#walking through the wet wild woods by my wild lone

[bumpkinspice0]

Recovery Time: Chapter 7

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Explicit (Minors do not interact!!!!!!)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: The possibility of Joel leaving inches ever closer... so does the desperation you have for each other.

Warnings: Smut Smut Smut! (thank you for waiting) Masturbation (M and F), kinda voyeurism?? dirty thoughts, mutual pining, discussions of past character death, a good sprinkle of angst over all of it

Series Masterlist

Previous - Next

AO3

_______________

Chapter 7: Through the Window

You’re awoken by the steady, rhythmic sound of wood chopping one morning. It was just barely past dawn. He’s cutting the pile you’ve been avoiding for days. Well, you won’t complain. You start a pot of hot water for tea and stroll to the far window overlooking the wood pile– Joel diligently working away.

“Gotta start getting my strength back,” he’d told you the other day when he started taking on bigger and bigger tasks. No crutches or stitches to tear anymore, he was unstoppable. Antsy to do almost anything. He’d be a physical therapist's dream.

You can’t help but shudder a little at the sight of him– stripped out of his usual flannel and jacket and down to a sweat-drenched white tee. Even without the bulk of extra clothes, he still looked massive. His muscles rippled with every swing of the ax. He didn’t look remotely tired after nearly halfway through the pile. A chore that was so arduous for you must have been so easy for someone built like him, even with his injuries.

You should get his attention. You should call out his name and invite him for a warm cup of tea. And you will— in a second. 

God, you’re such a perv.

He gets to a particularly stubborn log— a massive oak stump. You were certain you’d never be able to split it since it was larger than your torso. You kept it anyway assuming you’d end up using it as a makeshift table somewhere. After 3 wide swings from Joel, the log still wouldn’t split. He lets out a grunt of frustration, staring down the massive hunk of wood. His grip tightens around the ax, determination on his face. He swings again, and again, and again, taking no rest time between swings. He grunts with mighty effort on the fifth swing and finally the stubborn log spits. He pauses there for a moment, hunched over an ax still in the wood. He breathes heavy and ragged gasps, gathering himself from such great effort.

He pulls up his shirt to wipe his grimy face and you get a small glimpse of his torso. Toned and littered with scars. You’d seen it maybe a dozen times by now, but something about seeing him like this— sweaty and heaving from work. It lights a fire inside you.

You turn away from the window, suddenly scared he’ll spot you— if he hasn’t already. You feel the heat creeping into your cheeks and your mind delves into more sinful thoughts. It’s embarrassing, your visceral want for him. He could be sitting there doing nothing and you’d find something new about him to drool over. Another thing to crave about him. 

You lean back against the wall next to the window, still just out of view. You hear him start chopping again. Steady swings of the ax followed by his strained grunts. Just listening to it makes your imagination run wild.

TWACK!

You shamefully dip your hand below your sweatpants waistband, pawing over the clothed wetness that waited there. You muffle a moan as you plunge a finger inside. You slide down to the floor, spreading your knees wide.

TWACK!

What would he do if he walked in right now, you wonder. Would he be disgusted or intrigued? Would he watch you finish or take over and do it himself? You hoped he would. He seems like the kind of man who would take what he wanted. You’d let him— without question.

TWACK!

It’s pathetic how something as simple as this gets you worked up over him— though admittedly there’s been several nights where your imagination has done much worse. Nights spent wriggling under the covers in your lonely bed while he sleeps just outside. You’re sick, you’re depraved, you’re so horny you can’t even bring yourself to care right now. You still hear him out there, slaving away— heavy breath after heavy breath.

TWACK!

You stifle another moan as you start to circle your clit slowly.

When was the last time someone touched you? Actually, you don’t want to think about it. Too damn long was always the answer. You had a small handful of not-so-stellar boyfriends growing up but never had a partner after the infection. You had your fair share of quick fucks after the world ended. Seldom any love or actual desire involved. It always felt like it was out of necessity. Just to feel something. To feel good. Feel human again. Always to just feel human— the way Joel made you feel.

He lets out a small shout on what must have been a particularly large log. Your pace quickens. Your legs tense and push you harder into the wall as you feel the oncoming climax growing. 

You think about his strong hands. Those wide shoulders.Those plump fucking lips.

Absolutely pathetic.

You come with a quiet gasp out to the empty air, the forgotten kettle whistling finished on the stove. You don’t move yet, coasting on the waves of bliss for just a minute more. It’s so fleeting when it’s from your hands. 

He would make it better, you think. You wholeheartedly believe he would. 

“Darlin’?” His voice from outside is like a bucket of cold water. He must have heard the kettle going off. You quickly scramble to your feet and put on your bravest face. At least he didn’t come inside.

You turn back to the window and see him standing there, a quizzical look on his face and blissfully unaware of what you’d just done… What he drove you to do. 

“Tea’s ready!”

______________

The woods were so peaceful in the fall. It was always Joel’s favorite season. The beginning of the end before the long months of winter. He wasn’t prepared for the brutal northern winters, being a born and bred Texan man. Hell, he barely had seasons down south. The first winter up here he swore he’d never been that cold in his life. Tess spent a fair amount of time laughing at him and Tommy through it. Eventually the cold crept into his bones and settled there.

Once he was used to the cold everything else came. Seeing the beauty in such defined seasons. Humid summers to sub-zero temperatures, he still doubts humans were ever supposed to experience such change constantly. Or maybe they were and that’s what made humanity endure through all this crap. Was humanity enduring? Is that what this was? 

Gus darting up behind him pulls him from his thoughts. Every trap had come up empty so he opted for a little impromptu hunt instead. His being here was burning through your supplies faster than you’d probably anticipated. Bringing back something to eat was the least he could do. You said he needed to get out and walk more, so he was walking. 

He was walking rather well actually. The pain all over had finally subsided into something manageable. His limp was almost gone, bruises almost faded, and wounds healed closed. He was almost himself again. So it begged the question—

Why was he still here? 

Actually, it’s a stupid question. It’s stupid because he knows the answer. He wasn’t staying for the convenience or a bed, he could get all that in the QZ. He was staying for you. He didn’t want to leave you out here. It’s not the kind of man he wanted to be, to just take so much and run. So here he was, out here hunting, hoping to bring home an animal big enough to ease his conscience. It was a futile effort. No amount of repayment would be enough. So it begs another question.

What did he really have to go back to?

Without Tommy, his family, there was almost nothing. There was Tess but she was more than capable of holding her own. But he owed her his life too in a lot of ways. She’d been there with him through worse shit. People depended on him… right? He was a supplier for almost anything. But did he actually care enough about any of his clients to go back? No. No, of course not. He was expendable back there. Just muscle. Easily replaced, easily forgotten. Life in the QZ was simple survival. Dirty and just scraping by. Finding anything to numb the pain.

Whatever he was doing in the QZ, it wasn’t something anyone could consider living. Not like out here. Not like with you. You made him want to try harder. He wanted to give back to you. You made life something worth living again. 

And there was just no repayment for that. 

Still, he’s going to try.

Gus drops in front of him, his snout pointing forward and slightly to the right. He crouches next to the dog, then he sees it. A massive Tom turkey strutting his way through the bush. It lets out an obnoxious gobble, seeming unaware it was now being hunted.

Joel slowly brings the rifle forward, steadying his aim, and— BANG! The Tom sputters and flies around wildly, now mortally injured. Gus runs forward and finishes the job. He brings back the limp turkey, proudly carrying it in his maw. 

Joel leans down and gives the dog a good rough scratch behind the ears.

“Good boy.”

______________

A whole turkey. He’s brought back a whole fucking turkey. It was a welcome change from the random squirrels and rabbits and quickly dwindling venison jerky supply. You’d make it count, rip out every piece of meat you could off the thing, make bone broth, hell you’d even put those gorgeous feathers on display as a decoration. Nothing goes to waste here.

Joel sat in the living room with his guitar. After having shot and dressed the damn bird for you, he deserved the break. You scurry about the kitchen, gathering every herb and vegetable you can to season such an amazing prize. It was too early in the year for Thanksgiving, but that didn’t stop you. It was a little overboard, probably, but a part of you was a little giddy about it. 

Joel aimlessly plays his sweet melodies nearby. A blush creeps into your cheeks as you’re reminded of the dance you’d shared on his not-birthday. Something shifted that night. In him, in you. He was… gentler. Sweeter towards you even. Something had started that night. Something was said without saying anything at all. Despite his gruff exterior, Joel Miller had a heart underneath it all. You’re not sure what you stirred up inside it that night but you were both… just different.

And neither of you was brave enough to take the next step.

He leans back with a sigh, stretching out his fingers. He shifts the instrument on his lap, his gaze running over the wooden curves. It must have been so nice to have something like this back in his life, you think.

“Who’s Ruth?”

His question catches you off guard. Ruth. You hadn’t heard her name in so long.

“How do you know that name?” you ask. 

“It’s carved right here?” He turns the beaten-up old guitar around and there it is scrawled into the back, clear as day. With love, Ruth. That’s right, she’d given him that guitar, all the way back in their college days. 

“She was… she was Art’s wife,” you answer, images of her kind face flashing across your memory. Someone far too sweet to be with an old curmudgeon like Art. She’s the whole reason you’re here at all, in a way. Maybe it’s time you told someone about her too. She deserved that. “She’s why this place is out here.”

“Really?” Joel’s eyebrows raise with intrigue. When did he get so interested in your stories?

“They were college sweethearts. Her a country girl and Art a born and bred Boston man. Both Harvard grads. Him a med student, her an English major.”

“This sounds like a Danielle Steel novel.” Joel snorts. If you weren’t elbow-deep in a turkey carcass, you would have smacked him.

“A romantic story requires good execution, Mr. Miller,” you wave your turkey juice-drenched hand in the air, “Shall I continue?”

“Please, go on Ms. Steel.” He gestures equally as dramatically. 

“Art got a cushy job at Boston General almost right away after residency. They were already married by then. I think Ruth was working at some college at that point. She hated it, apparently. She didn’t even need to work, with her husband being a top surgeon at a top hospital. She didn’t know how to sit still. How to be a good housewife, she told me once. But she stuck it out for him. For Art and his career. She didn’t tell him until years later how unhappy she was in the city. He had no idea. They had a cute little house in West Lake within six months.”

“Just like that?” Joel interrupts. 

“Just like that,” You smile to yourself, remembering the love in Ruth’s eyes whenever she’d tell you the tale of her life. You didn’t understand the depth of it all as a child. Their commitment to each other. “He loved that woman. He’d do almost anything for her. She wanted a small town, a community she’d be comfortable in. He just wanted her to be happy. She was my elementary school teacher, and he was a doctor for a town of no more than two thousand. Two Harvard graduates. ” 

“So why this place? They didn’t live out here?”

“No, no,” You wrap the completed turkey in twine, almost ready for roasting now, “This was a present for her. A surprise 30th-anniversary gift. She loved the woods. The quiet. Art solicited my dad’s help and they worked for months in secret… But…”

Joel’s expression drops, likely already guessing the twist, “But?” he prompts.

“She was diagnosed with Osteosarcoma in ‘95. Bone cancer. She didn’t want any chemo treatments. It ate her up within a year.” Your voice quivers just slightly. The memories of her so weak and small in bed— It’s not how you wanted to remember her. Art took an extended leave for all of it. At her bedside the whole time. 

“She… never saw the cabin, then?” He asks so quietly you almost miss it.

“She did,” You answer, sliding the turkey onto its rack inside the stove, “He showed her when she was first diagnosed. They spent as much time out here as they could before she was completely bedridden.”

You rinse off your hands and take a seat next to Joel on the couch. His gaze lingers on the back of the guitar, thumb sweeping over the crudely burned in letters. Maybe you should have told him this was a sad story. That’s all there seemed to be anymore. 

“Did she like it?” he finally asks. 

You smile, resting your hand on his forearm. His eyes drift to yours. 

“She loved it.” Your hand drifts down to the neck of the guitar, “This was her gift to him when he started residency. She still had a year of college left and he got a spot in a hospital across the state. He always talked about wanting to learn guitar but never took it up. She forced his hand, told him to learn it for her on top of learning how to be a doctor. Or so she told me.”

He laughs lightly at that, “Sounds like a good woman.”

“She was.”

“I’d buy that book, I suppose.” He smiles at you, though there’s not much joy behind it.

Your touch lingers on the carved wood of the guitar, your fingers just inches from his. Ruth was someone special. With your own mother leaving before you could remember, she was almost like a surrogate mother to you. While Art only seemed to tolerate you in those days, she well and truly loved you. 

You were only a teenager but Art was never quite the same after she died. Even more reclusive and cantankerous of an old man. Your father was the only friend he couldn’t completely push away, then he eventually died too. Then you and Art were just stuck with each other, living through something neither of you could ever be prepared for. 

But you’d seen his soft side before. Art cared, even if he acted like he didn’t. He was a doctor after all. He may not have been nice but he would move mountains for his patients. For people who needed him. He did it for you all the time.

Well, he used to. 

“Well,” You slap your knees, standing up off the couch, “We got more chores to do before we can have Thanksgiving, Miller.”

He groans, gently setting the guitar aside, “You got it, Ms. Steel.”

______________

Early Thanksgiving dinner came and went that evening. 

Twilight rolled in, the last specks of light quickly fading through the trees. Finishing the laundry was your last task of the day. You rushed to get the wet clothes out on the line before it got this dark. You almost succeeded. He watches from the window, cutting up and storing what remains of the turkey. It’s cute, he thinks as he watches you scurry to finish the laundry. 

You work quickly trying to do it all at once. A soapy bucket on the ground filled with soaking clothes you quickly tried to ring out and pin up. In your haste to grab the next item, you splash the entire front of your pants. Joel pauses, observing a little too closely how the wet fabric clings to your legs. You let out a grunt of frustration and just stare down at your now-soaked clothes for a moment.  Maybe he should go out and help. Maybe. You shrug and make a decision he never would have guessed in a million fucking years.

You peel off your pants, throw them in the bucket, and continue about your chore like nothing fucking happened. 

His teeth almost break at how tightly his jaw clenches. He drops the knife and stops whatever he’s doing for fear he’ll cut his fingers off, mesmerized by the tantalizing sway of your ass. Your smooth bare legs against the cool night air. 

You wore a flannel, the back of it just not quite long enough to cover all of you. The bottom of your cheeks just barely poking out from underneath the curved hem. Only when you reached up could he see it all. He watches you intently, like it’s a game. He pictures you in one of his shirts instead— Walking around the morning after he’s spent the night wrecking you.

He palms himself through his jeans, suddenly painfully hard from shameful thoughts— yet he can’t seem to look away. God, you were right there, half fucking naked. You had to have known he’d see you, right? Did you just not care or did you want him to see? The idea of you doing this all for him makes his cock jump. Sinful— disgusting thoughts, old man. 

He glances over his shoulder to make sure the coast is clear, if only out of force of habit. The only other human for miles is in front of him, her dog sitting idly by her side and her cat asleep on the couch. He pulls himself out of his straining pants, giving his hard length a slow rough stroke. 

It was a game now, which just made it all the more exciting for him. You couldn’t have had that many clothes left but he doubts he could last long. He could hide himself away in the bathroom, but then he couldn’t see you. He couldn’t see the goosebumps pricking at your delicate skin in the cold fall air and imagine they were actually from him. It was a game and he loved it. 

His strokes quicken. You could turn around at any moment and see him. Would you like him like this, he wonders. Hard and desperate for you. 

Then you bend over— and he sees the outline of your clothed pussy peek from underneath your gorgeous round ass. God, he wanted it all. If it all matched the rest of you, your bare cunt would surely be perfect. You were beautiful, in every sense of the word. 

You could be his. All he’d have to do is ask. 

But he won’t. He knows he won’t. He’d be a burden to you again eventually. He just knew it. This was for the best.

For now, imagining what you’d be like will have to do. Good thing Joel had a vivid imagination.

You start to turn around and he falls to the kitchen floor before you can see him, still furiously stroking his throbbing cock. Almost getting caught was the last thrill he needed. He comes all over his hand with a pained hiss through his teeth. He sits there panting for a moment, trying to ride the high as long as possible. He wishes it was enough.

Then he hears it, the loud sloshing of water being dumped outside. You’d finished the laundry. He quickly tucks himself back in his pants and washes the shame that painted his hands down the sink. Idiot— vial, disgusting, idiot. 

The back door creaks open and your voice quietly squeaks though, “Don’t turn around, okay.”

“Why?” he plays dumb.

“Just don’t!” he swears he hears the blush in your voice. Adorable. 

“Yeah, but why?”

“Joel, it’s cold out here. Please!”

“Alright, darlin’,” The sound of your footsteps quickly skittering behind him and the bedroom door slamming makes him smile. 

In another world he’d go back there with you, kiss up your goose-bumped legs, and devour you under the sheets until you were warmed up again. Until you were screaming for him to stop, then he’d hold you close the entire night and make sure you never got cold again. Never felt alone ever again. 

In another world.

[bonfire-at-the-crossroads]

Stole a tree.

Last years tree came from along the road to the lake, I just could NOT bring myself to brave the horrors of the bog again this year. Black, sucking mud which had a taste for gobbling up my wellies - sucking them right off my feet….

I try to keep mental notes throughout the year when passing a patch of forestry with likely-looking trees, so I can locate our Yuletide hunting ground without much fuss.

Today we headed up onto the mountain. I’d spotted a fairly good-sized patch last summer - and nobody was going to bother us, as it is a wild and remote place.

It’s been blowing a gale for the last two days. The wind this morning was enough to knock me off my feet as I stepped out with the dogs - rain whipped across the fields, adding insult to injury. We took advantage of a lull in the falling water, tossed my clippers and bowsaw into the back - and set off on the annual expedition.

It’s a lonely place. As I walked down the fence-line looking for a place to scramble over the barbed wire, I got a good look at the trees closest to the road.

Dr Suess could have drawn these. Weird long branches sticking out at odd angles, long at the bottom with a single tall spike of naked stick at the top - ugly, twisted things which have fought the rain, baked in the summer, and hosted moss, bugs, and the punishing irish days and long nights at the top of a mountain.

They are a gnarly bunch.

I made it over the fence and set off across the bracken, deeper into the trees. Deep ruts, mighty holes, hidden rocks - all happily disguised beneath several feet of spongy moss and long tangles of grass - I fell into a hole. Clambered back up onto my feet, and fell into another one. It became quickly apparent that the further I went into the wild, the harder it was going to be to drag a tree back to the road.

“We’re gonna pick something close enough to carry” sez I, as Brian is really struggling to follow behind me. The land is incredibly uneven, water runs down the ditches which only appear as you try to step across onto the opposite bank. It’s slippery, treacherous, and ultimately pointless.

Spotted one nestled close to a larger tree, and declared “this one looks good.” (Not really, but the wind, the water, the thigh-high grass and moss we were wading through - was taking its toll. )

I laid down on my tummy, crawled my way underneath, and begin to saw it out. Wet wood with sticky pine resin - tough going. Bri pulled the tree toward him while I tried to complete the cut, the saw blade binds with every draw.

But it finally gave up. We dragged it back to the fence, Bri went to pull up the car while I wrangled the tree over the top of the barbed wire and into the road.

Jammed it into the back hatch, and started for home.

Somewhere just outside of Kiltyclogher - the tree fell out of the car. “What was that?!” asked Brian, who was driving. For some reason this strikes me as funny - I mean…what did he THINK that sound was? No real harm done, stopped, reversed, and jammed it back again.

The tree is currently enjoying the driveway overnight. Tomorrow will be spent dragging it up the stairs and setting it into place.

The ornament trunk will be pried open. All the memories of Christmas Past will be pulled from the depths, and hung among the scrabbulous branches.

It’s time for me to say goodbye to the glory and abundance of the times gone by. I must learn to embrace the spirit of Christmas Present.

No money, no extra. No presents, no fun. But the electric bill is paid, the oil tank got filled, and there is a turkey holding court with a package,of cranberries in the fridge.

This Santa is a scrawny old guy with a squint and a limp - but he will be welcomed to our home with open arms and a spirit of bright good will.

Pull up a chair, weird Santa - make yourself t’home.

[anchors-x-away]

What did you do?

Shelsy and Ty go on an adventure. It went wrong. Very wrong.

Les get it

-----

Shelsy flew through woods at her highest speed, and even then, she tried her best to speed up. She completely ignored the feathers being plucked off by her wings constantly snagging on branches.

Not that she had a choice; the cold, small body in her arms distracted her far too much.

She just wanted to help him. He seemed to lonely, and he seemed to be so excited when he learned of her quest. The way his eyes lit up, she couldn't not take him. But now? She wishes she had just left him there. He might have been mad, heck, he might have hated her, but it was better than this.

She finally burst past the last of the trees, and made a beeline for the ship where the boy had come from. As she got closer, she could see several people frantically running around the boat and general area of the ship of where it was docked.

Diving down, she headed straight for the ship, coming down near the bow and using her feet to skid to a stop. The people on board seemed to take noticed and were all surrounding where she had crash landed.

Shelsy stumbled as she pulled herself off the ground, revealing herself to the crew in front of her.

Their faces all held shock. Not at her, no, they weren't even looking at her anymore; but rather at the boy who was in her arms.

"I-I didn't mean for anything to happen we just-," Shelsy's voice caught in her throat as she struggled to get the words out, tears welling up in her eyes. "We found it and we opened it, but I couldn't stop him from...from...I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

They all didn't move for a minute as she cried and stuttered in a poor attempt to defend herself, all while the small boy lay limp in her arms, unmoving, sopping wet, cold and barely breathing.

One of the crew members (presumably the father of the boy), slowly stepped foward, hands violently shaking as he bent down and scooped the boy up from her arms.

"My...my son," his voice cracked, and you could see his one eye start to focus, solely at the small boy in his arms. "What did you do..." He asked softly, though his tone was far from soft.

Shelsy knew she screwed up. She knew she shouldn't have taken him off the boat. She shouldn't have taken him to that cursed site. She should have left him. Put him back to bed and told him to not follow her. But she didn't. And now this mans son was...

"What did you do?!" his voice suddenly boomed, tears flowly uncontrollably from his one good eye. Shelsy flinched and jumoed back, taking notice that his other eye had opened, and in it was a bottomless pit that probably had seen more things and held more sadness than she could possibly endure.

"I didn't mean it! I only wanted to help, I-I just wanted him to feel better!" Shelsy cried, desperate to explain herself. The man shook his head as he turned and walk to the stairs that led below deck. Several others followed, probably to help him in an attempt to save the boy.

Shelsy tried to get up but froze almost instantly when a gun was point directly at her face. She looked up amd saw a mam with wild black hair and purple eyes mean mugging her. His face held an emotion she couldn't pin point; it might have been several emotions, but its not like she could tell. But for the most part, rage and sadness were most present.

"Move and I'll put lead into your skull so fast you won't even know it happened," he said darkly, voice low.

Another walked up to her and began to tie her up, but for some reason her body stayed frozen and she didn't struggle.

"There's a reason he doesn't leave the boat," the one tieing her up said. She moved to the front and should could see a mask hiding behind blond hair. "He's too young. We...He leaves him on here because its way too dangerous for him to go out. Because things like this can happen."

"And now he's hurt because of you!" The one holding the gun yelled, kicking her and knocking her over. His finger hovered over the trigger of his flintlock before (who Shelsy believed to be the captain) a woman pushed his hand down quickly and whispered something into his ear. He huffed, giving her one last dirty look before he stomped off below deck.

"Put her in one of the confinements below. Don't let David or Sakiko see you. She'll be dead on the spot." The woman said, adjusting her hat.

One of the members who had colorful clips and crazy hair, tugged on her rope and ushered her to follow. As they went below deck, Shelsy could hear uncontrollable sobs coming from one of the rooms down the hall.

She didn't look down the hall. She just kept her head down. Listening was enough for her anyway.

"I'm sorry," Shelsy repeated quietly for what might have been the upteenth time.

As she was locked up, the one who took her down and gave her what was a half way grimace and sympathetic look. "For what it's worth...you tried to help. But some things are better left alone." With that, Shelsy was left alone.

She didn't mean it. It was an accident. But no matter how many times she said sorry, it wouldn't change what she did, and it wouldn't change what happened.

[ahedderick]

   My son and husband are off having a bike race weekend in eastern Pennsylvania, so I was looking forward to some just-us-girls time with my daughter. However, her social schedule got busy somewhat spontaneously, and she was gone most of the day today. Right after she got home and scarfed down dinner she was invited out to another friend’s house to spend the night, so off she went. I don’t mind being alone, I guess I’m just feeling a bit bereft this time because I had things planned to do together. My life is surely going to be a whole LOT different in a couple years when I’m an empty-nester.

   It’s not that I don’t put effort into friendships. I do; I have for all my adult life. (Thirty years. Jeez.)  Right now, though, I have a few [lovely] friends who are twenty+ yrs older than I am, so I will not be able to ‘keep’ them as I age. Of the three ladies who were friends-my-own-age thru my forties, two moved away and one ghosted me.

side note what the everlovin’ Fuck is going on outside, it sounds like there’s a heavy artillery barrage going on northeast of me! There is either an Appalachian War I haven’t heard about or someone just set off a whole LOT of fireworks.

  Well, uh . . ok, loneliness. One way or another I have been alone too much / marginalized / isolated / etc for a big chunk of my life, and it’s hard to come to terms with what that means for my future. I’ve done all the things. Church activites, taking classes (or giving them), exercise/martial arts, active in the arts community, volunteering at school, helping neighbors.

   Looks like, however . . . I will need to get used to being alone.

[katwritessometimes]

In The Dark

Shadow Monster Aizawa x Reader

A collab piece for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten Citrus Dome Server

Read the other entries HERE

Warnings: somnophilia, dub-con, non-con, tetraphilia eeee tentaicles kind of? Monster fucking, manipulation, tiny little sprinkling of yandere if you squint. 

5kish words

 @bobawithpomegranate ​ & @miscellaneous-bnha ​ thanks for keeping me from jumping off a bridge. This was surprisingly very challenging to write so i hope you guys enjoy.

The sight of your grandmother’s old home brought comfort into your heart in a way nothing else ever could. It had taken much longer than you would have liked to get here, after almost a year of fighting with the family. Legal battles over property and inheritance, you'd finally been handed the keys to the beautiful old Victorian home your grandmother had loved so much. The outside was weathered but held strong, you were sure the inside would be worse after being empty and neglected for so long. With a sigh, you picked up the cleaning supplies you'd brought with you and made your way inside the house. 

You don't notice it at first,

 He’d noticed you the second you walked onto the porch. 

Singing softly to yourself, you make your way through the old house, flipping lights on to make sure the electricity works. Opening up windows and doors to air the dusty old place out. Except once you set your mind to cleaning it becomes blatantly obvious. The house isn't dusty, the house is fairly clean, no dust having settled anywhere, no cobwebs hanging in abandoned corners. You think for a second maybe the lawyer hired someone to come clean before handing over the keys, but you don't recall her mentioning anything like that. 

With a shrug determined to do some light cleaning anyway, you spend the day unpacking some of the stuff you brought and lightly cleaning as you went. The first time you notice it it’s dark out, dim lights illuminating the house. Christ, why did grandma have such shitty lightbulbs in, you’d think an older woman would want brighter lights as her vision faded. The thought slips from you when you hear something crash onto the floor behind you. You turn quickly, something flinting in the corner of your eye as you turn, heart rate spiking, and you freeze. You were sure you saw something going up the stairs. 

Taking a breath in an attempt to calm your breathing, you pick up the painting that had somehow been knocked off its mount. A creaking coming from the second floor has your head snap in that direction. It’s an old house, you chant in your head trying to not let yourself get worked up. You don’t realize you're making your way up the stairs until the old wood creaks loudly under your weight. Your attention is drawn to your grandmother’s room, the only place you haven't been in just yet. You dig around your pocket for the master key that gave you access into the main bedroom, worried that maybe this is where all the dust and cobwebs had scampered off too. You chuckle to yourself at that and it settles your nerves a little, though you can't pinpoint why you're suddenly nervous. 

Much to your surprise, your grandmother’s old bedroom was just as clean as the rest of the house had been, even though no one should have been able to access it. You almost miss the small box sitting on her bed if not for something skittering in the corner of your eyes turning your attention to it. You do miss the shadow that slinks out behind you pausing at the doorway to watch you for a second. You reach out for the ornate box, a letter sitting on top of it with your name written neatly on the front. But before your fingers can make contact with it, the door behind you slams loudly. You jump at the sound, hands coming up to clutch at your chest, curses spilling from your lips as you turn to see the door is closed now. 

“Fucking old house” You yell aloud unable to control your volume after having been spooked. Your yelling makes you miss the deep chuckle that rings out in the air. 

Cute

You pout upset that you’d let yourself be so easily spooked like that. Running a hand through your hair you turn your attention back to the small box and letter picking up both items before heading out of the bedroom. You look back one last time, unsure if you felt ready to disturb your grandmother’s space just yet. Opting to leave it as it was, if only for a little while longer. 

You probably should have read the letter too, things would have made sense much quicker if you had. 

Two weeks of dusting and cleaning out old boxes before you decided it was time to begin moving your things into the house. It had been slightly odd, something for sure was off about the house but you tried not to think about it too much. Handling most of the weird mishaps in the house with a shrug and no real inclination to question it. The last thing that came with you into the new house was your two cats. A sleek black tom who loves you and only you, and a younger larger orange tom who’s all around very friendly. You hate to say you notice a shift in the house when the cats finally settle. Both the boys took to the house as if they’d always been there, something you were struggling with. It was their presence that made it so that you could no longer pretend like you didn’t see the shadows moving. 

Both cats who’d always preferred lazing in sun rays suddenly preferred the dark corners of the living room over the sunny rays leaking in through the large bay window in the house. Demanding meow’s typically indicative of wanting attention, were used in dark corners of the house. Directed at something you couldn’t see. You’d be able to ignore the behavior, except every time you went looking for them when they called. 

You’d find them happily purring, rubbing up against something that wasn't there in the darkness, as if already being given the attention they were asking for. It was creepy, weird, should have creeped you out. But you’d been raised to have a healthy fear and respect towards things you couldn't understand but were not outright malicious. So you tried not to let it bother you too much, don't question the way shadows seem to move. Or when the cats' purr and flop on their backs for tummy scratches in the dark corners of the house.

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The dreams had begun the first night at the house, an all-encompassing warmth that lazily spreads throughout your whole body. Contrasted by cold hands caressing your skin, a deep rich voice whispering dirty things in your ear and working you up to a feverish pitch. 

“Pretty little mouse wandering into my house”  the voice coos in your ear.

And then you’re awake, panting heavily, a groan spilling past your lips as you toss and turn a little in your bed. 

“Fuck.” you whimper out, bringing your arm up over your face as you try and catch your breath. 

 You can’t remember exactly what you dreamt about, only the deep voice murmuring nothings in your ear and cold fingers playing with your folds. You let out an exasperated sigh squirming in bed frustration seeping into your bones. When was the last time you had a dream like that, you couldn't remember? When was the last time you’d been worked up like this, and from a dream no less? You let out a frustrated huff turning and burying your face in the pillow. You could have sworn you heard a deep chuckle ring out. 

They get more detailed, more vivid the longer you're at the house you're almost used to waking up panting and sweaty. The feeling of cool silky tendrils exploring your body lingering for a bit before slinking off as you become more alert. Groggily whining at being awake after dreaming such filthy things. The feeling of your wetness soaking through your panties frustrating you. Always waking up right before the best part of the dream, so you throw the blankets off of yourself in a huff. Spreading your legs wide you trail your fingers over the lingering sensation of someone else’s touch. 

It drives him wild.

Aizawa was on the edge of insanity when you showed up at the old house. A year of solitude will do that to you, he'd been beyond madness when the old lady bought the house all those years ago. Though she's brought him back with a soft kindness only a grandmother could offer.

You,

You brought a clarity to his mind in a different way. Every little curse, every time you scold the house when something disappears. Every time you touched yourself to thoughts of him, to the lingering feeling of his tendrils and hands on you. Aizawa was able to pull himself little by little out of the pit insanity and loneliness had pulled him into. You were so easy too, subconsciously letting the shadow creature infect every ounce of your being. He'd managed to seep into your dreams easily enough, a lonely pent up girl. He liked how you squirmed in your sleep. 

Desperate little whimpers spilling from your lips as his cool fingers explore your body. It was addicting, the way your warmth spread through him with every touch, every explorative lick of your body lighting a fire deep in Aizawa's belly. 

“Pretty little thing aren't you.” Aizawa coos in your ear, and you always react so beautifully to his voice. Your sleeping body responding with a soft whimper, he lets his tendrils explore every inch of you. Slipping underneath the silk PJ top and skimpy little shorts you always wore to bed. You were practically offering yourself up to him each and every night. How could he ever resist when your body reacted like this to his every touch. He’d started slowly at first, only manifesting his tendrils to creep along your body as you slept. 

Once you’d been there for a few months he didn’t even have to worry about you waking up. Having invaded your dreams enough to be able to keep you in a nice deep sleep while he had his way with you. Settling himself between your legs fully manifested, never happier to have this solid form as when he's trailing large callus palms up to your soft legs. It’s so easy, really he can’t help himself, your wetness quickly soaking through your panties as cold fingers rub at your clit. Heady little moans spilling from your sleeping frame and it makes him giddy, trailing a large hand up and under your shirt. Pressing against the soft skin of your stomach and trailing up to gently squeeze at your breasts. Aizawa loves the way your body reacts to him, whimpering and arching against his touch. He shifts then, leaning over your sleeping body, caging your head between his hands, leaning down to nuzzle his nose into your hair.

Can’t help himself as he trails open mouth kisses down your neck, tangling his fingers through your hair, you lean into his touch. A soft whimper of please slips through your lips and Aizawa can barely contain himself as his hips buck against your core. 

“Begging for me in your sleep, sweet girl, already knows who she belongs to. Don’t you.”  

You mewl, a soft pretty sound that Aizawa plays in his head over and over for days. Humping into your soaked panty-clad pussy desperately. His tendrils emerging from his back of their own accord, stroking and rubbing up against you as he mindlessly pleasures himself against your unconscious frame. Your little pants and moans edging him on until he's groaning against your neck, spilling himself onto your cute little silk PJ shorts. Aizawa lets himself bask in the feeling of your warmth against him littering your face in kisses. 

“My good girl.” 

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You conclude something is living in the house one night during an intense thunderstorm. Living in a house with some creature that may or may not try to eat you? Cool fine, no worries. But a thunderstorm? The loud unpredictable booms that tear through the air make you jump every single time without fail. 

You flinch, once again roused by a loud clap of thunder and a harsh flash of lightning. An involuntary whimper slipping past your lips as you curl up into a ball on the bed doing your best to block out the noise of the raging storm. 

You can feel it when a cool blanket envelopes you, a shift in the air that muffles all of the intense noise. The feeling of something carding its fingers through your hair comes next, ever so lightly scratching at your scalp. “It’s just a storm” A deep voice that seems to come from all around whispers and a strange comfort washes over you as your body begins to relax. You're half asleep, it's easy to lean into the gentle caress when you're not quite awake. Easy to ignore the feeling of tendrils creeping across your legs and stomach. You can't help but feel slightly comforted by them in your half-asleep state. 

 An exceptionally loud clap of thunder jolts you into a more awake state and you shoot up in bed. The hazy fog that was keeping you calm dispelling and you whimper as the comfort leaves you. “Please don't leave” you whisper aloud unsure to who or why you even spoke. A deep voice coos at you as thunderclaps outside again and you tremble. A yelp slips past your lips and your hands reach out towards the deep voice as if on instinct. Something safe that will soothe you if only you can reach out and touch it.

 A chuckle thick like honey floats into your ears and your hands meet something soft. You're groggy, half asleep, and confident you're just imagining things, but that doesn't take away from the comfort. It feels like a million different arms wrap around you, pulling you in towards something solid and the hazy fog returns your body relaxing as the tendrils tighten almost uncomfortably around you. Wrapping you up in a cocoon that feels safe and secure, the thunderstorm outside fading into the background and all you can concentrate on is the deep voice mumbling nothings in your ear. 

It's in the days after the storm when you can still hear his deep voice in your ears and feel his warm touch lingering on your body. That you remember the letter and box your grandmother had left you. You feel a little stupid for not thinking of reading them earlier, having been caught up in the whirlwind of moving you'd put them off to the side and almost forgotten entirely about them 

To my lovely granddaughter, 

If you’re reading this then it means you've agreed to the stipulations I included for ownership of the house. This place is special, and if you take care of the house its caretaker will return the favor. Be patient with him, it takes him a little while to warm up but he won't hurt you. I promise I haven't gone crazy with old age. Allow yourself to be open to the things in life we can’t explain. I hope the house is as good to you as it was to me in my old age. 

It doesn’t explain much, but coming from a family that believed in the supernatural made it so that your grandmother's cryptic words didn't freak you out as much as they should have. They made you feel better actually, soothed the part of you that was nervous you might be going crazy. The small box held a pendant, a small but brilliant ruby ordaining the center of it delicate but practical enough for daily wear. You can't help but slip it on and admire the pretty jewel. 

Aizawa is more active after that, the haze in his mind settles when he sees you wearing his necklace. You notice it too, the shadows in the house somehow softening, almost playful. He likes to move your things around so he can hear you huff in frustration. Every curse every time you yell at him, the fog in his mind clears.

He gets bolder around the house, slowly but surely, starts moving things around more obviously. Enjoys making you jump by slithering his tendrils across your ankles while you're cooking. Or shutting off the lights while you shower just to hear your cute little yelp. He likes that you’re somehow not scared of his presence but still easily spooked overall. 

“That foundation was $50 and if it's not back in my makeup bag when I come back I swear to god I'll keep all the lights on for a week.” You see the shadow swirl in the corner of the bathroom, and you know it's smiling at you. You roll your eyes but the next morning your foundation is sitting right on the bathroom sink. 

You begin to catch glimpses of it, of him. As if your attention is helping him manifest fully after a long time of being nothing but a wisp of smoke. Most obvious when your eyes scan the house and you can almost swear a man is petting one of your cats. Only to double back and see your cat rolling over against a dark corner of the room. You almost stop feeling uneasy, almost. 

It all comes to head on a night where sleep seems unreachable. You were frustrated, panting, skin warm, and sticky with sweat as your fingers skillfully circled your clit but no relief came. You let out a frustrated ‘fuck’ throwing your head back onto the pillow and tossing a hand over your face. You’d been pent up for a while now, the weird lewd dreams working you up but never getting you anywhere. You do your best to relax into the bed, accepting defeat with a groan and hoping sleep overtakes you quickly. 

The feeling of something wisping against your ankles brings you back from the edge of sleep. Cool ever so soft touches trail up your legs, you shiver at the cold sensation against your still warm and sweaty skin. Your eyes flutter open but you're only met with black, body tensing a little as cold tendrils stroke your face. 

“You’re ok little one.” The voice is deep against your ear, a cold forked tongue licking up the side of your cheek. “I’ve got you” The same soothing voice you’d heard during the thunderstorm. Except for this time, it's laced with something other than softness. “I’ve been watching you, little human. Spreading yourself open shamelessly, playing with that pretty pussy out in the open. Pretending like you didn’t know I was here to watch.” Aizawa coos.

You whimper at the words, mist curling around you as a dark chuckle fills the room. “Tease” he snarls in your ear and you can’t help yourself as your hips buck up at the sound. Something solid forms between your legs, the soft smooth thing wraps around your ankles assisting in spreading your legs out wide. The deep voice tsks against your ear, cold skin and stubble rubbing against your cheek “You could at least pretend like you're not enjoying this.” 

Your face flushes as he teases you, the sensation of his foreign appendages exploring your body exciting you in a way you can't quite place. They’re not hands that much you can tell, you can distinguish his hands by the callus texture as he strokes a thumb over one of your nipples. Tweaking at it gently until it perks against his fingers. 

“Aren’t you scared little mouse” you can feel his tongue lapping at your neck, sharp teeth pricking the skin there and you let out a whimper. Managing only to shake your head, arching your chest up into his touch as he plays with you. “Desperate little human, willing to take just about anything if it means being satisfied.” You choke out a protest but can’t help the soft moan that bubbles out of your mouth as Aizawa presses his thigh against your sex. He coos into your ear when you begin to hump him mindlessly. 

“Such simple little creatures humans. Driven by desire, and willing to fuck just about anything aren't you little one?” You shake your head in protest, but the excitement pooling in your belly betrays you. Aizawa chuckles and pulls away from you a little, tendrils pooling from him and eagerly joining the fray. The limbs have a mind of their own, each appendage going about playing with you in different ways. One replaces his hands, squeezing and pinching at your breasts. Another brings your hands up and holds them above you keeping you still with minimal effort. A few others explore your body and Aizawa watches, as one of his appendages eagerly begins tugging aside your cute little PJ bottoms. 

You whine out a “No” as the cold air hits your soaked entrance “That's not what your pretty little pussy is telling me.” Aizawa chuckles watching as the tendrils gather your juices up, gently circling your clit and parting your folds. “Look at you, soaked and ready for me aren't you.” His hand replaces the tendril and you feel cold fingers press into your heat. Your pussy clenches at the intrusion but you buck into him automatically. Already worked up from playing with yourself before, your body betrays you as your mind hazes and all you can think about is pleasure. 

“P-Please” You choke out tugging against the restraints that only tighten when you struggle. Aizawa cocks an eyebrow up at you as he leans down, nuzzling at your inner thigh. Tongue lapping at the juices running down between your supple ass. He hums when you beg a smile tugging at his lips, his fog finally taking hold of you. 

“What was that little mouse? Did you say something” He accentuates his words with another finger and you cry out as he finger fucks you. His tongue lazily licking at the edges of your pussy and then up to rub at your clit. You whine, hips bucking up and Aizawa sighs another tendril coming to wrap around your waist and pins you to the bed. 

“Be still, or I'll leave you here.” You freeze at that babbling for him not to leave you and settle your hips. The appendage keeps you still squeezing you just a little too tight. 

“That's a good girl.” Aizawa hums, turning his attention back to your core. “You look so pretty like this baby girl, spread out for me to do whatever I want. You just keep giving me those pretty little noises and I'll make you feel good, okay?” You moan in response and Aizawa clicks his tongue, the tendril circling your stomach squeezing until it hurts. “Let me hear you say it.” Aizawa snarls. 

You gasp as pain seeps into your pleasure “Yes, please I'll be good.” The pressure against your sides loosens and you're able to breathe again panting softly as the pain begins to fade. Aizawa doesn't say anything, pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them up for a taste. He hums satisfied and then he's moving your body. Positioning you onto your stomach, cold hands lifting your ass as he positions you just how he wants. His tendrils keep your arms together in front of you, stripping you of your PJs and keeping your legs spread just enough to give Aizawa the perfect view of your ass and dripping pussy. A smile, just a bit too wide spills over his lips as he settles himself between your legs. Aizawa is hard, painfully so but he takes his time sliding a hand over the curve of your asscheeks. Trailing down your back and up to the back of your neck, squeezing gently before trailing back again.

 With a hum, he lazily strokes your dripping folds, cooing as you press your ass back into him wiggling a little desperate for him to fill you. A harsh smack rings out as his palm connects with your ass “Patience little mouse.” He snarls leaning down to the opposite cheek and biting down just a little too hard. You cry out, tears pooling in your eyes and you bury your head into the pillow. Mind overcome by a lustful haze, you just want him to fuck you already. 

Your wish comes soon enough when you feel something thick prodding at your entrance. You gasp as the tip of Aizawa’s cock penetrates you, gasp turns into a desperate moan as he presses into you little by little. He lets out a deep guttural moan of his own as your warmth encircles him, greedily squeezing his cock. Your warmth is addicting and it doesn’t take too long for Aizawa to start bucking into you. He sets a brutal pace, the appendages holding your waist upkeep you still, nice and steady for him to fuck into while his hands explore your body. 

You curse desperate little moans and obscenities leaving your lips as he fucks into you. His cock stretches you to your limits, almost painful as the creature fucks into you desperately. There's a shift, and you feel his hands come up to your middle, pulling you up against his chest as he fucks you. You feel his face nuzzle against your cheek as one of his hands coming to rest against your belly as he fucks you. You hands are suddenly free and you reach up, feeling your fingers pass through a cool mist, before finding something solid. Soft wisps of something, that wrap around your fingers, rolling over them in waves as you entwine them into what you assume is his hair. 

“Such a good girl, you take me so well darling. Letting me fuck into your womb like this.” Aizawa presses his hand against your stomach pushing back on himself as he becomes desperate. 

“Wanna see” The words are a desperate whine and you don't even really register when you say them. Aizawa sputters a little pace wavering at your words. His fingers brush against the delicate necklace you wear his necklace, and for a second his mind clears. But you whimper a desperate sound that breaks whatever sliver clarity he'd found and a darkness takes over his features again. His fingers abandon the necklace and trail up to your neck fingers wrapping around it then squeezing.

“What was that you little slut.” He snarls in your ear and you can't help yourself as you cry out 

“Please, wanna see you, wanna watch your cock fuck into me.” Your face flushes as you admit this out loud. A growl coming from the man, thing currently fucking your brains out and you can't do anything but tug at his hair and lean into him further as he uses you. Aizawa stills a little, and you whine desperately doing your best to bounce on his cock as he stops moving. Suddenly you can see again and he's fucking into you, go to say something but you see it, a black wispy tentacle like thing appears in front of your face. Aizawa’s hand that was wrapped snugly around your neck comes up to squeeze your cheeks and the appendage gives you a cheeky little wave before filling your mouth. 

“Wanna watch yourself get stuffed, fine, we'll use all of your cute little holes. How does that sound little one.” You whine around the tentacle and then he’s picking up his pace. Hand squeezing your throat so he can feel it at his tendril fucks into your neck, you take him so well. This is it the broken part of his brain hisses she's the one. Aizawa shakes his head, the feeling of your fingers in his hair grounding him for a moment and presses your body back into the mattress. 

His movements turn erratic as he fucks into your overwhelmingly tight little pussy. Pretty little moans spilling from you as he fucks you and his tentacles play with your clit and throat. You take him so well, respond so beautifully to his touch, you weren't scared and accepted your place quickly. He brings his fingers up to the little nub between your legs, replacing his tendrils and pressing fast little circles against your already abused clit. It doesn't take long after that, your body presses into the mattress, a tentacle fucking your throat, and some creature’s cock kissing at your cervix the thought alone is too much. But you spill over when Aizawa’s teeth sink into your neck, your body spasming as your orgasm bubbles over. 

Aizawa grunts from above you, your body going limp as he bites into you fucking you through your orgasm and chasing his own using your spent body for his own pleasure. He spills in you soon after, his mind just a little bit hazy. Ever so gently Aizawa pulls his tendril out of your mouth, drool, and his own slick trailing from your mouth as he does so. He coos as you whimper, pressing a hand over your ass to admire the way your pussy stretched to accommodate him. Humping into you a few more times before he pulls away completely. He debates for a moment letting himself disappear back into the shadows, but he hasn't been this real, this solid in so long. 

Your whimpering slices through his thoughts and before he can stop you, you're on your back looking up at him. Instinct makes him retract all of his extra limbs, making himself look half normal minus the wisps of hair that always seem to move on their own. You blink up at him for a moment body sore but satisfied and you bring your arms up to him. Aizawa is unsure, body flickering into shadows but you speak up before he can fully dissipate. 

“Stay with me” You manage to croak out, throat a little sore from the abuse you endured. You weren’t scared of him, if anything he was handsome and he'd fucked you till you were satisfied. You see the hint of hesitation in his eyes but you crinkle your nose and tilt your head cutely making grabby hands at him and he can’t help himself. 

Aizawa lays down and you curl into him on instinct, his body now warm against yours. Your fingers find their way up to his hair, giggling as the locks lace themselves with your fingers. He brushes some of your hair back and you whine as he touches at your neck. Small bits of blood pooling where he’d sunk his teeth into you. His split tongue peaks out automatically, licking it up and gently lapping at the tender spot on your neck as you whimper. 

“I get a little nuts when I'm on my own.” it's an apology, and you don’t think about why you feel safe in his arms, or why you don't question the creature laying with you, why you're not scared. Instead, you hum softly, nuzzling yourself into the crook of his neck as Aizawa lazily runs a steadily cooling hand down your back. 

“It's ok, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.” You hear yourself say and he hums into your hair acknowledging your words. A twisted smile creeping its way onto his lips as his grip tightens around you. The part of Shouta that’s fallen too deep into insanity to come back fully snickers at your words. 

As if you had a choice. 

​

Tags:

@bbygirlpastel @thewheezingwyvern

[mrpenguinpants]

Razor: Cuddle HCs

Hi anon! Thank you so much for the compliment^^ I absolutely adore Razor, he was my favourite to play until Childe came out. Who is Diluc? Sorry? Claymore user?? Empowered autos??? Yeah no, I only see Razor sorry. Hahh, I’m still trying to grind all the materials I would need to 90 Xiao but it’s hard;;

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Today’s appreciation post goes to svnflowery. Actual sweetheart oml. One reply and I’m already smitten (❤´艸｀❤). One of the few people I can shout my conspiracy theories to about a fictional game but I appreciate you. Really it just devolves into me crying about how upsetting character stories are;; Seriously if you ever want to chat with me, my dms are open do not be shy. I love lore talk so goddamn much you have no idea.

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Semi Part 1: General HCs

Semi Part 2: Pre-Relationship HCs

Semi Part 4: Jealous HCs

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji​​  @mikeysbike​​ @unionwitch​ @musekala​ @sunnshiii​ @stanzastic​ @akaasea​ @xoneaboveallx​ @adoring-ghost​ @asheseiler​ @childelover​ @dilucsz​ @dai-tsukki-desu​ @thicmitten​

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Razor: Cuddle HCs

During your first interactions with Razor, he was a bit aloof and quiet. He never came off as rude but he didn’t seem like the cuddly type you would have expected. Though, he did live with wolves his entire life. It was cute to see his head popping out of the bushes when he noticed it was just you and running over. He didn’t smile as much as you would have hoped when he saw you but you could get a small one or even a laugh on lucky day’s when you both went exploring or hunting. After spending some more time together and having Razor warm up to you, it was almost like his entire personality did a 180 flip and he became this affectionate ball of fluff. The day he announced you as one of his Lupical was the first day he ever smiled full heartedly at you.

The first time you cuddled was during a really bad rainstorm. You could hear the thunder and some area’s of Wolvendom even sparked blue static before lightening crashed down. It’d be safe to say that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to try and walk home in this kind of weather condition. Razor seemed to agree as he quickly led you to a small cave hidden under some moss while telling you to avoid the trees unless you wanted to get struck. It was a bit of a tight fit if you both didn’t want to get pelted by rain but it was oddly comforting. Feeling Razor’s soft hair brush against your cheek and feeling him press against your arm. That was until lightening struck down a tree near you both scaring you out of your skin.

Razor subtly jumped at your jumpiness and noticed your shivering and quickly huddled up to you. He felt how cold you were against him but any fire you both could have started wouldn’t have any room where it was safe. Plus all the wood was probably wet at this point. He quickly shuffled closer to you and placed his head on top of yours and letting his body drape over you. It made you short-circuit for a moment before reminding yourself, Razor’s naturally affectionate with people he trusts and he had been raised by wolves. This was something he and his family did during rainstorms. There wasn’t anything wrong with this, just him trying to warm you up. There was no hidden meaning behind this and you should stop over-thinking and let your heart be still or else you might have a bigger problem on your hands.

Razor doesn’t cuddle in the traditional way, he doesn’t necessarily embrace you from behind in a back hug or anything, he was raised by wolves so he cuddles the way they do. At first it confused you the first time you huddle together during that thunderstorm and he just nuzzled into your neck and was basically trapping you under his body but it was a comforting weight, even if the hard ground wasn’t the most pleasant. His soft gray hair was a bit matted due to the rain but you didn’t mind one bit. As much as you tried not to compare Razor to a puppy it really did feel like you were cuddling up to one. Being able to wrap your arms around him, running your hands through his hair, and listening to the rain fall made you slowly drift off into sleep.

Razor’s always been amazed at how soft you are in your own way. After spending so much time living as a wolf, he had scars running over his body and his hands were rough from the grass and the occasional wolfhook that managed to scratch him. The scar on his cheek always made you wonder if they still hurt as you gently ran your hands over them but he never seemed to stir. Whenever you both cuddle Razor ends up falling asleep first but he’s a bit of a light sleeper. You can’t really make any sudden movements but just so long as you’re quiet he won’t be startled awake. Razor is always running around or taking care of his family that it makes you feel soft to see him finally relax, that he’s comfortable enough to cuddle up to you and fall asleep. Plus whenever he wakes up he seems so drowsy that you can’t help but internally squeal.

Sometimes when you’re stressed or just tired and lonely, you’ll go see Razor. He can catch your mood in your scent, not sure on how that works but you really hope it’s just wolf instinct that he’s picked up and not other things, and you can sit down and open your arms and he’ll run up and cuddle into your embrace. His hair is so soft despite being in the wild that you can’t help but sigh into his shoulder and nuzzle your cheek into it. When you’re with Razor, there is no such thing as personal boundary unless directly stated. You might have lost some sense of embarrassment or self-restraint considering how Razor acts that you have to catch yourself from petting Bennet or Sucrose because they both remind you of him. Which ends up making you feel a bit clingy and you find yourself back in Wolvendom searching for a head of gray hair to pop up from the bushes.

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Every fiber of my being want’s to stop calling Razor a dog or giving him dog qualities but goddammit he’s such a goodboy.

A bit of a delay but I managed to finish my assignment on time to finish writing this. I’m gonna make these a bit shorter since I don’t have time to write a full fic at the bottom, sorry;; I woke up because I forgot to post this so I go back to sleep now. When I’m awake again I’ll reply to asks^^

[lady-o-ren]

Moonstruck

Chapter One (Here) // Chapter Two (Here)

Chapter Two 

The wolf wasn't beneath the trees.

But his big feet make him easy to track, leading Claire and Caspian out of the wretched wood to a sea of wild hills that look like waves under the heavenly glow of the night sky. As they near two rolling mounds where the tracks drag against the earth, she sees a lonely crofter house nestled between them like a little boat, abandoned and shabby looking, but it's roof is still thatched and the stone walls still stand. Good enough really for a place to rest one's tired head. 

Yet Claire wonders why a wolf would seek a place so out in the open.

Better yet why anyone would seek out a wolf. 

"Because you're an absolute nutter, Beauchamp," says Claire to herself. " Or very possibly you're suffering a concussion." 

Swinging a leg off Caspian, she tugs on his reins with a warning to stay put and gathers a deep fortifying breath before stepping into the shadow of the house where the door hangs open.

Inside, shafts of bright silvery light illuminate the room, seeping in through the only window. There are cobwebs and dead leaves strewn about the place, emptied of almost everything except for a wobbly looking table by the soot stained hearth and a stool that must've been made for a child tucked into the corner. . .

Opposite of the big red wolf, eyes bright as stars in the pale blue dark.

Claire's breath quickens and her pulse jumps at her throat but she manages to keep her voice steady. Somewhat.

"We still have that deal don't we? You restrain yourself from biting my head off and I don't shoot you between the eyes."

A miserable sound echoes from the wolf's maw and that's answer enough for Claire. The floorboards creak beneath her as she shuffles about the room, finding a bit of flint left behind from vagrants come and gone and makes a pleased and grateful sound when the sparse bits of wood in the hearth catch fire. She then kneels down in front of him, fist outstretched and shaking as she chants -

"Please don't bite me. Please don't bite me. . ."

It's only when Claire feels something hot and wet swipe against her knuckles does she realize her eyes have been shut and she recoils in surprise,flat on her arse with a shriek. 

The wolf however snorts heartily.

“You're laughing at me aren't  you?” 

The corner of his long mouth quirks wryly as his bushy tail swings back and forth and Claire finds herself cracking a smile. The first of this very long and preposterous night.

"Well, a sense of humor must mean you have a heart after all. More so than Caspian anyways.”

And she hopes it means he isn't too badly injured.

Claire comes closer again and tentatively runs the back of her fingers against the wolf's broad crown, his dark copper fur soft against her skin, slanted eyes gone to slits. Encouraged now, she scratches behind his ears and the wolf makes a sound of pleasure from deep within his throat and drops his head onto her lap, sighing with heart filled contentment. She laughs softly with growing affection, her fingers finding their way underneath his great maw that makes his head upturn and tail to swish, swish.

"I don't care what you say you're a puppy and a sweet one too, aren't you?"

She then impulsively imparts a kiss atop his head and the wolf bumps his nose against her chin wanting another.

“Cheeky lad,” she murmurs warmly, but gives him another anyway.

However, she came here for a reason and that wasn't to cuddle a wolf.

Stroking her hand along his neck, that has him kicking out a long powerful hind leg, she says -

"I know I don't look it, but I know more than a thing or two about broken bones and gashes. Will you trust me to help you, even if it hurts?"

A beat passes before he licks at her wrist and she takes that as a show of trust and extricates herself from beneath the red wolf. Gently, she probes his back and ribs first and is amazed there's only a few marks from the bear, hardly deep at all. But then her hands pass over a crisscross of scars beneath his thick coat and her eyes meet his, searching.

“Someone's hunted you, haven't they?”

A frightful tremor crawls over him that grips at her heart and without thought she presses herself against him wishing she could ease whatever horror he was remembering.

“I hope you tore the bastard apart. Slowly. Bit by bit.”

His sides lightly shake and she knows it must be laughter.

Pushing her wayward curls behind her ear, Claire then touches him gingerly over his injured shoulder. The muscle is swollen and a part of her wonders if it's just a bad sprain. But she remembers that odd angle of his leg as he walked and how he nurses it close to himself now. 

“If you were a man I'd set your shoulder and wrap it in a sling. I've done so before though it's no small feat. But I haven't so for an animal much less a bear-sized wolf . . .” She sighs. Upset with herself.  Hand at her brow, the cut throbbing more so now. “There isn't much I can do without another pair of hands."

She looks helplessly at the wolf.

But there's no way for him to express to her that it's alright, he's suffered worse. And would gladly do so again and again if it meant keeping her from harm. This brown haired lass like no other woman he's ever seen before. Sae bonny and brave. 

So he nuzzles her palm and mouths the soft skin like the puppy she says he is and feels his heart swell and the pain in his arm to cease when a smile softly graces her face lovelier than a moonbeam.

Aye, she was worth it.

Claire leaves him for a moment to settle Caspian for the night in the old byre behind the crofter house and comes back with blankets from the horse's saddleroll, a flask and a fold of her cloak full of bittie yarrow leaves she'd found growing between the stones.

The flask is filled with brandy (courtesy of her former betrothed) that she douses torn strips of her gown with to clean the wolf's wounds (murmuring sweet things as she does so knowing how sharply it stings) while the yarrow leaves are mashed between her teeth and applied carefully like a salve. 

For his poor shoulder however, she says -

“I promise I'll figure out what to do in the morning. I owe it to you for saving me. Thank you by the way,” she softly adds, and scratches behind the wolf's ears as he likes until his eyes begin to droop and a long winded yawn escapes her mouth.

She's exhausted. Body bruised and aching from being tossed around like a ragdoll but she doesn't think she can sleep in a gown that's been slobbered and bloodied. So while the wolf is fast asleep, Claire undresses down to her chemise and stays and quickly wraps herself in one blanket while laying out the other for a makeshift bed, leaving her cloak to dry by the hearthfire.

Her ruined gown however she grasps in her hands.

No longer did it shine with promise. 

No longer was she to be a bride.

At least not for him. 

“The bloody two-faced fucking bastard,” Claire mutters angrily, tossing the damn garment across the floor to gather dust as a tear rolls down her chin. She then curls herself into a ball by the fire, shivering beneath the scratchy grey wool, and wrings her heart out of any lingering affection she's ever had for Frank Wolverton Randall by remembering the last moment she saw him. 

That morning of their wedding behind the church. Swaying on his feet as he groped a woman she could've sworn was his cousin. And then keeled over, grasping his manhood right after she kneed him.

If only they hadn't been on sacred ground she would've kicked him too.

But just maybe he pissed himself.

Lost in that ever pleasing hopeful thought, Claire is startled to feel a deep huff of breath cloud down her neck like steam and looks up to see the red wolf looming above her.

"You absolute fool," she scolds, though it's spoken without bite as she sits up to cradle his face with both her hands. " You're only making things worse for that shoulder of yours."

The wolf doesn't care. He nuzzles her cheek where the brokenhearted tear had fallen, making a sad whimpering sound as he does so that endears him evermore to Claire's heart.

 "No use arguing with a stubborn wolf is there?" 

There isn't. He licks the side of her face making her softly giggle before plopping down beside her with a heavy thunk and Claire can do nothing more but sink down against him, his fur radiating a tender warmth that seeps into her tired bones.

//

Claire wakes with the morning light that floods the room and stings her eyes that immediately shutter close behind the back of her arm.

While embers have kept the room bearable, she knows the only reason she hasn't woken with a sniffle is because of the heavy, heated weight that engulfs her like a brushfire. Drowsily, she lets her hand wander to the furry head atop her chest that rises steadily with a deep inhale of smokey air and then strokes softly down until her palm oddly meets naked flesh. . .

Her eyes bolt open and through the sleepy blur she sees a stranger, big and naked draped across her, mumbling something hot-breathed and incoherent as he smothers his face between her breasts right before she screams.

[thevikingwoman]

For DADWC: ❛ you can’t save everyone. ❜ for Solavellan, maybe?

Thank you @oxygenforthewicked and @biblioteknician for this prompt! Some angst for @dadrunkwriting

Fandom: Dragon Age. Words: 417

Iwyn Lavelln x Solas | After Trespasser | Angst Rating: G. angst, sadness, the fade. Mention of canon-typical violence.

Winter

The wind is strong enough to sweep a branch across the bluff, rattling across his path until it gets stuck in a path of heather. The stone is wet and slippery, and ahead the sea is churning under a stormy sky. Iwyn’s red hair is like a red beacon at the edge of the cliff ahead, whipping wildly about her face. Solas thinks it’s loose today. That’s different. Solas blinks the rain out of his eyes all pulls his fur overcoat closer about him. Water still finds it’s way down below his collar, and with an irritated gesture he stops the rain.

He walks the last distance to the cliff outcrop, standing next to Iwyn. She looks up at him, her face wet.

“You stopped my rain.”

“There was no point in it.”

She arches and eyebrow, and says no more. He sighs and sits down beside her.

“I did not ask you here,” she says. “Not today.”

“Are you certain?”

The wind is still strong. The sea is raw and wild below, and a small boat fights against the waves. He’s tempted to calm the sea or make the boat disappear, but he leaves it be.

After a few minutes, or hours, Iwyn puts her head against his shoulder. He doesn’t ask what happened.

“I heard from my – my clan. Some traders left for a trip to Markham. They didn’t make it. Highway bandits or angry peasants or chevaliers. I don’t even know. I don’t have enough people to keep the roads safe.” Frustration seeps through her last words. Keeping an army is difficult, especially when your pollical supporters are withering away.

“You cannot save everyone.”

“At least I haven’t given up on it.”

He can’t breathe, suddenly and unexpected, the frigid air stuck in his chest.

“Ir arbelas,” he gets out. “I am sorry about you clan members.”

He means it, though clan Lavellan has not made it easy for him to gain allies among the Dalish. Not that he expected anything else.

“Don’t be sorry, Solas. Change.”

A gust of wind hits him, and he is alone on the bluff, Iwyn gone to another part of the fade or the waking world.

He breathes out, and calms the storm and the sea. The small boat pulls up on shore, a lonely spirit looking up at him before it disappears into the woods. He considers making the sun break through the grey clouds.

Instead, snow starts to fall, covering the ground in brilliant, bitter white.

[agustdakasuga]

You Never Walk Alone | Chapter 2

Genre: Werewolf!AU, Poly!AU?, Mate!AU, romance, fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Student!reader, Omega!Seokjin, Alpha!Yoongi, Beta!Hoseok, Alpha!Namjoon, Omega!Jimin, Beta!Taehyung, Alpha!Jungkook

Summary: You live a quiet life in your late grandfather’s cabin in the woods. You go to school just to graduate and get your diploma, not to make friends or stand out from the crowd. That was until one day, you enter your home to see a pack of wolves that need shelter.

You cannot stop thinking about the wolf. You felt a strong bond with it despite it only being around for a few hours. A part of you dreads going back to the quiet house without him there. 

“Did he get back to his pack safely?” You sighed as you looked out the window. For some reason, the wolf couldn’t leave your mind. You wondered how he was, if his bandages came loose, if he found his home. 

All the more your bullies were annoyed that you weren’t even sparing them a glance today. Your mind was somewhere else, thinking about someone else that they seemed invisible to you. Lifting your hand, you remembered how soft his fur felt against your fingertips. 

“God, he’s a wild animal who just needed shelter for the night. He’s gone.” You scolded yourself mentally. 

But for some reason, you were so captured by him. The way he would whine or grin at you like a person would. Or how he scoffs or rolls his eyes at your words, as if telling you to shut up. 

If not for his looks, he could be human. 

Maybe this was the universe telling you to get a pet and stop being such a loner. You couldn’t help but scoff at that thought.

“Omg, she has officially gone crazy. She’s even talking to herself.” Someone pointed at you, snickering. Everyone laughed alone. You just rolled your eyes and rested your chin in your palm. 

After working, that evening, you got down at the bus stop and headed through the forest track that you always took to get back to your wood cabin. You had your earphones blasting music in your ears as you walked. The darkness didn’t scare you. There weren’t many wild animals to be afraid of anyways, well... except now you knew there were wolves. 

*howl*

You pulled one earphone out when you heard a distance howl. Your heart grew warm as you thought that it could be your wolf. 

“I hope you found your family.” You smiled and continued on your path. When you reached your home, instead of going into the house, you sat on the log outside, admiring the stars. 

Hearing footsteps, you turned your forehead to see him. He walked over casually, planting his butt down next to your feet. You blinked at him. 

“You’re... still here?” You were confused. 

“Don’t you want to find your family?” You stroked his head. His head dropped and ears drooped at your words, letting out a whine. Did he not have a family like you? Was he also left behind? Sighing, you continued to stroke his head and even rubbed his ears. 

“Guess we’re both alone, huh?” You chuckled bitterly. 

"Well, at least we both have each other to count on now.” Jimin barked.

“Alright. You can stay here with me if you want.” You rolled your eyes as you shook your head. 

He stood up and smiled at you, wagging his tail as he let his tongue fall out of his mouth. You laughed but was caught off guard when he pounced on you, showering you in licks. 

“Yah! Yah! Stop!” You laughed. 

“Never!” Jimin laughed as he continued to shower you in kisses. He backed away and sat back down as you pushed yourself up. 

“Alright, let’s get dinner.” You dusted your clothes before unlocking the door and entering. As you left him to go shower, you stared at yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t stop smiling. You touched the mirror, it has been so long since you’ve even seen yourself smiling. There has just never been a reason to smile so you never did. 

You came out and changed into comfortable clothes. When you came back down, the wolf stood up and headed to you. 

“After dinner, we’re giving you a name. I don’t think you really like the name ‘wolfie’, huh?” You patted his head and he let out a bark in agreement. 

It was a dinner of mixed noodles for you and for the wolf, the same boiled chicken. He was not impressed, his expression was a dead giveaway as you put down the bowl in front of him.

“I need to go grocery shopping tomorrow, okay? This is all I have.” You said defensively. He huffed but dug into his food anyway. You sat on the couch to eat. 

As you watched your show, you felt something wet on your cheek, making you jump. 

“Yah! I should seriously attach a bell to you. You walk too quietly.” You scoffed as he used his nose to boop your cheek. You slowly inched away, only to have him step closer to you. He eyed your food and blinked up at you innocently. You knew what he was hinting at. 

“Nu uh. This is mine. You already ate your share.” You held the bowl away. He whined, staring into your eyes. 

“Sorry but puppy eyes don’t work on me, mister.” You scolded as you continued eating. He gave up, lying down next to you, resting his head on his front paws. 

After you were done, the wolf waited for you to wash up and do the dishes. He tilted his head, looking at you curiously as you pulled out a chart. 

“Here. Choose your name.” You pointed to the Korean alphabet. 

“Do you even know how to-”

He cut you off by stepping forward and using his right paw to tap at the alphabet. You quickly wrote down wherever he stepped on and put it together. He sat down and waited for you to put the words together. He smiled at the way you stuck your tongue out of your mouth as you were deep in thought. Finally, you slammed the writing pad down, making him jump. 

“Oops. Sorry... Jimin.” You looked up at him. 

“You got it!” He barked and you smiled, throwing your hands over him to pull him into a hug. 

“You like the name Jimin?” You asked again and he barked. 

“Nice to meet you, Jimin. I’m (y/n).” You pulled away. He barked and turned around, chasing his tail, making you laugh before falling onto his back and rolling around in joy. 

“(y/n)! What a beautiful name for a beautiful human.” Jimin softened. You smiled at Jimin and patted his head. Looking at the clock, you went upstairs to do your homework or it would be too late. You didn’t know that Jimin followed you. He watched as you settled in front of the desk with your books. 

“What are you doing in here?” You giggled. Jimin stood on his hind legs, resting his front paws on your thighs as he sniffed. 

“It’s math. You know math?” You chuckled, stroking his head. 

He jumped down and curled up next to my chair on your rug. You turned back to do your word. Jimin chuckled as he heard your occasional cursing as you wrote the workings wrong. 

“She reminds me of Jungkook...” Jimin looked at you fondly. But immediately grew sad at the thought of his youngest brother. How was he doing? Was he okay? 

After a few hours, you stood up and stretched your arms. Jimin lifted his head to watch you. You moved around the room, packing your things. He admired the way you would hum a random tune as you did your things like packing your bag and organising your messy desk. You were so amusing that he could watch you for hours. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You said, making Jimin blink. 

“You probably don’t understand that.” You laughed, patting his head as you walked past. 

“Hmm... Tomorrow is Friday but I’m not working this weekend. Maybe we can have a picnic by the lake.” You checked your calendar. Jimin stood up and barked in approval, wagging his tail. 

“Maybe I can find my pack!” Jimin thought excitedly. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve been on a picnic.” You sat on the edge of your bed, a sad smile on your face. 

“What’s wrong, (y/n)? Don’t be sad, please.” Jimin whimpered, resting his head on top of your lap. You shook your head with a forced smile. Standing up, you went to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you returned, dressed in your pyjamas. 

“Your bed is in the living room, mister.” You pointed. Jimin whined. 

“Fine! You can stay here but on the ground. You haven’t had a bath yet so you’re not coming on my bed.” You glared and went downstairs to grab the blanket that Jimin used. 

“Here.” You laid it over him and slipped into your own bed. 

“Goodnight, Jimin.” You said, a smile on your face as you turned to lights off. You haven’t really wished anyone goodnight in a while and it made your heart grow warm again, you didn’t think Jimin would melt the loneliness. 

That night...

“No...” Jimin’s head perked up as he heard you. Standing up, he headed over to your side, seeing you toss and turn. You had a frown on your face and cold sweat covered your forehead as you whimpered. Jimin changed back into a human, covering his naked body with the blanket before he cupped your cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. 

“You’re okay, (y/n). I’m right here.” He whispered with a soft smile. 

“Please don’t... leave.” You cried. 

“I’m never leaving you. I’ll always be here for you.” He leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. You slowly calmed down, the frown disappearing from your face. 

Satisfied, Jimin turned back into a wolf. But this time, instead of going back to the rug, he curled up on the ground by your side of the bed. 

[Dream]

“(y/n)... Wake up.” A voice spoke. You opened your eyes and looked around. How did you get into the middle of the forest? The last thing you remembered was your nightmare, it was dark and lonely.

“(y/n).” The same voice called and you turned around to see a boy standing there. He was so good looking, almost like an angel. As you faced him, a smile grew on his face, his eyes turning into crescent moons. You blinked in confusion as he waved at you to come over. 

“Who are you?” You tilted your head. 

“Come on, you know me. Think about it.” He held your hands in his, his light laugh filling your ears.

“I’m sorry, I don’t recognise you.” You admitted in embarrassment. 

“Ah... I guess that’s okay. We’ll meet soon.” He tugged you towards him so he could hug you tightly. He pressed his face into your shoulder and you couldn’t help but melt at his warmth. 

It felt so different from your nightmare. That felt cold and dark. But with this mysterious boy, it was warm and bright. He pulled away and planted a kiss on your forehead that you swore felt real. Almost like lips were really touching your forehead. He pulled away with a big, bright smile. Waving, he ran off into the forest while you just stared blankly. 

“Oh, (y/n)!” He called, breaking your stare at you looked at him. 

“No more boiled chicken please! It’s too bland!” He laughed and realisation hit you hard as he said that. 

“J-Jimin?” You finally blurted out. 

“Hey! Wait! Jimin, don’t go!” You reached out to him but he disappeared behind the trees, leaving you to stand there alone. Was that boy really Jimin? That was nonsense, how could you dream of a wolf as a person? 

You stirred awake when you felt something wet on your cheek. Your eyes shot open and you recoiled in shock, only to see a curious Jimin sitting there, staring at you with his head tilted. 

“You scared the hell outta me!” You put a hand on your cheek. He let out a low howl and nodded over to your nightstand. 

“Oh damn! I forgot to set my alarm! Thanks, Jimin!” You rushed out of bed. Luckily Jimin woke you up only 5 minutes after your supposed alarm time so you weren’t that late. You brushed your teeth and took a shower, changing into your school uniform. 

“Jimin! Breakfast!” You called and he trotted into the living room. As you set the plate down, you remembered what human Jimin said in your dream. 

“No more boiled chicken please! It’s too bland!”

“Hmm...” You looked down at Jimin who just blinked back at you. 

“Nothing, go ahead. I’m just insane, as usual.” You scoffed and dug into your own eggs. Jimin inwardly sighed at the chicken but ate anyway. Being a wolf meant his appetite was huge. He was always hungry. 

“I’ll drop by the grocery store to get more meats for you, okay? But let me warn you, don’t expect Korean beef cause I’m not spending that much.” You folded your arms and Jimin grunted at that. You cleared up the kitchen as you ate. Jimin frowned in disapproval at that but he knew you were pressed for time and didn’t have time to properly clean. 

“I have to go!” You grabbed your bag and slipped your shoes on. Jimin sat in front of you patiently. 

“You can go back to sleep, Jimin.” You stroked his head. Jimin just sat there stubbornly. You shook your head with a smile and stood up, beginning the walk to the bus stop. Jimin stayed by your side until the main road. 

“People may see you.” You smiled down at him. 

“Like I care.” Jimin rolled his eyes but still stood by the edge of the forest to watch you. You watched him as you waited for the bus. 

When it finally pulled up, you gave him a small wave and he smiled, his tongue hanging out of his house. Once your bus disappeared out of sight, Jimin turned to head back into the forest. But instead of heading towards the forest, he went to the lake that you were supposed to go with him to tomorrow. 

“Please.” Jimin stepped closer to the water and drew a symbol into the surface, causing a rippling effect. 

“Thank God.” He let out a shaky sigh of relief as he saw the image 7 lit crystals appear. That meant his brothers were still alive, he could still find them. 

Being the head pack of their region, they had almost the status of princes. They each had their own coloured crystal that could appear in water if their pack symbol was drawn. 

Each symbol represented a member of the head pack. If one member died, they crystal’s light would die down as well. 

“I hope we find each other soon.” He said to his pack’s broken mind link and walked away from the lake, going back to the house. He entered through the side door that you now left unlocked for him to come in and out of. 

“Time to stretch.” He turned back into his human form. Even if he was alone, he wasn’t going to walk around naked so he wrapped a towel around his waist as he lounged inside the house. He felt like he could relax a little, knowing that his family was still out there. But for some reason, he didn’t want to leave you to find them. The thought of you coming back to the empty house again hurt him.

-

You grabbed a cart and pushed it through the supermarket. You had your usual music playing in your ears and people were looking at you, a girl in high school uniform, grocery shopping at close to 10pm. 

“What choice do I have? I had to work.” You mentally sighed as you grabbed rice and placed it in your cart. Then you went to the meat counter. 

“Girl, there’s a sale on beef since it’s the end of the day.” The butcher told you.

“But let me warn you, don’t expect Korean beef cause I’m not spending that much.” 

You smiled as you remembered what you told Jimin this morning. Maybe you should surprise him and treat yourself. You got the beef, some pork and chicken to store in the freezer. After that, you went to get some vegetables. Do wolves eat vegetables...?

“He’ll just learn to eat vegetables then.” You shrugged and placed an assortment in the cart, as well as some fruit. Once that was done, you paid and began to make your way home. 

“Jimin!” You called as you dragged the bags of groceries through the door. Jimin trotted over, staring as you fell down from the weight. 

“Sorry I’m late. Let’s have dinner.” You began to keep everything. Jimin poked his head into the plastic bags curiously, sniffing around to see what you bought for him. 

“What did you buy?!”

“Hey, no snooping.” You lightly hit his muzzle. He snorted. 

“Go on. I’ll make dinner now.” You said and began to prepare dinner. Heating up the pan, you dropped the steaks into it to sear it. You seasoned yours while leaving Jimin’s plain. From the living room, Jimin was smelling the amazing scent of meat being seared that he had a strong urge to just turn back into a human and eat it. 

“Dinner!” You called and he dashed over, sliding and knocking into your legs. You chuckled and took the plate with his food, putting it down. 

“It’s beef! No more disgusting chicken!” Jimin smiled in excitement, barking and jumping up and down. He happily dug in while you slurped your ice noodles with sliced beef on the side. 

“Enjoy it, babe.” You patted his back with a chortle. You made some lettuce wraps for yourself. 

“Want?” You casually held out a piece of lettuce to him. Jimin leaned forward to sniff a little when you grabbed a piece of beef off his plate. He growled. 

“Calm down! Geez, I just wanted to make a wrap.” You scoffed and wrapped the piece of beef in the lettuce, holding it out to him for him to eat. He sniffed it again and opened his mouth. You laughed and pushed it into his mouth. Chewing, Jimin opened his mouth again. 

“Huh... A wolf does eat vegetables.” You made another one for him to eat. 

After dinner, you showered and settled on the couch with a cut apple. Jimin sat next to you, his tail swaying for side to side as he waited for you to feed him. You focused on your drama, taking one bite and holding it out to Jimin. 

“Pay attention to me!” Jimin rolled his eyes. He leaned down to nibble to half bitten apple slice from your hand. 

“Look, Jimin!” You patted on him, pointing to the screen with a puppy. 

“Do you seriously think that pup is cute?! You seriously have not seen cute.” He shot you a flat look but of course, you didn’t notice as you were busy cooing at the puppy on the television screen. 

He sighed and laid down, putting his head on your thigh. He whined cutely and you looked down at him. 

“What?” You run your fingers through his fur. He stared back up at you as you turned back to the television. Jimin rolled down so you were rubbing his belly instead. His hind leg kicked in satisfaction, letting out sounds of happiness as his tongue rolled out the side of his mouth. You couldn’t help the smile that appeared on your lips. 

“You’re a puppy too, aren’t you.” You teased.

~~

Tag list

@georgie-me-myself-i​ @tatastaetaemainblog​ @dragoste-lunes​ @lil7bluedragon​ @amber-thumbs​ @greezenini​ @jisoosbitch​ @taozibun1​ @ghostkat23​ @fullvoidmoon​ @lovelyseomin​ @aclp-jb1d​ @mrcleanheichou​ @smallbaby-cat​

[rocorambles]

Trapped

Pairing: Sakusa x Reader

Prompt: Fantasy

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Toxic Relationship, NSFW, Fantasy AU, Sorcerer Sakusa, Rape/Non-Con, Mind Control, Manipulation, Obsessive and Posessive Behavior, Degradation

Summary: You should have trusted your gut instincts, the lessons you had learned the hard way about just how cruel powerful men could be. 

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Friday, October 30th 11:00pm U.K. time!)  

You splutter awake, laughing, but also groaning as a wet tongue slobbers all over your face and you lightly shove the fox that’s currently standing beside your resting head, intent on waking you up to play. Blearily you blink your eyes, trying to gauge what time it is based on the light seeping into the cave you’ve come to call your home. Judging by the bright rays of sunlight, it’s already mid-morning and you stretch your arms above your head, petting your furry companion behind its ears before standing up and treading out into the forest, your friend walking right beside you, its tail brushing against your leg. 

The familiar peace and quiet of the wind rustling past branches and the faint chirping of birds wafts through the air and you smile as you continue making your way to the nearby waterfall, various four-legged animals that have come to be your family and friends popping their heads out of grassy patches and from behind trees in greeting. You can’t even remember the last time you’d seen another human being and you grimace at the thought of your last encounter. 

Orphans, especially female orphans like you, rarely survive for long and you bitterly remember the years of being a street urchin, never knowing when your next bite of food would come, never knowing who to trust in a world full of both humans and magical creatures who’d do horrible things to an unclaimed child and you shiver at the thought of possibly being eaten or harvested for ingredients for countless dark magic spells. But life had only gotten harder the older you became and as a single, vulnerable woman, you began to attract a different attention, no longer able to blend as seamlessly as you once had with predatory eyes trailing after you, resting too long on parts of your body that you desperately wanted to hide from the world. 

You tried sticking it out, finding ad hoc jobs here and there as a maid, as a seamstress, as a waitress. But corruption ran deep wherever you went and disgust makes you recoil when you remember all the times you’d been cornered by all types of men and creatures, received unwanted touches in hidden corners and degrading remarks of what your only purpose in life was. And after being left to sob, pain lancing between your legs, your clothes ripped to shreds, knowing no one would ever take your side, knowing that this would just continue happening over and over again, you vowed to never have anything to do with another sentient being ever again. 

You’d heard rumors of the forest, about its enchantment, about the stories of terrible things hiding away in its heart, but you couldn’t imagine any monster worse than the ones you’ve already encountered and you determinedly march forward, never turning back to look at the city you’re leaving behind. And as you step past the border of trees, even you, someone who’s never had anything to do with magic, can feel the surge of power, feel the crackling energy as you delve deeper and deeper. But maybe the forest could sense that you meant it no harm, maybe it knew that you were just a lonely, helpless soul, maybe it felt generous, felt pity for the damaged woman seeking refuge. Whatever the case was, it left you alone and in all the years you’d made a home in its lush vegetation, not once had you met any of the ghastly creatures you’d heard so many horror stories of. And maybe that’s why you let your guard down when you meet him, finding a false security in the wood and grass-filled world you now live in. 

You don’t bother being quiet or stealthy as you walk. Why would you when there’s never been anyone else around? So imagine your shock when black human eyes are staring at you as you round the corner and reach the water’s edge and panic laces through you when you see how masculine and strong he looks, overwhelming fear making you tremble when you take in the staff you see laying next to him. 

A sorcerer. 

You’d learned the hard way that men were never to be trusted and that men with power and wealth were the ones to be even more wary of. Fortunately you’d only dealt with vile wealthy men and as awful as they had been, you know men gifted with an affinity for magic make those nobles seem as harmless as kittens in comparison. You’d seen firsthand the havoc sorcerors could wreak, seen the charred, mutilated, disfigured bodies put on display at the city gates as an example of the fate for anyone who rebels against the crown. To your knowledge, all sorcerors worked for the royal family, rarely leaving the walled fortress unless sent on a mission or task, but never in a place like this so-called cursed forest. So what was he doing here? 

The urge to flee thrums through your veins, but when he makes no move to stand or get any closer to you, curiosity gets the better of you and you stay rooted to your spot and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself asking the first question that comes to mind. 

“Who are you?” 

When Sakusa had ventured outside of the castle walls for a break from the irritating humans inside the cramped corridors and bustling courtrooms, he had purposefully chosen a place where no other soul would be. His hand had immediately wrapped around his staff as the sound of approaching rustling interrupted his thoughts, but when you had made your presence known, he could only stare in awe, staff forgotten as he took you in. 

You’re different from the usual noble women he sees on a daily basis. For one, you’re barely wearing anything, a makeshift dress of strung together leaves, flowers, and grass the only thing covering you and he can feel his face grow hot as he tries not to blatantly stare at your bare legs and arms. But as he really regards you, he can’t help but feel something wild, something primal in you and he blinks in shock when he realizes that you have the same energy as the forest, as if the forest has claimed you as one of its own and he’s so entranced by his realization that he’s startled by the sound of your voice.

From anyone else, he would have scowled at the forwardness and bluntness of the question, but for some reason, coming from you, he finds himself easily answering. 

“Sakusa Kiyoomi” 

People, conversations, human interaction. Those are all things Sakusa abhors and yet, as you tentatively draw closer to him, staring at him in wide eyed curiosity while the two of you exchange words, he thinks he doesn’t mind any of those things when you’re involved. He comes to visit you as often as he can, something warm blooming inside of him as he sees your hackles relax, notices how you inch closer and closer to him every time he arrives, and he can’t help but compare you to a wild animal and behind the warmth in his chest, something darker lurks, and he wonders what it would be like to tame you, claim you back from the wooded forest that had taken you in, mark you as his own. 

And that thought festers and grows inside of him. 

He does his best to keep it at bay, play it off as just a fleeting idea, but when your eyes and body begin to seep into his dreams, into his every waking thought, he can’t keep the desire down any longer and when he strides towards you once more, he drops to one knee in front of you, asking for your hand in marriage. 

In hindsight it probably was foolish to think that you were as smitten with him, foolish to think that someone who had been scarred enough to escape from civilization would easily just return to the place full of painful memories, and yet red hot anger blazes through him when you turn him down. It doesn’t matter how sweet and kind you are about it, gently letting him down and telling him you’re sure he’d find someone much better suited to being his wife, someone prim and proper, someone educated and knowledgeable of court intricacies. 

Humiliation only fuels his rage as he rises back to his feet and he can feel his magic churning, waiting to be used, dancing at his fingertips, and he has half a mind to forcefully drag you back with him, but he retracts it, pushes it down deep inside of him as he takes a deep breath. No, he wants you to come back and grovel at his feet, beg him to take you in, to help you. He wants you to feel the same need for him that he feels for you and he bites his tongue and restrains himself as his mind begins to plan and strategize. 

He tries to remain as normal as possible, still going to visit you as often as before, but his nails dig into the palm of his hands at the pity in your eyes and he clenches his teeth at the way that you tread around him like he’s a wounded animal. But he takes those feelings and lets them drive him late through the night as he chants strange words, flips through old scrolls, experiments with different spells and ingredients and a rare smile stretches across his face when the pieces finally come together. 

It’s time to take set his plan in motion and in the middle of the night while most of the city is fast asleep, there’s a strange flashing light, a rush of something sinister in the air, and the murmurs of masculine chanting swirling in the air, lingering, and foreshadowing the dark days ahead. But you remain asleep, peacefully ignorant of the shift in the atmosphere, naive to just how much your life will change.  

 You wake up, surprised by the lack of a warm furry body or tongue lapping at your face, and you vaguely wonder if you’d woken up in the middle of the night, but the sunlight filtering through tells you a different story. You feel strange, warning bells beginning to faintly clamor in your head, and you gingerly step outside of your lair only to freeze at the dead silence surrounding you. It’s always quiet and calm in the forest, but where there is usually the sound of nature and creatures, now there is only a deathly silence and you stare in horror as the forest seems to decay right in front of your eyes. What used to be green grass is wilting and brown. The trees you’d spent years climbing and picking fruit from are completely bare. But what makes a choked sob get caught in your throat is the corpses of the animals who’d you come to be so fond of littered around you and your slow stuttered amble becomes a frenzied run, as you race through your dying home, hoping to see any sign of life left. 

But days pass and the state of your home only gets worse. Your throat is parched without clean water to drink, all the water sources near you murky and littered with fish corpses indicating just how toxic they’ve become. Your stomach aches with hunger, no vegetation, fruits, or animals nearby for you to ingest. And a deep loneliness churns inside of you and once again you feel as alone as you did when you were just a dirty street urchin trying to scrape together a living off the streets. 

So when Sakusa comes for his regular visit and finds your weakened body slumped on the floor of your cave, it just makes sense to you, survival instincts kicking in, to drag yourself over to his feet, fling your arms around him when he finally bends down, and sob into his chest. You don’t question the way he’s slow to crouch down to your level and comfort you. You don’t see the cruel smile on his face when he sees you pathetically laying at his feet. You don’t notice the glee in his eyes as you beg him to take you with him. And when he asks you if you’d like to come and be his assistant, you eagerly nod your head and cling tighter to him, burying your face in his comforting and familiar presence as he teleports the two of you back to his living quarters. 

Months pass and despite your initial wariness of returning to live among other beings, you find that Sakusa seems to dislike being around others just as much as you, and the two of you find a comfortable way of life mostly holed up in his living quarters with only the other as company. You’d never really been exposed or taught anything about magic growing up, so you’re genuinely fascinated as you watch Sakusa chant, attentively listening as he tells you what each ingredient is, eagerly following his every step as he shows you firsthand how to mix different potions. And Sakusa thinks that your aptitude for learning, the perfect synchronization the two of you have as you seamlessly work your way into his rhythm, preparing and setting things up before he even needs to tell you, speaks volumes of just how perfect the two of you are together, speaks volumes of how you were meant to be together. 

He continues strategizing, gaining your trust, letting you grow accustomed to his presence, smiling at the way you don’t even bat an eye when his hands linger on yours a bit longer than normal when he hands you something, at the way you don’t tense up anymore when he presses his body against you from behind as he physically guides and shows you how to do something. And he knows he’s on the right track when you take the initiative to swipe a strand of his hair behind his ear as he concentrates on a task at hand, when you perch your chin on his shoulder, peeking over his shoulder as he jots down notes. 

But even the greatest minds make mistakes and when he sends you off to find a certain piece of text for him from the bookshelf in the corner of his room, he forgets to clarify where on the shelf to look and not wanting to bother him, you meticulously comb through every book, forehead scrunching in curiosity when you find a notebook tucked behind, as if it was meant to be hidden. You consider just passing it over, not wanting to intrude on Sakusa’s privacy, but having gone through most of the books and not finding what you need, you wonder if perhaps the thing he’s looking for is in here and that this had just been misplaced or accidentally pushed towards the back of the shelf. 

As you flip through the pages you quickly realize this is a book of Sakusa’s own spells and you stare in awe at how much work he’d done, how extensive his own self-created spell repertoire is, but suddenly your heart freezes when you flip to the last few filled pages. You’re not as fluent as Sakusa is when it comes to the ancient magical language, but you know enough after the time you’ve spent with him, the lessons he’s taught you, to recognize ‘plague’ and ‘forest’ and your throat and heart feel both heavy and panicked when you realize the implication of what you’d found. And suddenly you remember the day he had proposed to you vividly, ice cold shock and realization making you shudder when you remember a flash of something dark in his eyes when you had rejected him. And your hands tremble when you see the very last page, taking note of the phrase ‘mind control’. But before you can dwell on it, you squeal in surprise when the book is plucked from your hands and you’re rooted to the spot by dark eyes pinning you down. 

You want to scream angry words at him. You want to escape. And yet, you do neither, frozen with fear when you remember exactly what happened to the victims who’d defied sorcerers.

“Hmm. This spell’s not quite ready yet, but I guess we can test it out early.” 

And before you can even register what’s happening, a firm hand is placed on the top of your head, the other wrapped around your throat to keep you still as magic surges through the air and you vaguely hear yourself pleading for him to stop, until suddenly you feel trapped in your own body, the connection between your conscience and physical figure severed and you stare in horror as your body goes limp and docile in his arms. 

Sakusa peers into your eyes in interest, humming in thought as he scrawls a few more notes in his notebook. 

“The end goal of this spell is for me to be able to completely control your mind, but right now it looks like I only have control of the section that handles your physical functions if that ugly hate-filled look in your eyes is any indication. But let’s test my theory shall we?”

And it feels like a bad dream as your body submissively makes its way to his bed, seductively swaying your hips as you sprawl out on his bedsheets, eagerly wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as he joins you, bringing him down for a kiss. He’s rough and invasive as he tears your clothes off, calloused hands touching and contaminating every inch of you and you feel disgust as he examines you like you’re a piece of prime meat he’s purchased, coldly and meticulously pinching and prodding you as he observes what makes your body react. And for once, you hate how observant he is, how in tune to your smallest shifts he is, how sensitive your body is as your nipples perk up, as little moans escape past your traitorous lips when he pinpoints your weak spots. 

But what you hate most is the triumphant grin on his face when his dexterous fingers swipe against your lower lips and you internally flinch at the glistening slick that coats his fingers when he holds it to your face, evidence of the heavy arousal mixing with your humiliation and hate. And you try to think of anything else, imagine you’re anywhere but here as he begins to wonder out loud while his fingers twist and turn inside of you, reaching and touching places you’d never been able to explore yourself, if he even needs to tweak his spell anymore seeing how you’re a slave to your body’s natural desire for pleasure. Maybe there wasn't a need to completely control your thoughts and emotions as well.

He hadn’t realized what a slut you are, getting off to anyone using your body, and he leers down at you while he continues questioning you, knowing full well you can’t answer or retort to his crude remarks. And he idly wonders if your mind would naturally break without additional magic if he pleasured you enough, transformed you into a warm body that constantly seeks and craves his touch.

The fear in your eyes at his words only fuels his need to completely dominate you and he grits his teeth as he slides into your drenched hole, eyes closing shut as he just stays still and revels in how tight you are, how perfectly you wrap around him. And when he opens his eyes and sees the glassy-eyed lustful look on your face from being filled, he finally releases himself from the controlled facade he so carefully always wears and lets himself dive headfirst into the sultry, dizzying, primal embrace of lust as he pistons his hips in and out of you at a brutal pace, dark eyes never straying from your face as your eyes begin to roll back and your wanton mewls fill the air. 

He can feel his end approaching, but he’d be damned if he didn’t make you fall apart with him, drown you in inescapable pleasure, and his hand slips between the two of you, fingers finding your aroused clit and all it takes is a few rubs and thrusts before your body is tensing up, back arching, mouth opening in a silent scream, body convulsing and writhing underneath him, your cunt milking him as you’re forcefully brought to your peak. And he joins you over that edge, thick white spurts coating your twitching walls. 

You pray that he’s done, that he’ll release you now that he’s thoroughly tasted and had you, now that you’re just sloppy seconds, used goods. But you’re startled when he lovingly kisses you and tenderly strokes your hair, and your stomach churns at the genuine affection you see in his eyes. And your heart drops, any last bit of hope you had extinguished as he holds your body close to him in a mockery of a loving embrace and whispers in your ear about the future he has planned for both of you, a future where you stay by his side as an obedient, submissive housewife, a future where you’re willing and eager to please him, to love him. 

That was always his goal for the both of you, he insists, and a flame of anger burns inside of you at the exasperated and patronizing sigh he directs your way as he blames you for forcing his hands, for forcing him to do this the hard way, for forcing him to resort to magic when you could have saved everyone the hassle by just accepting his proposal all those months ago. 

Hate and anger twist and coil inside of you and yet, when he kisses you once more, your body instinctively leans into the soft touch before obediently going lax as he tells you to sleep, eyes automatically closing at the command, and Sakusa smiles at your slumbering figure. It’s not exactly how he had planned to go about this, the mind control spell being more of a back-up option he had been trying to avoid, but you’re finally irrevocably his and that’s all that matters.  

[jordanstrophe]

Be a Good Guest, part 8

CW: Whump, failed escape attempt (again...) kidnapping, electrocution, choking *inhales* intimate, possessive, creepy, protective, parental whumper, slapping, blindfold, restraining, shackles mentioned, manhandling, angst, so much angst with a seasoning of despair. No happy ending for this chapter at least :c

Masterlist

Walter was happy today, dancing and humming as he moved about the house with the radio playing a cheerful song. Gabriel didn’t even have the chain shackled to his leg today, he did still have the tracker in his neck of course, but if he pretended that it wasn't there, it almost felt like a normal ordinary morning.

“Good morning, little one!” He smiled. “Gmorning..” Gabriel gorged. He stood with his arms crossed while swaying on his feet, his eyes half open. He was hardly sleeping, the bed still felt foreign to him as he would just stare blankly at the ceiling. 

He was homesick. As lonely as his crammed apartment was back at home, he would rather be lonely, then here. He felt two arms slither around his waist from behind as he gasped with chills running up his spine. 

“Please don’t touch me!” He barked, jumping from his grasp and pinning himself against the wall.

“It was just a hug” He giggled, extending his arms out. Gabriel shook his head no as he refused to budge from his corner. Walter sighed as his arms fell crossed. “Are you still scared of me?” He asked.

He didn’t respond, his eyes just darted around the room to everywhere but his burning gaze. “Come now, Gabriel, It’s been a week. I’m doing everything I can to keep you happy, can’t you give it a little effort?” He asked, his voice growing impatient. “I just...I don’t want to stay here, please...” He begged. 

Walter’s face fell with sheer disappointment. He sighed as he slumped onto the piano bench, tapping his nail against the wood as an invitation for him to sit. Gabriel silently shook his head no once more, cringing and squeezing his eyes shut when he heard him abruptly stand up. He knew he was testing the waters a bit, but maybe he could pity himself out of this. He wouldn’t hurt him for something this mild, right?

*Slap*

His cheek burned as his whole body hit the fridge door. His lip that had just healed from the car crash splitting once again as blood smeared across the fridge. Gabriel took a shuttered breath as his hand gripped the door handle with his other hand on his red cheek. 

“Wh-what is wrong with you!?” Gabriel shrieked. “Are you crazy!?”

He regretted his words instantly as a hand wrapped around his throat, pinning him against the fridge as he fell silent. Walter rested his other arm over his head against the fridge as if he wasn’t already presenting enough dominance. He wasn’t squeezing his throat very tight at least, it was just enough to scare the daylight from him.

“I’m getting real tired of your constant disrespect, young man. You live under my roof, the least you can do is show an ounce of thankfulness for everything I do for you.” He hissed in his ear. Gabriel whined against his hand around his neck as he pressed his back against the fridge. The hand retracted as Walter’s fingers moved to wrap around his chin, tilting his head up until their eyes met.

“Tell me you’ll behave.” He raised an eyebrow.

“I-I’ll behave...” He whispered.

“Little louder.”

Gabriel’s eyes darted down, he was just doing this to be purely dominant now.

“Gabriel if you disobey me one more time I’m taking you to the basement.”

“I’ll behave!” He yelped.

“Good boy.” He smiled, his hand moving from his chin to lovingly caress his face as he slightly flinched. “Go sit down now, breakfast is almost done!” He smiled.

It was disgusting how he could change his mood in a flash. Gabriel’s legs felt numb as he struggled to walk to the table, slinking on the seat. He kept his wide eyes forward, too scared to move or even breathe too hard in fear of attracting anymore unwanted attention.

There was a clattering sound with a splash of water as Walter dropped a full cup of hot tea. “Drat!” He yelled, hissing and cursing under his breath as steam fumed off his soaking clothes. He grabbed his boiling wet robe and tossed it over the chair to get it off, before marching off to his room for a change of clothes. 

Gabriel sat wide eyes staring at the robe pocket opened just enough he could see the cluster of keys poking out.

Gabriel didn’t even think twice about the consequences as he reached into the pocket, grabbed the keys and bolted. They were much heavier than he expected, with about two dozen medieval looking keys hooked on a loop. His hands trembled as he fumbled with it, trying each one in the keyhole to the main door. The window, unfortunately, was out of the question, Walter made sure of that with metal bars after his pitiful first escape attempt.

He could hear Walter in the other room opening and slamming drawers, there wasn’t much time left. He was about halfway through and none of them had worked yet- 

*click*

One had finally fit as he bolted out the door. He still had a tracker in his neck, but all he had to do was outrun him, right? He felt his pulse beat through his body, his head pounding as he sprinted up the hill. He had been here before, but this time he was free of the chain dragging him down, the thing that screwed him over the first time. Finally, he made it to the road. He stood there, looking left, then right.

No cars… No one ever came here. He ran down the road, there wasn’t a soul in sight. He slowed to a stop as his lungs started burning, his hands on his knees as he gasped for air. He stopped when he thought he heard something… Chattering? Laughing? No, that was too good to be true. He took a deep breath and held it, trying to listen as he straightened up, spinning around trying to figure out where it could have come from. 

There it was again, a laugh. It was coming from the other side of the road near a trail. There must have been hikers! He bolted in the direction, following the cheery voices of what sounded like a small group of people having a laugh. He could see movement through the branches as his chest leapt with relief…

Finally, finally! He made it! There were people right there, just a few yards away!  “Heey!” He hollered, staggering through the woods. “PLEASE HELP ME!” He cried. He did it… He had made it out. 

His cries for help were interrupted by his own screams as a shock spiked through his body. What felt like thousands of needles stabbed through his neck forced him to plummet to the ground. After a couple of seconds, it stopped as he found himself lying in the dirt on his back, his hand held to his neck as he heaved for air. He scampered to his feet, before he could take a step, the full weight of someone tackled him from behind, pinning him to the ground on his chest with a hand tightly woven around his lips. 

His screams and crying were muffled as he fought back, digging his knees into the dirt trying to push the man off, who kept his arms and head pinned to the ground. He could hear the voices commenting the strange noise they heard in the woods, but brushing it off as some animal romping around. 

“But it sounded like a voice.”

“It’s just your imagination, or just another hiker, who cares?”

Tears swelled in his eyes as he was forced to watch the group walk by. He stayed pinned to the ground for several more minutes until they were long gone, the forest grew silent with their passing. The weight pressing against his back quickly became agonizing as his distressed noises were muffled. 

His hand retreated as he instantly shouted for help, electricity pulsed through his body again. His back arched off the ground in the man’s arms as he was held. “Gabriel, stop this right this instant!” Walter hissing in his ear after lifting off the trigger.

Gabriel went slack in his arms, his body still quivering. Walter got off him as he continued to lie still in the ground between his feet obediently. 

“Get up.” He ordered.

Gabriel blinked his eyes open, his tears mixing with the dirt on his face as he looked up with a pitiful expression. Walter only stared him down as he finally sighed in submission, slowly crawling to his feet. 

“Walk. Let's go.” He ordered. “You’re going to behave, and walk all the way home. Do you understand?” He growled. Gabriel flinched into a nod as he wobbled on his feet. Walter pointed to the direction of the cabin as Gabriel held his arms tightly to his chest as he shakily cowered past him. 

He was forced to walk in front, as Walter loomed behind him making sure he stayed in check. He lost his footing at one point and fell to the ground, only to be roughly grabbed and ripped to his feet. 

The cheerful music was still playing when he was shoved into the cabin. His hair was roughly grabbed as Walter dragged him along, ripping the basement door open. 

“W-wait..” He rasped. 

He was ignored as he was thrown onto an old wooden chair. Cuffs and shackles already built into it clamped over his wrists, ankles and neck tightly. He could still hear the happy music playing on upstairs.

“Wait! P-please!” Gabriel begged, tears dripping down his face as a blindfold was secured over his eyes. “Please don’t! You don’t have to do this!” He sobbed. He felt a hand rest in his hair, gently petting him. 

“Yes I do, little dove. Because you made me. This is for your own good.” He planted a kiss in his hair. “Since you want to be cut loose like a wild animal so badly, you can stay here, where it’s safe until you learn what’s good for you. That I’m good for you.” 

Gabriel heard his footsteps stomping up the stairs as the basement door slammed, muffling the joyful music playing like some sick fever dream.

“PLEASE! Don’t leave me here, I’m begging you!” He sobbed, his voice cracking. 

His cries were ignored as the house fell silent. He only saw darkness, as all he could do was listen to his panicked breath.

@alien-octopus @yesthisiswhump  @lave-whump @whumpasaurus101 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hamiltonwhumpdump @just-another-whumper @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @approach-me-and-ill-cry   @whump-it @kixngiggles @as-a-matter-of-whump

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ  Thank you for reading! (and I’m sorry)

[cellard0ors]

Fic: Movement (4/5)

Still working on this for @peachworthy. Should wrap up sometime this week or next and then the full thing'll get posted to AO3. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 here for now!

They decide to do it on a Saturday night.

Link has the weekend off from work and no classes. Rhett’s schedule is also free. They discuss the matter in terse terms, both seeming nervous about the idea, but neither backing down.

As such, Saturday rolls around with little fanfare until late into the evening. An evening that finds Link sitting on the couch, one of his legs jiggling and bouncing about as he waits for Rhett.

Rhett comes out to the living room holding a pillow and he offers it to Link. Link looks at it with some confusion and his friend clears his throat, eyes darting away, “For your lap.”

“My-?” Link looks down and then to Rhett and then…oh. Link colors, realizing that the pillow is to be used in order to cover any potentially ‘arising’ situation on his part. Feel exposed yet stubborn, he remarks dryly, “Don’t think I’ll need that.”

Rhett lets out a loud laugh and pats him in the chest with it, “Trust me. If I’ve done my job right? You will.”

“…point taken,” Link says softly and he takes the pillow, settling it over his crotch. To be fair, he probably will pop wood. After all, he sometimes pops it when Rhett’s full clothed.

Nude?

Yeah.

Link presses down on the pillow harder, even the errant thought of a nude Rhett causing a stirring. Rhett walks to the television and fiddles with the remote.

An app that Link’s noticed before, but never bothered with, is clicked on. Erotes Plus. The screenshots for the videos that come up are…certainly something. Link looks away, almost overwhelmed by all the bare flesh before him. The titles of the videos are also a bit much. Rhett notices and Link can hear the smirk in his voice as he says, “Prude.”

Link scowls and glares back at him and the screen. He is nota prude. However, titles such as ‘Lonely Housewife Squirts for The First Time’ and ‘He Rides His Daddy Dry’ would take anybody aback. At least Link would like to think so – he supposes some people are more immune than others. After all, his own history with porn is on the small side.

During puberty he’d taken his healthy peeks at nude magazines and a few of his friends had snuck out adult VHS tapes to check out, but for the most part it hadn’t interested him. Granted, this was probably due to his eventual discovery that – while he appreciated the female form – it didn’t draw his interest quite like the male one did.

And finding gay porn? Where he grew up? Yeah, pretty much a completely impossibility. And then – when he’d finally managed to snag some – it had, once more, disappointed. It all just seemed so cold and callous. Like a business transaction with a boatload of grunting. Not at all to his tastes.

Rhett, scrolling through the videos, finally finds one titled simply ‘Movement’ and turns to Link with an apprehensive glance, “Still plenty of time to say ‘no’.”

Link’s throat is dry. Unlike some of the other screenshots, this one is vaguer. It’s two forms silhouetted in shadow. One of those forms is Rhett. Link feels numb as he speaks, “I’m good.”

Rhett clicks the video and it begins.

He moves over and sits near Link, lounging against the other side of the couch in an oh-so-casual way. As if an adult video starring him hasn’t just begun to play.

The film opens with a lithe redhead in a yoga outfit doing various poses. While this is being shown the title card appears followed by the starring and since Link highly doubts Rhett goes by ‘Jenessa Star’, he can’t help but chuckle at, “‘Donatello Velvet’?”

“What?” Rhett asks simply and Link gestures to the television, “That’s you, isn’t it?”

“Problem?”

“That’s the screen name you chose?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it, I just don’t see you as a ‘Donatello’,” Link grins at him and Rhett laughs, rubbing one finger along his top lip thoughtfully, “What would you’d’ve gone with then?”

“If I was doing adult film?” Link asks and at Rhett’s nod, he crosses his arms and thinks, “I don’t know…Bevin, maybe?”

Rhett tosses his head back and laughs and Link feels a fissure of delight at that sound, just as he always does. He turns back and the redhead’s poses have become…much more complex. Almost painful looking as she contorts herself to degrees Link wouldn’t think possible and then she rises, stretching out and that’s when Rhett enters.

Or maybe it would be better to think of it as Donatello enters. Yes, it’s a little easier that way and Link does his best to cling to that, to try and stay nonchalant as he offers dryly, “Well, well – there’s a familiar lookin’ fella.”

Rhett just hums and they both watch as he walks up to the woman. He runs his hands along her shoulders and down her arms, whispering into her neck huskily, “Good form.”

Link can’t help but let out a snort. Rhett rolls his eyes, “Okay, okay – I know, I know. Dialogue’s a bit-?”

“Bad?”

“…it could use some improvement.”

“Uh huh,” Link just beams and hey, this isn’t so bad. Cheesy and kind of silly and maybe it will just stay like this. Light and fun. For all Link knows, they won’t even watch the whole thing. Maybe just some of it and then they can turn on something els-!

Rhett begins kissing Jenessa’s neck, white teeth visibly dragging along her skin and Link’s whole body tightens. A phantom sting starts along the same side of his neck that Rhett’s touching on Jenessa. Jenessa’s whole throat arches back, a pleasured moan leaving her and Rhett’s tongue is…very pink.

Link’s Adam’s apple bobs as he says (much huskier than he’d like) “N-Nice camera work…”

Rhett just hums, “Mac’s always had a good eye.”

“Mac?”

“Mackenzie, the director of this one.”

Link just lets out a sound of acknowledgement as he watches Rhett reach around Jenessa and tug at her tank top. Tug until her small, pointed breasts pop free. He cups them in his hands and he has…great hands.

They looks so tan against her skin, palms rough and big, and Jenessa lets out a full throttle moan. Rhett teases the pink tips, fingertips agile as they play along the sensitive flesh, as they circle around her areolas.

She whimpers and turns, kisses him fully, passionately, and it’s…messy. Wet. Link can feel his whole heart thump hard at the sight. Janessa’s hair is shorter than Rhett’s – cropped close to her scalp and Rhett’s hands have abandoned her chest to run through the short strands.

Link barely stops himself from reaching up and touching his own hair, instinctively wanting to mimic how that might feel. To imagine Rhett doing it to him.

He tries not to fidget and talking, talking will help, “Surprised this isn’t more, ah, instant.”

Rhett shrugs, “Foreplay’s a thing, man.”

“No, I know,” Link knows his voice pitches a little high at this, defensive, “Just…figured, mean...’s porn…”

“Some of the earlier videos on here are like that, but when EP got bought out, the new owners took the company in a different direction.”

“EP?”

“Erotes Plus. The platform these films are on,” Rhett explains and then he starts mentioning a few things about different production companies and distributors and the like, but Link is too distracted because Jenessa is now fully naked and Rhett is on his knees between her legs, feasting on her moist lower lips.

The silken tip of his tongue is parting her, dancing along the bundle of nerves that is her clit and her head is tossed back on a loud, wild whine.

Her pale body undulates and she’s gripping his long hair so hard. Link feels as if he’s having an out of body experience. This is his roommate. His friend. The man he’s secretly in love with.

And he’s pleasuring this woman with such…focus. With intensity and finesse and when he rises, his erection is clear, straining at the linen pants that are containing it. Link points to the screen weakly, “Hippie clothes.”

The comment is stupid and unhelpful, but Rhett just laughs, “Yeah – kinda the theme of this series. I’m like, a Yoga Instructor or something? Least that's the way it was explained to me, so – linen pants, cotton top – I mean, we’ve had better costumes, but for this shoot-!”

Rhett is talking some more but, again, Link is barely listening. His eyes are transfixed by what’s taking place on the screen. Janessa easily strips off Rhett’s shirt and then his pants and – No. Underwear.

Link is seeing Rhett’s dick. It’s there…thick, but not as big as his own, a visible vein running along one side. Dusky dark and with a blushing pink tip and gently curling hair hiding his full, taunt sack…

“Link? Buddy? You doin’ alright?”

“Fine.”

“Lookin’ like you seen a ghost," Rhett teases, but there’s a breathless quality to his words, “My body all that bad?”

Link just shakes his head and watches as Jenessa strokes Rhett, as his head falls back and he lets out a shuddering gasp that Link feels in his very bones.

Link is suddenly very, very thankful for the pillow that bobs some as it reacts to the situation taking place beneath it. That situation being Link’s own dick perking upwards, making his jeans tight and constrictive.

“You…?” Something Rhett said finally seems to click in Link’s head, “You said this is a series?”

“Yup,” Rhett murmurs and now the film shows him pressing Jenessa against one of the studio walls and she raises one leg high. Insanely high. It’s a very gymnastic level move and Rhett slots his cock up with her opening, sliding hard and deep into her body.

Jenessa lets out a wail of pleasure as he presses in and she holds that leg up – all strength and grace as he begins to move within her at a steady rhythm.

Her hips answer some, but it’s more about how…open she is. And how deep he’s getting. They’re eyes are locked as he picks up his pace, rocketing in and out of her, shaking her whole form with his thrusts, her tiny breasts jiggling with each movement and movement, they call this…

“Got an award for this one.”

Thank God. That one comment draws Link back to some semblance of sanity even as his body quickens with an unspeakable longing, a carnal hunger that aches, “Really?”

“Uh huh,” Rhett says with no small amount of pride, “Best Sex Scene.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, I owe it to her to be honest,” he waves to the screen, “She’s the one turning herself into a pretzel throughout this thing. Same for the rest of ‘em. They kept finding co-stars for me to work with who had had extensive training in this sort of body contortion. It was just my job to, uh, well…”

Rhett waves again and the answer is obvious: to fuck them through it. Link is not at all limber. In fact, he’s kind of a klutz. Nothing to match up with someone like this.

For some reason, this realization leaves him hollow. Cold. His arousal dims some, “Where’d you get the award from?”

“XRCO.”

Link makes some sound that would imply he understands, but he doesn’t. Rhett sighs, “Got nominated for Most Popular Male Performer on Pornhub but lost to Johnny Rockwell. Guy deserved it though. Performance he did that year was nuts.”

Link’s lost in the vocal cacophony that is erupting from the television speakers. Moans, gasps, grunts, cries of sheer ecstasy as Rhett and Janessa really ramp it up.

They’re in a different position now, Jenessa’s body once more arched at a crazy angle and Rhett's just...really getting in there. His hips are pumping double time, like a jackhammer, and she is loving it.

Her blue eyes are flashing with adoration, her lips curled in that moue that speaks to an almost pleasurable pain and Link can’t help but ask, “Are the others with her?”

Rhett takes a moment to process the question and when he realizes Link is asking about the other films in the series, he shakes his head, “Nah, man. You don’t usually have repeating partners. Like I said, they found other people who could bend in weird ways. The sequel to this sees me with Julian St. Croix. Great guy. Really smart. He’s actually working on another doctorate. Plans on working in the tech field when he retires, which – money he’s making, should be pretty damned soon. You want me to dial that up?”

Link just shakes his head. The idea of watching Rhett doing something like this with yet another person and with a man no less…

He feels crappy for, well, feeling crappy. This is Rhett’s job. He shouldn’t take this personally.

Besides, it’s not like Rhett knows how Link feels about him. To him, they’re just friends and he should play the part of friend – be a friend, a good friend, “I can see why you won the award, Rhett. You’re doing a…a great job. Real good acting.”

The sound of the shocked (yet oddly sharp) laughter that leaves Rhett at that actually causes Link to finally look at him.

Rhett’s face is a ruddy red, like he’s embarrassed or something, and he’s looking at Link with a bit of a wildfire in his eyes, “‘Good acting? Are you serious?”

Link finally shifts about on the couch (which feels fantastic considering his body has been fighting off a plethora of sensations for a while now) as he fully turns to him, pillow still firmly in place, “Of course! I mean, it-it seems like you’re really into this girl,” he gestures to the screen, “when you’re doing this and I imagine that’d take some acting chops.”

He chews on his bottom lip and lowers his gaze, hands ghosting over the pillow as he talks to it more than Rhett, “Un-unless you really are into her.”

“Into her?” Rhett pokes one finger over to the television, “Into Janessa?”

“Yeah, I mean…if-if you two are a couple or-or were one or-?”

“Me and Janessa?” Rhett asks incredulously and some of the heat seems to leave him. Link gets the impression that Rhett had, for a moment, been mad or affronted by Link’s well intentioned compliment, but now is completely changing track. Now Rhett seems charmingly baffled, “You think I’m into Janessa?”

“I-I was just saying if you’re not into her in this,” Link waves to the screen where (seeing as the volume is dying down) it would seem the film is reaching its conclusion, “Then the acting is good and if you are-!”

“I’m not,” Rhett confirms firmly, “I am very much not, nor was I ever, into Janessa. We’re friendly, but we’d never work as a couple, man. She likes cats.”

Rhett says the last as if it’s a blasphemy and Link can’t help but giggle, suddenly feeling bright and light even though he knows better than to do so, “Problem?”

“Not a big fan of lil demons…”

“Noted, “Link sighs and he feels much, much better. The film is finally over, he’s seen some of Rhett’s work, and he can now say the following with sheer confidence, “I’m proud of you.”

And with that, Rhett freezes. He freezes solid, back going ram rod straight, and his eyes – they’re as round as dinner plates.

Big and green and looking at Link like’s a wild anomaly and Link worries that maybe he, somehow, inadvertently offended him with the remark so he’s quick to explain, “I-I mean it, bo. I’m proud of you. Going out there and-and doing something like this. Being so…so exposed and vulnerable and for anyone to see and yeah, sure, I mean, I guess it’s just for people to-to beat off to or whatever, but when you think about it, it’s something that brings people pleasure, which is a lot better than bringing something bad into people's lives and I know some would argue that porn is like, some gateway into violent dark tendencies or whatever, but for the average person it’s a good thing to explore and the fact you can so freely provide that to them and not be ashamed-!”

Link is blathering.

He’s a blathering idiot.

But he feels like if he stops talking, Rhett might snap at him. Or be mad. Or-!

But instead Rhett just shakes his head and whispers, “You’re unbelievable.”

Link’s diatribe cuts off. His blood stops in his veins. He feels completely seized.

“I’ve been trying so hard…fighting with everything in me,” Rhett breathes and he just…eases forward, eases closer. He’s in Link’s personal space and Link wonders if he should back up or something.

He can feel the heat coming off Rhett’s skin. His breath is bathing Link’s face as he rasps, “But I can’t anymore. You’ll have to forgive me, but…”

Rhett kisses him.

Rhett. Kisses. Him.

Rhett kisses Link.

Their lips meet in the smallest, quickest, sweetest little peck. The sound of it, the quick wet click of their lips…it’s earth shattering, sound-barrier breaking.

And Link feels his whole nervous system lurch at it. And Rhett is still looking at him, searching his eyes wildly. Link blinks and licks his lips and tries to speak, but there’s nothing to say.

Rhett just grins softly, “Bad for business…that’s what you are…”

Link’s gaze dips to Rhett’s mouth. To his lips. Lips that were on his seconds ago. His eyes feel heavy lidded as he gulps and Rhett just huffs as he kisses him again. Again.

Another kiss and this one is more than just a peck. This one? This one is the one Link’s been dreaming of, the one he’s been wishing for.

This kiss is perfect.

[kanonsarchivedblog]

Late Night Thoughts

Word Count: 2,956 Rating: E Ship: Kiyomi/Madara/Tobirama Characters: Uchiha Madara, Senju Tobirama, Fujihara Kiyomi (OC) Genre: Smut ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ It was late- far too late for any civilian to be walking about alone at night. The streets were empty, save for the lone shinobi rushing home from a mission, or leaving in the dead of night to attend to a mission passed down from their kage. The occasional stray dog or cat would dart across the street and into an alleyway, chasing after it’s prey. Quiet; calm- one could even venture to say it was peaceful, though that word was nearly taboo to speak within a shinobi village. To speak of peace is to bring the omen of war to the border.

And no one wanted a war, not now.

A sigh slipped past ruby painted lips as Fujihara Kiyomi settled against the railing of the balcony. The hotel was nice- then again, she’d expect nothing less of the Hokage. Tomorrow, she’d meet with Hashirama to decide whether or not Konoha could offer a decent trade route through the Land of Fire- something that was debated quite a lot. Kiri needed the wood; Konoha needed the iron ore that Kiri had within it’s mountains. These negotiations were tiring, but she was good at her job. She’d always been good at negotiating- her life, others lives.

It was fun- dangerous, but fun.

Her gaze drifted from the horizon to the streets, watching as the Hokage finally left his office, his little retinue in tow. Uzumaki Mito- a beautiful woman with a terrifying beast that lived within. She was fierce, respected, a terror on the field. Senju Tobirama- his younger brother who managed to master all five elements; he was handsome, but cold. Smart, too. And at the back, Uchiha Madara, who laughed at something Hashirama had said. Now that was a man- the long hair, the prowess both on and off of the field, the reputation alone was terrifying, but the man himself? Not as terrifying, not off of the field.

One could even say he was handsome.

She watched like a wraith in the shadows as they passed beneath her balcony before rounding a corner, Madara going left, the Senju clan going right. If she squinted, she could see the Uchiha clan compound from her room. How peculiar- then again, all of the clans here were spread out.

No one was close to one another. Smart; clans needed their space, lest they begin to feud over land once more.

But the Uchiha Clan, from what she had gathered in her three weeks of being here, were treated differently- as if they had created some sort of awful creature and were now being shunned for it. It made her skin crawl in an unpleasant sort of way.

Konoha could act as if it were high and mighty, better than the other nations because it looks like it has its act together, but scrape away the surface layer of varnish, and you see the painting for what it truly is. This village was no different from Kiri- and time would certainly tell the truth of that.

She gathered herself, slipping back into her rooms and closing the doors behind her, drawing the sheer curtains. The moonlight spilled softly through the thin fabric, illuminating the room in a gentle silver light. Konoha summers were different from Kiri summers; the air was neither dry nor wet. A strange mixture of the two that left her night robe clinging to her skin like it was trying to become one with her. Disgusting. She felt restless; sleep would not come, not yet. Her mind was clouded with a hundred different thoughts; it made tension rise in her neck. She could go to the Onsen, but given the late hour, it would be difficult to get in.

Scowling, she all but flopped onto her bed, groaning into the mattress. If Jushiro were here, he'd already have her pinned to the mattress, fucking her until she was sobbing. And then he'd clean up and go to his own room, because they slept separately. Their marriage was not one of love- they did love one another, but not in any form of romanticism.

But that wasn't what she wanted- not what she craved. Sure, she wanted to be pinned down and made to sob- she always enjoyed that. She enjoyed many different things. But she wanted more than just one quick round. She wanted to be taken, to be held, to be used until she forgot her own name. Now THAT would put her to sleep without issue.

Rolling over, she studied the ceiling for a moment. It wasn't as if she didn't come prepared- she did! In many senses of the word! She wouldn’t dare go to the Entertainment District that Konoha had up and working- no, she couldn’t be seen there. It would ruin her reputation. She could henge, but fucking with a henge on never felt the same- too detached, not truly her skin.

Nimble fingers worked on the knot of her robe, making quick work of it before she peeled the robe from her form, a pleased noise escaping as the slightly cooled air of the bedroom graced her skin at long last. No bindings wrapped around her chest, her breasts free. She ached- her ribs ached as her hands reached up, rubbing over the slowly fading red marks of her bindings. She couldn’t wait to return home, where she did not have to bind beneath the layers of her formal robes. But for now, she couldn’t walk around unbound- that would be a touch too distracting.

And she had already caught the Hokage looking at her chest.

Hashirama was a handsome man, she’d give him that. But not her type- something about him made her squirm, and not in a pleasant way. How his gaze lingered a touch too long, how his smiles never reached his eyes. Snake, that’s what he was. A snake hiding beneath a bouquet of roses.

She leaned down, taking hold of her rucksack, and tugged it up onto the bed. She knew she’d be here for an extended period- and like hell she’d be stuck here without bringing along some entertainment. And teas- those were necessary to aid with the pains that came with her cycle.

Her hand took hold of a bottle first, cool to the touch as she pulled it out. It was clear, filled with a clear liquid that was thicker than water, yet not a solid. She set it aside for a moment- that would be necessary soon. Her nose scrunched as impatience settled in- where was it? Oh! Her lips spread into a grin as she took hold of the phallic shape, tugging the toy free. Perfect!

Excitement coursed through her veins as she settled onto the bed, propping herself up with the pillows the hotel provided. Now- she wasn’t wet enough to not bother with any foreplay, sadly. But foreplay always had been her forte- both for herself and her partners. Working people up is what she did best, after all.

Eyes closing, she allowed herself to relax, breathing deeply for a moment before her hands raised, slowly trailing along her sides. An image swam into view of calloused hands larger than her own and dark hair, a pair of gentle lips caressing her throat. Her head tilted back, a soft sigh pulled free as a hand massaged her breast, giving gentle squeezes. Sensitive- much more than normal. Perhaps from wearing the bindings too tightly- or if her cycle was close… She’d need to check later, but for now, it was not her hand squeezing her breasts but another’s.

“Yes,” she whispered, hips shifting thighs spreading for the phantom. A hand slipped down, dragging nails across her left thigh, drawing free a gasp from her lips, her back arching up and into the phantom lips she pictured closing around a nipple. A different hand was on her thigh, one belonging to another man- one with hair the color of starlight and eyes the shade of blood. “Please- don’t tease…” She whined, bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

The hand on her breast crept upwards, pausing at her throat to squeeze- to test the waters. It had her thighs squeezing shut, hips shifting, breath quickening. She could hear his chuckle in her ear as the hand lifted to her mouth, two fingers slipping inside, pressing down against her tongue. "Be a good girl for us, Kiyomi," Madara murmured against the shell of her ear. A keen, high in her throat, filled the room as her thighs rubbed against one another, hoping to gain some friction.

"No, no," the swat to her thigh nearly startled her out of her fantasy, but she quickly slipped back in. "Did I say you could move?" Tobirama asked, his gaze hard as her legs spread once more.

“No, sir,” she breathed, though her fantasy quickly stills at the sound of footsteps outside of her room. She held her breath, gaze trained on the ceiling as she listened- someone returning to their room down the hall. The door opens, then clicks shut. Silence in the hall once more. Her breath leaves her in a rush as she shakes her head. She’s a grown woman, and yet she still jumps the moment she fears getting caught being intimate with herself.

How amusing.

Her gaze drifts, studying the vague shapes in the dark room. A desk- oh. Oh-

Her mind runs wild with that thought. Both of those men have their own desk- hell, she has a desk back in Kiri that has certainly seen plenty of things during its use. Her eyes slip shut once again, dark lashes casting soft shadows against the apples of her cheeks as her fantasy comes back to the forefront of her mind.

Madara, his front pressed to her back, his hands wandering across her skin, grabbing handfuls. "Look at this- you're already wet for us," he crooned, rocking his hips forward to press against her. Hard- oh, Gods, he was hard as a rock. It draws a moan out of her lips as her hand dips down, slipping beneath the dark, lace fabric of her underwear. Her fingers were hesitant at first before confidence took hold, picturing not her own hand but rather his. How the fingers would dip low, spreading her lips to fully feel how wet she had grown. "My, my, what have we here?" He’d ask as his middle finger teased at her entrance.

"Someone's excited," Tobirama would murmur, watching from his desk, leaning back in his chair. So casual, even though his yukata was open, baring his chest- and giving her the smallest peak of what lay below. "So needy already."

“Just for you two,” Kiyomi whispered into the air of the bedroom, lost in her fantasy as her fingers slipped in, curling upwards. The feeling had her toes curling, a keen rising high in her throat. “Madara-” she whined, voice wavering as her hips rolled into her touch.

Oh, his fingers would be larger than her own, thicker- the hands of a shinobi. “There, there!” She gasped as her fingers curled, pulling backwards before pushing forwards once more. He’d be cruel like this, she imagined, teasing and taunting her until she couldn’t take it anymore. Pressing against that one spot, his thumb against her clit, rubbing tight circles as Tobirama watched from his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. Unimpressed, he’d be- but his ruby gaze would be growing hazy, especially as Madara would reach up to cup one of her breasts through her kimono. “Don’t- Madara, please, don’t stop!”

Wet, so very wet, her hips raised off of the bed as she cried out, a hand against her chest. “There! Right- right there! Yes!” Madara would be grinning against her shoulder, gaze trained on Tobirama across from them as she jolted, knees threatening to give out from the harsh pleasure.

"Should I let her cum?" He would ask, watching as Tobirama’s gaze darkened. Predatory.

"Not yet." Tobirama would respond, leaning forward to reach out, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen into her flushed face. "I want her to cry. I want to see how she looks with her makeup ruined."

“No, no, no,” she pleaded, whining as the fingers left her. Empty- she felt so empty suddenly, her lip jutting out in a pout. “I was so close, don’t do this!”

"Do what, little snake?" Tobirama asked as Madara chuckled, reaching down to undo his trousers. No armor- none of them were wearing any. Too much in the way for hands to touch. And oh, she would love to be able to touch- from the few instances in which she’d been close enough to Madara, she’d felt how solid he was. How sturdy, how much those robes hid the muscles that laid beneath. And Tobirama- she’d gotten a good feel after being tripped by one of the elder council members, causing her to fall against him. He was solid, too- taller than Madara, a touch more lithe, but still solid.

What she wouldn’t give to be stuck between those two…

“Oh- oh!” She had to slap a hand over her mouth as her middle finger worked over her clit quickly, her breaths coming in harsh pants. “Good, good, good,” she whispered, brows furrowing, toes curling as the pleasure built higher, higher, higher-

Her hand withdrew, leaving her teetering on the edge before backing away. So close, so very close. “Tobirama,” she whispered as a hand raised to settle around her throat. In her mind, it was his- large, strong, squeezing as he loomed over her. “Fuck me, please- please-” her voice bordered on a sob before she reached out, taking hold of the bottle of lube. She made quick work of slicking the toy up, of ripping off her underwear and tossing them aside, of spreading her legs and settling a pillow beneath the small of her back.

“Oh-” she squeaked as the toy pushed in slowly, her brow furrowing at the slight sting of stretch. It was larger than her husband, that much was certain- the length almost the same as his. But oh, how good it felt as it sank in. “Yes,” came the soft sigh as it bottomed out, settled deep within.

"So tight," Madara would groan, his brows drawn inward, panting softly. He’d have laid her out on the desk, her head resting at the edge, giving her the perfect view of Tobirama’s face. "Should feel how tight she is, Tobi. Gripping my cock..." his voice trails off as he leans down, pressing kiss after lingering kiss to her throat, letting her get used to the stretch.

Her gaze settles upon ruby hues, watching how his gaze trails across her and Madara’s joined forms. His hand reaches down, cupping himself. She could reach down and help him out if her hands weren’t captured in Madara’s own. His lips part as he begins to stroke the same moment Madara begins to move.

“Oh- oh, yes, Gods, yes,” she gasps, eyes widening at the slow, deep thrusts. The drag against her inner walls is wonderful, creating sparks that cause her to jolt. “Madara- Madara, please, faster,” she begs, but her gaze doesn’t leave Tobirama’s. “Fuck me faster, Madara!”

The growl she gets in response is one she swears is real, rumbling against her ear as she moves the toy faster in her cunt, not bothering to hide her sounds any longer. If she were a more innocent woman, she’d be embarrassed by how wet she was- how she could hear it with each movement of the toy. But she wasn’t innocent, hadn’t been in many years, and god, did it feel good. “Ah! Yes- yes, Tobira-Mada-ah!” She cried out, hips rutting down against the toy. “Please, please, please-”

"Please what, little snake?" Tobirama murmured as Madara moaned against her throat, getting lost in the pleasure himself. "Use your words, pet."

“Wanna cum!” She keens, back arching. “Please, lemme cum, lemme cum, please, please-”

"Gonna be a good girl and cum for us?" Madara whispered against the shell of her ear. "Gonna cum on cock like a good girl? Let me fill you up?" He asked, hand slipping between them to toy with her clit.

She whines, biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. Tobirama would have laughed at that- oh, she could see it so clearly, how he would have reached up to pull her lip free, to swipe at the blood before leaning down for a kiss- how he would groan into the kiss, his own fist moving faster.

“Close, close- gonna cum, gonna-” Her voice catches in her throat as she tips over the edge, back arching, mouth dropping open into a silent scream. Her hand doesn’t stop despite how jerky the movements have become. “Don’t stop, don’t sto-ah-ah!” Kiyomi gasps, hand finally stilling as the aftershocks begin to subside. After a moment, she pulls the toy out and all but tosses it aside.

Her hands drop to her sides, a laugh trickling free as she shakes her head. “What a shame,” she murmured, voice hoarse. A shame it was only her imagination and not the real thing. She rolls onto her side, nose scrunching up at the wet little puddle she’d left on the bed. That could be fixed later.

For now, a hot shower sounded lovely. She rose and stretched with cat-like grace, her hands high above her head. She slipped into the en suite bathroom, door closing behind her. Not once had she noticed how the temperature had cooled, how the curtains had begun to dance with the light summer breeze.

Old window latches were oh so tricky, after all.

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Seungkwan: Void (Part One)

Characters: Seungkwan x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, a little angst, fluff

Word count: 3,379

Summary: Seungkwan can’t resist the urge to go searching for the banshee any longer, but his trip into the woods has him coming face-to-face with a strange girl who doesn’t seem to remember anything about where she came from or how she got where she is. The only things she knows are the things the voices in her head that Seungkwan doesn’t know about tell her. And that strange girl is you, his mate. 

Next | Void Masterlist

“I’m sick of this! Which one of you keeps doing this?!” Jihoon demanded, looking around at the pack with a scowl on his face.

Another night, another clap of thunder booming over the shriek from the banshee in the forest that was starting to get closer again. While the banshee was definitely more frightening than the thunder that made the house shake and woke everyone up, the latter was what was pissing everybody off because they knew it had to be somebody in the pack. Everyone just wanted to know when they’d be able to control their power.

“The lightening or the screaming?” Jia wondered.

“We know what the screaming is,” Soonyoung sighed, “Can whoever it is just hurry up and get their power already? I wanna sleep.”

“Well it’s not me,” Joshua shrugged, folding his arms over his chest.

Fingers were pointed at each other, but nobody wanted to take the blame. Even if it meant getting a new power, the pack clearly didn’t really like said power, and would definitely give the werewolf dealing with it a hard time. 

“Seokmin’s always loud, so it only makes sense he’d get a loud, annoying power,” Jeonghan sneered.

“Me?” Seokmin’s eyes went wide as the older wolf glared at him accusingly. “Seungkwan’s way louder!”

“Actually, Jun is,” Wonwoo said, rubbing one eye as he leaned against the doorway.

Just then, there was another scream. Everybody clamped their hands over their ears, some of the wolves even crumpling to the ground in pain at the high-pitched noise. Yeji scurried over to Jihoon with her ears flattened on her head as she buried her face in his back and whimpered.

“Holy fuck,” Jihoon groaned once the noise had died down, “that’s the worst noise I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Hold on,” Jooyeon interrupted after she’d lifted her head and looked around, putting her hands up to signal the pack to be quiet. She stepped further into the hall, looking over to Seungkwan’s doorway – his empty doorway, “where’s Seungkwan?”

The members of the pack looked over to where he had been standing, but now was missing. Jihoon walked over and entered is room, but saw that nobody was there. Instead, he was met with a draft from Seungkwan’s open window.

“Seungkwan?” Jihoon called out the window, but there was just silence, and no sign of him outside. “Seungkwan!”

-

Seungkwan knew very well that the alphas wouldn’t want anyone going to look for the banshee, but his instincts were telling him to. He’d been ignoring those instincts every night, but he just had to go now. Everyone was distracted by the lightning and thunder so this was his only chance.

As soon as he was outside, he shifted to make sure he’d get away as fast as possible so that by the time anybody noticed him missing, he’d already be gone. The second scream was just lucky timing that gave him cover to leave. It hurt his ears immensely, but he had to sneak out while nobody could hear.

Despite the sudden lightning, there wasn’t any rain up until Seungkwan got deep into the forest. There was thunder grumbling somewhere far away as rain began to trickle from the sky in small drops, but the leaves still crunched under his paws as he ran toward where he had heard the noise.

As he ran further into the woods, he could smell…something. It was a smell that definitely drew him in. It almost smelled sweet; intoxicating, even. He followed it, wondering if that was where the noise was coming from. Even if it wasn’t, maybe he’d find something that could point him in the right direction.

It didn’t take long after picking up that scent to find you standing alone. You were wearing a long, tattered, dirty dress. You didn’t have shoes, your hair had leaves sticking out of it, and you were starting to get pretty wet from the rain that was picking up. You were facing away from him, but Seungkwan had already felt something just from looking at your back.

That intoxicating smell was coming from you, and he suddenly realized why it smelled so good as the rest of the world was blocked out around you: you were his mate – his mate that was lost in the woods for some reason. The question was why were you wandering around the forest at night – it wasn’t super late but it was still too dark for someone to be out here alone.

You heard a whisper in your head, ‘There’s something behind you.’

Slowly, you turned to see a large wolf behind you, it’s golden eyes following your every move. You gasped, falling to the ground in surprise. You scrambled backwards into a tree, your wide eyes never leaving the wolf in front of you.

‘I know him,’ the voice said, almost fondly. 

That didn’t really make you feel any better, but it was all you had considering you were the only person out in the woods. This voice knowing this animal was your only hope at somehow staying safe. You had only recently started hearing this one voice – one of many – but this one was more prominent, and sounded too sweet to be malicious.

The wolf didn’t make any moves to attack you. Instead, it looked at you like a human would, which concerned you. He -- the voice said it was a he so you assumed that’s what the wolf was -- studied you, bowed his head, and slowly walked toward you. You couldn’t back up anymore, and you were too afraid to run because you knew it could easily catch you. So you sat as still as stone and kept your eyes on the wolf’s every move.

Slowly, it approached, until it laid at your feet. Your breath was held, waiting for its next move, but all it did was nudge your shin with its wet nose. Then it licked your knee – both of your legs were pulled to your chest in protection. Why was it acting friendly?

What happened next, you definitely didn’t expect, let alone that fact the wolf licked you: the mousy wolf shifted to a man right before your eyes. He had high cheek bones, light brown hair, and his eyes were the same gold as the wolf’s.

‘No, not a wolf,’ you corrected yourself, ‘a werewolf.’

“Don’t be afraid,” the man said softly, cocking his head to one side as he offered you a small smile. “My name’s Seungkwan; I promise, I won’t hurt you.”

You watched Seungkwan without saying anything, keeping your knees to your chest. You tried to not notice his extreme lack of clothes, focusing more on the voice you were hearing inside your head.

‘You can trust him,’ it told you softly.

‘How can I trust you?’ you quizzed, your eyebrows furrowing together.

You were too spaced out, focusing on the voice, that you didn’t even notice how cold you were. Your body was shaking, your teeth were chattering, and your lips were faintly tinted a blue-ish purple. Seungkwan frowned as he observed this.

You were pulled from your internal conversation when you felt a warm hand on your knee. You almost put your hands over his, wanting to get closer to the warmth out of instinct, but you resisted. Instead, you just looked at Seungkwan curiously, wondering how his body temperature was so warm when you were freezing out here. Then again, he did just shift from a giant animal to a man, so his temperature was the least of your worries.

“You’re shivering,” he noted quietly, the frown still on his face. “I can take you someplace warm if you’d like. Or I can bring you back home if you remember where it is.”

Slowly, you shook your head. Your voice was just above a whisper when you spoke, “I-I don’t remember how I got here…”

“Well, you should get out of the rain,” he chuckled softly.

It was then you noticed his hair was flat against his head, dripping with water. You hadn’t even noticed how quickly the rain had picked up, and how it was now pouring even through the thick forest.

“Let me help you,” Seungkwan’s voice was low and quiet as he held his other hand out to you. “You’ll freeze out here, or some wild animal will find you. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Between staying out in the forest and ensuring your death, or going with a strange man who was just a wolf a few minutes ago who may actually be telling the truth, your best bet was the strange man. You cautiously took his hand as he got to his feet, helping you up. He smiled, and you swore you heard a faint grumble in his chest – then again, it could’ve been the thunder.

“I’m going to shift back to a wolf,” he told you, “and I want you to climb on my back and hang on, okay?”

You nodded before you saw him shift back to the brown wolf from before. He laid down so it was easier for you to get on, so you straddled his back and gripped his fur at the scruff of his neck.

Seungkwan stood again before taking off back home, going slower than he had when he was going to find the banshee because he didn’t want you falling off. He was a bit disappointed he didn’t find the banshee because he wanted to ask her what her deal was, but he found his mate, which was better than anything he could’ve imagined.

Truthfully, Seungkwan was lonely. Seeing his brothers finding their mates made him a little depressed, and he wanted someone of his own he could hold and make happy as much as they’d make him happy. Finally, he would have that. You were going to fill that little space in his heart that he felt was missing.

You kept your face down so the rain wouldn’t pelt it, your eyes squeezing shut. Seungkwan’s fur was quickly becoming just as soaked as your clothes were, and the smell of wet dog became very prominent. Still, you held on with whatever strength you had left in your body.

It didn’t take very long for Seungkwan to reach the large house. He lowered his body so you could climb off, and then he shifted back to his normal self. You assumed you were at the backdoor of the house considering the large space and the gardens.

“We’ll have to be quiet or my pack will wake up,” he whispered, taking your hand in his and pulling you toward the door. “I don’t want you to get overwhelmed.”

“P-pack?” you stammered.

Seungkwan turned around, a finger pressed to his lips, “I promise I’ll explain after I get you inside, but you need to be quiet for now.”

You nodded, not wanting to cause more trouble for yourself.

Seungkwan grabbed what the pack called ‘the emergency shorts’ from by the backdoor. He tugged them on before leading you inside, keeping his movements completely silent. He knew a human wouldn’t be as stealthy as him, so he lifted you in his arms with minimal warning. You inhaled sharply out of surprise, but didn’t make any noise other than that, your arms wrapping around his neck in case he dropped you – that was definitely something you were afraid of.

He easily weaved through the dark house even though there was no light. Seungkwan saw perfectly even without any light, but you were completely lost. You didn’t know where you were until a light was turned on after a moment, and you saw you were in a bathroom. The door closed softly, and Seungkwan set you on your feet before going to the shower and turning it on.

“I’ll bring you a change of clothes,” he promised, going back to the door. “They’ll be a little big because they’re mine, but…they’re dry and clean.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled shyly.

“Of course,” he grinned a bright smile before leaving the bathroom to go get clothes.

Seungkwan went down the hall to his room to grab some clothes like promised. However, his room wasn’t empty like he left it. Jihoon was sitting on his bed, staring at the open window before his eyes shifted to the younger werewolf.

“Who did you bring home?” the alpha questioned.

“How did you–”

“I’ve been awake since Jooyeon realized you left,” Jihoon informed him, standing up and walking over to Seungkwan. “I heard you outside when you came back.”

“There was a girl in the woods, and…” Seungkwan trailed off, a smile taking over his face as he thought about you, “I imprinted on her.”

“Of course you did,” Jihoon sighed, shaking his head although he was laughing. “What’s her name?”

“I have no idea,” Seungkwan admitted, slipping passed the alpha to get clothes from the closet. “She’s in the shower right now – poor thing’s freezing.”

“Do you know how she got there?”

“She doesn’t even know. I don’t want to push her for information, though. She seems pretty afraid, but that’s expected.”

“You did shift in front of her,” Jihoon shrugged. “I don’t blame her for being scared. Just…keep an eye on her. We don’t need another Jooyeon situation.”

“She won’t run away, Hoon,” Seungkwan assured him, grabbing a shirt he was sure would be long on you since he wasn’t sure if his bottoms would fit you correctly. “She doesn’t know how to get home. I’ll see about somehow getting her into town to see if she remembers how to get home from there.”

Jihoon just nodded, going to exit Seungkwan’s room, “Good luck with that, Seungkwan. Go get back to your mate.”

“Not so loud,” the younger boy whined, going to bring the clothes to the bathroom. “I didn’t really explain…anything.”

“Considering how well the rest of you have explained imprinting to your mates,” Jihoon joked, rolling his eyes. “God, you’re all hopeless.”

“Speak for yourself,” Seungkwan shot back. “Yeji can back me up, too.”

As Jihoon disappeared back into his room with an amused chuckle, Seungkwan went straight to the bathroom, knocking softly twice before he entered. He was surprised to find you still in your clothes, but he understood when he saw you staring at yourself in the mirror, picking leaves out of your hair. He laughed softly, going behind you to help.

You let your hands drop to your sides as you studied Seungkwan in the mirror. His eyes were a warm gold that were somewhat comforting to look at, and the warmth his body emitted made you want to back up into him and use him as a human blanket. 

“Seungkwan,” you spoke up, though your voice was soft, “what…are you?”

Seungkwan continued to untangle a leaf from your hair, and didn’t speak until he had dropped it in the sink, “In short: I’m a werewolf.”

“I didn’t know werewolves existed,” you admitted. “I thought werewolves were just scary stories.”

He scoffed, “I’m not that scary, am I?”

“Not really,” you decided with a sheepish smile. “I did think you were going to eat me, though.”

‘Well…’ Seungkwan tried to not smirk to himself.

“One of our alphas has a mate who thought we were going to eat her, too,” he chuckled, remembering the fight Jooyeon put up against the pack – specifically Seungcheol – for a long time. Thankfully, you didn’t seem to be that guarded. “She’s gotten used to us, though. She’s very comfortable here.”

“A…mate?” you repeated. “What’s that?”

He took the time to explain how imprinting worked, what a mate was, and every question you had about werewolves. He spent the time picking leaves out of your hair while he spoke and you took in information. Throughout his explanation, you could hear faint voices in the back of your head, but you chose to ignore them this time in favor of listening to Seungkwan. He cracked a few jokes to make you feel at ease, and you found yourself smiling a lot more, even as he excused himself to find some clean towels.

You stripped yourself of your sopping clothes, leaving them on the sink before getting in the shower. The hot water made the tips of your fingers and toes burn from how cold you were in contrast, but you enjoyed it. The water relaxed your tense muscles and warmed you quickly.

Seungkwan entered the bathroom again, leaving the towels on the short rack across from the sink before he took your clothes and left to put them in his laundry basket. He then went to make some tea before you got out of the shower so he could at least get something warm in you. Tomorrow, he’d make sure to feed you – well, he’d make sure that somebody who made food better than him fed you.

When he went back to the bathroom and knocked, you opened the door wearing the shirt Seungkwan had given you. He grumbled happily as he looked you over, loving that you were wearing his clothes.

“Feel any better?” he asked as he handed you the mug.

You let your hands wrap around the sides to warm them more, “Yes, thank you.”

“Are you tired?”

“A little.”

He had checked the time and it was almost 2am, so he was shocked you weren’t more tired than you seemed. He gestured with his head for you to follow before leading you down the hall. Your bare feet padded against the hardwood as you sipped your tea, sniffling because of your drippy nose. Seungkwan obviously heard and turned around, pulling his sleeve down to wipe your nose before he opened the door.

“You didn’t have to–”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tisked, putting a finger to your lips, “don’t worry about it.”

You noticed Seungkwan was a bit more touchy, but you didn’t mind it. You were still a bit chilly, and Seungkwan’s heat was something you wanted to stay close to.

Seungkwan gestured for you to go into his room, so you did. He didn’t bother turning the light on since you were going to sleep anyway, but you could see his bed from the light that came in from the hallway. You went straight to the bed and sat down, still sipping the tea that was given to you.

Seungkwan closed the door, easily walking over to the nightstand and turning on a lamp. He sighed as he sat down beside you, one hand running through his hair, “We can’t really go into town, but I’ll find someone who can go with you to bring you home.”

You knew you couldn’t stay with the pack – Seungkwan was just a nice werewolf that had saved you from probably dying in the forest later – but you didn’t know how to tell him that you really didn’t remember how to get back. So instead, you just nodded, “Okay.”

“Do you want to sleep now?” he offered.

“I’m not terribly tired,” you shrugged, taking another sip of your drink.

“We can talk a bit more if you’d like.”

So you did. He told you about the pack, the mates, and a few of the things they were going through, like the half-cat girl that lived with them and the couple that had a baby together that he warned you might cry at any moment. He explained that some of the pack also couldn’t go into town anymore -- one of them being an alpha named Soonyoung who used to go into town at night for hookups before coming home. He also warned you about the sudden thunder that might wake you up, but he hoped not because it had already happened once earlier. This pack was certainly something, as Seungkwan had plenty of stories to tell you about.

Beside you, you could feel the warmth from Seungkwan’s body. He really was like some kind of space heater. You found yourself leaning into him until your head was resting on his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he put an arm around you, resting his cheek against your head, and that was how you eventually fell asleep.

[sebastianshaw]

Shaw & Skadi for the kid meme!

Name: Sigvid Skadisson Shaw. I know it should be Shawson BUT FUCK THE RULES. “Sig” is a pretty standard prefix for a lot of Norse names from the word “sigr” meaning “victory” and “vid” from the Old Germanic “widu” for forest. Gender: Masc and male-presenting but beyond that I’m not sure? Trans man? AMAB non-binary? Look, he uses he/him (maybe they too) and people THINK ‘man’ when they look at him, that’s all I know General Appearance: Tall and beefy, he couldn’t NOT be. Medium pale skin that gets even paler in winter but tans easily in summer. Black hair, or so dark brown it might as well be black, and very dark eyes. His hair, unlike both parents and most of his Asgardian brethren, is actually kept short, and while he has a beard, it’s not the big one. The reason for this is functional; short hair is better if you’re spending a lot of time in the wild. Stuff gets stuck in long hair, it can get tangled in branches at the worst times, it’s hot in the summer, and it can literally freeze in the winter if it gets wet. His attire is very much out of a Viking fantasy, but less on the “heavy armor” end of things and more on the “wearing lots of furs and skins” side. He doesn’t look like someone you want to fuck with, but he also doesn’t look like he’s going to war. He carefully avoids any kind of dangling amulets, charms, or other jewelry that could get caught on anything, but he’s got a sort of leather toolbelt containing various survival tools made from wood, bone, etc. Personality: Sigvid, as you might guess from his attire and the reasons for it, is an outdoorsman. Not as a hobby, not as a lifestyle, but an EXISTENCE. He thrives in the natural world as Sebastian does in the business world, finding ways to survive in even the most adverse of situation. Whatever Mother Nature is doing around him, he can not only make it through it, he can work it to his advantage. His closeness to the natural world, his close observation of it, means that he sees both the facts and errors in his father’s mentality. He sees that the strongest predators will pick off the weakest prey, that the winter will take those who do not prepare, that mother animals will neglect and even devour their young if they’re sick or runty. He also sees that prey are more aggressive than predators, how some creatures will adopt and nourish infants that are not their own or even their own species, how some will share their kill with no benefit to themselves, and how even the smallest and most humble animals can make it through things that the larger, so-called stronger ones did not. Sigvid is very pragmatic, like his father, very practical, very self-preservationist. He has to be. But he’s also very spiritual, not in a way that connects to some distant god, but the world around him, to earth and nature. Not some idealized hippie-dippie conception of nature as a loving mother that is always in balance, but an acceptance that it is a greater power that he cannot control, he can only hope to survive at best. It keeps him humble. It also gives him a much wider, more relative perspective on things that is not human-centric, or Asgardian-centric for that matter. My Shaw often says that he admires human accomplishments above all else, that no other animal has built cities, computers, cars, and so on. And he is correct in this. But Sigvid always points out, how many termite mounds has man built? How many times do humans migrate thousands of miles using an innate sense of the Earth’s magnetic fields? How many fish have we hunted by literally sensing the electricity in their bodies? Yes, humans are “the best” if we judge them by standards HUMANS MADE. Judge us by the base standard of any other species, and we flop. Same for judging any species by the standards of any other. Nothing is “more” or “less” evolved than anything else, more complex does not mean better, and nor does being bigger, stronger, meaner, or even smarter mean a species is “better” or “more evolved” either. Survival of the fittest is not about that, nor about individuals; it’s about how well a species fits its environment and niche. A slime mold is just as evolved as a person. Sigvid is very passionate about this, though he’s not the type to speak up most of the time; he’s stoic and saturnine, used to keeping his mouth closed and his thoughts to himself, because most of the time there’s no one to talk to. And that also means he’s learned to exist without the validation and approval of others---ironically, something that is much like his father, learned in a completely different environment.

A lot of this, obviously, comes from Skadi. He was at side her since infancy learning to hunt and track, learning the difference between wood sorrel and white clover, how to tell when a moose is about to charge, and what it means when the woods go quiet. This connects deeply to Skadi’s Jotunn side in particular, which in Norse lore are thought to have symbolized the inherently chaotic and uncontrollable nature of, well, nature! Though Sigvid would not, nature it’s chaotic, it’s actually very ordered, people just don’t bother to understand what’s inconvenient to them. But where he differs from Skadi is that he’s not a Disney princess. Animals don’t hang out with him. He doesn’t nurse injured creatures back to health. He doesn’t keep pets. He does not see them as friends. They are not less than him, but they are not allies, they are beings he co-exists with, avoids, or eats. At least, until a thylacine started hanging out with him. Yeah, a thylacine. The extinct Tasmanian tiger. Who knows where it came from or why he’s attached itself to him, but he’s very adamant she’s not a pet and he hasn’t named her, but she is THERE. Sometimes. She isn't at his side like a dog, it's more she's following him from a distance and she pokes her head out from the trees somewhere. She's not a pet. She's more a parasite. But unlike Shaw, Sigvid doesn't use that term in a bad way, and he's fine with her presence. He's just curious where the hell an extinct Australian animal came from? Obviously, Sigvid is not interacting with people a lot, but when he does, he’s far less awkward or boisterous than people expect. He doesn’t have the overt weirdness people expect from a hermit, nor the bombastic warrior cliché of an Asgardian, or the vicious stereotype of a Jotunn. He has a quiet but overwhelming elegance, not like an aristocrat but like a great stag emerging from the forest. He chooses his words carefully, and can say much with just a few. He walks the middle ground between judging by individuals and judging by species; he does a little of both. He has preconceptions and generalities that he believes in about each group, but also believes in room for exception. After all, he’s not what a lot of people expect, is he? Despite this, he’s frequently misread as disliking people, but he doesn’t. He is utterly neutral on them, he just prefers his own way of life. Likewise, he tends to be very neutral towards individuals, and this also is often misread as dislike. One thing he does dislike though, is when people try to endear themselves to him by talking about how they agree animals are better than people, or say stuff like you know only man kills for pleasure. . . .this actually just annoys him. Firstly, a lot of animals do kill for pleasure. Secondly, when people say animals/nature is better than people. . . .they’re forgetting that people---humans, Asgardians, Jotunn---are animals too. This is just another way people, of any sort, try to insist they’re something special and different, whether in a negative or positive way. It doesn’t impress him. What impresses him tends to be how well people work within their niche, whatever niche that is. Like Shaw, he doesn’t really judge in terms of conventional morality, but a person’s success----Sigvid’s definition of success is just much wider. Like, maybe you dive for a living---are you a good diver? A great cafeteria worker? The best toilet cleaner in the tri-state area? He admires that and he commends you. When he is angered, he stays quiet, and his response is swift and physical; he either leaves or strikes physically and then leaves. When he feels sufficiently bonded with someone. . . he is still quiet. He appreciates a person who doesn't need to be filling the silences between them to feel comfortable and kinship. And kinship for him is rare, but he's not lonely----just also not adverse to it, as many assume he is. People assume a lot about Sigvid, and most of it is wrong, but he's also very chill with it. Sigvid is a very chill guy.

Special Talents: Besides the obviously mentioned talents for hunting, tracking, foraging, survivalism, and nature knowledge? Many people think he’s some kind of seer because he’s good at predicting storms and such, but actually he’s just very good at reading the signs most people aren’t attuned to. He also presumably has the attributes of Asgardians and Jotuns (super strength, etc) but if he has a mutant power, it has yet to manifest. Also cannot assume a Frost Giant form. Who they like better: Skadi, though eventually he does respect his father for performing so well at what he does

Who they take after more: I think both equally in different ways Personal Head canon: -He really likes amethyst geodes. -He finds a lot of manufactured foods, like chips or snack cakes, to be WAAAAY too strongly salty or sweet for him to stomach, is allergic to Red Dye #40, and he finds the taste of domesticated animals to be weird. - Not much of a dairy person, but ghee is good -Dislikes when people stereotype hillbillies as stupid; as in like, people who are genuinely living in the hills and mountains of the American Southeast, they're an interesting people with their own unique culture like any other group that lives off the land in isolation---which he respects---and not interchangeable with typical rednecks. -He doesn't typically carry anything with him that's not a necessity, if he knows he's going to be seeing people soon, he will pick up knick-knacks he finds in abandoned places and distribute them like a weird Santa Claus. Who, he's met, by the way, and according to him, Father Christmas is something of a badass. - He will always buy your homemade soaps, and I have no idea what he's doing with them. Yes, maybe he's using them in the normal intended way but IM NOT SURE?? - Pops up in art museums. People never expect him to be here, in these cathedrals dedicated to human creation, but he is. I think he views art a bit differently than the average person, but he's there all the same. - He's an Aquarius but there is a LOT of Saturn in his chart - The first Midgard movie he saw was Forrest Gump. He was expecting it to be about something else because of the title, but he enjoyed it and LEARNED THIS DANCE Face Claim: n/a

[stetervault]

Steter fics from 2019/any Steter fics you feel like reccing

2019 Steter fics, let’s see… Here’s a bunch of random ones I’ve enjoyed over the past year:

Where I Want to Be by Tahlruil

Peter wasn’t exactly surprised when he ‘woke up’ in hell.

He’d known his wounds were fatal as soon as he’d gotten them. In truth he’d never expected to still be standing after his quest for revenge had been completed. What mattered was taking the Argent family down with him and making sure they died before he did. Peter had saved Kate and Gerard for last; they had looked into his eyes as they bled out. They had known that he was the instrument of their family’s doom and he couldn’t ask for more than that.

You Are A Call To Motion by neglectedtuesday

Here at Hale Industries ® we don’t believe in limiting one’s pleasure. That’s why we’re dedicated to bringing our clientele the best in Jackbot technology. Whether you’re a busy dom in need of a service sub or a baby boy desperate for an Alien Daddy, Hale Industries ® has the perfect bot for you. Built to your specifications, our customer service team is devoted to building a bot that will never fail to meet your needs. And if you discover something new you want to try, you can subscribe to our monthly upgrade packages in order to add or remove kinks at your leisure.

Hale Industries ® - The Only Limits Are The Ones We Place On Ourselves.

Here Begins the Land of Phantoms by Triangulum

Stiles is four and scared of the dark. There are things in the shadows of his room, whispering to him, showing him terrible, violent things.

There’s something in the basement, too. He can feel it while he’s sitting on the old, worn sofa, its presence curling around the edges of the room. He thinks he can see something sometimes, a mass shimmering in the corner, but he always looks away. He doesn’t want to know.

Or

Peter is a demon that lives in the Stilinskis’ basement.

From Ashes Rebuilt by ambersagen

“You shouldn’t be alive,” Stiles finally admitted. He sounded sorry, smelled like anxiety and hunched in on himself as he fell back from Peter to land in the dented chair. “I heard the doctors telling your niece. She wasn’t quiet about it, and no one cares if I’m around anyway so I heard the whole thing, about your burns. I snuck in to see you.”

“Like a sideshow freak,” Peter sneered, starting to understand.

“Like a miracle,” Stiles corrected.

MCSZ-LW by Bunnywest

Mayor Whittemore gives John his widest politician’s smile. “It’s one of the best- a Halebot. You work so hard for the city, and with Claudia gone five years now, we thought you’d appreciate some company. A service bot is perfect. I mean, you deserve more than the standard gift certificate. “

“Would have preferred the gift card,” John huffs under his breath, but he plasters on a smile and makes all the right noises, because this is an elected position, and as jackbots go, Halebots really are the best. He just doesn’t know quite what he’s going to do with it.

Baby Whisperer by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

“What. Is that.”

Scott looked up at him, apprehensive.

“Her name’s Lily.”

Stiles stared at the fuzzy head peeking out of the papoose.

“Her. Her name. That is a real live human baby. Oh my God-”

“Actually I don’t know if she’s human?” Scott said with a confused frown. “Becca didn’t say.”

“Who the fuck is Becca?!”

Care for Me, As I’ve Never Known by lavenderlotion

“Why…why did you offer me the bite?” Stiles asked quietly, the cover of night and the hum of the Jeep’s engine giving him courage he wouldn’t usually have.

Peter hummed thoughtfully, taking a turn smoothly. “That is quite the question you’re asking. I’m not sure the answer is one you would be happy to hear.”

A Love for Millennia (a story never told) by OneSmartChicken

Stiles had to go into the woods that night. It didn’t make sense. She was lured by the sense of adventure, but there was a more that dragged at her.

Or: Stiles is the only one to realize she and Peter are soulmates. She doesn’t mention it.

Wind Chimes by wynnebat

“Why are you here?” Peter asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I can understand curiosity, but Stiles, you have visited me nearly every day for years. It can’t be that simple.”

Stiles shrugs. It’s both simple and not. For him, who grew up with the wind, who is inseparable from it in the best of ways, it is absurdly simple. For Peter, who doesn’t trust the wind as Stiles does, it may not be. “The wind says you’re mine. That’s all I need.”

Robber Foxes (Have No Fears) by RayShippouUchiha (WIP)

In the end all Stiles really has left is his dad, a lonely house, the key and deed to the loft, and a chest filled up with emptiness.

A void, yawning right behind his sternum.

That and the laughter of a fox trapped right beneath his skin, echoing in the hollows of his skull, whispering behind his teeth.

Stiles should have known it wasn’t over.

Magic stains everything it touches after all.

Keep You (Safe) Within my Shadow by lavenderlotion

Stiles has never been scared of the dark. The shadows are his friends.

Into Eden by GracieBirdie

Stiles deciding to bring home the stray alpha he’d hit with his jeep probably made him certifiable, if it hadn’t turned out Peter was as crazy as he was.

Trust in the End by ShebaRen, Tahlruil

Stiles had always kind of assumed that the end of the world was going to be full of fire and panicking people. Nuclear warfare had pretty much been his guess as to how it would all go, but he could be flexible on that. His only certainty was that it would be man-made, because people always messed things up.

He hadn’t expected the end to be full of snow and freezing cold. He hadn’t expected to be so alone while it was happening, hadn’t thought he would be making a trek from California all the way up to - if his maps and bearings were right - Washington State. He definitely hadn’t expected for it all to happen while his parents were away on a trip for their second honeymoon.

Thankfully he’d fallen in with a wolf who had saved his life and then hung around like a bad penny afterward.

Making Marks by Udunie

Stiles woke to his phone ringing at four in the afternoon, because apparently, he’d never even heard of a healthy sleep schedule before, and also; hated himself.

He blindly found it in the pocket of his jeans thrown haphazardly to the floor, and blinked at it for a few seconds before picking it up.

“‘Sup, Lyds?” he asked, just because he knew she hated the nickname, and she did wake him up.

“I’m killing Jackson,” she announced with unusual honesty. To be fair, any kind of honesty was unusual from her, considering her and Stiles only reconnected recently - and it wasn’t like they were too close in high school either.

“Congratulations?”

You Just Got Ghosted! by Ragga

“What’s your name, angel?” little Stiles murmured even as his eyes fell closed, quickly losing his battle against sleep.

Stiles smiled. It was a little sad but also heavy with the knowledge that what he was doing was the right thing—heavy with the knowledge he didn’t deserve the moniker bestowed upon him.

“You can call me Mietek.”

Or the one where there’s time travel, feels abound, two Stiles in one timeline, and one of them stuck somewhere between the planes of existence. Yet a ghost can still manage to save the day and get the girl. Or the wolf. Manly wolf. Because Peter.

Toothed Morality (Send Me Flowers) by rightsidethru

“The world is a dark place, moje kochanie; it is one filled with monsters, always ready to gobble you whole. Be wary of the promises they give: seal every vow with blood and bone and Name. A True Name, one that will bind them to their word.”

“But how will I know that they’re telling the truth, Matka? Couldn’t they lie…?”

“You’ll know, mały płomień.”

Everyone is King When There’s No One Left to Pawn by Bittah_Wizard

The AU where Stiles is an old trickster—just not the one you’re thinking of.

Beefcake Mountain by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

Shortly after moving back to Beacon Hills, the left hand of the Hale Pack opened a text from a mysterious number.

“Is there a mirror in your pants? Because I can see myself in them.”

What the f—

Wild Creatures by neglectedtuesday

The treaty is signed while Stiles is being laced into his wedding corset. Ink splatters parchment as a maid pulls the ribbons, tighter and tighter. Stiles’ breath and future are taken away, all to save a village. He is a sacrifice more than a bride. The maid assists in fixing a choker around Stiles throat. Her hands are cold despite the roaring fire in the grate. The choker is a string of blood red rubies, they reflect the firelight with a wet shine like an open wound.

First to Know by Twisted_Mind

They fold to their knees in the vee of his legs. His hands cradle their cheek and the back of their neck, and they lean into the touch, eyes closing. “It’s mine.”

“What’s yours, darling?”

They drag in a shaky breath, and look up into the face of the man they love. “The magic. It’s mine. My spark did this.”

Chances by SpookyMiscreant

Supernaturals have soulmarks, everyone knew that, but it was ignorant to think that supernaturals only fell in love with supernaturals. It wasn’t necessarily rare for humans to have marks, but not common either. Supernatural kids all anxiously await the full moon after their fifth birthday, but human kids let the full moon pass without much anticipation.Stiles’ mother had made him stay up that night in his underwear as she searched him with a flashlight, intent to see if he was supernatural like his father. The inherent problem here was that Stiles was then and always will be covered head to toe in moles, freckles, and birthmarks.

walk walk (fashion baby) by rightsidethru

Derek shrugged a shoulder and moved the chopsticks through the broth. “Cora’s decided that she wants to transfer out to Berkley, and Uncle Peter has decided to relocate here again. Unfortunately, his reputation is preceding him and not even the three grand we’re offering for the photoshoot is enough to get a model to stay.”

At hearing the amount of money that Derek was actually offering to pay someone for one temporary job, Stiles choked on his noodles and began wheezing for breath as he went into a coughing fit. “Three? Three grand? Three thousand dollars??”

Three thousand dollars would be enough to pay for his rent for the next few months. Or—pay for the upcoming month and give Stiles a chance to buy some of the more advanced books on magical theory that Elder Potter was willing to let Stiles borrow but not keep. Being able to buy his own copies… Stiles’ fingers twitched in almost immediate booklust.

“I’ll do it,” Stiles announced.

Cause I Want You (all to myself) by LadySlytherin

Stiles has an odd habit of licking Peter, seemingly at random and without much thought. Peter takes a lot longer than he should to figure out why.

or

Six Times Stiles Stilinski Licked Peter Hale…and one time Peter licked Stiles instead.

If I Could Kiss You Again by Triangulum

“Summer plans?” Peter asks, eyes on where Isaac is now trying to inch along the ceiling beam toward the wall where he can slide down a pipe.

“Leaving for Stanford in September. Saving the world and working in between now and then,” Stiles says. “Why, gonna miss me?”

“Considering I’ll be left alone with Derek? Yes,” Peter says.

“You’ll have Cora,” Stiles says. “And Isaac will be here to make up a few high school credits.”

There’s a shriek and a thud as Isaac loses his grip, falling on top of Erica and Boyd, sending them all to the ground in a heap.

“Yes,” Peter says flatly. “Thank god for that.”

OR

Five times Stiles kisses Peter and one time Peter kisses him.

Orbital Distance by neglectedtuesday

Artemis, the capital city of the Moon, where movies are born and stars are made. The crown jewel of American cinema and simultaneously Hollywood’s biggest rival. The money may be dollars, it may be counted as the 51st state but the studios run this city, making cinema and waging war. No real bloodshed but equally cutthroat in its own way. Peter has devoured article after article about the industry, from in-depth journalism to gossip rags, desperate for every detail, every scandal, every glorious moon moment.

Hooverville by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

Town to town, train to train, tent to tent.

By 1932, the dust had begun to blow and the jobs were gone.

Anonymity was a byproduct of looking for work, which made it both necessary and convenient.

Stiles had enough secrets of his own to know to look the other way when he saw something that shouldn’t be possible.

The ghost of a tail giving enough balance to disembark a moving train.

Near silent Latin whispered on the edge of a tent encampment.

A flash of burning eyes.

He had more than enough to worry about without adding the oddities of others, and besides- having unusually sharp teeth certainly didn’t make a man worse than the ones running from the wife and kids they couldn’t feed.

So Stiles kept his observations to himself. He kept his everything to himself.

Until he met a man. One with eyes so blue they seemed to glow- and then they did.

Stiles tried to look away, but for the first time he was stopped.

“Don’t be like that sweetheart. Aren’t you curious?”

Rhythm of the War Drums by HyperLittleNori (Shiguresan)

The foreboding song of the drums rumbled through the stands above, made his heart, his blood pound with their increasing rhythm. He’d seen this so many times now, heard the sickening, morbid excitement of the rabble. He readied himself for the carnage, but even nearly a year after he’d first stood in this spot, it still filled him with dread.

As always, he watched the sandy arena through the barred steel gates. They vibrated with the movement, with the almost deafening sounds of the crowd and the drums. A sea of guards stood at his back, but they were not there for him…

Two Worlds Collided by Bittah_Wizard

It was always meant to be Stiles and Peter.

Always.

A Stranger Comes to Town by Bunnywest, DiscontentedWinter, Twisted_Mind

Peter claps his hands together once. “Right! Let’s start getting to know each other, shall we? We can all take turns introducing ourselves, and explaining who we are as writers. I’ll go first.” He stays standing, and spreads his arms wide for a moment. “As I hope you all know, I’m bestselling author Peter Hale. If there’s been a terrible mistake and you didn’t mean to be here, this is your chance to run.”

He gives another charming smile to the tittering biddies on his right. He sketches a dramatic little bow, and then goes on. “Twice a year, I come out here to teach The Masterclass on writing, providing new talent,” he winks at the MFA-wannabes on the left, tucking his hands in his pockets, “with a safe environment to share your work and equip yourselves with the tools for success. I’m looking forward to getting to know you all this weekend.”

Keep You Like An Oath by Green

After 7 years in prison, Peter has important matters to attend to — and at the top of his list is the young mate he left behind, unclaimed for their own protection. But, for all his good intentions, Stiles has always needed him — now more than ever.

Too Much Of A Good Thing by GracieBirdie

Stiles can’t just leave Boyd and Erica chained up in a hunter’s basement, and if the only person willing to listen to him when he asks for help is a formerly dead psychopath? Well, Stiles supposes he could do worse. But of course nothing in Stiles’ life is ever just that simple…

All The Things We’d Do by GracieBirdie

Stiles’ time travel spell doesn’t work out quite right but he figures he should make the best of it, starting with Laura Hale.

The Promises Of Yesterday, The Pledges Of Tomorrow by ShippersList

Stiles is a kid with serious concentration issues and definitely not a guide—let alone a guide strong enough to calm down a feral Sentinel wolf. It’s just not possible.

Thighs Verse by Bunnywest

I’ll give you what you need, pretty boy. And you can call me Sir.

The hairs on the back of Stiles’s neck prickle at that, and his dick throbs. He clicks on the profile and the picture that pops up is UN-FUCKING-FAIR. Jesus Christ on a bicycle, nobody should look like that. The man’s staring into the camera, a smile that’s almost a sneer on his face. And what a face it is. Intense blue eyes, cheekbones like cut glass, and a strong jawline covered in the perfect amount of stubble. His neck, what Stiles can see of it, is thickly muscled, and Stiles can see the beginnings of a tattoo that travels down. There’s the tiniest scattering of grey at his temples, and Stiles breathes out, “Oh yes, Sir,” as he drinks in the details on the profile.

Or, the one in which Stiles experiments with Grindr, and finds his Sir.

The Boy Sleuth by Shey

Stiles is eight when he discovers a box of his mom’s old Nancy Drew Mysteries in the back of the guest bedroom closet.

Magnificent Mischief by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

“Marvelous Miss and the Magnificent Mischief!” the carnival barker shouted just outside the corridor with all the food tents. “Come see Miss Paige do amazing tricks with her talking raven! He not only speaks, but he jokes! He teases! He philosophizes!”

Escaping by Green

“We have to go. Now, Peter.”

Peter’s holding his apartment door open, standing in shock, looking at Stiles. “What? How do you even know where I live?”

The Chasm and the Clash by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

Stiles has dreams of the Alpha after he dies. It makes no sense. He didn’t know Peter before… did he?

Did Peter know him?

And why does his head hurt so much?