an attack.

"Hands," you demanded, tilting your head. He tried to maintain composure, but his breath betrayed him, quickening as his chest rose and fell unevenly. With a hesitant glance at Uhtred and the others dispersing from the clearing, leaving just the two of you behind, he extended his bound hands toward you. They trembled slightly, his chest now still as he held his breath in anticipation.

Pressing your dagger against the ropes, you made a swift cut, eliciting a sharp exhale from Sihtric. His eyes followed the falling remnants of the ropes, landing at his feet, his hands remaining outstretched as if in disbelief of his newfound freedom.

Raising his gaze to meet yours, your eyes locked - two deep pools of different colours filled with a mixture of alarm and trepidation, an unspoken question hanging in the air between you.

"You're free," you confirmed, and a faint smile touched the corners of the young warrior’s lips, though it failed to reach his eyes, a subtle sadness lurking within their depths.

Sheathing your dagger, you turned to leave, but halted after a few steps, casting a questioning glance back. Sihtric remained where you had left him, rubbing his wrists, a perplexed and somewhat sheepish expression gracing his handsome features. A smile tugged at your lips as you observed him, a curious warmth blooming within you. It seemed he was at a loss for what to do now that his audacious plan to gain Uhtred’s attention had unexpectedly granted him freedom.

"Sihtric, are you coming?" you called out, surprised when the young Dane visibly flinched at the sound of his name. His eyes flicked towards you, and in the next moment, he hurried into motion, falling into step behind you.

"Can't you sit still?" you whispered with exasperation, your patience wearing thin. Cleaning Sihtric’s head wound had become a challenging endeavour, akin to trying to pin down a spooked animal. He squirmed and shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench, his hands restless as they roamed from the collar of his armour to his sides and back again, as if uncertain where to settle.

It was evident that the simple act of being tended to was deeply unsettling for him. As you reached out again with the damp rag, Sihtric, caught off guard by your movement, flinched and nearly leaped from his seat. In his startled reaction, he accidentally overturned the bowl of warm water you held, splashing both you and the ground.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he hastily clasped his hands between his knees. Avoiding your gaze, his eyes darted around the tent, searching for a means of escape.

You furrowed your brow, taking a step back to observe the young Dane before you, who seemed as though he'd prefer to vanish into thin air.

It all felt painfully familiar, an almost long-forgotten image emerging in the back of your mind like a jagged shard of glass. You saw her clearly, that young girl with wild hair and desperate eyes, caught in the act of stealing from a lady with cascading dark curls and a smile that could melt the coldest heart.

You had snarled and recoiled when she reached out to touch your unkempt locks,  expecting a whip but met with only kindness. She offered you food, a bath, and clothes to replace the ragged remnants hanging from your frail frame. Yet, despite this generosity, you fled the very same night. Sneaking out of the room offered to you, you ran without looking back, incapable to comprehend why you were treated with such goodness, feeling suffocated by it all, unable to bear the weight of her compassion.

A month later, you encountered her again in the bustling marketplace of Eoferwick, your fingers once more grasping for the purse at her side.

"My name is Gisela," she had said, her smile unwavering as you returned the stolen purse later that evening, cheeks flushed with shame. From that moment on, you never strayed from her side.

Meanwhile Sihtric’s gaze had shifted downward, fixated on his worn boots. Shoulders slumped and slightly hunched over, the young warrior, possessing the strength and skill to disarm two grown men with his hands securely bound, resembled a child caught in mischief, anticipating reprimand.

You softened your expression and extended a reassuring smile towards him. "It's alright, Sihtric," you said gently, your tone soothing as you reached out, resting your hand on his shoulder. "Just try to relax. Can you do that for me? We'll get through this together. You’re safe here."

Retrieving a bowl from the ground, you headed outside to fetch warm water from the kettle over the crackling fire.

"Would you mind if I tended to your wounds?" you asked, your tone tender, pausing to give him space. You sensed how crucial it was for him to feel in control, so you waited patiently, allowing him to make his own decision.

After a moment of uncertainty, Sihtric acquiesced with a slow nod, exhaling deeply. His gaze remained fixed on you as you drew near, this time handing him the bowl to occupy his restless hands. As you resumed your task of cleaning away the blood and applying salve to the bruises, a sense of relief washed over you as Sihtric remained seated, clutching the bowl as if it were a lifeline. Despite his body still being tense and his breaths ragged, he managed to keep himself still long enough for you to complete your work.

"It looks much better now," you remarked with a smile, stepping aside to assess the result of your efforts.

"It seems you've got yourself a new admirer," Gisela teased, nudging you in the side with a playful smile.

"What?" you replied, pretending to be clueless.

"Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed the way that young Dane looks at you. What was his name again?"

"You mean Sihtric?" you confirmed.

"Yes, Sihtric," Gisela chuckled, holding onto your hand despite your attempt to pull away. 

"Tell me all about him!"

"There's not much to tell," you dismissed, feeling a bit bashful.

"Come on, he practically can't take his eyes off you. Your horse has never looked better, and your gear is always impeccably cared for. How many times has he leapt to his feet, overthrowing the bench he was sitting on, to fetch you ale before you've even asked?"

Of course, you couldn't overlook any of it. Over the past week, Sihtric had become like your shadow. Your horse received extra care, your weapons gleamed with attention, even the loose ropes of your tent were neatly secured, and the kettle by your fire was constantly refilled with fresh water.

You tried to reason with him, insisting that such efforts weren't necessary. You were perfectly capable of handling your own belongings. Yet, he remained resolute. He didn’t argue with you, offering only a simple, "Yes, lady," with his gaze cast downward and his arms stiff at his sides. The following day, when you approached the horses, your mare was already tended to, her coat gleaming and her feed replenished.

"Sihtric, what are you doing here?" you exclaimed, surprised to find the young warrior curled up near the entrance of your tent, wrapped in the furs and blankets you had provided for him on his first day in camp.

Lost in discussions with Uhtred and Gisela about Guthred's intended negotiations with the Turgilsons brothers, time had slipped away from you. Sihtric had proven invaluable, gathering crucial intelligence on the brothers' forces and camp location, earning praise and rewards from Uhtred. Alongside his prowess with a blade, the young Dane showed remarkable cunning as a spy and scout, excelling at remaining unnoticed.

Regret washed over you as your words escaped, realising the abruptness of your tone. Sihtric practically jumped to his feet, rubbing his eyes and trying to regain composure, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and panic as he surveyed his surroundings.

“Why aren’t you sleeping in your tent?” you asked, lowering your voice and aiming for a soothing tone.

“I... Um... Clapa snores,” he offered uncertainly.

“Are you spying on me?”

“No, lady, why would I? I... I wouldn’t dare. I just wanted to be close in case you needed something.”

“Sihtric, we've had this discussion before. You're not my servant. I can take care of my horse and my weapons just fine,” you said firmly, the frustration evident in your tone.

Sihtric's shoulders dropped, and he cast his gaze downwards. “Are you upset with me, my lady? Did I do something wrong?”

“Wrong? Sihtric, my horse will burst if you keep feeding her like this, and I fear there'll soon be a hole polished into my sword.”

“I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean any harm. I only wanted to help, to be of use. I won't bother you anymore,” Sihtric stammered, hastily gathering his belongings.

A pang of sympathy tugged at your heart. You hadn't intended to hurt his feelings, but you clearly had.

“Wait, don't go. I didn't mean it like that,” you reached out instinctively, gripping his arm in an attempt to stop him from leaving.

Sihtric froze as your fingers grazed his skin, his breath seeming to catch in his throat. Sensing his discomfort, you quickly withdrew your hand.

“I'm sorry,” you apologised, feeling a twinge of guilt. “I truly appreciate your help, Sihtric. It's just that sometimes it feels a bit overwhelming.”

Your gaze softened as you looked at the young man before you. Despite your initial suspicions, you couldn't deny the genuine kindness in his demeanour. His innocence and vulnerability reminded you of yourself in many ways, and the way he often appeared completely lost and overwhelmed by his new surroundings was so familiar to you that against your better judgement, you found yourself growing fond of him. Perhaps even more than you were ready to admit. 

“Can I offer you some hot tea?” you suddenly asked, eager to show him a bit of appreciation. Sihtric nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You held the tent flaps open, inviting him inside with a graceful gesture. Sihtric followed, still clutching the bundle of furs and blanket in his arms. Inside, you swiftly illuminated the tent with the warm glow of candles, then located two cups and filled them with herbs and hot water. Turning back to your guest, who stood just a few steps from the entrance, you offered him a welcoming smile.

“Would you like to take a seat?” you asked, extending your arm with the cup towards Sihtric. He set the bundle on the ground and accepted the offered cup, but remained rooted to the spot. You watched as he wrapped his palms around the cup, which seemed almost small in his large hands. The intricate lines tattooed on his fingers caught your eye, and wondered if they held any special meaning, but you decided against asking.

Sihtric shifted nervously from one foot to another, lifting the cup to his lips for a small sip. Several times, he seemed on the verge of speaking, but each time, the words eluded him.

You observed him quietly for a moment, allowing the soothing silence to linger a little longer. It was evident that something weighed heavily on the young warrior's mind, but you didn’t want to press him.

Eventually, your curiosity got the better of you, prompting you to break the silence. “Is there something you want to say, Sihtric?” you inquired, offering him an encouraging smile.

“I… I’m not sure how to put it,” Sihtric muttered, his gaze flitting around as he took a tentative step back towards the entrance, as if contemplating a hasty departure. It wasn't the first time you noticed his tendency to seek an exit strategy.

With deliberate steps, you approached, trying not to appear too imposing, and halted directly in front of him, meeting his gaze with gentle assurance. “Go ahead, I’m all ears,” you prompted, offering him your full attention.

“I mean… I wanted to… I wanted to ask you… if maybe you and I… if I could…” His words stumbled over each other, his breath quickening, cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment. “Would you mind if I… if I humped you?” he finally blurted out in a single breath, his gaze darting nervously to the ground.

“You what?” You choked on the hot liquid you had just brought to your lips, spluttering it onto Sihtric’s leather armour. The surprise and incredulity in your voice were difficult to mask.

"Gods… I… I like you. You are so beautiful and kind. I’ve never met someone like you and… and… please don’t be angry with me. I… I can give you everything I have, all my rings, look, I mean it,” he hastily removed his arm rings, recently gifted by Uhtred, and began pulling rings off his fingers, the cup in his hands hindering him until it finally fell to the ground.

You looked at Sihtric, unsure of how to respond. You should have felt offended, but the earnestness and embarrassment on his face suggested he hadn’t meant to offend you.

Sihtric stretched his arms toward you, presenting all his valuable belongings.

"Do you think I'm a whore?" you finally asked, meeting his gaze with a mix of surprise and concern.

"What? No, why? By the Gods, no…" Sihtric's voice faltered, revealing his nervousness. You noticed him taking a cautious step backward, edging closer to the exit. "I didn’t mean it that way… It’s just… back home, in Dunholm, the girls always asked for something in return to let me hump them. And ... and they said they enjoyed me. I didn’t have much to give, but I always found something, like a piece of cloth or a blanket, or fresh-baked bread. So I thought… I thought… since you're a lady… if I offered you silver…"

Sihtric gulped, clearly sensing your disapproving gaze. “The other warriors and Kjartan used to mock me for giving away all my belongings. I know they were having the girls even against their will, but my mom always told me that real strength isn't about hurting those weaker than you. I mean… back then when she was still around,” he continued, his words tumbling out in a rush like an unstoppable stream.

“Gods, now you are really angry with me. You must think poorly of me. I’m such a fool. Please forgive me, lady. I’m sorry. I better be going before I say something even dumber. It’s all yours, anyway.” 

Before you could respond, he hastily deposited all his silver and gold into your hands and turned to leave.

Staring down at the glimmering wealth he had thrust upon you, disbelief washed over you. "Hold on! You can’t just give me all this! Wait!" you protested, but Sihtric was already halfway out of the tent. "Stop, get back here," you commanded firmly, and to your relief, Sihtric froze in his tracks.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said softly, turning back to face you, though he avoided meeting your gaze. "Please don't think badly of me. I'm not like my father, I never wanted to be."

It was just a tiny glimpse into his past life, but even that filled you with sadness and sympathy. Setting the unexpected gifts down on a nearby table, you made your way to the tent entrance, drawing the flaps closed behind you. You turned back to Sihtric, blocking his way out. You couldn’t leave it like this; you needed to have a talk. 

"Hey, I'm not angry. I'm just kinda surprised," you said, stepping closer.

"Surprised?" Sihtric let out a relieved sigh, but he still wouldn't look you in the eyes, his embarrassment clear even in the dim candlelight, with his cheeks flushed red.

You shook your head as you continued to observe him. He was undeniably good-looking, his muscular build catching your eye, and you couldn’t deny you felt attracted to him, but there was something about the young warrior that went beyond looks. You had already gathered that his life hadn’t been a smooth ride on a paved road, and you wondered how deep the scars in his heart ran, realising that the few visible ones he carried on his handsome face were merely the surface of a much larger tapestry of pain and suffering.

"I like you too, Sihtric, and I just want to know you better," you said, stepping forward slightly.

"You do?" disbelief and even suspicion were evident in his voice.

You moved with deliberate care, allowing Sihtric to observe every motion as you reached out and tenderly cupped his face. He inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering shut. Your thumb softly traced his cheek, and with a heartfelt sigh, Sihtric leaned into your touch, snuggling against your palm.

You pulled back your hand quickly, worried that he might misinterpret your gesture as anything more than a reassuring comfort to show you were not angry. The faint whimper that escaped his lips, followed by a sigh, cut through you sharply, echoing in your mind.

"Please... could you... do that once more?" Sihtric said under his breath, opening his eyes to meet yours, his expression filled with earnest pleading.

"Do what?" You paused, momentarily confused.

"That... that thing you just did," he replied.

"That thing? You mean when I caressed your cheek?" A gentle chuckle escaped you as you noticed the blush spreading across Sihtric's cheeks. "Like this?" you asked, reaching out again to cradle his jaw gently, your thumb skimming the corner of his mouth. Sihtric immediately responded, leaning into your touch, his eyes closing and his breathing deepening.

You closed the gap between you, gently tilting his face toward yours, and he instinctively followed, your foreheads lightly touching. "When was the last time someone touched you like this?" you asked, and although you suspected the answer, it still caught you off guard.

"I don't remember," he whispered back, his voice tinged with a faint tremor.

You weren’t really sure what made you do it; it wasn't something you'd planned. You just wanted to smooth over the awkwardness caused by his indelicate proposal and unexpected admissions, to let him know you weren't upset. It was evident the young warrior had no real understanding how inappropriate his offer actually was.

You had so many questions you wanted to ask, so much you wanted to understand. But instead of asking anything, something inside you took over. You found yourself standing on your tiptoes and kissing him, holding his face in your hands and pulling him closer.

Your lips brushed against Sihtric’s, a little rough from the wind, and you could taste the faint hint of ale and the tea you’d made earlier in his quick, shallow breaths. Your heart was racing, pounding so loud you could hear it in your ears, and a fluttery feeling filled your stomach. Sure, you’d kissed before—some who were charming and passionate, and some who definitely weren’t princes—but this somehow felt so different and it was a bit embarrassing, especially since Sihtric didn’t kiss you back.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." you stammered, pulling back abruptly, taken aback by your own spontaneity. So much for just wanting to talk to him. Sihtric stood there, eyes closed and hands at his sides, as still as a statue. The silence thickened around you as you tried to steady your pounding heart. It was perplexing; the young Dane had wanted to hump you, yet he didn’t even respond to a kiss. What the heck?

Just as the wave of embarrassment hit its peak and you considered asking him to leave, Sihtric’s hand reached out, gently cupping your cheek. "Please, can we... Can we try again?" he breathed, leaning in and tentatively pressing his lips against yours..

It was a soft and cautious kiss, his lips barely brushing yours, as tender as a feather's touch against skin—a gentle probe for warmth and connection. Feeling your head spin slightly, you kissed back with more intensity and passion, drawing a low groan from Sihtric.

Reluctantly, he pulled back, breaking the tender embrace of your lips but keeping his forehead pressed against yours. His breath was warm and ticklish against your face, his fingers trembling slightly as he continued to stroke your cheek with his thumb, his breathing shallow and unsteady.

"Do you like it?" you asked, unsure of what to say or do next.

"I... I do. I've never been kissed like that before," Sihtric admitted, his voice carrying a note of surprise mixed with sadness.

His response took you aback once more. "Did the girls in Dunholm require extra payment to let you kiss them?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.

With his eyes still closed, Sihtric shook his head. "No, they never allowed me to kiss them. They never touched me the way you just did. Not even the women in the alehouse that Tekil paid for," he added, his voice fading into a whisper.

Without speaking, you reached out and drew him into a firm embrace, feeling his body stiffen briefly as if he might pull away. But you held on, your fingers gently combing through his hair. After a moment, his resistance eased, and Sihtric relaxed into your hold, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Slowly, his arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer against his chest.

For a while, you both just stood there, the warmth of your bodies wrapping around you like a soft blanket. His deep longing for attention and warmth, for genuine love and friendship—those simple joys that breathe life into existence tugged at your heart. You had found such treasures in Gisela's unconditional care and friendship years ago, and now you just tried to convey at least a small fraction of that same comfort with your gentle touches and steadfast embrace.

As Sihtric's breath warmed your neck, you felt his large hands pull you closer at the small of your back, his lips seeking yours again with a newfound passion. The kiss unfolded slowly, deeply, and you savoured each moment, losing yourself in the tenderness of his embrace. Your lips moved together in harmony, his hands tenderly stroking your back and hair, fanning the timid spark that had flickered to life at your first touch into a fervent blaze, making you crave for more.

Breaking the kiss elicited a soft whimper from Sihtric. "Come," you said in a low voice, gently taking his hand and leading the way. Sihtric followed,  a slight bewilderment crossing his face.

"I don’t want you to hump me," you began, looking up at him as he stood beside your fur-covered bed.

Sihtric’s eyes dropped to the ground once more. “It was so stupid of me to ask, I’m sorry…” he said hastily.

"Shh, listen to me," you interrupted, placing your index finger to Sihtric’s lips to silence him. "I want to show you something. Do you trust me?"

"Lady, I would trust you with my life," he replied, his eyes lifting to meet yours with an intensity that made you smile.

"Good, because I want to share something special with you, and I need you to trust me, to feel safe. I want to make love to you, Sihtric," you spoke softly, placing your hand on his chest and gently urging him backward onto the fur-covered bed. "Trust me," you repeated, and with wide eyes, Sihtric allowed himself to be guided down. 

Seated on the cushioned surface, he watched you with anticipation as you settled onto his lap, legs on either side of his thighs, straddling him. You pulled him into another kiss, and this time, you abandoned all restraint. Your fingers wove through his hair as your tongue eagerly explored his lips, seeking entry into his mouth. With a soft gasp, he yielded, allowing you to deepen the kiss, and you revelled in the soft sounds of pleasure that escaped Sihtric as your tongue explored his mouth, clashing against his. His hands tentatively wandered up your hips and along your back, drawing you nearer to him.

You traced a trail of soft kisses along his jaw, playfully nipping at him with your teeth. Each touch of your lips drew a low moan from Sihtric, encouraging you to linger on his sensitive neck and suckle at his skin, leaving behind a few lingering marks. Even through the layers of fabric between you, you could feel his arousal growing, prompting you to grind your hips against his, seeking friction.

Sihtric responded with a deliciously soft moan, his hips rising to meet yours, his breathing growing rapid. Your hands skillfully loosened the laces of his leather armour, but as you began to pull it away, he suddenly tensed, his hands catching yours to stop you. "You may not like what you see," he murmured softly.

Confused by his hesitation, you gently insisted, "Why? Sihtric, let me. I want to see you, to feel you. You told me you trust me," your voice soft but persuasive, and eventually, his resistance crumbled as he released your hands.

You couldn't help but gasp at the sight of his well-defined abdomen, muscles rippling under his skin, but it was the scars crisscrossing his torso that held your attention. Some were thin, precise lines across his chest, likely from a blade, while others, more rugged and widespread across his shoulders and back, were surely traces of a wip. Gently, you traced these marks with your fingertips, emotion rising within you.

"My goodness, Sihtric," you whispered, guiding his chin gently to keep his gaze from averting, and then you brought your lips to his in a tender kiss. "You should never feel ashamed of these. Wear your scars with pride. They're evidence of your strength and resilience. Don't let your past dictate your future," you murmured against his mouth, feeling the tension that had crept into his body begin to melt away.

He looked up at you with a shy smile and released a soft sigh, as he licked his lips before he drew you in closer. His kisses along your neck were soft and filled with gentleness and purpose, sending shivers down your spine, the feeling of his tongue against your skin igniting a growing desire between your legs.

With a chuckle, you asked, "Could you give me a hand?" and guided Sihtric's hands to the laces of your armour. His puzzled expression brought a smile to your lips as you nodded, and together you swiftly worked to remove your armour. You giggled at the sharp exhale that left him as your breasts bounced out from beneath your tunic. 

“You can touch them, and you can kiss them, just be gentle,” you encouraged with a smile.

“You are so beautiful,” Sihtric uttered softly, his hands hesitantly cupping your breasts. You arched your back with a soft sigh as his lips wrapped around your hardened nipple and gently suckled on it, hands caressing your bare back. 

“Yes, just like that,” you didn’t even try to muffle the moan that tore through you, your fingers tangling in his soft and thick hair, as he turned his attention to your other nipple, while his hands traced down your spine to your buttocks, squeezing them.

Your hands found their way to the hem of his breeches, unlacing them and slipping inside. Sihtric groaned at your touch, his breath picking up rapidly, as you stoked his already fully hard length. 

Sihtric effortlessly lifted you, his grip firm as he flipped you onto the furs and settled himself between your thighs.

With eager breaths, you shed the last remnants of clothing, allowing your bodies to meld together. Sihtric's tender kisses and gentle touch on your bare skin setting ablaze a fiery sensation within you.

"Come closer," you mumbled, drawing Sihtric into a tight embrace, cradling him between your legs. Your fingers traced gentle paths over his scars as you savoured the sensation of his warm, muscular form against yours. You listened intently to his heavy breathing, feeling the heat of his body seeping into your bones, while his fingers grazed your skin and his nose nestled against your neck, inhaling your scent.

“I’ve heard the pleasure one can bestow with the tongue could be indescribable, but I’ve never done it before. Will you teach me?” he asked and you almost choked on your breath as Sihtric’s lips started to trail a path of tender kisses down your naked body. 

“Oh, Sihtric,” you gasped as his hot breath hit your core. You reached out, grabbing his hair, and he moaned as you guided him, where you craved for him. 

“Yes, here, use your tongue, pretty boy. Oh, gods,” the first laps of his tongue against your pulsing bundle made you squirm and whine. “Just keep going. You are so good ... oh, oh please don’t stop … it feels godly … you are made for this,” you mewled, rolling your hips against Sihtric’s face. 

You heard his breath stutter with every praise you gave him, as he got more and more eager to please you, his tongue alternating between quick and soft licks and long and teasing wipes, the soft moans leaving him telling you how much he was enjoying this.

Your grip in Sihtric’s hair tightened as you felt your climax quickly building up and you tugged him closer to your perl. “Here, suck on it,” you panted, and your head snapped back as Sihtric’s lips encircled your oversensitive nub, sucking gently at it. 

The lewd sounds, that rolled over your lips, spurred him on, each lap of his hot tongue sending waves of increasing pleasure through your body, each swirl around your clit making you whimper and whine.

“Put your finger inside me,” you mewled between heavy breaths and whined out loud as Sihtric did as told, sucking harder on your clit. “Oh by Freya and Freyr, yess, yessss, you are such a good boy,” you tugged harder on his hair, pushing your hips up against his eager mouth and Sihtric groaned in pleasure against your cunt.

You had no idea whether he knew what he was doing or was it pure instinct, as he added another finger and started moving them in and out of you, thumb rubbing your clit. His tongue kept lapping through your folds, and after a few thrusts the pleasure exploded within you as he pushed you over the edge. You moaned his name into the silence of the night, as you came undone, tugging on Sihtric’s hair and gasping for breath. 

With a satisfied smile on his lips he kissed his way back to your lips, your eyes glassy and chest heaving heavily as you slowly came down from your high.

“You are so delicious,” he murmured quietly, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“I thought you had never done it before,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck, still floating between this world and the afterglow of the probably most intense orgasm you had ever had.  

“You are such a good teacher and I learn quickly,” he murmured between kisses.

You could feel his hard cock pressing against your belly, and you let your hand wander down, your fingers sliding over the sensitive tip, gathering precum and spreading it all over his rigid length with slow sensual strokes. 

Sihtric moaned at your touch, pressing his nose against your skin, his breath getting more and more rugged with each movement of your hand. 

“How do you want me?” you asked, putting a bit more pressure in your hand and eliciting a breathless groan from Sihtric. 

“I … I want to see you,” he whispered and another moan escaped his parted lips, as you continued your ministrations, and he eagerly bucked his hips into your hand. 

“I want to look into your eyes and see you falling apart on my cock,” he murmured in your ear, his voice hoarse and breathing uneven, as he struggled to control himself. “Will you let me? Please, say that you want me. Say that you want me to pleasure you.” 

“Of course I want you, silly boy. You are almost too good to be true. Come, take me, pleasure me, I’m yours,” you breathed in his ear, guiding him at your entrance. 

“I want to be good. I want to be a good boy for you,” Sihtric breathed against your lips. 

You eagerly rolled your hips into his. ”I just want your cock inside me, good boy,” you chuckled.

You both moaned in unison as Sithric slowly pushed himself inside you until the very end of his shaft, his thick and long cock filling and stretching you perfectly. You spread your legs wider to welcome him. Buried deep inside you, he stilled, letting his lips run along your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy open mouthed kisses, burning on your skin and leaving you yearning for more, as he waited for you to adjust to him. 

His large palm ghosted your skin on your side, trailing down to your thigh, as he pushed your leg up and dragged his cock out of you before making his first thrust. Moaning breathlessly, you arched your back against the soft furs beneath you, digging your nails into Sihtric’s shoulders. 

His hips started to move against yours as he fucked you so torturously slowly but thoroughly, pushing himself deep inside you. Holding on to his broad shoulders, you met each thrust moving up against him, tensing your inner muscles and savouring every inch of him brushing against your pulsing walls. 

Your fingers found their way back into Sihtric’s hair, and you pulled hard on them, a smile tugging on your lips from the delicious moan it elicited from Sihtric.

“Use me, mark me, I’m yours,” Sihtric groaned, pulling out of you and thrusting back in one smooth go. “Please, I want to be yours,” he begged, and you dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving red marks in his pale flesh. 

“More, Sihtric,” a needy whine left your lips. “I need more of you.”

With a low groan, Sihtric fastened his pace, hips pounding against yours. You gazed up at him, a strange feeling curling in your stomach. You felt safe. You felt loved and adored, and so wanted like never before in your whole life. 

You were in his power, pinned down beneath his muscular body as he fucked you into the soft furs of your bed, his soft whimpers like a music to your ears, as he begged you to pull harder on his hair, to use him, to mark him, to allow him to please you. You savoured the pretty and desperate sounds he made in your ear, finding them both beautiful and so arousing, your climax approaching with each snap of his hips against yours.

“Do you enjoy me?” Sihtric uttered quietly in your ear, his voice quivering slightly.

“Yes, by the gods, I do,” you muttered, your eyes starting to roll back in your head, feeling the pleasure intensify within you. Sihtric let out a low growl at your words, his breath catching.

“Please, say it again,” he pleaded.

“You’re doing so well,” you praised him. “You feel godly within me. Even Thor itself couldn’t bring me more pleasure.” Sihtric whimpered in response and you felt his cock twitching inside you. 

His moans grew louder and more fevered, his thrusts getting harder and deeper, breath panting and hot against your neck. You felt almost like drowning, gasping for breath from the intensity of pleasure building up within you.

“Such a good boy for me,” you murmured, gripping his hair tightly and eliciting another moan from him. Sihtric’s thrusts started to get sloppy, his moans more heavy with each thrust. 

“I’m so close,” he whimpered, his body tensing, “I will not last much longer.”

You took his hand and guided it to your perl. “You know what to do,” you breathed and Sihtric’s fingers instantly started to rub and circle it. That was all you needed, the last touch to push you over the edge. You felt your walls starting to clench around him, your head snapped back and you came with Sihtric’s name on your lips, shuddering from the waves of pure bliss washing over you. 

A few thrusts later Sihtric pulled out, and you felt his hot seed painting your belly as he groaned in the crook of your neck. He slumped down beside you, his breath heavy and laboured. For a moment you both just lay there, coming down from your highs. 

You turned your head toward him, watching his handsome features. You had never had a more gentle and attentive lover, so concentrated on your pleasure instead of chasing his own. You wanted to pull him closer, to let him feel the same. You wanted him to feel loved and accepted, and cared for just as he had made you feel, but before you managed to do anything Sihtric abruptly jumped to his feet, glancing around the tent. Grabbing a cloth and dampening it with warm water from the kettle, he returned to the bed and carefully cleaned you up.

You watched, your eyes widening, as Sihtric scrambled to gather his scattered clothes from the ground and began to hurriedly dress. He fumbled with his breeches, hopping on one leg in an awkward dance.

"Sihtric, what are you doing?" you asked, a lump forming in your throat. The bliss of moments before now replaced by a wave of embarrassment and a sinking feeling in your stomach. You tried to catch his eye, but he kept his gaze firmly on his clothes, avoiding yours.

"You don’t have to say it. I know. I’m leaving," he stammered, clumsily trying to pull on his boots while clutching his wrinkled clothes.

"Sihtric, look at me," you insisted, sitting up on your heels to face him better.

Finally meeting your gaze, confusion was written all over Sihtric's face.

"So, you just wanted to hump me and now you're leaving just like that, without a word? Like a coward?" you asked, your voice tinged with hurt and disbelief. You didn’t even remember the last time you had cried, the wetness suddenly pearling in the corners of your eyes taking you by surprise. 

"What? No, it's not like that," he replied, clearly taken aback. "You mean you want me to stay?" His voice was filled with astonishment, leaving you momentarily speechless.

A tense silence hung between you, both of you regarding each other with bewilderment. Sihtric let his clothes fall to the ground as he approached and slowly crawled back onto the bed towards you.

Noticing the tears starting to form in your eyes, his expression softened. "You really want me to stay?" he asked gently, cupping your face in his hands before pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Please don't cry. I'm not worth a single tear of yours," Sihtric whispered, his fingers gently caressing your back and threading through your hair. "I would do anything for you. Just say the word, and I'll move mountains. I… I didn't dare to hope... I mean look at you. And look at me—I'm nobody. Why would you want me to stay?"

"Sihtric, just be quiet," you murmured, allowing yourself to sink deeper into the warmth of his embrace.

The next morning, you awoke still nestled in Sihtric's arms. As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the tent, he stirred, slowly opening his eyes. Seeing you next to him, a soft smile spread across his face.

"You're still here, it wasn’t a dream," he murmured, his voice filled with relief and a hint of hope.

"Yes, I'm still here," you replied, your voice gentle yet firm, as you traced a finger tenderly along his jawline, "And there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

You moved closer, trapping him between your thighs and propping yourself up on your elbow. Leaning in, you kissed his lips softly.

A rush of emotion crossed Sihtric's face as he pulled you closer, and you gasped, feeling his hardening cock pressing against your inner thigh.  

"I would do anything to hold you in my arms forever," he confessed, his eyes locking with yours, filled with sincerity and a deep longing.

"I think I know how you can convince me," you said softly with a tender smile, and you kissed him again, deeply and passionately, cradling his face in your palm. 

Sihtric's smile grew even brighter as he tightened his arms around you, flipping you over and pressing you into the furs with the weight of his body. 

“Tell me, my lady,” he hummed, his lips trailing a hot path down your neck. “I'm all ears, how can I please you today?”

Comment or write to me if you want to be added to the tag list.

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[sundrop-writes]

Blood In The Water

Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Beg me for mercy - admit you were toxic.

Now I am the violence, I am the sickness.

Won’t accept your silence - beg me for forgiveness.

We’ll never get free, lamb to the slaughter.

What you gon do when there’s Blood In The Water?

Summary:

Being Stiles's best friend, you are incredibly worried about him when you figure out that he is quite literally not himself - and that the thing currently occupying his body could be destroying it in the process. When you approach him to show this concern, Void takes a particular interest in you. He's not capable of love, or even fondness, but he likes you.

And he likes the way your fear spikes when you talk about Stiles. So he makes you a deal - he'll agree to take care of this fleshy, mortal host, in exchange for something more precious, more rare, and more delicious than the meal you have brought for Stiles.

He wants your pain. He wants your tears.

Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends. Extreme Emotional Angst, Hurt No Comfort. Set during Season 3 (with flashbacks to Season 1, Episode 11).

Word Count: 11,700

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: as it says above - this is pure angst, hurt NO COMFORT, please heed that warning, if this is not something you are into, please leave now; this is set during Season 3, but not during any particular episode; I guess I need to put warnings for demon possession and identity theft (even though for the entirety of the fic, the reader does know that Stiles is not himself on the basis of knowing him so well, and she is talking to Void ernestly); this fic is about Void and the Reader interacting and discussing the relationship and feelings between Stiles and the Reader; the reader and Stiles have had mutual romantic feelings for each other for a long time but never acted on them, and at the point when the fic begins, their relationship is described as long-term best friends; the reader uses she/her pronouns and is mentioned to wear a dress and high heels to the winter formal dance; the reader's race, hair colour, size or looks in general are not described in any way (Void does call the reader 'little' but it is meant to be emotionally condescending, rather than a description of her size); this fic DOES use Y/N (proudly so); mentions of Stiles not eating/being starved because Void refuses to participate in 'human pleasures' (and he considers food to be one of those); Void is a demon who is fed by pain and he enjoys the Reader's fear, sadness, embarrassment, emotional pain, and other negative emotions, and he can feel those emotions in the air as she experiences them, so he is encouraged to do and say things that prompt negative reactions from her; Void calls the reader 'sweet thing' and 'darling' and 'little girl'; passing mention of Stiles watching porn (but the general tone of this fic is not sexual); Void compares the reader to Stiles's 'mommy' (because she is the only one who has ever given him soft, 'maternal' comfort and understanding) - but it's not a Mommy kink thing (or maybe it is for Stiles, you don't know that); mentions of eating diary and meat being 'cruel' (but I am not a vegan, it's just Void commenting on the way humans do things); the reader considers cutting herself with a knife to 'feed' Void her physical pain (but Void wants emotional pain instead); Void asks the reader to relive a painful memory by telling him about it, therefore feeding him with her emotional pain; Void threatens the reader with physical harm and even murder (to make her more fearful, and to taunt Stiles, who is forced to witness all of this); there is flashbacks to the winter formal episode in S1; mentions of the reader being jealous because Stiles took Lydia to the dance (and the reader hates the jealousy it evokes in her because she doesn't want to pit herself against Lydia and she wants to be happy for Stiles); mentions of Lydia being attacked by Peter Hale (as is canon); mentions of alcohol - the reader takes one sip of alcohol but does not get drunk during the fic; mentions of drunk driving (the reader drives after that sip of alcohol and questions if this 'counts' as drunk driving, and other people are accused of driving drunk, but in this fic, drunk driving is not actually the cause of any accidents); Stiles gets into a life-threatening car accident - mentions of blood and grievous bodily injury; mentions of Stiles needing surgery due to the car accident; mentions of blood; graphic descriptions of a character being stabbed. I believe that's it?

A/N: I have a lot to say here, so strap in. First of all, you're probably wondering why you're seeing this now. That is because I have been going through a very bad patch of mental illness (fuelled by multiple things, including the state of my physical illness) and when that happens to me, I become like a big spinning top of agitation and bad energy. And I feel the need to work on a project to avoid bad practices like self harm. And after a lot of whirling around and only working on certain projects for a few minutes at a time, I was cleaning out my files just to keep my mind occupied, and I came across the pictures I had saved to make the moodboard for this fic and I was like 'I can't delete those yet because I wanna use those to make the fic cover'. So I decided to make the fic cover, and it spiralled into me editing the whole fic just to keep my agitated upset mind busy and focused on something other than the fact that I am upset. So - good for you guys. You get a new fic. As for the actual content of this fic - I wanted to mark it as both Void x Reader and Stiles x Reader, but I figured that wouldn't make sense to most people. Because this is about Stiles and the Reader having mutual crushes on each other for a long time, and Void enjoying the embarrassment of taunting them about it, as well as the pain that comes from their pining and the potential of hurting the other and forcing them to watch. And Void does take a kind of 'liking' to the Reader, but because he's a demon, it's not necessarily romantic? Idk. I just have a lot of fun writing demon characters as complete bastards (I will never get people who write characters like Void, Anti, Dark as secret softies - like please, write a villain as a villain. It's more fun that way). So please - enjoy my take on this awful bastard. I had a lot of fun writing it. (Also I would like to note that I wrote this before I saw the end of 3A so I thought the 'crashing the Jeep' thing was a totally organic idea on my part lmao.)

...

“Stiles hasn’t eaten in days.” 

You stated it very matter-of-factly, rather than asking if he had eaten or theorizing about it. It was something that you knew concretely. 

Usually, Stiles was someone who was very passionate about food. He complained about missing lunch and hated being rushed to eat rather than getting to enjoy his food if you were nagging him about being late and had somewhere to be. 

The only time you had ever seen him miss meals was when he got particularly sucked into his reading and researching. And usually, when his concentration finally broke, he would whine about his stomach hurting and only remember why when the smell of curly fries came under his nose because you had put the bag in front of him. 

But even in that case, he had never missed more than a single meal. 

You had never seen him go days without touching a single bit of food - without so much as mentioning something greasy he was craving or talking about a destination take-out spot that the two of you needed to go to on the weekend. 

You had to guess that it was around the time that He had taken control. Or at least, around about when He had stopped caring to pretend to be human. When He had stopped putting up a front. 

“Observant little thing, aren’t you?” He titled his head in that way that was so distinctly un-Stiles, giving you a small smirk as his words penetrated you with that utterly mocking tone. 

It was strange, staring at the face of your long-time best friend and referring to him in the third person. Starting to think about him as though he wasn’t even there when you were staring right at him. Though it had only been a few days, you had long since given up the hope that you were talking to Stiles. You knew that this was someone else - something else entirely. 

You were still clinging onto the hope that you could get Stiles through this and he wouldn’t be entirely damaged beyond recognition on the other side. 

Hence, why you were trying to feed him now. 

It had been at least four days since you had seen him take a single bite of food, and you had been carefully observing him the entire time. So you had arrived at his place today with an armful of Stiles’s favorite foods. You felt lucky to catch him alone while the others were out chasing leads - or perhaps, unlucky. Perhaps he would have eaten in front of them just to prove that he was still himself. But you were hoping to tempt him with the smell, at the very least. 

Surely, he had to be hungry? 

Laid out on the table in front of you was a variety of things - all kinds of things you knew would have had Stiles gorging himself in minutes. A disgustingly large and greasy double cheeseburger with curly fries and a strawberry milkshake, an extra large supreme meat lover’s pizza, an entire pack of Honey Buns, and a grocery store birthday cake - chocolate with vanilla icing. All of which elicited oddly painful memories for you, now that your best friend was being held hostage by a thousand year old demon. 

Everything from movie nights where the two of you would share a pizza and argue about what kind of toppings to get, to the times that the two of you would buy a birthday cake like this and eat it in his Jeep with no such occasion for it - just because you wanted to celebrate life and didn’t want to need a reason for such a treat. Nights when balancing it between your laps and eating with plastic forks was all the joy in the world that you needed. 

Nights before your life became so hellishly complicated. 

“Let me guess… you’re trying to tempt me?” He posed, moving his finger across the icing of the birthday cake, and then looking at the white glob on his finger with intense disgust before moving to wipe it off on a napkin. 

Of course, he wouldn’t even consider eating that small amount. He was taunting you. He knew that at this current moment, it was your greatest desire to see your friend eat - to know that even though you were entirely powerless against such a complicated and mysterious demonic force, you could do this one small thing in your power to take care of him. 

You couldn’t save Stiles, but you wanted to care for him - just for a moment. You wanted to make a difference - even if it was as small as a grain of sand in an hour-glass. You thought it would help. 

“Even you have to eat, don’t you?” You returned with a question. “You can’t risk your host dying, right?” 

It was something you had wondered. 

You hadn’t seen him drinking water either, and you didn’t think that he had slept at all. As far as you knew, he hadn’t attended to any of Stiles’s human needs. But according to the sallow, almost gray nature of his skin and the dark bags under his eyes - he wasn’t exactly in perfect health right now. So perhaps he did run the risk of actually killing Stiles altogether because he didn’t know how to take care of a human host. 

Void smirked as he felt that flash of fear - the utter terror that overcame you at the thought of Stiles dying from neglect. 

“Need I remind you, sweet thing?” 

He started, the nickname causing a shiver of creepiness down your skin, like the feeling of walking into a spiderweb. 

“I don’t eat the same deep-fried, fat filled crap that he does.” He looked across the table with disdain coating his features once again. “I feed upon the suffering of others.” 

These words caused a wicked chill down your spine. 

It was something that Scott had warned you of, but you hadn’t actually considered what it truly meant. 

“So by depriving Stiles of his worldly pleasures - his music, his laughter, his pornography - which he watches far too much of, by the way.” Void let out a devious chuckle at this, and you didn’t even have time to think about the implications of this before he continued. “And especially by depriving him of food and sleep, I get to feed off his precious suffering.” 

It was a terrible paradox. Void thrived while Stiles withered. 

“And as of late, I have been so deliciously full.” 

A lump formed in your throat - if you knew any words apt for this situation, you wouldn’t have been able to get them out anyway. Void’s smirk grew wider. Indulging in your suffering, in your fear for your best friend, your horror at these realizations - Void continued. 

“But - among all those things, you know what he misses most of all?” 

He posed, talking slowly, his voice calculated, mocking you with another head tilt. It was as though he was looking down upon you even though he was sitting in a chair at the kitchen table and you were standing across from him on the other side of the room. 

You choked on a miserable syllable - no words came out. Part of you wanted to know the answer very badly, and part of you wanted him to shut up. You simply shook your head in reply. 

“He misses you.” 

Void whispered these words as though it was a precious secret. And then - he let out a grand cackle of a laugh, bordering on a howl as he continued to mock you. 

Your insides shook, and you became foggy with confusion - how did Stiles miss you more than he missed food or water or sleep? How did he ‘miss you’ so much when you were standing right here in front of him? Did the presence of this horrid being keep Stiles from seeing you or hearing you? Was he trapped so terribly inside his own body? 

Was this like a coma for him? Would he not remember any of this when it was over?

You could only hope that was the case. 

“He begs and pleads every time I won’t let him touch you.” Void grinned, letting out another laugh - clearly pleased by the idea of Stiles’s misery. “He is so damn desperate to hold you. It’s hilarious, really. Especially because - at the same time, he’s terrified of what I’ll do if I get too close.” 

These words put a terrible knot in your stomach. 

You could only imagine how terrible it was for Stiles - he was a naturally touchy person, and now, someone else was controlling his body, keeping him from participating in the physical affection that he craved. Threatening to put his loved ones in danger if he did get the love that he desperately craved. 

You didn’t want to know what Void would do if you walked across the room to hug Stiles. But at the same time, it made you yearn to hold him, to squeeze him tight, to give him the comfort he was clearly so badly in need of. Especially now that you knew his consciousness was still in there, alert and alive, fighting to get out. 

“He’s so pathetic.” Void remarked softly. “He misses his Mommy, and… well, you’re the only one who ever treated him like a Mommy would. Isn’t that right?” 

This sentiment confused you entirely. 

You stared at him, gape-jawed, waiting for an explanation, and luckily - he did give you one. 

“You held him close, and kissed his boo-boos. You… you were the only one who told him he was good enough when he never fucking was.” 

You instantly wanted to argue this point, but you were more caught up on the overarching metaphor that Void was making. 

All of the individual points were true. You had done all of those things for Stiles. But you didn’t see how that made you Stiles’s Mommy. It just made you a good friend. 

“My Stiles is good enough.” You argued weakly, finally finding your words. “He’s a good person, and you can’t change that about him. He’s still in there. And he’s still going to be a good person after all this.” 

Void tutted his tongue, giving another mocking smirk. 

“Still at it.” He laughed. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?” 

You didn’t care to respond to that. 

“Beautifully relentless.” Void sighed, sounding almost dreamy as he said this. He sounded as if he admired this quality in you. 

Which he did. But he admired this about you for one specific reason. 

“See… that’s what makes the fear so fucking delicous.” He continued on, explaining. “When someone so bright, so full of hope finally gives up. When their spirit finally breaks. It permeates the air better than the smell of a rotting corpse - and it’s so fucking beautiful.” 

You chose not to respond to this - baffled by his words, and slightly frightened. 

Instead, you wondered something else. 

“What happens if Stiles doesn’t eat?” You asked. “You said that you’re full, but he’s still human. It’s still a human body. A body that you’re currently living in.” 

Void clapped his hands together a few times, slowly, giving you dry, sarcastic applause for your cleverness. 

“Good question. Clever little girl.” He congratulated you, causing another wave of ‘ick’ to roll through you at his condescending tone. “He is my host, but currently, I rule all. I give him strength, I eliminate all his weaknesses. I turn his pathetic human form into the ultimate weapon. With me inhabiting his body, he does not need to eat, sleep, or drink. He does not need such tiny fallacies as comfort.” 

“And what happens when you leave?” You posed. 

“If I choose to leave.” Void smirked at you. 

“When.” You ground out sharply, arguing, feeling braver the longer that you stood there and talked to him. 

To you, he wasn’t all that scary. 

Scott had warned you that Void was clever - that he would manipulate you and try to hurt you. But thus far, you hadn’t seen the route to any tricks. He seemed very straight-forward and honest. He seemed very plainly painted in his cruelty. 

“If I choose to leave this host and move onto another, then… I suppose that he’ll collapse.” Void shrugged, speaking about it as if it were no more interesting to him than a fly in his peripheral. “Without my strength keeping him alive, all the exhaustion, all the hunger, all the thirst - it will hit him, all at once. He may even die from the shock alone. His body will be too weak and fragile to handle it.” 

A surge of terrible anger flooded you. Perhaps it was fueled by fear, but either way, it drove you to smack your hand down onto the table, nearly smashing the birthday cake before you screamed out, finally lashing out on him. 

“Motherfucker!” You called Void the first cruel name that came to mind, and he didn’t give any indication of reaction at your throat scraping volume. “You stupid bastard! You are gonna get out and give Stiles his body back, and when you do, you’re gonna return it in good fucking condition! You understand me?” 

Void simply smirked, seeming entirely amused by your outburst. 

Of course, he wasn’t scared of you - a powerless human. You had nothing to threaten him with. Even if you had the powers of a werewolf, he still wouldn’t fear you. 

“There’s that spunk he’s always talking about.” Void said, an odd kind of fondness peeking through his voice that didn’t suit him. “You know, it’s almost… cute. I’m starting to understand why he likes you so much.” 

You only became more pissed off at being called ‘cute’ when you were so boiling angry. It was entirely aggravating - someone being so condescending toward your rage. 

Then, it hit you that the ‘he’ Void spoke about had to be Stiles. Did the two of them have conversations? Why would Stiles bother to praise you to a thousand year old demon? 

It caused more of your affection for Stiles to bubble up inside you, and you hated it. 

“Look, darling, because I like you, I’ll make you a deal,” Void posed, giving you yet another pet name that made you feel oddly disgusted. 

Stiles had called you plenty of friendly nicknames before - he had even called you ‘babe’ jokingly, on occasion. But ‘darling’ had never spilled from his lips toward you. It was just another horrible reminder that he was so terribly not himself. That the thing wearing his face, puppeting him around was not Stiles. 

“What deal?” You replied. 

It was best to move on and start thinking of ways to take care of Stiles - ways to get him out of this mess. 

“I’ll eat something for Stiles if you do something for me in return.” 

You knew that he kept his wording purposefully vague. And you knew that this was likely what Scott had talked about - his intention to trick you. But Void had you right where he wanted you - desperate, fearful. He was manipulating you using emotions that he didn’t have. 

“What do you want from me?” You dared to ask. 

He smirked. 

“I’ll tell you after Stiles has been fed.” 

You took a moment to consider it, knowing that it was likely a terrible idea to agree to anything when it came to him. But he had you backed into a corner. He knew that he could get you to do anything while holding the culpability of Stiles’s wellbeing over your head. 

“Oh no,” Void said, using an oddly soft, pained tone that varied so much from the emotionless, mocking tone he had been using before. He gripped at Stiles’s stomach, and let out a groan of pain that you knew had to be fake, as he professed before that he made Stiles’s body strong and invincible. “He’s begging for you to help him! You’re right, he hasn’t eaten in days, and he’s really feeling it now! It’s killing him!” 

He was using your empathy to manipulate you. 

“Stop it.” You protested, and it came out much weaker than you had intended - sounding much more like a plea than an order. 

He clutched his stomach tighter, and then, he looked up at you with the saddest water eyes you had ever seen - for a moment, a single breath of a moment - you saw Stiles, your Stiles break through. 

“Please, Y/N.” He said, crying out your name breathlessly. “Please, I’m so hungry.” 

“Fine, fine!” You cried in return, barely realizing how close to tears you were, seeing Stiles beaten down, weak, begging for you to help him. “Fine, you’ve got a deal!” 

In a moment of weakness, rushing to help Stiles, you reached out your hand to shake on it, signifying your promise - and in an instant, Void’s face shifted from that soft, vulnerable boy you knew back to that horrible demon, glaring at you as he reached out and grabbed your hand. You knew that many stories cautioned against making a deal with the devil, and you supposed that making a deal with Nogistune was just as bad. 

But it was done now. All you could do was hope that Stiles would benefit from this. 

A short while later, he had scoffed down a very large piece of cake and was halfway done with the cheeseburger, with you intently watching the whole time to make sure that there were no tricks involved on his part. You thought that the meal would mostly be silent, but he finally spoke up again, looking a bit less intimidating with some remnants of the meal smeared across his face. 

“You know, one thing I can credit humans for…” He said, swallowing before he picked up one of the fries. “Their talent for cruelty. Grinding up an animal, frying it in its own melted fat and then covering it in the stolen milk meant to suckle its babes - that is something I can admire.” 

“I’m sure vegans would love you.” You mumbled quietly, to yourself, not entirely sure if he could hear you. 

“You should join me.” He remarked after another bite - motioning toward the table full of food. “It’s more polite than standing over me like a statue, gawking at me the whole time.” 

You knew that with him holding Stiles hostage, you were in no position to refuse him. So you played right into his demands, pulling out the chair across from him without a word and flipping open the pizza box to grab a slice. You began eating in silence, and naturally - Void continued speaking. 

“This is almost like one of those little dates that you used to have with him, isn’t it?” He spoke quietly, mocking you once again. “At least, that’s what Stiles called them. Dates. He was deluded enough to believe that if he didn’t speak it aloud, his affection for you would simply be known.” 

This punched you in the gut, and you bit your tongue as you took your first bite of pizza. You sputtered with shock and Void continued to look amused. You never thought it was true. Scott always said that Stiles had feelings for you, and Lydia said so too - but you thought they were just theorizing. 

You had never, ever thought that your best friend and long time crush - the person you were in love with - would ever feel the same way about you. 

And you had to find out from a fucking demon. 

You remained silent, busying your mouth with eating as you tried to process the shocking news. 

“But we both really know what it was, huh? He was so pathetic… he didn’t want to be rejected by you, so he never even asked. He was never brave enough. Always so pitiful, and small. Your boy is just a coward.” 

Again, you didn’t say anything. Not playing into his game - unaware of the fact that he could feel your annoyance in the air. He didn’t need you to voice your emotions in order to gain satisfaction from mocking Stiles in your presence. 

So of course, he kept on going. 

“But not as pathetic as he is right now. Sweet and pathetic, begging for your life. Begging for me to spare you. It’s almost like a song. He keeps on telling me to stay away from you as if he has any power over this.” 

“Just shut up and eat.” You told him, sharp and even. 

He nodded and continued, seemingly content with the deal you had made - for now. 

And he finished the burger and fries, and two of the Honey Buns before scrunched up the wrapper on the last one, and then wiped his face with an utterly contented smile. Then he said: 

“Now, time for what I want.” 

You wiped off your face and hands with a napkin, done with your pizza - not having much of an appetite anyway with the situation at hand. There was a flash of worry in your mind. Wondering if he might ask you to kill someone for his benefit because they wouldn’t be expecting it to come from you. Or perhaps he might even ask for something sexual - 

He let out a bright chuckle - almost as if reading your mind and highly amused by your thoughts. 

“No, no. Don’t worry, darling. Nothing like that.” He told you. “I feed off of suffering. Precious pain. Anxiety, heartache, fear. Now it’s time for me to eat.” 

You thought he might say something like that. And you had come prepared with that in mind - prepared to give up anything to get Stiles back. 

You reached into the pocket of your jeans, pulling out a small pocket knife. It was one that Scott had given you shortly after you found out that he had become a werewolf. He had never wanted to hurt you, so - it was silver plated steel, and he had Stiles burn Wolfsbane smoke over the blade to poison it - just in case you ever needed a weapon against one of his kind. It would be useless against Void, and the Wolfsbane wouldn’t poison a human like you. 

But the blade was more than sharp enough to cut you. It would hurt you. It would provide the pain that Void desired. 

You shoved your sleeve up to your elbow and poised the blade at your skin, but Void reached out, stopping you. 

For a heart-stopping moment, you thought that somehow, Stiles had regained control. 

But when your eyes flickered up to his face, you saw nothing but Void’s dark amusement lingering in those eyes. This left you confused as he took the knife from your limp grip. 

“As amusing as that would be, sweet thing, it’s rather… boring.” He declared tiredly. “I had something else in mind.” 

Your throat dried up, and you didn’t even realize that you were trembling as you stared him down with terrible, anxious anticipation, waiting to see what he had in store for you. 

Void licked his lips, practically lapping up the delicious, sweet taste of your fear. 

He pocketed the knife and walked around the table toward you. You resisted the urge to get up and run away as he bracketed so close to your side, leaning on the table and tucking his face close to your cheek. Being this close to him, as close as you had been to Stiles since he had been taken hostage - you could almost be tricked by the faint smell of the familiar body wash coming off his skin, by the warmth that you knew to be so human. 

But this wasn’t Stiles. A thought that only made it all feel so much worse. 

It caused you to hold back tears. 

“No, no, darling.” He whispered against your cheek, causing your throat to clench up again. “If I wanted your pain, I could have it. I could take it.” 

Fuck. What had you gotten yourself into? 

You held back a fearful whimper, and Void joyfully continued. 

“I could smack you, punch you, make you bleed.” 

He went on - the confidence of his words causing your trembling to become more apparent as your heart pounded in your chest. You considered running, but that would mean abandoning Stiles. You came here to check on him - to fight for him. You couldn’t chicken out now. 

“I could take your pathetic little knife and stab you, over and over again while Stiles screams and begs for mercy. I do love it when he begs for your life - he’s so much more desperate when it comes to you.” 

Dear god. Would he actually kill you just to force Stiles to watch? Did Stiles have to be conscious for something like that? 

Would he force Stiles to live for the rest of his life with the guilt of not being able to stop your murder? With him in control, would Stiles even live that much longer? 

“But no. That’s not the game I want to play. Not right now, at least.” 

You hated that he likely saw the breath of relief as it flexed from your chest. 

“What -what do you want, then?” You asked, your throat still clenched by fear, making your words come out choked and weak. 

He put a hand on your cheek - one that felt all too familiar. The hand you had held while walking to class, or cuddling on the couch. The hand that dismissively waved in front of your face when you told him that he had come up with another horrible idea. Void turned your face toward him, and you were then up close and personal with the horrible sight of a pain-fueled demon wearing your sweet best friend’s face. 

“I want your tears.” 

Of course. Emotional pain, rather than physical. You would dare to say that it would be even more potent. 

Good thing you were already so close to crying. 

You would just have to spend a few more minutes thinking about Stiles trapped in there, helpless-

“Tell me about the accident.” He declared, smirking, finding the whole ordeal very satisfying. 

“No.” You immediately replied. 

It was too painful. You couldn’t even think about it, it was too much- 

“No?!” He screamed in your ear, causing you to flinch. “Nobody tells me ‘no’! You promised me something, you stupid little bitch. Now hold up your end of the deal.” 

Sadly, he was right. You had made a deal with him - and if this was part of carrying it out… you would have preferred the pocket knife. 

Even just thinking about that night - the blood, the twisted metal, the terror you had felt. The anxiety, the waiting. It had all been so horrible. It had been hell. A worse hell than a dinner date with a demon who was wearing your best friend as a human skin suit. 

Already, Void felt a deep satisfaction as those emotions began to permeate the air around the two of you. To him, it was the most beautiful kind of poison. He took a deep whiff, and then leaned in close again, running his nose along your hairline to sniff you. 

You shrugged away from the touch, but didn’t have far to go without falling off your chair completely. You were happy when he pulled away again - feeling used and wishing for nothing more than Stiles’s comforting touch and assuring words. 

“Perfect.” He mumbled quietly to himself. “You know, Stiles hardly remembers any of it. The night is almost completely blank in his mind.” 

You didn’t know that. After the hospital, the two of you had never bothered to talk about it in order to compare stories. Like you always did, the two of you just moved on. You looked forward to brighter days, thankful that your friendship was still intact. 

“But I know that you remember everything. Every. Single. Last. Detail.” Void said, giving another terrible laugh. 

He grabbed onto the back of your chair, and using a strength that you knew didn’t belong to Stiles, he roughly tugged on it, forcing it away from the table and spinning you to face him. He came back around to stand in front of you - now, he would be the one standing to loom over you, watching you while you provided him with a delicious meal. 

“So, come on,” He prodded. “I want to hear the whole story. And you better not leave anything out.” 

He stood there in complete satisfaction, his arms crossed as he grinned down at you with a devilish smile. 

You took a deep breath, fidgeting with your fingers for a moment. You gathered your courage, and then you began to speak. 

This is for Stiles, you assured yourself. For Stiles. 

“Well, it was the night of the winter formal.” You started off. “And when I saw Stiles screech out of the parking lot in his Jeep at top speed-” 

“No, no.” Void shook his head, cutting you off. “I said start at the beginning.” He scolded you sharply. “That’s not the beginning, is it? I want all the details. Go back to the beginning of the night.” 

“Are you serious?” 

At first, you were utterly confused. He asked you to tell him about the accident. What did a high school dance have to do with a car accident? 

“Of course, darling.” He smirked at you. 

Then, it hit you. He didn’t just want the gorey details. He wanted every ounce of your suffering. He wanted Stiles to suffer too. Especially if he said that Stiles didn’t remember it. He wanted you to recount the entire night to Stiles from your perspective. It was why he had brought up Stiles’s ‘affection’ for you. 

He wanted both of you to suffer in the misery that you had been in love with each other for so long and not been together. The stupidity that you were both blind idiots who kept each other from happiness the whole time. 

So you took a breath, and you told your story how he wanted to hear it, starting from the beginning of the night. 

… 

You were utterly miserable. 

It was one of the biggest dances of the year (well, aside from Prom and Homecoming…) and you didn’t have a date. You had spent a huge chunk of money, your savings from a crappy minimum wage job waiting tables, on a gorgeous dress and shoes, hoping that Stiles would ask you to the dance. But he was going with Lydia. 

You guessed that you had to be happy for him. He had been crushing on her since the third grade, and he was finally going on a date with her. A good best friend would be happy for him. 

But naturally, you were still trying to look your absolute best, maybe, selfishly, in the hope that he would see you from across the room and realize that he had made the wrong choice. Lydia was an amazing, sweet girl - and you genuinely hated the type of jealousy that this was making you feel. 

You knew that logically, you had no claim over Stiles. He was just your friend, and he was more than free to go on dates with other girls. It was downright toxic of you to not ask him to the dance and then get upset when he happily went with someone else as his date. 

But you tried not to think about that as you put the finishing touches on your look. You had gone all out with your best hair and make-up to compliment your expensive crystal blue satin dress. Whether it was to make yourself feel better or to try and capture Stiles’s attention - you still weren’t entirely sure. 

“Lip-gloss?” Allison appeared behind you, holding a hand out, looking for the aforementioned product. 

You handed it to her and she leaned down, looking into the mirror of your vanity while applying it. She had told you that getting ready at her own house would have simply been ‘too weird’ because she was fighting with her family, and she wanted some calm down time. So she had asked to get ready with you, with the offer that Jackson could give you both a ride from there. 

“Look, I’m sorry.” She said, feeling too awkward in the silence as you applied your mascara, focusing on your work and not looking at her in the mirror. She knelt down beside you, guilt written across her face. “If I had known that you liked Stiles, I wouldn’t have set him up with Lydia.” 

“It’s not a big deal.” You remarked. “Like you said, you didn’t know.” After a moment, you added on: “It’s kind of… good. Like a relief. I almost feel like it’s less pressure.” You shrugged. “I can just go and have fun without worrying about impressing him.” 

You had been lying to yourself. You absolutely hated it with every fiber of your being. You didn’t want to be angry with Allison, but you knew that she was better friends with Lydia than she was with you. That’s why she hadn’t known about your feelings for Stiles before now. When she had asked why you seemed so upset about the news that the two were going to the dance together, you told her, and she explained with a sour, sad face that she had set them up. 

You hated it, but you couldn’t help thinking that this was the first step to Stiles and Lydia becoming a thing - the first act in them dating for long months while you resented Lydia for stealing something you once saw as yours. 

And you hated yourself for being that kind of person. 

Allison chuckled at this. 

“Yeah… Well, Scott’s not going at all, so none of us get to go with the person we want to be with.” She said in a deeply sad tone, obviously aching from her own problems. 

… 

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Void commented, drawing you from the memory. “A pretty girl spends too much money on a dress, trying to impress some moron who won’t even notice it.” 

He was mocking Stiles again. 

“And then you had to see him with her.” 

You nodded. 

You could picture it so perfectly in your mind. Getting out of Jackson’s car and seeing Stiles rush to open the door for her - the way he smiled at her, the way he looked at her like she held the world on the edges of her lips. You wanted nothing more than for him to look at you like that. Her perfect ‘strawberry blonde’ hair fluttering in the wind as they walked arm-in-arm across the parking lot. 

It caused the most awful aching pain in your chest that you had ever felt. You didn’t truly know how precious Stiles was to you until you saw him with someone else. 

You knew Jackson was aching too, for much the same reason. And when he had offered you a swig of his drink, you took it. But it wore off too soon for your tastes and you didn’t have more. So for the better part of the night, you were forced to feel your pain while his was drowned out by the booze. 

“Tell me. Tell me how it made you feel.” Void egged you on, wanting you to say it out loud even though your pain was all too palpable in the air. 

“Like I was dying inside,” You answered, your throat tight but - still no tears yet. “Like all good had drained from the world. Like I had lost the most precious thing in my life and I would have to sit at the sidelines watching a perfect story play out when I was supposed to be a part of it.” 

Void took a deep breath, sniffing the air again. And then he chuckled. 

“Your pathetic teenage angst is… so amusing.” He grinned at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do tell me more.” 

You had no clue that somewhere inside of there, Stiles was hit with his own wave of intense sadness - something else for Void to feed off of. He had no clue that you had been in love with him for so long. He had no clue how many opportunities he had missed out on to tell you about his feelings - how long he could have been happily dating you. 

He hated how much time the two of you had missed out on. 

Void sat contently between Stiles’s complicit misery and your renewed angst as you continued the story. 

… 

You had moped around all night. 

You thought perhaps the only person more miserable than you at that dance was Scott - stuck hiding in the shadows, forced to watch Allison dance with Jackson while pretending he wasn’t even there. 

But eventually, he too got his way after making a huge scene that even stopped the band for a moment - and left Coach feeling embarrassed when everyone thought that he went off on a homophobic screaming tirade because Scott was dancing with Danny. Good thing Beacon Hills was pretty progressive. 

After spending all night on the bleachers on the verge of tears, you decided to leave to get yourself a chocolate bar from the vending machine - nothing goes better with sorrow than chocolate, right? Well, perhaps Jackson had a point in pairing his sorrow with liquor. But you weren’t at that point yet. 

You were considering just calling it a night altogether. But you saw Stiles standing by himself, sans Lydia, and you figured it was a good time to make your move, if you were going to make one. 

You wandered over to him shyly. 

You had been feeling so down about yourself, you didn’t notice the way his eyes traced over every inch of you with awe - the way his lips parted with slight shock and wonder at how beautiful you looked that night. 

Just as he was about to tell you so, you spoke up. 

“So… where’s Lydia?” You asked. 

“Oh, uh - she went to go find Jackson.” He said, disappointment seeping through every single inch of his voice. 

“Naturally.” You replied. 

You wanted to rant and scream about how she wasn’t good enough for him if she was going to ditch him for a guy who supposedly didn’t even want her anymore. 

Your eyes strayed over to Allison and Scott on the dance floor, looking at each other with nothing but affection - clearly, only thinking of the other person, so caught up in their own little bubble. She didn’t care that Jackson had ditched her. A small flare of jealousy went through you. 

You wished that could be you and Stiles. 

“Do you wanna dance?” You asked Stiles, hoping that you could have your moment, even if it meant stealing him away from Lydia (when she clearly didn’t care). 

He gave you a shy grin. “Okay.” 

You grabbed his hand and led him out to the dance floor, and his hands found a natural place on your hips while you softly draped your arms around his neck. The two of you swayed to the slow music for a moment before you spoke again. 

“This is nice.” You commented, smiling. 

Though it had felt impossible only an hour ago, you actually felt happiness creeping in. Standing there underneath the coloured lights, dancing with the one person you had wanted the whole time. It was nice. There was still a lick of mourning lingering in your chest. You knew that Stiles still only viewed you as a friend, and you weren’t sure if you could ever gather that courage to take the leap and tell him about how you truly felt. As much as you wanted to just pull him close and kiss him. 

“You know, you were the one person I actually wanted to dance with tonight.” You continued on. “And-” You cut yourself off with a sigh, not wanting to sound too vulnerable. 

“Yeah.” Stiles replied - though he sounded oddly distant and thoughtless. 

When you looked at his face again, you realized that he was staring at something over your shoulder, and you craned your neck to see that he was gawking at his watch. 

“Ugh, really?” You scoffed, pushing him away. “Is dancing with me so awful that you feel the need to time it?” 

“No.” He shook his head furiously, hating what you were accusing him of. “That’s not - look, Lydia’s been gone for over ten minutes! I’m worried.” 

You shook your head, sighing deeply in defeat. Of course he was still thinking about her. 

“Did you ever consider that maybe she found Jackson? That maybe they’re off somewhere making out? That she just ditched you because she doesn’t give a shit about you?” You argued, full of pain, your voice raising in volume to the point where you attracted stares from others on the dancefloor. 

A look of pure pain streaked across Stiles’s face at your words. 

“Whatever.” Stiles shrugged. “I’m going to find her. Because I actually care about her. And because I trust my gut.” He sharply bumped your shoulder as he passed, leaving you feeling more rejected and horrible than ever.

You turned and fled from the room, scurrying away from the many eyes on you once you realized that people were still staring. 

… 

“His gut.” Void chuckled. “He always did have good instincts, didn’t he?” 

He did. Stiles had amazing instincts. 

Because you had been assuming the worst - believing that Lydia had ditched Stiles to go and make-out with Jackson, when in reality, she had been bleeding to death on the lacrosse field. Stiles had been more than right to go looking for her. 

Given, that was before you even knew about the existence of werewolves and all the other bullshit that ran ramped in Beacon Hills. But it didn’t make you feel like any less of a horrible person when you found out. 

“Did you ever consider what a selfish bitch you are?” 

Void continued on when you didn’t speak, seamlessly picking up with his mocking. Of course, he knew all the weak spots to hit. He could feel right where you were soft and vulnerable - right where you flexed with hurt under his taunts. 

“Whining about not getting to dance with some dork while an innocent girl was bleeding to death? Talk about priorities.” 

“I didn’t know.” You replied, your voice stiff. 

You knew it was a poor excuse. You knew that ultimately, you were selfish. You should have gone with Stiles to look for Lydia. You should have helped. 

Distantly, caged up inside of Void - Stiles was eternally thankful about that argument. He was thankful that you had been distanced from all of it, kept away from Peter Hale’s hungry claws. He would have gone insane, having you and Lydia in hospital beds, side by side, not knowing what the fate of either of you would be. 

“Yeah, you can just keep telling yourself that same bullshit, sweetheart.” Void said, his voice a low whisper. “But we both know what you are. Maybe in reality, you’re not that much different from someone like me.” 

Maybe that realization hurt more than anything. 

Maybe that was his intention - to hit you with a truth that would wound you. 

“You know… he still thinks about you in that dress.” Void spoke quietly again, carefully, painstakingly choosing each word. “How… beautiful you looked. His perfect rare crystal.” 

He put emphasis on each word in a way that sent chills down your spine. His sharp gaze coming from Stiles’s honey whiskey eyes felt infinitely darker, and rather than feeling treasured as something good, something valuable like you usually did when Stiles looked at you - you felt filthy. You felt a sense of fear, knowing that Void would use Stiles precious appreciation of you to hurt him. To hurt both of you. 

“That was the night he knew for certain that he was in love with you.” Void let out another laugh - dark and low. “The night he knew that he loved you more than he ever loved Lydia. She was laying in front of him dying, and still - all he could think about was protecting you. Protecting you from the threat.” 

Your throat clenched up, and anything you were going to say was lost. 

“I guess he’s selfish too, isn’t he?” Void posed. “You two are perfect for each other, I suppose.” 

Then, he put on a weak, small, wobbling voice, and began to mock the unique, crippling fear that Stiles had experienced that night. 

“Where’s Y/N? I need to find her. I need to protect her. Is she next?” 

Nausea tightened in your stomach. 

A unique tightness clutched at your chest. 

Stiles had known he was in love with you that night. 

He had been trying to protect you. 

Is that why he had fled from the dance so suddenly? 

“Ask me the question.” Void grinned, entirely excited now that you had put it together, made the realization. “Come on, ask me the question. We both know you want to.” 

“Why are you doing this?” You choked out. 

This was not the question he wanted. 

But still, he indulged you. 

“I told you.” He said firmly. “I like pain.” 

He took a step forward then, leaning down, bracketing his hands by your hips on the wooden kitchen chair’s seat, his face tight in your personal space once again. 

“Now… ask me the question.” 

You took a shallow breath. 

You hated how intimidating he was. You hated knowing that if it had actually been Stiles who was this close to you, it would have given you butterflies or even turned you on, but instead - you felt anxiety having him this close. 

You couldn’t help but to give him what he wanted. 

“What really happened that night?” You whimpered out, terrified of that answer. “Why did Stiles leave the dance?” 

Void grinned. 

“What a brilliant question. You are such a clever girl.” 

… 

All of it happened so fast. 

Stiles spotted Lydia from afar - her red hair very distinctive. Then he saw it - a humanoid shape transforming into a big, black beast. Razor sharp teeth and claws. 

He begged for her life, and he had been given one chance to spare her - a single call to Jackson. Luckily, the asshole picked up. (It was the one time in Stiles’s life that he had ever been thankful for Jackson’s existence.) 

And then, he was being kidnapped, forced into his own car and being forced to drive to God knows where. 

Of course, he was far too busy with the panic of it all, and he didn’t notice you. 

He didn’t notice you - stumbling into the parking lot, looking for him in order to apologize for what you had said. He didn’t notice you watching with suspicion and confusion as his Jeep pulled out of the parking lot at top speed. He didn’t notice you going into your purse for your phone, looking to call his dad, considering making a report to him about it - only to find Jackson’s keys in your purse from earlier that night. Because when you had spotted him still drinking more than an hour into the dance, so sloshed that he could barely stand, you had demanded his keys from him, telling him that you wouldn’t let him drink and drive. 

Stiles hadn’t noticed you getting into Jackson’s car and stealing it in order to trail behind him to see where he was going - just in time to miss Jackson running through the parking lot screaming for help with Lydia’s limp body in his arms. 

Stiles was too busy with panic and anxiety to notice any of that, far too busy wondering if he was going to get out of this alive. And now, he was driving down a deserted backroad with Peter Hale in his passenger’s seat, who was making entirely sexist remarks about how Lydia would end up ripping his throat out ‘twice a month’ if she survived The Bite. 

“You know, you didn’t have to protect her from it.” Peter droned on, increasing Stiles’s anxiety and annoyance. “It’s going to make her whole life better. She’ll thank me for it when she’s ready.” 

“You should have just left her out of this.” Stiles bit back. “Lydia is a good girl. She doesn’t deserve any of this.” He huffed. “If she dies, I swear to god, I’ll-” 

“You’ll what?” 

Peter chuckled, grinning, seeming amused by Stiles’s vague, likely unbackable threats. Stiles ground his teeth, not responding - hating that they both knew he wouldn’t be able to follow through on anything he threatened. Not when Peter could kill him with one clean swipe of his claws. 

“You’re protective. I do admire that in a man.” He paused, thinking. “Though, I suppose… you’re not quite a man, are you? At least not yet.” 

Stiles bit his tongue, not wanting to make any further threats that he couldn’t live up to. He had seen what Peter could do, and unfortunately - he knew that he didn’t have the physical force to fight against him. 

So what the hell could he do? 

That was the question that made Stiles’s mind tink on anxiously, convincing him further that he just might end up dead tonight. 

“What about your other pretty friend?” Peter wondered aloud, changing the subject suddenly in a way that confused Stiles. “Are you just as protective of her?” 

“What? Are you talking about Y/N?” Stiles’s heart began pumping even more viciously with anxiety, absolutely terrified that you were on Peter’s radar. 

He hated that he knew Peter could hear it - that spike in his heart rate that indicated his fear, his weakness. 

“The one in the blue dress.” Peter told him, seeming almost disinterested in the conversation as he picked at his nails. Stiles’s heart thumped harder in affirmation, and Peter continued. “She wears that lovely vanilla perfume-” 

“Leave her out of this!” Stiles screamed at the top of his lungs, rage overtaking him so suddenly that he almost swerved off the road - Peter reached over and corrected this, rolling his eyes at the outburst. 

Stiles clenched his jaw tightly and looked ahead at the road, fuming. 

(Driving behind him in Jackson’s car, you wondered why his driving was suddenly so erratic.) 

“You leave her the hell alone.” Stiles huffed, praying that there was some finality to his words. 

“That would be a little difficult, considering that she’s been following us for half a mile.” Peter grinned. “I am going to have to speak to her about this whole matter when we arrive.” 

Stiles thought that Peter was bluffing - trying to use you as leverage to get him to co-operate, just as he had done with Lydia. But when he squinted into the rearview mirror, he saw… Jackson’s car? And a flash of blue in the driver’s seat that must have been your dress. 

Fuck. 

He was so screwed. 

“What do you mean ‘speak to her’?” Stiles questioned, entirely panicked. 

“Well, we can’t have her running back to the Argents to warn them.” Peter smirked. “Perhaps, I can convince her how beneficial the Bite would be to her-” 

“No!” 

Stiles screamed, his voice filling up the entire cab of the Jeep with the might of his protection toward you. 

“Enough! Okay? Enough. You can do whatever you want with me - I’ll do whatever you want, I swear. And then you can kill me when you’re done with me so I won’t blab.” His voice tightened up around these words, slightly frightened to resign himself to this fate, but he was willing to do whatever it would take to protect you. “Just leave her the hell alone.” 

“And if I don’t?” Peter asked, taunting, clearly enjoying the emotional reaction prompted from Stiles trying to protect you. “What can you possibly do about it?” 

Think. Stiles wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel. Think, think, think, Stiles! You’re supposed to be the clever one. 

An idea popped into his head. 

It wasn’t clever. It wasn’t good. But it was the only idea that he had. 

And when he took one last glance in the rearview mirror and realized that you were about twenty feet back - more than enough to hit the brakes in time - he resigned himself to it. 

He put his seatbelt on, and then - he harshly turned the wheel toward the nearest tree and - he gunned it. 

… 

The crash shocked you. 

You slammed on the brakes as quickly as you could, and came to a stop a few feet behind the tree that Stiles had rammed into. You stumbled out of the driver’s side door in shock, tears in your eyes as you wandered toward the Jeep - which was now nothing more than a heap of twisted metal, smoking, the horn blaring loudly where it was crumbled against the tree. 

“Stiles?” You called out, praying that he would answer you. “Stiles?” 

You slowly came around the car, finally able to get a good view of him through the smashed driver’s side window. 

He was entirely still, collapsed against the air-bag that had emerged from the steering wheel, blood smeared all over the white material. So much blood. It painted the smashed front windshield, dripped through his shirt. He was so still. He wasn’t moving. He-

“Stiles?” 

When he didn’t respond, you let out a loud sob. 

“Stiles? Come on - you - you have to-!” You couldn’t contain another sob as it tore through you, making you utterly breathless. 

You had been so distraught that you didn’t notice the passenger side door was wide open, even though there was not a single trace that anybody had been sitting there. Even if you had noticed, you likely would have chalked it up to the door being flung open from the force of the crash. 

Your ears were pounding with blood from the shock and you didn’t even notice the wolf-like howls echoing into the night above you. 

…

“I thought he was dead.” 

Your body couldn’t contain another sob when you got to this part in the story - finally providing Void with the tears he so desired. 

As you went over the horrors of that night in your mind, they now poured freely down your face. Your pain was made even worse with the stunning realization: Stiles had done it all to protect you. Put himself in danger, gone through so much pain - all to protect you. 

Void smiled at you - a terrible, haunting grin that he mocked you while wearing the face of the man you loved the most. 

“So beautiful.” He hummed, reaching out and wiping your tears - not to comfort you, of course. He gathered the wetness on his fingers and brought it to his lips, licking it. At this, he gave a satisfied sound. “So much pain.” 

“Are we done now?” You asked, wanting to be alone to wallow in your pain. 

Truthfully - you wanted nothing more than the comfort of Stiles. You wanted him to hold you and tell you that everything would be okay in the soothing way that he always did. You wondered if hugging Void would feel the same. You wondered if you could close your eyes and pretend, even for a moment. 

“No.” He told you, enjoying the extra little bit of anguish he could wring from you by telling you this. “Because that wasn’t the worst part, was it?” 

…

“Look, Noah, it’s probably nothing.” Melissa said firmly, doing her best to try and soothe the fellow parent. Sheriff Stilinski had already been at the hospital to take a report on what had happened to Lydia when something else came over the radio - a car accident report about a crash involving a blue Jeep. “Stiles isn’t the only person in this town who drives a-” 

Before she could even get the words out, the paramedics came bursting into the ambulance bay, wheeling in a bloodied, unconscious Stiles on a stretcher with you walking beside them, holding his hand. 

“My boy.” The Sheriff sobbed, rushing to reach them. 

Melissa knew that the doctors would likely need to get him up to the ER with the kind of condition that he was in, so she moved to escort you and the Sheriff to the waiting room. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and you refused to be pulled away - you refused to let go of his hand. 

“He needs me.” You bawled, tears still steadily streaming down your face. “He needs me!” 

“Let them work, sweetie, just-” Melissa argued gently, trying to be understanding about the kind of shock you were in. 

“He needs me! He needs me!” 

She held you back, tearing your grip off of Stiles so that he could be escorted to the ER. Melissa began to cradle you comfortingly, rubbing a hand on your shoulder. 

There was only a short moment of silence before-

“What the hell happened?” The Sheriff turned to you, barking the words loudly, obviously yearning for answers about how Stiles had gotten hurt. 

“I - I don’t know.” You answered meekly, feeling intimidated by him. 

“Was he drinking? Were you two partying?” He screamed, getting closer into your space. 

Quickly, Melissa stepped between the two of you, putting a hand on Sheriff Stilinski’s chest to keep him at bay. 

“Noah, stop it-” 

“Was he drinking?” He pressed, forcing the words out slower, as though you were too dumb to understand. 

“What? No!” You quickly replied. “Stiles doesn’t drink!” 

(That had been a lie. You had seen him drink a few times at parties. But you knew that he was a firm proponent of designated sober drivers because of how many accident reports his father had filed from drunk drivers that involved death.) 

“Even if he was, I would never let him drive! Stiles would never let anybody drink and drive because that’s what you taught him!” 

You felt a slight bit of guilt, knowing that you had sipped on Jackson’s bottle and gotten behind the wheel. You wondered if that one single sip made you guilty of the crime that Stiles was so very much against. 

Before you could dwell on it too much, you continued. 

“I took Jackon’s keys from him to keep him from drunk driving! That’s how I followed Stiles in the first place.” 

“You used my car?” Jackson appeared behind you suddenly, taking on an accusatory tone. 

Everyone ignored him. 

“Well? Where was he going? What was he doing? How the hell did this happen?”

“I. Don’t. Know.” You ground out slowly. “It’s not like it was my fault!” 

… 

Void let out another astrid laugh. 

“Oh, but it was.” He grinned. “It was all your fault. How did it feel lying to a police officer about the fact that you almost killed his son?” 

“I wasn’t lying.” You replied, your throat gripped by tears. “I didn’t know.” 

You were glad that you hadn’t known the truth at the time. You weren’t sure if you could have faced the Sheriff, knowing that Stiles’s near death experience had been all your fault. 

“Would you look the Sheriff in the eyes and tell him that now?” Void asked. “Or would you apologize? Tell him that it’s all your fault that stupid, infatuated Stiles crashed his car into a tree trying to save you?” 

“I-” You choked out, truly unsure what to say. “I don’t know.” 

“Would you have taken his place?” Void snipped, quick to berate you with more questions. 

“What?” You parroted back, slightly confused. 

“Would you have taken his place?” He repeated. “You - caught up in that heap of twisted metal, carted off to the hospital to be poked and prodded by doctors, cut up, barely alive? Him - crying at your bedside like a pathetic idiot?” 

You had never considered it. You didn’t think it was wise to dwell on the past or mull-over hypotheticals like that. But truthfully - you thought that what had happened to you was worse. You thought that Stiles got the better end of it, sleeping through most of it while you had to steep in your pain. 

“Y-yes.” You said, hesitating slightly, feeling as though this was the proper, kind answer - saying that you would have taken the physical pain for him - that you would have laid in the bed and taken all of it in his place if you could have. 

“Uh-oh.” Void said, shaking his head. “Nobody likes a liar, Y/N.” 

How he knew that you were lying, you had no clue. 

But you were eager to move on from it before he prodded you about it any further. So you quickly moved on with your story. 

“And then, there was the waiting.” You told him. “We had to wait hours for him to come out of surgery, wondering if he was going to live. And then I waited for weeks by his bedside, wondering if he was ever going to wake up.” 

You swallowed around a painful knot in your throat as you remembered it. 

“So perfectly pathetic, isn’t it?” Void commented. “The way that you showed up to that hospital every single day - spent nights sleeping beside him in an uncomfortable plastic chair, just waiting… every single day waiting to see if he was going to wake up. Or rather - seeing if he was going to finally slip away. Waiting to see if he was finally going to die.” 

You let out more tears and Void sniffed the air again, taking a deep breath, enjoying the depth of your pain. 

“I wish I could have been there.” He remarked. “Every single day, you mourned over him. You cried for him. What a waste of sweet suffering.” 

He let out another laugh. You go do nothing more but sit there and let him mock you, let him indulge in the suffering that you had promised him. 

“You showed up every single day and he didn’t even know it. You talked to him, read to him, played him music… not even knowing if he could hear you. Thinking that he could hear you, but just… hinging it all on that tiny ray of hope.” 

You thought for certain that Void would confirm then and there that Stiles had never heard you when he had been comatose, because before he had said that your hope being broken was ‘delicious’. 

But what he did next hurt so much more.

Because of course, he knew the worst, most perfect ways to hurt you.  

“You read him The Velveteen Rabbit… because he said that his Mommy used to read it to him.” 

Void said, mocking deep in his voice. And then, he put on a shrill impression of you as he spoke again - repeating word for word what you had said to Stiles when you had been at his bedside. Private words that had been meant only for Stiles. 

“‘Stiles, you have to wake up. You have to wake up so we can be together again. Look, I know I messed up before, but… I really like you. I might even love you. Fuck it - I do love you. I’m in love with you, and you - you have to wake up so that I can spend the rest of my life loving you.’” 

He burst into laughter with these last words, cutting right through you. 

“Well, newsflash!” He screamed, startling you with his sudden volume, shaking you. “Stiles isn’t going to wake up this time. He’s never coming back again. You’re going to spend the rest of your life alone.” 

“He will.” You said weakly, knowing how defeated you sounded. “He’ll come back. He’ll come back to me, I know it.” 

You and Void both knew that you were trying to convince yourself with these words. 

Void pulled up his shirt, showing off the long, jagged scar in the middle of Stiles’s stomach - the scar he had from the accident. 

“See this? This is his human weakness.” Void stated. “I came along and I made him into something so much better. I made him strong. I made him-” 

“You ruined him!” You screamed, finally standing from your chair, hyper charged with your own rage now. “You took away everything that made him good - his sweetness, his kindness, his empathy. You-” 

“No, sweetheart.” Void grabbed your face, shutting you up and causing sharp shocks of pain across your head as he roughly jostled you. “Those things have always been his downfall. His stupid kindness and empathy caused him to crash himself into a fucking tree tyring to protect you. You - a dumb bitch who is still willing to put herself this close to a demon who could gut her in a second without a single care.” 

You held your breath. You waited for him to do something more - to truly attempt to harm you. 

And then, after a paralyzing second of staring into those dead eyes - he let you go again. You took a step back. You should have run - you should have run, and run, until you found Scott or someone else. But he was right. You were a dumb bitch. Even now, you couldn’t abandon Stiles. 

“You know, it’s even the same thing right now.” Void grinned. “The minute he gets back the slightest bit of control, he keeps trying to crash the damn car. He keeps trying to protect you!” 

He burst into laughter again, and your insides shook with fear. 

You knew that Stiles ‘crashing the car’ this time would only end with him dying. And you weren’t sure which was worse - him living in there, trapped and tortured while a demon controlled his body - or him killing himself to end all potential harm that Void could do to you and anybody else. 

“Even now, he’s begging me to shove this pathetic little knife into his neck,” He said, taking your knife out of his pocket and raising it up to his jugular. “Just so that there won’t be a single chance of me hurting you.” 

Your chest jumped. 

Upon instinct, you stepped forward and grabbed his wrist, attempting to pull the knife back - but of course, Void was much stronger than you, and his grip didn’t budge. Not even a slight bit. 

Your heart raced as you began to panic. 

“Please, don’t-” You muttered out, knowing that begging was likely your only course of action, whether Void or Stiles was the one in control. 

He grinned. “What are you going to do to stop me?” 

You had an idea. A terrible one. 

You leaned in, sealing your lips onto his - feeling chapped skin against yours and for a moment thinking that you had a one-way ticket to getting stabbed. But then, you felt the stiff, tense form underneath you soften up. You felt a gentle sigh, a sigh of relief leave Stiles’s lips as he pressed back, pushing into the kiss as though he had been yearning for this for centuries. 

The hand holding the knife to his neck shook - sharp spasms going through the muscles as he battled with himself. And after a moment, he dropped the object to the floor with a quiet clatter. Then, he brought that hand to smooth across your back in a gentle, comforting way that could have only been Stiles. 

You pulled away from the kiss after a moment, and when you looked into his eyes, you knew for certain that it was him. The softness, the sadness, the apologetic mourning. 

“Y/N-” He croaked out, releasing a few years of his own. 

“Hang in there, my love.” You told him, reaching up to gently grasp at his cheek. 

And then, just like the sun peeking through on a cloudy day - he was gone. 

Void’s horrible grin took over once again, and all the life dropped out of those eyes. 

“You truly are pathetic.” He said, giving another horrible laugh. 

Perhaps he was trying to convince you that Stiles had never been there, that it had only been a trick, but - you knew what you saw. 

Void hated it. 

It was something that he absolutely hated to admit, but you gave Stiles strength. You were likely the only person in town, likely the only thing on earth that could have given him - a weak, stupid, pathetic human, the strength to overpower the epic thousand year old demon that had taken control. 

In that moment, in an instant, he decided that you had to be eliminated. 

Void didn’t hesitate to reach down and pick up the knife. 

“No-” You gasped out. 

Before you could blink, he grabbed your shoulder, shoved you against a nearby wall, and plunged the small blade into your stomach. He didn’t stop just once - he stabbed you again, and again, and again - creating a flurry of blood and mashing flesh that caused you to gasp from the pain and sheer shock that overtook your body. 

It didn’t hurt as much as you expected it to. It was like a simple pinprick - nothing more painful than a needle piercing your skin for a routine blood sample. But when you felt the intense hot waves of blood pouring out, soaking your clothes - you knew that it was bad. You were already shaking from the shock and you knew that him pressing against you was the only thing still holding you up. 

Void took a tight hold of your face, both your cheeks in one blood-coated hand, and pressed his forehead tightly into yours. 

“Look at her.” He growled out, his voice as sharp and frightening as ever. “Look at her. Look at her while she’s dying.” 

You knew in an instant that he wasn’t talking to you. 

“Look at what you’ve done, Stiles!” He screeched, his voice harsh, almost distorted. “All that begging… all that begging - all for nothing!” 

“It’s okay.” You huffed out, reaching up, your hand surprisingly bloody, trying to touch his cheek in comfort. “It-it’s okay.” 

You were determined to survive this. Or - at the very least - you didn’t want Stiles living with the guilt if you didn’t. 

“Stiles-” 

Void wouldn’t stand for it. This comfort. 

He quickly stamped out this truth with a few more quick, violent jabs of the knife into your gut, forcing Stiles to watch as he violently eviscerated you. 

Then, he tossed the knife aside and let you slump to the floor before he walked away. 

He left you for dead, all too pleased with how utterly the sight of you bloodied and limp tortured Stiles. 

He left you there, not knowing that he left you with just enough determination - just enough life left you to drag your shaking body to the phone and get a bloody hand wrapped around it.

...

Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, so there will not be a sequel or a 'Part 2'. If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging it to show your appreciation, commenting on this fic, or you can take a look at my Teen Wolf Masterlist for more of my fics from this fandom.

However, please do not comment on this fic asking for a sequel or asking for more - I generally consider that stressful and impolite. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written.

Because I ended the fic the way I did, I do have some ideas for a potential sequel, but it's not something that I am rushing to write, and it's not something that will be on my schedule anytime soon. If you would like to, you can come into my inbox and chat about my ideas for the potential sequel - but right now they are just ideas and they will stay that way for a long time before becoming a full realised story (if they ever become one). I hope you enjoyed this fic as the capsule story oneshot that I always intended for it to be, and that you enjoy my other works if you do check them out.

[writingwithfolklore]

6 Ways to Develop Your Writing Intuition

Read broadly—articles, genres you normally wouldn’t, authors or writers you’ve never heard of, work from your classmates or friends

Try several versions of each scene—add things, take away things, experiment and explore with your stories and scenes, try things you don’t think will work, or take inspiration from prompts to change your scene in new ways

Get feedback—without colouring your feedbacker’s opinion, ask people what their impressions are of your work, listen to them

Write things you normally wouldn’t—if you always write from a female POV, try a male or non-binary one (or other). If your settings tend to be rural, try urban. Explore creative non-fiction if you’ve always written fiction, or poetry, etc.

Watch movies, student films and plays—see if there’s a film fest in your city, or a student show, or a small theatre production. Don’t just limit yourself to blockbusters.

Write reviews for different media—even if you don’t post them anywhere, by thinking critically about the media you consume you can begin to develop your sensibility for what a good story or characters look like versus ones that fall flat for you.

[greedyhoneyz]

Welcome to Wonderland

.ೃ࿔*:･pairing: eren yeager x pregnant!reader

.ೃ࿔*:･synopsis: soon-to-be-parents embark on a joyous adventure, preparing for the arrival of their little one in a quest to find the perfect stroller.

.ೃ࿔*:･cw: none. fluff. domestic.

.ೃ࿔*:･authors note: inspired by baby mine from @tojigasm. im in a 'baby' mood and wanted to write something other than football. you can probably tell that I haven't watched the show but honestly, I've kind of based eren on his portrayals by other writers on this app and what I feel he would say and act like if he was a modern character. truthfully i just need to watch the show, but I'm honestly not good at keeping up with shows in general.

Onesies. Diapers. Bottles. Pacifiers. Cribs. Toys.

This was the world of babies. 

Eren had never felt so intimidated— standing by the store doors, a trolley glued to his front as he gawked at the avalanche of ‘everything baby’ in front of him. The signs above the aisles, all printed with words that seemed important, taunted him with ridiculing laughter and bizarre speeches filled with phoney concern. 

Hesitantly, Eren veered around and then glanced at (name). He swallowed deeply before speaking between shallow breaths. “Where do we start?”

(name) was quiet for a few moments as her eyes aimlessly scanned the store floor. She let out a breath and then paused, blinking, before glancing down at her phone. “Uh,”

She padded her thumbs across her screen and scrolled through her baby registry. 

“Strollers,” (name) managed to breathe out. She nodded to herself, assured by her choice and peered up at Eren, nodding once again. “Yeah, I think we should look at strollers first.”

“Strollers…” Eren muttered back slowly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “…that's good.”

The metallic clatter and squeak of the trolley and its battered wheels followed Eren and (name) as they pushed the cart towards the “strollers & travel systems” section. 

The trolley squeaked to a halt when (name) stopped. She blinked, rubbing her lips together and slowly stepped away from Eren. 

“This is nice.” She spoke softly. She raised her hands, her curious fingers wriggling in the air, and fiddled with the straps and handle of the matte black stroller. From the platform where it was perched, she pushed it back and forth, whirling the stroller from side to side. “It moves nicely too.”

“This one looks good too.” Pivoting on the heels of her feet, (name) carefully stroked the handle of another. It was grey, except for its black frame, and carried a sizable basket beneath it unlike the other.

Eren hummed in response to (name) and shifted away from the trolley. He inclined forward and fiddled with the hood of the stroller, pushing it back and dragging it forward. He smoothed his hands across its aluminium frame and picked at the price tag, strapped at the handle. “Not bad, you like it?” 

(name) shrugged. “It’s nice, but I think we should look around first before we decide on anything first.”

The trolley’s shaky rattle continued as (name) and Eren strolled through rows and rows of strollers in various colours, sizes and shapes. 

The traditional strollers, with large wheels and adjustable handles, had quickly gained (name’s) favour, whilst the lightweight umbrella strollers, which were perfect for prompt trips around the town, perked Eren’s eye. The jogging strollers failed to reel both Eren and (name) in, and though their suspension and manoeuvrability brought ease and comfort, the couple could envision themselves going for light jogs across their neighbourhood with their little one in tow. It wasn’t their style. 

“Is there anything here you like?” After a while of searching, Eren and (name) had broken off their stroll and huddled themselves into a corner and fueled themselves with the breakfast bars (name) had stashed inside her purse.

 "No," Eren shook his head, swallowing, his face twisted.

“Well,” (name) began. “If we can’t decide on anything now, I think we should move onto bassinets–”

“What?” A baffled expression came to (name’s) face as she watched Eren shoot off directly to a larger display of strollers.

With a smile on his lips and sparkling eyes, he bent down to retrieve a car seat from the queue of strollers. He waved, beckoning (name) over and beamed down at the contraption below. 

Gripping the metal ledge of the trolley, (name) towed it behind her as she walked. 

She stopped, standing a few feet away and with an inquisitive brow, glanced down at Eren.

“Look.” Hanging his figure over the car seat, Eren turned his back to (name). He lowered his arms, positioning his hands on either side of the seat, its front and its back. He gripped the handle with one hand and tucked his other into the safety lock. He pressed the lock, heaving it upwards as its legs, tucked beneath, extended outwards. Setting it down on the floor, Eren carefully eased the handle from above the black hood and towed it above the seat. A quiet snap could be heard as he adjusted the handle to his hip with a single push of a button. 

“Wow.” (name) gaped, her eyes wide and slowly circled the stroller.

“Cool, ain't it?” Eren smiled proudly. He pushed the stroller back and forth, wheeling it across the aisle in jagged lines. “‘Been looking at this online.”

“And it's good for travelling,” he boasted. “For when we fly. Oh, and it's light….it moves so nice….”

Resting her hand on the swell of her belly, (name) bent down and moved her hands across the seat, running her fingers against its smooth fabric. “But what happens when the baby gets too big and grows out of this?”

“Then…I…guess we buy two strollers?” Eren blurted out slowly.

“Babe… I don’t know.” Reclining back to height, (name) propped her hand on her hip and furrowed her brows together. She pulled her lips down into a frown and shook her head unhappily. 

Eren could feel his heart plunge into the pits of his stomach as (name) scowled. He was convinced that the stroller parked before him was it. And now, as he stared at his wife, he wasn’t too sure she felt the same.  

“Listen, baby, it's a great car seat and stroller,” he began. “C’mon, it's convenient and easy to use, we get this and it’ll make our lives so much easier when the baby comes.”

“Trust me, baby, I’ve done my research. I’ve watched videos and read reviews. This is the one.”

(name) thought a moment, gnawing at her bottom lip. After inspecting the stroller-car seat ensemble, she took Eren’s place at the wheel and rolled it across the aisle, and then back to him. 

She stopped in front of him, parking the stroller a few inches from his feet and sighed. She blinked and blinked and then blinked again, and sighed, tracing her hand across its hood. 

“Alright,” She said. “We’ll get it.”

Eren couldn’t help but cheer, thrusting his fists in the air before launching onto his wife. He wrapped his arms around (name), pulling her into his chest, her swollen belly pressed against his middle, and peppered kisses across her head, his nose bristling against her hair. “Yes!”

“Babe— Eren let go, you’re pulling on my hair.” Wriggling out from Eren’s grasp, (name) huffed, her eyebrows furrowed together and quickly patted away at her hair. 

After calling for assistance, Eren, then armed with newfound instructions, made his way down the aisles to the shelf containing another replica of the stroller, with (name) in tow. Below it were two rows of boxes.

Eren reached out, bending his knees, wrapped his arms around the box and lifted it into the air. With careful feet, he hauled the box toward their trolley and plopped it into the basket. 

“There.” He huffed. He wiped his hands and stared at the box, a twinkle glinted in his eyes, grinning from ear to ear as (name) looked on from the sidelines. 

She approached Eren, a hand to the trolley, the other to her stomach, and studied him. In awe at the way, his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and his cheeks carried a gentle, rosy tint when he was excited. His joy was palpable, radiating out from him like a comforting blanket. 

As she gazed at him, (name) felt a deep sense of gratitude. Most women weren’t as lucky as she was, having a man so involved, so excited it’s damn near infuriating. But she cherished his joy, his nervousness, his wonder. He was new to this world, this world of babies, as was she, and whilst at times it was overwhelming, it was beautiful and intriguing to come to learn and to love the little human cocooned inside her belly. 

And as Eren looked up and caught her eye, (name) returned his smile with one of her own. In a silent exchange, they basked in each other’s warmth, arm in arm, sharing each other’s bliss.

[megwritesriddles]

Just Can't Hide it ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 20 - Premature Ejaculation. Mike is determined to ask Reader to be his girlfriend, Reader is determined to have sex. Mike can't quite keep up with his own desires, but is happy to compensate.

Tags: Premature ejaculation, Unprotected sex, Oral sex (f receiving), Cum-eating, Workplace sex, Over a desk, Coworkers, Getting together, New relationship, Fluff, Not canon complaint (no evil animatronics).

Word count: 2.8k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: This is a part two to Call Me (Anytime!), I had one request for it and I kinda thought it fit this prompt so I did it!! This can be read alone though!! It's short and sweet because... well... you know... lol!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

PART 1 HERE !!

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Mike was running late to work. He was furious with himself for letting it get to this, but it turns out he had severely underestimated how time-consuming it would be to buy flowers. The last time he’d bought flowers, for his mother’s funeral, he had just been trying to get it all over with as soon as possible. This was different. He stood in the surprisingly vast flower section of the supermarket, just staring at all of the various options. His eyes had immediately drifted to the more decadent assortments, but he had also quickly come to realise how expensive flowers were. As much as his bank account wanted him to, he couldn’t get you any of the cheapest bouquets, you were worth so much more to him than that, worth more than even the most expensive assortment of perfectly organised roses in the store. Yet, he had to stay realistic, he had himself and Abby to feed until the next payday. He browsed the mid-priced bouquets, even asking the store assistant for help. He’d been an entirely uninterested teenage boy who had offered no help whatsoever. Eventually, Mike realised the time, you would be sitting at work waiting for him to arrive and he was stuck umming and ahhing over some flowers. He settled on a bouquet in your favourite colour, praying you’d like them, and checked out at the self-checkout to save time. 

You were pissed. Mike always lets you know when he is going to be late and why. Even at times when you felt he would have been perfectly justified not to tell you, such as the time last year that Abby was rushed to hospital with a high fever, he had texted you. Yet, you heard nothing. Usually, you might give him the benefit of the doubt, but the telltale sting of rejection is creeping up on you. His lack of communication left you feeling rejected, especially after the nature of the last conversation the two of you had together. When he finally burst into the building, carrying his backpack oddly in his arms, you were feeling huffy. He reaches the security office and grins at you lopsidedly. It takes a lot of effort not to smile back, finding his expression incredibly endearing despite yourself. 

“You finally showed up then?” you frown, tilting your chin up haughtily. You didn’t know why you were acting like this, you knew Mike, he’d have a reason, but you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. You felt vulnerable. Mike's face falls a little.

“I’m sorry, I have a reason, I promise! I-“ he starts. You keep frowning. You’d had a vision of how this night would go, and it was no longer going that way. It wasn’t his fault, you had never shared your plans, but you still felt… bad. You would’ve arrived at work after him like usual, and you would have gone over to sit on his lap instead of your own chair, preventing him from starting his rounds. You would have teased and toyed with him until he gave in and bent you over the desk like you (and he) had been wanting for so long. But now, the whole thing was messed up. You watch with feigned disinterest as he unzips his backpack. “Here, f-for you,” he smiles nervously, gently extracting the bouquet from his bag and holding it out to you. Your expression melts instantly. A bouquet in your favourite colour, no man had ever been so thoughtful for you before. You take them from him, sniffing the sweet floral scent, your nose brushing the silky petals. 

“Oh Mike…” you sigh, all your previous tension and upset disappearing. He blushes, staring down at where you sit as you inhale the scent of the flowers. He takes a deep breath, summoning all the courage he has.

“I would… I would really like it if you would… uh… be my girlfriend?” he stammers out, immediately cursing himself for his phrasing. That hadn’t come out like he’d practised in the bathroom mirror earlier this evening. “I-I mean… only if you want to, of course, but I would be so happy if–”

“Yes,” you respond, smiling up at him, the lower half of your face still behind the bouquet. He stares at you, momentarily dumbstruck, mouth slightly ajar. Then his expression transforms, he grins wide and slightly crooked with excitement.

“You will?” he exhales.

“I will, come here,” you gently place down the bouquet on the security desk, still wrapped in its paper. You stand and open your arms for him, he’s immediately surging forward into your embrace. He needs this like he needs air. He can’t remember the last time he embraced someone who wasn’t family, and even then, if Abby wasn’t counted, it must have been at least years. It would have felt good if it was anyone, but it was you. The object of all his desires and adoration, the most beautiful woman in the world, his closest friend. He wraps his arms tight around your middle, lifting you ever-so-slightly into the air as he embraces you. This makes you giggle a little, your arms settling around his neck. He places you back down and looks at you, deep into your eyes. He’s never felt so overjoyed in his life. His girlfriend. He can barely process it, but you’re right there, smiling sweetly, the corners of your eyes crinkling in the way he adores. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers in awe. You just blush a little and shrug him off. 

“Says you,” you huff, smiling more as he pulls you even closer. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” he chuckles. “You must just be seeing your reflection in my eyes,” you laugh softly, staring into his eyes, certainly not paying any attention to the impression of yourself in them. You lean forward and press your lips to his. His eyes slip shut immediately, as do yours. His hands settle on your waist, kissing you back a little tentatively. It’s been a long time, and he doesn’t dare to mess it up, but he needs it more than anything. You take the lead, feeling his nerves, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself closer. Softly, you toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, enjoying the way he keens into it. You’re like a dream to him, the best dream he’s ever had, completely blissful and unhaunted by the past. He gently drags his tongue along your bottom lip and you part them in response. He hums, carefully letting his tongue explore your mouth, all his movements soft and controlled. “You’re perfect, you taste perfect, sweet,” he mumbles between kisses, his hands sliding up and down your body, getting to know every outline.

“Imagine how I might taste elsewhere,” you whisper against his lips, instantly shifting the mood, grinning when he chokes out a moan. He’s certainly imagining it now, his hands tightening on you.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his cock hardening rapidly in his jeans. “Don’t say stuff like that, I’m a desperate guy,” he laughs lowly, trying to sound jokey, but meaning it completely. With you so close and beautiful and best of all willing, he’s having a hard time holding it together.

“Take me then,” you whisper, excited that things are finally going as you planned, even though becoming Mike’s girlfriend had turned out to be a rather nice diversion. He groans, leaning in to kiss your neck.

“Are you sure?” he questions shakily as you push his hoodie off of his shoulders. 

“So sure, this is what I want, and I know you want it too,” you murmur, leaning your head back so he can kiss under your jaw, sucking softly. You hope he’s leaving marks. The two of you pull away from one another briefly to shed your clothes. A coating of pink dusts the tips of Mike’s ears and you can tell he’s a little insecure, but you find him unbelievably sexy. He’s broad and muscular in the arms, with a bit of softness around his belly and, not to mention, incredibly well-endowed. He stands at full attention, twitching and leaking pre-cum as he watches your body be revealed to him. Every insecurity that might have existed in the back of your mind is gone as soon as his eyes are on you, drinking you in like you’re a piece of art. He exhales needily, moving toward you. 

“You look unbelievable, fuck, I need you bad,” he chuckles deeply, one hand coming to gently cup your breast, the other sliding behind you onto your ass. He closes his eyes, trembling slightly in excitement. He can’t believe that he’s being blessed with this, there were no words in all of language to explain how grateful he was. He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling your scent. “You are a dream,” he promises against your skin. You giggle softly. His hands massage you for a moment, drinking in your form and presence. You definitely shouldn’t be doing this at work, but the door is closed, and no one ever comes here. Neither of you was stopping in any case. You move out of his arms and he groans in protest but quickly recovers when he sees you bending yourself over the desk. You gently move the keyboard and bouquet out of the way, lying yourself on the cool surface, tipping your ass into the air. “Oh God, yes,” he whispers huskily, stepping behind you. His cock rests heavily on your ass and he shivers at the sight of it. He can’t wait to sink into you, he needs it bad and based on how wet you look, you do too. He smooths his hands up and down the curve of your back for a while, taking a deep breath to ground himself. “Can I? Please?” he sighs, squeezing your hips and tugging you a little closer. You wiggle your ass enticingly, making him bite his lip.

“Fuck me, Mike,” you purr, making him moan a little. He’s so weak for you, completely overwhelmed by your presence. He slowly eases himself into your welcoming heat, letting out a groan between his gritted teeth at the way you squeeze around him. He can barely think, his mind clouded and spinning from the sensation. He remains still, unable to move out of fear of immediately falling apart. You’re so warm and tight and God… he’s never felt so good in his life. His cock twitches inside you as you beg him to start moving, but he can’t do it, he knows what will happen the second he does. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, but he’s unsure what to do now. Even the action of pulling out would make him come, the feeling of your walls sliding over him- Fuck. He’s so unbelievably close, biting down on his lip so hard he draws a little blood. Peripherally, he can hear you pleading with him, clearly even getting a little confused. You move, only trying to turn your head to look at him, but the shifting of your body against him has him falling apart. He chokes out a moan, grabbing your hips and slamming fully into you, making you squeak in surprise. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Oh God,” he wails, his head dipping forward to rest between your shoulder blades as he empties his cum into you in several thick spurts. Your mouth forms a surprised ‘o’ shape, realising he’s already coming. You lie there, waiting it out as he comes down. You’re surprised by just how much he pumps into you, it becomes abundantly clear how little he’d been joking when he called himself desperate. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, you felt too good, I couldn’t help it,” he sobs, kissing over the back of your shoulders as he twitches a final few times. “I’m so sorry baby,” 

“It’s okay,” you sigh, leaning your cheek on the desk. While part of you is undeniably a little disappointed, you also feel a little flattered by how quickly you had him falling apart. You feel him slowly and carefully withdraw himself from you, hissing with sensitivity. He kisses down your spine, making his way down your body so that he has time to catch his breath properly. You try to stand yourself up, but feel a firm hand on your back, pushing you back down. You gasp in surprise and confusion, trying your best to look over your shoulder. Mike kneels between your legs, watching in awe as his seed is slowly beginning to dribble out of you. He groans at the sight. 

“You are breathtaking, I can’t believe you’re my girlfriend now,” he breathes. “Can I clean up the mess I made?” he asks quietly, smiling when he spots you clenching around nothing, making a little more of his cum trickle out of you.

“Yeah,” you breathe, relaxing against the table. “Please do,” He leans forward, taking a second to smell the pure sex radiating off of you. That smell was way more delightful to him than it should have been. He then licks a broad stripe up your folds, gathering your mixed essences on his tongue. He takes a deep satisfaction from the mixture of both of your flavours, moaning softly. Another lick, then another, then another. He forgot how much he loved to do this, not having had the chance for so, so long. And you taste better than anyone he’s ever had before, even when mixed with him. Your little moans and gasps drive him insane, pushing him to keep going. He begins to devour you with intent, lapping and suckling in patterned succession, drinking you up completely. His taste fades away, leaving only your own increasing arousal, which is impossibly even more addictive. You grip aimlessly at the surface of the desk as he pleasures you, your eyes rolling back each time he sucks your clit between his lips. He’s incredibly good at this, more so than you expected, which makes you excited for when he will finally have the patience to show off his other skills. He shakes his head, nuzzling closer and flicking his tongue back and forth over your clit with gusto. He grips your ass, spreading you open so he can press his face completely into you. He groans and hums against you, making desperate sounds that prove how much he’s enjoying this. Your moans grow more and more loud and frequent. Slightly, you rock back against his face, he moves perfectly in tandem with you, barely taking a breath, desperate to bring you there. He gives a particularly well-timed suck to your clit and you’re done for. With a loud cry of his name, you fall apart, your body tensing and trembling as you see stars. Your mouth falls open as you ride out the shocks going through your body, only heightened by his tongue still gently caressing your most sensitive spot. You twitch and your hips buck and he happily takes it all. 

“So sweet, you taste so good,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations making you whimper. He eagerly licks up your release and finally withdraws, smoothing his hands over your ass where he spots some finger indents before letting go. You slowly turn around, your movements still a little shaky. He stands, smiling sheepishly, the passion now subsiding into embarrassment once more at his earlier speedy performance. “I’m really sorry about that… it’s been so long and you’re… you and–”

“Hey, it’s alright, at least you didn’t leave me hanging,” you assure, reaching up to wipe his glistening chin. He blushes but relishes your tender touch. 

“I would never do that,” he promises seriously, and he means it. He loves the thought of getting you off almost more than he likes the idea of getting off himself. Though, ideally in future, like tonight, he could have his cake and eat it too. Literally. He pulls you into an embrace, which you immediately reciprocate, the action like a balm to his soul. “You’re perfect, everything about you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“You too,” you sigh happily.

“Even though I have no control over myself?” he laughs self-deprecatingly.

“Even so,” you agree with a soft giggle. “I was kinda flattered, honestly,”

“Thank God for that,” he hums, rubbing your back and holding you close. After a while, the two of you part long enough to redress. He helps you to zip up your jeans while you pull your shirt over his head. His hoodie ends up on you, but he says nothing about it, smiling fondly. The two of you cuddle up on the small ratty couch in the corner of the security room after filling a mug with water to rest your bouquet in. He spoons you from behind like he promised he would, his head tucked against your shoulder, arm lovingly around your waist. At that moment, everything feels alright in the world. Mike finally has you in his arms, as his girlfriend, and nothing has ever felt better. 

Neither of you do a single second of work that night, but really, who will ever know?

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[nahoney22]

One Night With Royalty***

🫧 Pairing: Prince Rex X Female Reader

word count: 3.5k

prompt:

“Can you be good for me?”

Summary: When the Prince Rex is admired by your beauty, he takes no time in taking you by your hand, offering you a dance and perhaps offering you a little more.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. AU fic. Cinderella Inspired. Explicit Sexual Content and Language, Dirty Talk, Praises, Face Sitting, Oral Sex ie Cunnilingus, Creampie, P in V Sex, Soft!Dom Rex, Female Reader Wearing a Ball Gown (your choice of colour), Reader Flees at Midnight.

Authors Note: I loved this idea anon! Fitting with the theme of Cinderella I’ve also done it that Reader leaves at midnight same as the film for ✨ drama ✨ i hope this is okay and you enjoy 😊

Entering the palace was like stepping into a realm of enchantment. With each stride you took brought forth a spectacle of grandeur that left you breathless. At first, you thought maybe it was the mountain of stairs you just had to climb in heels that had the wind knocked out of you but it was the crystal chandeliers that illuminated the vast expanse of marble floors with a soft, ethereal glow that had you captivated.

The soft hue casted intricate patterns of light that danced in harmony with the melodies of the orchestra; an unfamiliar sound to you. Not only that, but the air was a symphony of laughter and conversation, carrying with it the mingling scents of exotic flowers from an array of different planets.

The sights of Princesses, Noble men, Senators, and Jedi alike moved gracefully, their elaborate gowns and finely tailored suits exuding an air of regal sophistication. Making you feel like you stood out like a sore thumb as you navigated through the ballroom. Holding onto your dress to avoid tripping over yourself, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight of sparkling tiaras and impeccably polished shoes from the guests.

Despite the overwhelming opulence surrounding you, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of your mind - "I so don’t belong here…"

With a twist of fate and defying your disapproving family who didn’t even want you here tonight, a stroke of luck shined your way. But you couldn’t even think about that right now. You just wanted to take this all in.

Though all eyes were eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Prince Rex - the main reason for the ball - your focus remained captivated by the beauty of your surroundings; caught in a reverie. It hardly felt real.

Overwhelmed by it all, you sought for a moment of calm in the serenity of the outdoors. The far left door beckoned, leading to a spacious balcony offering a panoramic view of the landscape bathed in the stunning glow of a deep purple sunset.

As you stood there, momentarily lost in the beauty before you, a voice shattered the tranquility, causing you to startle. Turning, your eyes widened in astonishment as the Prince himself stood before you.

The tales of his valour in the Clone Wars had preceded him, his attire matching the hues of his armor - a finely embroidered doublet of blue and white. And the praise regarding his looks was indeed warranted, as he was undeniably handsome. It felt like a crime to even look at him.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" His voice was soft, his gaze kind as he regarded you.

"Yes, it is," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness as you instinctively dipped into a formal address, feeling suddenly small in his presence.

His smile was warm, his demeanor charming as he took a step closer, one hand casually tucked behind his back. "I hope you don't mind me coming to say hello. I noticed you when you entered and realised you were alone."

You struggled to comprehend how he could have singled you out amidst the bustling crowd, let alone why he would choose to engage with you. "Not at all, Your Majesty," you managed, your words tinged with a mix of surprise and admiration as you offered a quick curtsy.

He chuckles, laughter almost was infectious, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he drew nearer. "The pleasure is mine," he replied, his charm putting you at ease.

Stopping before you, he extended his hand with a gallant gesture. "Will you do me the honor of having the first dance with me?" he asked, his gaze unwavering.

Caught off guard, you stared at his outstretched hand, then back up at him, a mixture of disbelief and elation flickering across your features. "I...I would be honoured," you stammered, finally accepting his offer, your heart racing with excitement as you took his hand.

As the Prince led you back into the ballroom, this time to the dance floor, you couldn't help but notice the hushed gasps and murmurs that followed your entrance. You chew on the inside of your cheek as a sense of unease crept over you, a stark reminder of your perceived insignificance among the sea of nobility and royalty.

Sensing your trepidation, the Prince offered a comforting squeeze of your hand, his reassuring touch momentarily easing your nerves. With a subtle nod, he guided you to the center of the room.

As the orchestra resumed its melody, the Prince's gaze met yours. For a moment, there was a glimmer of something unmistakable flickering in his eyes. There was a hunger there, one that sent a shiver down your spine.

With each step, the Prince's presence enveloped you, his firm yet gentle touch guiding you effortlessly across the ballroom floor. As you stole glances at the onlookers, their reactions ranged from smiles of admiration to expressions of confusion and even disdain. You’re nervous, the weight of their scrutiny threatening to dampen your spirits, but the Prince's reassuring voice cut through the noise.

"Ignore them," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "Look at me."

You tore your gaze away from the judgmental stares, focusing instead on the Prince's intense eyes that seemed to hold a world of secrets. Yet, despite his attempt to shield you from the prying eyes of the crowd, you couldn't shake the gnawing feeling of inadequacy that lingered within you.

"I..." You hesitated, the words catching in your throat as you struggled to articulate the turmoil churning within your mind. "I can't help but feel... out of place."

The Prince's brow furrowed with concern, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly as he sought to understand your inner thoughts. "What are you thinking? If you do not wish to dance just say. I will not take offense," he observed, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

You swallowed hard, the weight of your insecurities threatening to overwhelm you. "It's just... I know why this ball is happening. You're seeking a companion, marriage. Someone who is worthy of your stature and position. And yet, here I am, dancing with you, unable to offer anything of value."

Your confession hung heavy in the air, the vulnerability of your words laid bare before him.

“So you are not a Princess or a Senator?” The Prince's unwavering gaze held yours, his question hanging in the air with a weight that made your breath catch in your throat. As more guests joined the dance, their attention momentarily diverted.

Summoning your courage, you met his gaze head-on. "No, Your Majesty, you are not mistaken. I am neither of those things."

For a moment, silence hung between you, the weight of your admission settling over the space like a heavy fog. Then, unexpectedly, he chuckles.

"May I tell you a secret?" His voice was low, conspiratorial almost. Anyway, it was enough to draw you in with its intimacy.

Intrigued, you raised an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue. "Of course," you replied, your curiosity piqued.

"I do not wish to marry. Not yet, anyway." His words were like a revelation, catching you off guard and causing your mind to reel with disbelief. "It is simply my duty. I did not want this Ball to take place knowing I had to marry a stranger."

The two of you danced more together, neither of you seeming to want the music to end. But there was something now different in the way he held you.

His touch was possessive, almost afraid that you were going to slip away from him at any point or have another man come and take you from him. His movements deliberate too, each step charged with an unspoken intensity that left you breathless.

The Prince's hold on you was undeniably suggestive, his every movement a tantalising invitation that stirred something primal within you. You felt foolish for getting so heated by him but there was a curious thought in your mind.

“Why have you asked me to dance with you if you’re not looking for something?”

Your question hung in the air, heavy with uncertainty, as you searched the Prince's eyes for answers. His hand, once intertwined with yours, now caressed your cheek with a tenderness that elicited an audible gasp from your lips, your eyes fluttering shut at the unexpected intimacy.

As his fingertips brushed against your skin, a rush of sensations coursed through you, igniting a fire that seemed to burn hotter with each passing moment in the bottom of your stomach. How could a simple touch evoke such a visceral reaction?

"Who says I'm not looking for something?" His words, laced with suggestion, sent a shiver down your spine, your eyes snapping open to meet his gaze once more. You saw the hunger in his eyes, a desire that started to mirror your own.

Heat rose to your cheeks, the feeling of his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "I cannot lie and say that's not flattering," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as his hands trailed across your body with an intimacy that left you stunned.

Leaning in close, his lips mere inches from your ear, he whispered words that sent a jolt of electricity straight between your legs. "Have you ever been with royalty?"

With a sense of excitement, the Prince guided you through hidden corridors and secret passages, away from prying eyes and into the seclusion of his personal chambers. Each step was imbued with anticipation, yet you were eager to see what was to happen.

As he opened the door, granting you entry into his private domain, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight before you. The tapestries that draped the wall, the size of his bed… all of it. But before you could fully take in your surroundings, the Prince stepped up behind you, his hands finding purchase on your hips, his lips brushing against your ear in a gesture that sent shivers down your spine.

"Do you want to do this?" His voice, soft yet commanding, filled the room with an intoxicating allure that left you breathless.

"Yes, Your Majesty," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, your desire evident in every trembling breath.

"In here," he murmured, his hands trailing down your back as he began to slowly, deliberately, undress you. Each touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body that has your knees shaking, “you can call me Rex.”

As the fabric of your dress fell away, leaving you exposed in your corset and undergarments, a flush of heat flooded your cheeks at the Prince's appreciative gaze. "You are beautiful," he whispered against your skin, the warmth of his breath making your head roll back and rest in the crook of his shoulder. His lips found your exposed neck, gently kissing along your skin that makes you whimper under his touch.

Your body tingles with anticipation as Rex then led you to his bed. As he sat down, his gaze roamed over your form with a soft smirk, his eyes locking with yours in a silent exchange of desire.

Bringing your hand to his lips, he kissed over your knuckles softly that sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. "Can you be good for me?" he whispered, his voice thick with lust.

“Yes, Rex,” you replied, your voice husky with longing. “Anything for you.”

"Good girl," he murmured, his words sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you as he quickly undressed you until you were now fully nude, him following suit before he reclined on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. The air crackled with tension as you crawled towards him, your movements deliberate and sensual.

As you drew closer, his lips met yours in a passionate kiss, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatened to consume you both. His lips were warm and delicious, tender and precise whilst his hands roamed over your body with an urgency.

But then, with a subtle command, he guided you into position, his gaze smoldering with desire as he whispered, "I wish for you to sit on my face."

A smile of anticipation spread across your lips, your eyes shining with desire as you straddled his face, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin. With a low moan of pleasure, you lowered yourself onto him, the sensation of his tongue exploring your cunt sent waves of ecstasy coursing through you.

"You taste so fucking good," he moans into your heat, his tongue working wonders as it explores every inch of your dripping arousal. Gripping your thighs firmly, he holds you in place, his determination evident in the fervour of his actions.

His hand roams upwards, teasing your sensitive skin until it finds purchase on your breast, kneading and pinching your hardened nipples. “R-Rex,” you whine beautifully, gazing down at him between your legs, his brown eyes staring back at you with desire as he sticks his tongue deep in your hole; the noises lewd, sloppy and messy

Feeling bold, you begin to move your hips, grinding against his face with increasing urgency. "That's it, ride my tongue," he encourages, praises, his words muffled by your slicked cunt that sends vibrations through your core.

You're on the brink of ecstasy after a few minutes, your body trembling. "I'm gonna cum, Rex," you moan, your fingers brushing against his buzzed-blonde hair as he pushes you closer to the edge with his expert ministrations.

"Go ahead, cum for me," he demands, his grip tightening as he doubles his efforts, pushing you over the edge into a euphoric release. With a satisfied groan, he laps up your essence, savouring the taste of your pleasure.

As you catch your breath, he guides you onto his lap, his solid cock pressing against you. "Are you ready for more?" he asks, his lips brushing against yours, his desire evident in the hunger of his kiss. “You’ve got such a beautiful pussy… I just need to bury myself inside you.”

Your mind is reeling from the intense pleasure coursing through your veins as Rex's lips devour yours, leaving you yearning for more. “Yes, yes fuck me please!”

He grins against your lips and flips you over, positioning himself above you, anticipation coils in the pit of your stomach. His cock presses against your slick folds, the size both intimidating and exhilarating. "You're so big, Your Majesty," you purr in desire.

"I told you," he replies softly, his breath hot against your skin as he begins to ease himself inside you, eliciting a hearty groan of satisfaction. "Call me Rex."

With each inch of his length filling you, a symphony of pleasure floods your senses, driving you to new heights of ecstasy. His hands grip the sheets beside you, his movements deliberate and controlled as he savours the sensation of being buried deep within you.

"Stars, you're tight," he murmurs. "It's been so long for me..."

You offer no words of reassurance, only the soft sounds of your moans and the tightening of your legs around him, urging him to delve deeper into each moan you make.

His pace starts slow but then quickens quickens, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. "You've got such a lovely cunt," he coos, his eyes locked on the intimate union between your bodies, his cock glistening with your slick arousal. "You feel so good."

"M-More, I need more, Rex," you whimper, your body arching against his, desperate for the relentless rhythm of his thrusts.

With a deep grunt, he obliges, his movements becoming more urgent and rough as he plunges into you with unrestrained passion. "Beautiful," he praises, his voice thick with desire as he loses himself, gazing into your brown eyes.

The room fills with the sounds of passion, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and lust. Your body is ablaze with desire, every nerve ending ignited by the intoxicating pleasure of Rex's touch. With each thrust, he elicits a chorus of moans and gasps from your lips, driving you to the brink of madness.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groans, his voice a husky whisper against your skin as he buries himself deeper inside you, face buried in the crook of your neck as he practically folds you in half. "So tight and wet for me, just begging to be fucked."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, the sheer intensity of his desire sending shivers down your spine. "Yes, Rex, please," you whimper, your voice a desperate plea for more of him, more of the overwhelming pleasure he brings.

He responds with a sigh, his movements growing more urgent and desperate as he seeks to fill the hunger that consumes you both. "You're driving me crazy," he confesses, his voice raw with need as he loses himself.

You want more. You need more. "Harder, Rex," you beg, your nails digging into his skin as you urge him to push you further, to take you to the edge again.

With a fierce determination, he complies, his thrusts becoming one again rougher and more intense as he drives you towards the pinnacle of release. "You're so fucking beautiful," he growls, kissing your neck before resting his forehead to yours, locking gazes. “You look so cock-hungry.”

It was sudden, your orgasm hitting you like blaster-fire. With a shared cry of release, you surrender to the overwhelming tide of pleasure, your walls contracting on his cock.

You screamed his name, grasping at his body desperately as he gives strained grunt before he spilled deep inside you. He holds you tight, still slowly thrusting in and out, and you kept clawing at his back, murmuring incoherently.

Rex soon stops, staying inside you as you just laid there together, catching your breaths. “You are wonderful.” He murmurs, kissing your lips softly.

You smile lazily, your legs still twitching as you slowly come down from your high, gasping quietly as his softening cock slips out of you.

“May I draw you a bath?” As Rex offers to run you a bath, he covers you with a part of his duvet and you can’t help but feel touched by his consideration for your comfort, and a blush warms your cheeks at his respect for your dignity.

"I feel like I should be asking you," you chuckle softly, meeting his gaze. "After all, you are the Prince. But I'd like that, if you don't mind?"

"I would not have offered otherwise," he assures you, placing a tender kiss on your cheek before retreating into the refresher, the sound of running water filling the silence.

Alone in his room, you allow yourself a moment to reflect on the whirlwind of events that led you here. You had only wanted to have a bit of fun tonight, sneaking into the Ball without your family's knowledge and experiencing just splendor, only to catch the eye of the Prince himself. And what followed was beyond your wildest dreams. He had been kind, sweet, and utterly captivating.

But reality soon creeps back in, reminding you of the inevitable constraints of his royal obligations.

With a heavy sigh, your gaze lingered on a clock and your eyes widened as realisation hit. Time is slipping away and you must leave—fast.

Hastily, you gather your clothes, struggling to dress yourself. The intricate laces of your dress prove to be a challenge, and frustration mounts as the seconds tick by.

The sound of your hurried movements catches Rex's attention, and he emerges from the refresher, a quizzical expression on his face. "Is everything alright?"

"I..." you falter, meeting his gaze, the softness and confusion in his eyes tugging at your heartstrings. He looks almost like a wounded creature, not wanting to see you go. "I have to leave. But I've had the most magical night, Your Majesty."

As you turn to leave, a pang of regret grips you tightly. "Wait! I... I don't even know your name," Rex calls out, his voice laced with a hint of shame at his oversight, mentally cursing at himself for never asking. Supposedly it was because he felt like he did know you.

But time is against you, and you have no choice but to flee his chambers, leaving his question unanswered. With an apologetic glance over your shoulder, you bolt from the room, your heart pounding in your chest as you navigate the labyrinth passageways of the palace, praying you remembered the way he led you in.

Meanwhile, Rex scrambles to dress himself, his mind racing with thoughts of you. He curses his own foolishness for not asking your name sooner, knowing that now, you're gone, slipping through his fingers like sand.

As he races down the stairs of the palace, clothes askew and heart pounding, he scans the darkness of the night, searching for any trace of you.

All he has now are the memories of your eyes, the warmth of your touch, and the lingering scent of your lips to remind him of the moment you shared.

But Rex is determined. He will find you again, no matter the cost.

Masterlist

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 7 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot t @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @lulalovez @thiswitchloves9904

[scribbly-artist]

Persuasion

Summary: It was always a battle to drag each other away from the lab, even when they were both on the brink of exhaustion. Viktor was being stubborn this time, however, Jayce has a trick up his sleeve that will persuade him.

Author’s Notes: Thanks to a very nice anon for sending the prompt for this one!! I apologise to not getting to this sooner, but I’ve had a bit of a rough week and last weekend I was out of town, so this took a little bit to get to. I had fun writing this one! Sometimes I get a little stuck writing Viktor, even though he’s my favourite. His way of speaking is hard to pin down (I find Jayce much easier somehow lol). But hey, I finally got to write them together this time! I hope you have fun reading. :) (And psst, if you’d like to see me write something in particular, feel free to send a prompt my way. ;) )

Words: ~1,200 | AO3 Link

Scrape scrape scrape.

This was the only noise that filled Jayce’s head as he stood a distance away from his partner, Viktor, writing on the blackboard in the laboratory.

They had been through another all-nighter, presently being in the early hours of the morning. The sun was just rising through the tall windows, the sky painted a beautiful mixture of colours… if only Jayce had the capacity to admire it.

Jayce and Viktor were no strangers to all-nighters. But these past few days in particular, they barely had much rest. And it’s been a while since Jayce has had any coffee. That wasn’t the case for Viktor, though. It seemed like the man never ran out of steam, regardless of how long he stayed awake - until his body just decides to collapse from exhaustion, which unfortunately has happened before.

Jayce was writing further notes in a book with a quill - he thought maybe changing writing utensils would inspire a breakthrough. But he couldn’t concentrate, not when his body was this fatigued. At this point, his legs felt like cement, eager to send his body crashing down. 

“Viktor… don’t you think we should go and take a break?” Jayce let out a sleepy yawn, blinking slowly. He shook his head to try to ward off the drowsiness, but nothing seemed to be working.

“We’re close to something, Jayce. I can feel it.” Viktor didn’t even turn his head around to speak to Jayce directly - he just continued writing on the blackboard, the noise getting on Jayce’s frayed nerves.

“Look - I’m tired. And I’m sure you are, too. We can’t make Hextech as good as it deserves to be if we’re both exhausted. We need to go and recharge.” Jayce closed his notebook, quill in hand.

“You are free to leave if you so desire to, Jayce. However, I have much more to do.”

Jayce’s hand moved to rub his eyes, a heavy sigh leaving his lungs.

“We’re partners, Viktor. We need to do this together. Which means we should look out for each other, too. I know how drained you are, you just won’t show it. Do it for your health, V.”

Viktor paused for a moment at the mention of the nickname. But it was only for a second as he continued to scribble on the board, not giving a verbal response.

Jayce’s unsatisfied eyes bore into the back of Viktor’s head. Not that Viktor could feel his gaze or anything, he was too absorbed in his work. It looked like Jayce would have to resort to… other methods to get Viktor to listen to him. Methods he had to use rather often. 

Jayce looked at Viktor, then at the quill in his hand. Then, back at Viktor… 

Both men have used tried and true methods to pull each other out of the lab when the other needed a break. Enticing them with food or sleep, going for a walk, or literally dragging the other out kicking and screaming. It was all for the others' health and sanity. There was one method that Jayce was fond of using, as it had a one-hundred percent success rate when Viktor was being particularly stubborn. 

Jayce took a few steps forward to approach Viktor so he was standing right behind him. Viktor didn't acknowledge his presence or his movement. 

Holding the pen end of the quill, Jayce reached up and fluttered the feather end gently across the back of Viktor’s neck. 

The reaction was instant. 

Viktor dropped the piece of chalk that was in his hand, a clink as it hit the floor and broke in the middle. Viktor didn't turn his head. 

Jayce wasn't expecting that reaction, but a reaction nonetheless. He kept tickling the nape of Viktor’s neck with the feather, a grin slowly forming on his face. 

“Don't tell me you're ticklish here, too.” Jayce could only quietly chuckle as Viktor shook his head, shrugging his shoulders to try to ward the feather off.

Viktor finally turned himself around, his cheeks a little red. “No, o-of course not. Don't be ridiculous.” He took a breath and steeled himself, not letting anything slip as he turned back around, picking up another piece of chalk to try to concentrate. 

“I dunno, it seems like it. Just a tiny bit.” Jayce’s grin widened. 

Jayce decided to mess with him a little more. He flicked the feather from his neck to the side of his ear, swishing it up and down on the skin delicately. 

Viktor put the piece of chalk back down, and used his hand to cover his mouth instead, his shoulders shaking. He would not give Jayce the satisfaction of winning this battle. But little did he realise this would just egg Jayce on further.

“What's wrong, Viktor? You're not going to work anymore? You put the chalk down,” Jayce commented aloud, he was too pleased with himself. This always seemed to happen - with either of them - when one had to drag the other out of the lab. “Think we should take a break now?”

“Jahahayce— I’m nearly done—“ it was hard for Viktor to get his words out as Jayce kept on switching the feather to tickle behind his ears and to the back of his neck. Whenever Viktor would try to crane his neck away or shrug his shoulders up to protect his ears, the feather would always follow. Despite his hand covering his mouth, his breathy laugh was slipping through. “Just— hehehe! J-Just five more minutes, alrihihight?” Viktor attempted to bargain with Jayce, but that wasn’t going to fly.

Jayce let out a dramatic sigh, as if it pained him to do this. “You’ve forced my hand, V.”

Without giving Viktor even a tick to register what Jayce had said, Jayce dropped the quill as his hands darted down to squeeze at Viktor’s hips, it was always a hotspot.

Viktor broke out into a loud cackle from surprise, dissolving into giggling. He made an attempt to grab at Jayce’s wrists, but he was much too quick as his hands darted to Viktor’s sides to skitter there. After a few moments, Viktor finally managed to grab Jayce’s wrists and pull them away from his body.

“FINE! Yohohou’ve convinced mehehe, Jayce.” Viktor sucked in a few breaths as he kept his hold on Jayce’s wrists, making sure Jayce wasn’t planning another tickly attack.

“I knew I could change your mind,” a smirk grew on Jayce’s face as he dropped his hands from Viktor’s wrist, placing one of his hands on Viktor’s shoulder instead. “Think we should grab something to eat and try to find a place to sleep for a few hours? After we get some much needed brain food, I know we can figure this out.”

“That would be ideal, yes.” Viktor gave a nod as he reached for his cane, getting himself ready to go. “We should go now, before I glue myself back to this board.”

“I agree. C’mon, time for some fresh air.” Jayce led the way as Viktor followed closely behind him, his cane clinking on the floor with each step.

It was hard work just convincing each other to leave the lab, on top of already being exhausted. Viktor in particular was always harder to persuade, so Jayce deserved a good nap after all of this.

[writeblrcafe]

A Comprehensive Guide for Writing Advice

Sometimes, despite enjoying writing so much, something is not working for you. Maybe your well of ideas has run dry. Or your WIP has hit a corner and you can't find your way out to the end of the story. Or you need to go back to your finished draft and see if there are any kinks to clear up.

Fortunately, everyone at Writeblrcafé has experienced such, and to help you out, we have a bunch of links to helpful posts by fellow writers to help you along on your writing journey as well as some helpful links to other websites, resources and software.

General:

WHY IS WRITING IS SO FUCKING HARD? (@writers-hq)

Writer Block First Aid Kit (@isabellestone)

Websites for writers (masterpost @2soulscollide)

Writing advice (masterpost @theliteraryarchitect)

Writing resources (masterpost @stinastar)

One look thesaurus (a reverse dictionary where you can enter words or concepts)

Coming Up with Ideas:

97 Character Motivations (@theplottery)

Character Flaws (@fantasyfillsmysoul)

Character Profile (@mistblossomdesigns)

Characters Unflawed (@emptymanuscript)

Why Theme is More Important than Plot (@theplottery)

Weekly writing prompts on Reedsy

Drafting:

3 of the worst story beginnings (and how to fix them) (@theplottery)

Cheat Sheet for Writing Emotion (@myhoniahaka)

Creative Writing for Writers (@writerscreed)

Describing Physical Things (@wordsnstuff)

How to Craft a Natural Plot (@theplottery)

How to Write a Story? (masterpost @creativepromptsforwriting)

How to write: ethnicity & skin colour (@youneedsomeprompts)

What the F is Show Not Tell (@theplottery)

Writing advice from my uni teachers (@thewritingumbrellas)

First Draft: story outlining template meant to help with planning your next big writing project (@fauxriot)

The wonder/ discovery arc (@evelynmlewis)

How to structure a chapter (@theplottery)

How to pace your storytelling (@charlesoberonn)

How to write and research mental illness (@hayatheauthor)

Seven Blogs You Need To Read As An Author (@hayatheauthor)

Editing/Revising:

Eight steps in making the editing process of your book easier (@joaneunknown)

Kill Your Darlings (@tibodine)

Self editing tips (first pass) (@projecttreehouse)

Publishing:

Chill Subs: biggest database for literary magazines and small presses; track your submissions and get your writing published!

5 steps to get your novel ready to self-publish (by @nanowrimo)

Resources for finishing and publishing your novel (masterpost by @nanowrimo)

For self-publishing: this page gives you the exact pixel count of a book spine based on its page count, and/or a template you can use for the correct width/height ratio.

Software:

Scrivener: one time payment of $60 or 70€ (macOS/windows), $24 (iOS; no Euro listed for iOS); used by professionals, many tools to write and organize your novel

Bibisco: free and "pay what you want" version; multilingual, world building, character profiles, writing goals, story timeline, mind maps, notes and more templates to write a novel.

Manuskript: free open source-tool; outliner, novel assistant, distraction-free mode

Ghostwriter: a free and open alternative which has a decent interface with some interesting features, like Hemingway Mode, which disables one's backspace and delete keys, emulating a typewriter.

NaNoWriMo: an international contest to encourage writers to finish writing their novel with many events, groups for exchange with fellow writers, helpful writing advice and help for self-publishing and publishing traditionally.

Campfire Writing: website, desktop app, and mobile app, with tools built in to help manage characters, magic systems, research, etc. It has a great free option, plus monthly, annual, and lifetime purchase options. It also has built-in NaNoWriMo compatibility and a catalogue of tutorials and writing advice videos (suggestion by @harfblarf)

Websites And Writing Apps Every Author Needs In 2023 (@hayatheauthor)

Let us know in the comments if there are any links we could add to it! Reblog this post to help a fellow writer.

Support our work by buying a cup of coffee on KoFi.

[plzfeedmebread]

Where'd You Learn That? Tsu'tey x Female! Human Reader

word count: 2.9k

Pairing: Tsu'tey x Female! Human! Reader Tags/Warnings: R18 - minors DNI, smut, p eating, tongue action, established relationship, fluff, romance, alcohol consumption, slightly inebriated reader, wingman Jake

Author's Notes: For this prompt! Dedicated to @mechformers, thank you for my first Tsu'tey fic inspiration! Apologies for any grammatical errors, I hope you enjoy!

The scent of spiced meat and sugared fruit tickles your nose. You are thankful for the implants in your nasal cavity and lungs, letting you freely enjoy the Pandoran air and all it’s wonderful smells.

Spirits are high as the clan celebrates well into the night. A bonfire roars at its centre; Humans and Na’vi gather all around in song and dance. Drinks flow freely among the crowd.

You take an experimental sniff of your cups contents. The smell reminds you of elderberries, and cinnamon, with an undertone of something sugary. Throwing caution to the wind, you take sizeable sip.

It does not taste as it smells; but is delicious all the same.

One cup turns to two.

Another.

Then another.

You close your eyes.

A blanket of warmth wraps around you as your body moves to the rhythmic beat of drums. A gentle buzz tickles the back of your mind.

You make lazy patterns with your arms, swinging your hips side to side as you let the music guide your movements.

The hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end.

Suddenly, you get the distinct feeling that you are being watched.

You open your eyes, searching the crowd for your would-be observer.

A golden gaze snaps your head in place, stilling your movements. The world around you fades to the back of your mind. Your focus attuned to him alone.

The Olo'eyktan, noble warrior and esteemed Clan Leader, is devouring you with his intense stare. Tsu’tey tilts his head to the side, leaning back in his seat as he openly ogles you.

There is movement in your peripheral. Stealing a glance, you spot Jake and Neytiri giggling and whispering among themselves; their own eyes darting between Tsu’tey and yourself. When Jake catches your eye, he rolls his eyes and nods his head toward Tsu’tey, then starts gyrating on the spot as he makes eye-contact with you once more. Neytiri hold a hand to her mouth as she stifles a laugh, swatting him playfully on the arm.

The message is loud and clear, and you pull your eyes away, back to the object of your affection, doing your best to keep your face as neutral as possible.

The look on Tsu’tey’s face sends a shiver crawling up your spine. There is a familiar dark wanting hidden in those amber pools, and in this moment, you have never felt more desired. Arousal thrums from your core when he flashes you a cocky smile; the hint of his fangs glistening in the deep colours cast by fire.

Your liquid courage from before fuels your next move.

Eyes half lidden, you bite your lip and place your hands to your sides. Your hips sway in time with the beat as you drag your fingers up, teasing the swells of your breasts, and up to trace the sides of your face.

Your hands slowly make smooth patterns in the air, before coming down to glide over your chest. There’s no real technique to your fluidity; you simply let the music guide you, letting the sensuality of your movements speak for you.

Even as you do the occasional spin, his eyes never leave you. With your focus set only to the man honed in on you, unfortunately, you fail to notice the staggering body of a Na’vi man about to collide with you.

The drunk warrior spills his entire drink all over your front. The spicy smelling liquid soaks through your shirt, causing it to stick to your skin.

Before you can blink or even register what has happened, large hands are immediately on you, steadying you against a warm body. A hiss, an exchange of heated words. None too soon are you suddenly hoisted into the air.

Your word spins, causing an uncontrollable giggle to come bubbling forth.

---

“Here. Eat.” Tsu’tey’s voice commands, and you feel something wet press against your lips. You take the slimly object into your mouth without hesitation, chewing it slowly.

“Eurgh! That’s so bitter!” You complain as you swallow it with some difficulty. Tsu’tey let’s out a quiet amused huff.

“Bare it. It will help clear the mind.”

He is, of course, right. The world suddenly snaps into focus once more. You take stock of your surroundings.

The two of you are alone, somewhere in the forest. Night still blankets Pandora; the forest sings in quiet tones, effervescent colours dancing in your vision.

You sit at the edge of a heated spring, your feet idly dangling in the warm water. Long blue legs cage you in from either side, and you realise you’re sitting in Tsu’tey’s lap space, leaning against his front.

The memory of your attempted sexy dancing, the disaster sticking to your skin, and now your current seating arrangement, causes you to blush.

And you blush hard, covering your face with your hands.

Tsu’tey chuckles behind you, his voice vibrating in his strong chest, reverberating in your bones.

“Why so shy, [Y/N]? Where did all that confidence go, my little txeptsyì?”

“Tsu’teeey…” You whine, pouting as you look up to him. He takes your hands from your face, his large thumbs gently stroking your palms.

“Where did you learn that dance?”

“Uhhh…Nowhere in particular…I just, wanted to dance for you…The music, the alcohol…your eyes on me…Just felt right is all. Urgh, probably didn’t look sexy at all—”

Tsu’tey ponders the not so familiar word for a moment, trying to recall its meaning.

“The dance…It is meant to entice? Physically?”

“Y-yeah. Sure, let’s put it like that.”

“…Is that what you want, [Y/N]?”

You wordlessly nod. It has been something you craved for a while. Up until now, the two of you spoke only in honeyed words, fleeting touches and chaste kisses. But your body had needs, and the primal desire to become one with your beloved only grew as time passed.

“You are very small, ma tawtute. I could hurt you…” His apprehension shows on his face, ears slightly pinned back.

“I will not break so easily.” The determination in your voice clearly stirs something within him, as evident on his face.

Tsu’tey understands all too well what you want. He had fought with himself when he had first developed feelings for you. But you had burst through the walls he built around his heart, reigniting feelings he thought once lost to him.

And here you were again, fighting against his fear of harming you. It wasn’t the intimacy that scared him, he had long since resigned to the path his heart took, all in stride of course. His biggest fear, was hurting the one he cared most for.

But by the Grace of Eywa, he wanted you as his mate. You were in all sense but physical, already his mate. And there was no doubt in his mind of your intentions. He could smell it. And this wasn’t the first time either.

“Okay.”

You blink at him a few times.

“Wha—really?”

He moves himself into the pool. He stands in front of you, the water coming up passed his waist. He plants his arms on either side of you, boxing you in.

“Yes. You doubt my words?”

“No! No I—” He pulls you up into a heated kiss before you can waste your breath on further words. He holds you gently, careful not to exert too much strength. You melt in his arms, your body already feeling mailable thanks to your slight inebriated state.

When he pulls away, he swipes the thin line of saliva left by his retreat. He tugs at the hem of your top.

“Fì’u’aku.”

You do so without hesitation, hastily throwing the soaked garment aside along with your pants.

Tsu’tey hums appreciatively as you lay bare before him, clad only in your smalls. His eyes roam over your body. From the red flushness of your face, to the swell of your breasts, down does his gaze travel; admiring the smoothness of your skin, the softness of your flesh.

His fingers drag along your sticky skin, worshipping every inch he touches. You marvel at the size of him; his hand covers the whole of your chest. If he wanted, he could crush you with a single squeeze. Slick coats your walls at the mere thought of his strength.

“Hmm. You are, sticky. Tsk. That skxáwng should have watched where he was going.” He leans down, sniffing at the nape of your neck, before giving you a purposeful lick.

You let out a surprised yelp at the contact, the warm thick muscle taking you by surprise.

“W—wait! Shouldn’t I clean myself off first? In the water?”

“Kehe. I will do it for you.”

“With what?”

“Ftxì oeyä.”

The blush on your face deepens at the prospect of him licking you clean. But you don’t object. In fact, the idea excites you all the more. Tsu’tey takes your silence as permission to continue.

He starts at your navel, slowly dragging his tongue up in a straight line, up between your breasts and along your clavicle. He let’s out a low pleasured hum at the back of his throat as he swallows your taste on his tongue.

His mouth is on you again, greedily licking every inch of your skin.

You let out a soft moan when he glides his tongue over your nipples; the sound making his ears flick forward. He does it again, earning himself another delightful moan to fall from your lips.

He smirks as he continues to lick you clean.

Once he is satisfied, you lay there covered in a sheen of his saliva, nipples hard from the cool air. You don’t feel sticky anymore. But you do feel the wetness of your loins.

Tsu’tey gives you a quizzical look, studying you.

“Hm.”

“W-what is it?” You stammer, painfully aroused, but still shy under this intense stare.

“It would seem, I am not yet finished.”

“Huh?...Where could you have possibly missed? I’m practically drenched, heh.” You let out a chuff at your own double entendre. What you don’t anticipate, is the down right lustful knowing smirk he gives you right back.

“Right…here.”

He drags a single finger up your clothed cunt, sending a sudden jolt of pleasure shooting through you.

You inhale sharply at the sudden contact, eyes fluttering closed as he continues to rub you through your panties, soaking them even further in your arousal.

Gently and with purpose, he slowly removes the undergarment, chucking it somewhere near your discarded top.

Feeling shy, you try close your legs. But you are no match for him, and he holds you in place; a hand pressed to either leg, keeping you spread wide open.

“Voìk si.” He commands, and you obey, all to eager for him to just touch you already.

Tsu’tey adjusts in the water, lowering himself to the space between your thighs. He starts kissing the inside of your leg, planting languid kisses as he moves closer to your apex.

He breathes deep of your scent, pupils dilating from your tantalizing smell. When he finally presses a kiss to your folds, you can’t help but sigh in relief. He kisses you again, the pressure of his large mouth against your sex flaming the fires of your arousal. The promise of pleasured release slowly starts to build.

He gives you an experimental lick, marveling at the primal taste you leave on his tongue. He spreads you further apart using his thumbs.

His tongue returns to you, licking away at the soft flesh of your pussy in long strokes. His ears perk at the undignified sound you make when he brushes over your sensitive bud.

Your mouth agape, formed into an ‘o’ as you squirm with pleasure. You squeeze your eyes shut.

His tongue is thick, large and oh so deviously wet against your folds. He presses his tongue flat against your cunt, roughly rubbing against your clit in meaningful strokes.

“Hmmm~! Just like that…” The honeyed tone of your voice is music to his ears. He wonders what other wonderful sounds you can give him. He uses one had to remove himself of his tweng, languidly stroking himself underwater as he continues worshipping your pussy with his mouth.

He licks and sucks at your folds, each ministration pulling you closer and closer to promised release. But it is not enough. Although he enjoys the soft moans and sharp intakes of breath you do, what he really wants, is for you to scream.

Both of his hands are suddenly cupping your ass cheeks, lifting you off the ground. You eyes snap open, widening in shock. He throws your legs over his shoulders, pushing himself forward, lifting you higher. Your core aches as you strain to keep balance on just your arms and upper back; your lower half practically vertical.

He wraps one hand around your waist, holding you still in a tight grip.

He’s on you once more, lavishing your sex in heated licks and gulps. The evidence of your arousal coats the entirety of his mouth, practically dripping down his chin. And he can’t get enough of it.

You hold each other’s stare; gaze unwavering.

Without warning, he presses his tongue to your entrance, plunging his warm tongue right into your welcoming hole.

The sudden stretch is a titillating burn, a burst of pleasure springing forth. Your walls mold around his tongue as he plunges the appendage in and out of you. He uses the thumb of his free hand to toy with your bud.

“F—fuck! Tsu’tey! YES!!!” You don’t break eye contact as your fingers dig into the ground below you as the coil tightens deep in your core. What started clumsily, soon turns ravenous as he fucks you with his tongue. At this downward angle, each plunge of his tongue into your pussy causes him to lick the spongy flesh just right.

Your release draws ever nearer, and you wish you could reciprocate in some way. Tearing your gaze away, you then notice his kuru hanging over his shoulder, resting within reach.

You take this tip in hand, gently squeezing to coax out his tendrils. He watches wide-eyed as you bring them to your face. You let the ends invade your mouth, teasing them with your tongue in a wet slobbering dance. It tingles.

You watch as Tsu’tey’s pupil’s dilate, eyes rolling back before he squeezes them shut. A low growl, perhaps moan, rubbles from deep in his chest and up his throat. The vibration courses through your walls and clit. The grip on your waist tightens, and he engulfs your entire pussy with his mouth. He sucks as hard as he can while rubbing his tongue against that knowing spot deep within your core.

You all but shatter. You scream, uncaring, as the coil snaps, pushing you over the edge.

Your orgasm bursts forth, and he drinks deep of the juices flowing into his mouth. Your legs squeeze tight in an effort to keep his head in place. He helps you ride out your orgasm to the fullest, licking your clit continuously. You remove the tendrils of his kuru from your mouth, desperately trying to speak when the feeling becomes too intense.

“S—stop…It’sss too muuuchh…” You slur your words, pleading. He yields, pulling his mouth away. He slowly licks his lips clean, letting out a low approving moan as he swallows.

“Ftxìlor.” He says, wiping his mouth with his thumb.

If you weren’t already burning, you’d blush at the sight of his mouth shimmering with your juices smeared all over his jaw.

Gently he lowers you back down, letting you rest on your back once more. He washes away your slick with the spring’s water.

Once done, he moves to lean over you, careful to hold himself up so as to not crush you under him. His hand comes to cup the side of your face, eyes searching.

“You are, alright?” He asks, and there is a hint of uncertainty to his voice.

“Alright??” You let out a huff, almost offended by the question.

“I am more than alright. I feel fucking fantastic…That was, amazing. Where did you even learn that?”

He gives you a cheeky grin, self-assured and brimming with pride.

“No where in particular. The sounds you made. The taste of you. It just, felt right.” Cheeky bastard was using your own words against you. You don’t mind though, and let out a soft giggle, placing your hand over his.

He leans closer, kissing you softly. You faintly taste yourself on his skin. You lick his lips teasingly, and feel him smile. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

“[Y/N]. Nga yawne lu oer.”

No matter how many times you hear it, you still get butterflies in your stomach. What a wonderful feeling.

“I love you too, my Mighty Warrior.”

He kisses you again, more passionate than before. His mouth moves against yours hungrily, yearning. You get the distinct feeling he’s ready. And by Eywa’s will do you feel ready as well.

When next he pulls away, you can see the desire burning in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Ma Tsu’tey…I’m ready.”

“Yawne…”

You press a kiss to his nose.

“Let me feel all of you, my love. Join with me, before Eywa. Become truly mine…”

The smile he gives you is soft and genuine; nothing like the cheeky smirks or prideful grins.

He stands up, taking you by the legs and pulling your cunt flush with his pelvis. You look forward, and eyes widen at the sheer size of his hardened cock now nestled between your legs.

Your eyes dart from his face to his member a few times. You peer up at him, eyes pleading.

You needed that thing inside you right the fuck now.

“Now, [Y/N]…” You bite your lip as you watch him take himself in hand, lining up with your entrance.

“Rikx rä’ä.”

You scream in ecstasy with the first thrust.

---

Glossary: txeptsyì - flame tawtute - human Fì’u’aku - remove this skxáwng - moron fnu - be quiet kehe - no ftxì oeyä - my tongue voìk si - behave ftxìlor - delicious Nga yawne lu oer - I love you yawne - beloved Rikx rä’a - don't move

---

Tags: @mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww @grimistangel @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @ducks118 @graysonmalik2550 @p9scal @ohshititsfenharel @ourmurdermessiah @cocoaflare @sarcasticrandy @liyahsocorro @olivia-the-weirdo @dyingofcookies

[cxffecoupx]

dear santa

lee seokmin + jokingly going up to the santas at the mall and embarrassing the other one wc: 645 warnings: written in a rush to finish the series, seokmin being painfully embarassing author's notes: I'm so sorry I keep posting such mediocre stuff i really don't wish to😭😭 also this should preferably be read before chan's drabble 'wrapping errors'. but I hope you like it <3 winter wonderland masterlist

"i think the store over there has some good gifts," you point towards the store with one hand to seokmin around who you've wrapped your other hand.

seokmin's still in awe over all the christmas decorations done in the mall when you look at him. red sparkling decor hangs from the high roof, glistening when light hits it at particular angles; lights arranged in the figures of reindeers and pandas; arches made of green leaves, with stars dangling at points; santas standing at various places in the mall, talking and playing with the kids that have come to the shopping center.

christmas is in full swing here.

however, you're falling behind because the two of you have spent days procrastinating and postponing buying the gifts for people you're meeting on christmas. like every year, all of you are meeting at seungcheol's place for the big bash he throws regularly, and for you, staying away from your family, they have become a second family to you.

you head over to the shop and look around for a while, contemplating whether to buy the most beautiful things you see there, even though they're basically useless to anyone. you manage to purchase a few presents, and when you're leaving, you notice that seokmin is nowhere to be found.

hands full of bags and gifts, you exit the store, mind wandering just like your eyes trying to spot him in the crowd. couples and families thronged the place, kids walking around with balloons and candies possibly gifted by the santas.

how the hell were you gonna find him?

the thought didn't stay for long when you hear his voice from somewhere, "yn!!"

"minnie?" when you look over though, you instantly wish that you hadn't.

there he stood, a few feet away from you, wearing an exact same white beard like the santa standing near him. the prop looked odd with the rest of his clothes, and his pose suggested that he was clearly losing some marbles. even the santa nearby seemed to ignore the embarassing creature standing near him.

you'd always had the fantasy of him role-playing as santa during sex, especially around xmas, but if this is what it's gonna be, you'd rather take up chastity. seriously.

"yn! wait why are you walking away- YN, c'mere. this is so fun," seokmin calls out to you again, this time louder, and the people nearby follow his gaze to see a shy you, face the colour of a ripe tomato. you could only wish that the ground would swallow you up.

and if all this wasn't enough, your boyfriend decides to laugh in an obnoxious manner, a distinct 'ho ho ho' echoing through the mall even in the chatter of the crowd.

that's when the mall starts playing one of your favourite songs, a song he'd start singing whenever, wherever you were. when you turn around to look at him, you see him already watching you, eyes searching yours for the silent message that comes with the song.

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?

you walk over to him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before taking his extended hand to pull him away from the crowd. you return the beard to the santa with an awkwardness you're sure he understands as well, and return to seokmin, who's now decided to entertain a few kids who'd thought he was santa indeed, and the sight melts away any urgency you'd felt. it replaces with a warm and cosy feeling that slowly settles in your tummy.

"the kids loved me; i make a pretty good santa, don't i?" he asks when he sees you near him.

"i don't know about santa, but you'd make a pretty good dad. now let's get home quick now, we have to wrap the gifts."

prompt by @novelbear; dividers by @adornedwithlight

[v3nusxsky]

Hey!!!

I love your work so much,

Is there any chance I can request a Larissa weems x reader fic where Larissa and reader are friends and Larissa always steals readers food (like a couple of chips/fries from her meal or a sip of her drink) and it’s just completely innocent.

And readers pet peeve is when people steals her food EXCEPT when it’s Larissa cause she’s completely head over heels for her.

Anyways, I would really appreciate the fic and if you feel like something would fit in place better, im happy with that too. I’m completely confident that you’ll write something I love.

Once again, I love your work.

Hope you have a wonderful day

-a severely affection starved Gwen Stan xx

New discoveries

*Authors note~ another day, another gift. A Drabble for the woman who I started the account for. I’m so incredibly grateful to be nearly at 2 years of owning and posting these fics for you guys. I’ve met some wonderful people I’ll forever be grateful for.*

Trigger warnings~ nothing? Reader has it bad for Larissa, Larissa struggling with food slightly?

Prompt~ see ask^^^

The first time Larissa steals your food you don’t even register it. Simply swiping the cream off your drink, the once ruby red nail being covered in cream. You’re too distracted by the way she takes her index finger between her stunning lips to clean it off with her tongue. The little happy mewl at the taste makes it all worth it. Larissa immediately apologised to you, of course, but being too lost in the sight before you caused you to be nonchalant at best.

The second time Larissa wanted to treat you to lunch. You’ve been working so incredibly hard to help her keep Nevermore afloat. It’s the least she could do. Due to her own issues with other peoples opinions on her diet, she ordered a salad and water while you decided to order the most appealing meal on the menu. It just so happened that when the waiter brought your meals over, you noticed the way the principals gaze dropped to the side of chips on your plate before quickly flicking back to her own meal.

“Everything okay?” You murmured to her watching as she blushed at being caught. “Of course darling. Thank you for accompanying me. I just wanted to thank you for all the hard work you’ve been putting in for Nevermore. I wouldn’t have survived this semester without you.” Now it’s your turn to flush a pink colour at her words.

The meal was lovely, the conversation seemed to flow effortlessly as you made each other laugh. It was only when the waiter asked about desserts did you leave the table to the restroom. On your plate lay a few stray chips and Larissa tried to avoid looking at them. But then she’s reminded of the happy little moan you let escape you when you took a bite. Well. No one would know if she just pinched one right? You weren’t here and the restaurant seemed abuzz with the other tables conversations.

The fact you returned to the table to see the older woman carefully nibbling on a chip was definitely shocking. That very chip was on your plate. It’s yours. Sharing is caring, but not when foods involved. You never share food. It’s a well known fact by all the staff at Nevermore. Yet, you watched as the shifters eyes went wide as you catching her. Her expression matching a child who was caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Oh! I’m so sorry darling. I don’t know what came over me. I know you don’t like others touching your food.” Her words trailed off almost as if she was waiting to be scolded.

“Have the rest Rissa” you muttered pushing the plate towards the woman who immediately tried to give it back to you, “oh no darling I simply couldn’t. You eat it darling.” If she were anyone else you would’ve been mad, yet looking at her now you couldn’t help but want her to have them. She never allowed herself much. And if a few chips would make her happy then you would gladly give her the rest. And that’s the moment you realised you felt more for Larissa Weems than you thought. A simple crush for the stunning shifter had changed momentum.

Ironically, Larissa sneaking bites of your food or even sipping your coffee became a staple for your relationship. You soon realised that Larissa never really ordered what she desired. She got what was expected of her. So to counter the problem, you’d order extra sides for your meal, enough to ensure that she felt comfortable sharing a few with you. Over the last few months Larissa had tried a range of new food all thanks to this little habit of hers. When the staff witnessed her taking a sip of your coffee in the staff room they thought the world would end. They most definitely didn’t expect for you to kiss her cheek and simply brew another mug for yourself. Sharing food was a no with anyone. But luckily for Larissa she was more than anyone.

[ahockeywrites]

Prompt 44 w/ nh13 👀

I’m mildly obsessed with that man

⁴⁴⁾ “i like you so much better with my hand around your throat.” from this list

warnings: smut!, explicit fem!reader, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), spitting in mouth, spanking, choking, oral!fem receiving, oral!m receiving, sucking on fingers, degradation (use of the word slut once)

authors note: can be seen as a second part to through the fog, i see you

to say that you didn’t like Nico was an understatement. you loathed him. yes, you had slept with him once in a dirty club bathroom, but that’s all it was. a one time thing where he did the one thing no man before or after him could do. he got you off. and he enjoyed it.

the fact that two weeks later, after their east coast road trip, you found yourself under him for the first time. in his apartment. in his bed. as his dark hair fell into his face, he didn’t bother to push it out the way as it would only deter his actions, namely using all his energy to thrust himself into you with as much force as possible, trying to knock out as much air from your lungs as possible.

sweat beaded on his brow and the odd drop made its way down to his chin and fell onto you. it was hot in the dirtiest way possible. he had already spat in your mouth, after spending what felt like hours between your legs and made you swallow it before calling you a good girl as his large fingers slipped inside.

you’d sucked on his thumb, pretending it was his cock, before he’d let you anywhere near his member. to make sure that you were ready for it hitting the back of your throat. he’d held your head still, by your hair, as he thrusted in and out of your mouth before coming all over your face. then he collected some on his finger and made you lick it off. he had spanked you as you rode him when you stopped looking him directly in the eyes.

nico was easily the sexiest hookup you’d ever had.

he pulled out of you quickly but grabbed your legs and yanked you down the length of the bed so your legs dangled off the end. his strong body squatted down to be between your legs, but instead of putting his tongue or fingers to use, he put your ankles on his shoulders. he rose and pushed the tip of his cock into you.

“you like that baby,” he whispered as he bent over to cage your body in. you were almost folded in half and it was delightfully painful. as he bent over his cock filled you once more and your eyes rolled in the back of your head. “yeah she does, she fucking loves this, doesn’t she. my fucking little slut.”

your eyes were open wide and all you could do was nod at speed. you did love it and there was nothing you could do to lie to nico. you may have hated him when he wasn’t fucking you, but god damn you loved him when he fucked you.

his hands rested on your tits, kneading the muscle and increasing the pleasure you were feeling. his right hand twitched and you knew he wanted to move it.

“choke me, nico, please,” tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you requested something that no other lover would oblige to.

“fuck me baby,” his thrusts slowed down and he leant back. his abs rippled as the thought went through his mind. “hit the mattress three times if it’s too much baby.”

you nodded once more and his hand wrapped itself around your neck. he started thrusting again and the slight restriction of air heightened the feeling of nico’s cock hitting you everywhere it needed to, the way his public bone rubbed against your clit and the callouses on his fingers from his training.

it took him a few minutes to get back up to full speed but when he was there, neither of you could stop. moans left both of your mouths and you didn’t know how someone could make you feel as amazing as he did.

“come for me,” nico instructed and you followed. your eyes rolled back in your head as he caused you to see stars and smell colours. his grip on your neck loosened as you felt him twitch inside you before he leant over you and pressed his lips to yours. his hips thrusted for a final time before you felt him coat your walls with warm liquid.

“i like you so much better with my hand around your throat,” nico whispered in your ear. “significantly less shit is being spouted.”

“if you like it so much,” you replied, trying to keep as much sass in your voice as you could. it wasn’t much because nico pulled himself out of you and settled between your legs again. “why don’t you do it again?”

[signedeclipse]

gyutaro, douma and gyokko going to an uppermoon meeting full of lipstick stain and hickeys. - 💀 

Douma

Normally he has all long sleeves and a high collar shirt, so a lot of his skin is hidden

Specifically wears something more revealing so they all show

Epitome of "See? Someone loves ME and not YOU."

Totally has this eat-shit grin about it too, because he knows being in his position its not like many would retaliate against him other than Muzan

And Muzan does not care, really

It only adds to his dislike-ability of the second rank

Most the kisses and marks are on his hands and arms because you seem to love his hands so damned much

So he flails them a little more than usual just to shove it in others face a little more

He will never not be proud of you

Besides, you are in a worse state than him, he barely left an inch of skin untouched

Gyokko

He loves the pattern your lipstick marks leave on him, enough that he's probably made pots that mimic the shape of your lips exactly because they are just so inspiring

You always wear a pale pink lipstick that looks so dull next to all his extravagant colours, but it still appears nicely on his white skin

All over his face, his chest, his back

It was hard to imagine how exactly they got in some places, and the others at the meeting kept their eyes far away from him

They could have been from days ago, he didn't remove them on purpose- in fact, i'm sure he is able to preserve them as actual patterns on his skin alongside his scales

His blush matches the colour exactly, that dull pink

He's always smiling but this time even more so

I can't imagine the state of you, he has twice the number of mouths to kiss with but also that bright green lipstick

You are probably covered in them from head to toe and still at home trying to wipe it off

Lipstick is hard to remove

Gyutaro

Any hickeys kind of just blend in with his skin blemishes from a far away glance but the cherry red lips do not hide on his pale complexion

Most are centred on his face, at the corner of his lips and all over his cheeks before trailing down his neck

And what is he going to do, hide them? He never really wears clothes so it'd look like he's hiding something

Fortunately the only person in an upper moon meeting that would say anything is Douma and the only one that looks at him is Muzan

Muzan couldn't care less what his demons do so long as they are on task, maybe scoffs

Douma would ask so many questions but we all know Gyu would wave him off and kind of just walk away

The only person he would be scared of noticing is Daki

Because upper moon meetings are usually uncalled for he didn't expect to be taken right from your loving arms and tossed here

Authors Note - Requesting Gyokko is how you get +1 admiration point from me, I love this prompt too! Clearly you've been stocking them up lol