#anyways back to thee fucking abyss I go

[poppyrays]

Ultrakill x Land of the Lustrous am I right

Ruby Sapphire and Emerald. Oh and a lot of gem on gem violence

[fuckingloginwall]

✎ Creeper, AWWW MAN!

《Flesh Torn Voids》 《Origins Biology》

—☵☵☰☰☰☵☵—

Harbinger, Cavalry Captain, Wanderer, two Failures, Funeral Director, Investigator, Deceased Soul, Abyss Mage, and at last, an Eremite, are each approached by entities from beyond the stars. Intended targets or not, they forge an unbreakable bond with these beings who will change them and Teyvat forevermore

They are promised power and artifacts out of this world, without hope of being replicated by those native to Teyvat, and all they must give up is a simple price

Bodily autonomy

—☵☵☰☰☰☵☵—

⌡ 🔏 Reader from Faraway, please do beware⌠

⌡ 🔏 Autonomy is lost. The word smut is used, albiet partly censored, and the topic itself goes undiscussed and unapproached⌠

⌡ 🔏 Please inform me if there are other warnings I have failed to lend thee⌠

—☵☵☰☰☰☵☵—

Extras! Extras!

Any usernames I came up with that are used by people in real life is a mere coincidence.

VERY inspired by Heroes are nerds

Basically, people who play Minecraft but they're eldritch to Teyvat and they decide they want Genshin Impact Skins and do it by taking over the bodies of the real deal.

Players everyone is bonded to:

Here's a ficlet lol

Teyvat could never predict what was going to happen today.

All of the sudden, everyone could see text appear before their eyes, text they could do nothing about.

Childe_Abuse joined the game

〈Childe_Abuse〉I spent literal YEARS trying to find you, you kow that right???/

G0tt1stT0t joined the game

AbyssBorneDream joined the game

〈G0tt1stT0t〉I was hoping for your brother or even better, Fischl, but I've no ire with you instead. It also fits my username too I suppose

MyExTheUSPresident joined the game

〈AbyssBorneDream〉Heeey Prinzessin, wanna wield the great and terrible powers of [AbyssBorneDream] the *Aeternus Mori* all for the low-low price of loaning your body to your new master and becoming a changed person in both mind and body?

〈MyExTheUSPresident〉Oh hello there you got a name yet?

IxXi_Sm_tTopic_iXxI joined the game

〈IxXi_Sm_tTopic_iXxI〉tke THAT bitch Susbedo iS MINE!111

TheSuslaDevil joined the game

〈TheSuslaDevil〉awwww...Iwas hoping for Rubedo...:(

HorsemanOfDeath joined the game

〈HorsemanOfDeath〉Ha hah! You're not taken!

a_VIVISECTION_of_me joined the game

dragONIO joined the game

〈dragONIO〉Ight, what's under your feathers and cloak? Time to see!

WardeNyah joined the game

〈WardeNyah〉 THANK YOU i was taking FOREVER to choose who I wanted to play as!

〈dragONIO〉nothing

〈dragONIO〉. . . . .

〈dragONIO〉Anyways lemme pull up BehindTheName unless you've got a name yourself.

〈a_VIVISECTION_of_me〉Oh fuck you weren't supposed to be mine :/, well I guess your getting resurrected now, sorry about disturbing your sleep but we can't go back now.

anyways—!

Player -> Skin (aka their victims lol)

Childe_Abuse -> Tartaglia

G0tt1stTot -> Kaeya

AbyssBorneDream -> Fischl

MyExTheUSPresident -> Wanderer

IxXi_Sm_tTopic_iXxI -> Dorian aka Fakebedo

TheSuslaDevil -> FellFlower

HorsemanOfDeath -> Hu Tao

a_VIVISECTION_of_me -> Kazuha's Friend

dragONIO -> Geo Abyss Mage

WardeNyah -> Hydro Eremite

Abyss & G0tt Players are fans of Hollow Knight, but Fischl's is also a hardcore roleplayer who's chill with breaking character but also enjoys the ProjectMoon franchise, hence the 'Eternal Death' title in latin (sorry if it's wrong). Abyss likes Cult of the Lamb as well.

VIVISECTION, also known as VIVI is a Danny Phantom fan, and adores body horror, more so than Abyss.

They also listen to GHOST so Kazuha's friend is gonna learn some GHOST songs

dragONIO is a play on Dragon and Ohio and Oh No and ONIO being a Drag King or Queen irl, i never picked a gender for them

MyExTheUSPresident or E-X-E, .EXE or EX-EE, kins Sonic from the Snapcube Fandubs in an ironic or unironic way, and watched all fandubs, even non-Sonic ones. Never consumed official media.

"That would tarnish my connection to my past life, muddying the memories that remain since the transfer."

IxXi was intially going for the FellFlower but decided to backstab Susla in their deal to have Fell and Dorian respectively and gunned for Dorian instead. Susla was sad that day man :(

Susla is a Chainsaw Man fan

The Players and their Skins cans't communicate with each other. Unless a Player installs a voice chat mod, they cannot be heard by those of Teyvat, they have to communicate out of signs, books, use chat, and whatnot. Player's cant use their skins to speak.

When Players leave the game, the Skins are given back their autonomy.

Also the ten Skins function as minecraft players now, they respawn at a random spawn point or where they last slept, their deaths show up in chat, they don't need to sleep anymore (they don't even need to worry about hostile mobs like phantoms or zombies or whatever!), they can craft, and everything else!

(Unless we make it so that minecraft mobs just spawn around Players and their Skins, possessed or not lol)

〈Kaeya Alberich〉Attention all vessels. We have retained the ability to use these entities means of communication. Please only use them in the event of an extreme emergency so as to not obstruct the populace's sight. Thank you.

Someone is abusing this power to obstruct people's sight.

Wanna dox yourself real quick? Speedrun speedrun? Kill a player or a vessel and get the Chat to snitch on you. None of the ten can hide it when they kill people either. When someone kills a Hilichurl or Abyss mage? Their name shows up in chat.

They call themselves Vessels, but we're calling them Skins cuz that's what they are to the Players.

Also they're getting taken out of Teyvat by the Players into another Minecraft Server that's just how it works lol. When Players leave the servers their Skins get sent back to Teyvet from where they left

It's an Origins SMP server btw

More on that in Flesh Torn Voids

[reallybadfeeling]

FanFic Reclist April 2021

A little bit later than usual and a way shorter list, but look at that, there’s more than one fandom this time! What can I say, I read so much Star Wars fanfic in the past months that I feel like I read every good fic… ANYWAY, I’m gonna leave you to the list and I hope you all will enjoy these as much as I did.

Star Wars Prequels

-Offset by Deviant_Accumulation Qui-gon/Obi-Wan - 64.502 words - Rating M - H/C, pre-slash, Qui-Gon Lives, Angst, TW: torture and imprisonment

Despite this story being the first part of a series that has never been completed, it is absolutely worth the read. The plot is SO GOOD and I love the interactions between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. I absolutely adored Obi-Wan being an emotional mess despite trying VERY very hard to prove otherwise. I really have to warn you once more about that torture tag, because there are a couple of graphic scenes (and that is what granted that M rating in this fic).

-When the Abyss Stares Back at You & where every mask cracks by l_tales Obi-Wan/Anakin & Obi-Wan/Darth Vader - 48.816 words + 23.545words - Rating E - Dimension travel, Possessive Anakin, Fix-it, both suitless & suited Darth Vader, Angst

If you are wondering why I’m putting these two fics together, it’s because I really suggest to read them one after the other. Just to make it clear, these two fics are my favorites of the month. And I’m not necessarily a fan of possessive behavior, but it’s so spot on for Anakin that I couldn’t help but love every single moment of reading this. I would say more about what makes these special, but everything is so specific that I would just spoil. Trust me and give this one a try. Well, both of them but I think you got the gist…

The Witcher

-true leadership, rainbow laces, short shorts, and a small cause for a national scandal by foghornjazz Geralt/Jaskier - 11.913 words - Rating T - Sports AU, Modern Setting, H/C, Angst, Humor, Fluff, TW: Outing, Homophobia

WHOA, that title is always a mouthful… ANYWAY, this very cute one-shot is basically just Geralt being a grumpy sweetheart and Jaskier being silly AF. It’s also kind of slow burnish, but I absolutely adored it. This is one of those fics you’ll end up wishing it was just a tiny bit longer, really.

-long have i loved thee by Shinybug Geralt/Jaskier - 21.710 words - Rating E - Misunderstanding, H/C, Winter at the Keep, Angst with a Happy Ending, TW: mentions of blood and injuries

Another truly lovely read, with lots of insecure Jaskier and very sweet moments not only with Geralt but with the rest of the gang. It’s technically the first fic of a series (I linked the series up here), but I have yet to read the second one (it was literally published last night, but I’ll suggest it anyway). I would add more, but let’s just mention THE LIBRARY! That’s it, that’s all I’m gonna say.

Harry Potter

-The Ordeal of Being Known (series) by louisfake Draco/Harry - 275.128 words (still ongoing) - Rating M&E - Cursed Harry, Mind Healer Draco, Wizarding Politics, Legilimency, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Dumbledore Bashing, Epilogue What Epilogue, Magically Powerful Harry

Last but not least good. I actually was tempted to crown this one as my favorite of the month, but I have yet to read the sequel so I decided against it. Still, I absolutely binged the fuck out of the first one and it should be a sign of how good it is that I basically read 140+K in less than 24 hours. I adored the slow burn between those two dumbasses, and the political bullshit going on made me so happy! (But I’m a sucker for good world building, so that might just be a me thing). Special mention to Draco’s house-elf because I adore him so much! He deserves ALL the good things!

[numinousnic]

THE MOBY-DICKSCUSSION, PART VI Chapter 106 — Epilogue

I’ve finally made it through the Whaliad! (I still haven’t made it through my backlog of sea shanty albums on Spotify, but I am still very committed to making that playlist.) And I finally got to the moment that I’ve been waiting for for approximately 132 chapters: the appearance of the White Whale himself! (More on that in a moment.)

Anyway, now that Ishmael’s finally done talking about cetology, we learn that Ahab was in such a hurry to get off the Samuel Enderby and get back onto Moby Dick’s trail that he wrecked his ivory leg: again. At least this time it happened in an understandable way!

… it had not been very long prior to the Pequod’s sailing from Nantucket, that he had been found one night lying prone upon the ground, and insensible; by some unknown, and seemingly inexplicable, unimaginable casualty, his ivory limb having been so violently displaced, that it had stake-wise smitten, and all but pierced his groin; nor was it without extreme difficulty that the agonizing wound was entirely cured (Chapter 106: Ahab’s Leg).

One: how?? Two: I am really trying to not think about what happens when an ivory leg nearly pierces one’s groin. Three: no wonder Ahab spent the first leg of the Pequod’s voyage holed up in his cabin (you never think Melville’s going to answer these questions, and then he does!)

… the gods themselves are not for ever glad. The ineffaceable, sad birth-mark in the brow of man, is but the stamp of sorrow in the signers (Chapter 106: Ahab’s Leg).

Oof. Man, Melville.

The return of Moby-Dick: The Play/Dramatic Monologues (as occasionally written by Herman Melville)! I really enjoyed the conscious theatricality of Chapters 36-40, and I still very much enjoy its sporadic return in the last section of this book. (On a semi-related side note: my professor brought up the idea of Moby-Dick being retold as a fourth-wall-breaking comedy in the vein of The Office or as an utterly bonkers VICE-style documentary, and I really want both of those to be a thing now.)

The Ahab-Starbuck showdown is hilarious, until it’s not. It goes from this snappy screwball comedy dialogue —

“What we come twenty thousand miles to get is worth saving, sir.” “So it is, so it is; if we get it.” “I was speaking of the oil in the hold, sir.” “And I was not speaking or thinking of that at all” (Chapter 109: Ahab and Starbuck in the Cabin).

— to Ahab pulling a musket on Starbuck and yelling that “there is one God that is Lord over the earth, and one Captain that is lord over the Pequod.” (To quote Ron Burgundy: that escalated quickly.) But Starbuck holds his own, uttering an incredibly insightful and biting comeback:

“Thou hast outraged, not insulted me, sir; but for that I ask thee not to beware of Starbuck; thou wouldst but laugh; but let Ahab beware of Ahab; beware of thyself, old man” (Chapter 109: Ahab and Starbuck in the Cabin).

Again: man, Melville! Thirty-five years before Nietzsche wrote about not staring too long into the abyss, and Melville gets it. Sometimes, we become what we’re trying to destroy, and we destroy ourselves! It really do be like that sometimes!

Top-heavy was the ship as a dinnerless student with all Aristotle in his head (Chapter 110: Queequeg in his Coffin).

This is such a weird-ass simile, but honestly? Very relatable to starving humanities majors such as myself.

Pip pleading with Queequeg to find Pip broke my fucking heart. Even though we don’t see much of Pip before Stubb’s abandonment to really grasp the immensity of the change in him, what we do see is pretty heart-wrenching. Pip’s still beating himself up for being cowardly in the eyes of Stubb and the crew and I just want to comfort him and get him off the Pequod as fast as possible.

Death seems the only desirable sequel for a career like this; but Death is only a launching into the region of the strange Untried; it is but the first salutation to the possibilities of the immense Remote, the Wild, the Watery, the Unshored; therefore, to the death-longing eyes of such men, who still have left in them some interior compunctions against suicide, does the all-contributed and all-receptive ocean alluringly spread forth his whole plain of unimaginable, taking terrors, and wonderful, new-life adventures; and from the hearts of infinite Pacifics, the thousand mermaids sing to them—“Come hither, broken-hearted; here is another life without the guilt of intermediate death; here are wonders supernatural, without dying for them. Come hither! bury thyself in a life which, to your now equally abhorred and abhorring, landed world, is more oblivious than death. Come hither! put up thy gravestone, too, within the churchyard, and come hither, till we marry thee!” (Chapter 112: The Blacksmith).

Melville’s definitely constructing some parallels between Perth and Ishmael here (consider Ishmael’s introduction all the way back in Chapter 1). Makes you wonder what particular sorrows Ishmael left behind on shore.

Okay, I’m going to call it now and say that Ahab’s forging of his Extra-Special Moby Dick-Killing Harpoon is honestly the most Extra™ he gets. Case in point: his bloody baptism speech. My high-school Latin’s a little rusty, but I remember enough to confidently translate it as: “I do not baptize you in the name of the Father, but in the name of the Devil!” (Like I said: Extra™.)

The Pequod’s encounter with the Bachelor is the funniest thing and also the most egregious missed opportunity in the whole novel. Honestly: how many of the Pequod’s problems could have been solved if the crew just spent a week on the party boat drinking and living it up, and then they all sailed home? Unfortunately, Ahab doesn’t want to spend time on the party boat, because he doesn’t do parties the captain doesn’t believe that Moby Dick exists and Ahab is Not Having It.

Ahab: you don’t find loopholes out of prophecies, especially if they’re dire prophecies concerning your death. The prophecies will find the loopholes for you and utterly fuck you over; that’s how these things work. It’s the biggest Shakespearean trope there is.

There’s a lot of drama going on during this big-ass typhoon, but easily the most dramatic thing is Starbuck grabbing the musket that Ahab previously threatened him with and contemplating killing Ahab in his sleep to save them all from this madness. And he doesn’t, but… he probably should have? (But I will grant Starbuck this: the logistics are not great either way.)

Ahab’s sort-of-adopting of Pip is... unexpectedly sweet? (Mostly because someone is finally recognizing Pip’s plight.) It’s very much a Lear-Fool sort of relationship — they’re both alone in their respective madnesses and weird perspectives, but they find in the other someone who sort of understands them.

Two more meetings with ships — the Rachel and the Delight — and neither of them are as fun or uplifting as the meeting with the Bachelor. The captain of the Rachel is looking for crew he lost while pursuing Moby Dick — his twelve-year-old son among them — and pleads with Ahab for assistance in searching for them, appealing to Ahab’s own fatherhood (bet you forgot that Ahab’s married with a child!), but Ahab is too close now to give up on the chase. And as for the Delight, which is certainly no delight to be on, they’re burying their dead crew members who were recently killed by Moby Dick. So, much like all the other ships the Pequod has Gammed with: this doesn’t bode well for the Pequod.

And… Ahab has some doubts about his revenge quest? Just now?? But still, Starbuck seizes the opportunity to try and talk him out of it, appealing on behalf of both their families (Ahab and Starbuck as dramatic foils: discuss). But the scary thing is, Ahab’s not entirely sure he can stop chasing Moby Dick.

“What is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it; what cozening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings, I so keep pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time; recklessly making me ready to do what in my own proper, natural heart, I durst not so much as dare? Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm? But if the great sun move not of himself; but is as an errand-boy in heaven; nor one single star can revolve, but by some invisible power; how then can this one small heart beat; this one small brain think thoughts; unless God does that beating, does that thinking, does that living, and not I” (Chapter 132: The Symphony).

So he doesn’t.

… And then, of course, Moby Dick himself surfaces (finally) and the Pequod spends three chapters chasing him, despite Ahab’s boats getting dashed to smithereens and Ahab losing his brand-new fake leg. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t go much better than that. Moby-Dick sinks the Pequod, Ahab dies trying to kill Moby Dick, and everyone else dies. Everyone, that is, except for Ishmael, who, as we learn in the Epilogue, is saved in the most bittersweet way possible: by clinging to Queequeg’s almost-coffin, which got repurposed into a life-buoy, until the Rachel picks him up, having still not found her missing crew members — only, as Ishmael says, “another orphan.”

It’s heavy, poignant stuff. But it’s an appropriate ending for the whole novel. When it comes to the classic Man vs. Nature conflict, Nature usually comes out on top.

Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago (Chapter 135: The Chase — Third Day).

[longshotwriting]

03/02/2019

I can’t concoct a clever opening line or whip up some euphemistic way of telling myself feeling trapped is beautiful. Every morning has it’s routine. I used to enjoy that, I used to need and want that routine as it kept me in my stride: get up at 06:30, have one bowl of cereal, come up stairs and put on make-up, do my hair to the tee, brush my teeth, put on uniform, go to school. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I could have thrown in a comforting cup of tea, but each day was in rhythm with the other, guaranteed. I can’t hear the right beat anymore, I’ve lost my rhythm. Instead, I am now faced with the overpowering drum of the heart which has leaped out of my chest and into the palms of my trembling hands. Each step to my little routine is now contaminated in some form; I wake up at 07:00 because I have no strength from a 4-hour sleep, I grip onto the “don’t eat, don’t eat!” thoughts for dear life, and confront my authentic self to see that I really, really fucking need make up The following two steps act as guinea pigs, constantly tackled by the knock-on effects of the others and unable to adjust to the destruction. This weekend had no structure whatsoever, and I feel destroyed. Sometimes, a fractured routine is still okay, it helps you to not completely crack under intrusive thoughts, but when the biggest decision you are faced with is go on your phone or go to sleep, they see your guard down and creep on in. Like thief in the night they come undercover, moulding into buildings and other thoughts for disguise, one aim and determination of a roaring fire; desolate her.

 This morning, I heard my alarm pierce the white noise of the recently departed night as it opened the gate way for a new day. Once, I was ecstatic to see the sky, the weather, to have a shower. Today, it feels like someone has pin pricked my skin during my sleep, and all the helium has escaped. Instead of blithely floating, I dropped farther into the abyss of pillows and covers than I realized I ever could. Physically swallowed by the grey and soon to be devoured by blackness. My first thought wasn’t a happy hooray at the new day, or even “don’t eat, don’t eat, don’t eat!”, but merely “what is the point in living this day?”

I am not suicidal. I love my life and I love living. I love Shine and music and food. I also do love a routine, I love my niece, I love my friends, best friends, and the little trinkets of life that bring me hope and love like coffee shops and candles. I love the mystery of a new day, I love birthday parties and sleepovers and feeling young. I love looking past all the fucked-up parts of life and homing in on what I have, what I have to be grateful for. I am so dependent on being able to do that. But now, when I home in on what I have to be grateful for, I can’t. Because while I love life, I do not love myself. I do not love feeling fat, ugly, forgotten, annoying, obnoxious, or stressed. I can’t go on feeling anxious or fat or fat or anxious or alone or frustrated… I cannot bare to be out of control of what I eat, when I eat, how much, or how often I eat. I hate feeling embarrassed about what I eat and when and how often and who sees and I hate pretending that its fucking NOT THERE because IT IS AND ITS WHAT I AM LIVING WITH RIGHT NOW AND I KNOW THAT I AM NOT SPECIAL OR DIFFERENT TO ANYBODY ELSE STRUGGLING WITH THEIR WEIGHT BUT I WISH PEOPLE WOULDN’T COMMENT ON HOW QUICKLY I EAT OR IF IM NOT LOOKING AS TONED AS I USED TO OR THAT I CAN’T TAKE A GOOD PICTURE AND SNEERING AT MY PORTION SIZE OR SHUNNING ME FOR WHAT I EAT AND HOW I EAT AND WHEN I EAT, WHERE I EAT. I JUST WANT TO BE ABLE TO LIVE AGAIN. I do not love myself. I have so much love to give and not any to keep.

I’ve had one too many panic attacks and vulnerable moments to say I don’t need help. I need to feel that warmth in my stomach I used to, without all the hurdles. I know myself and what I need, and although it’s not been easy to ask for, I now have ‘help’.  My friends have always helped me of course, in particular Skye. I know that Skye can save me in painful moments, but this is something etched onto my brain, it travels in my blood and reverberates in my bones with every heartbeat. My own personal coping mechanisms and the support from Skye have always and will always hold me up, she has pulled through for so long, so long that it is no longer fair to ask her to summon the strength she feels she lacks and run to my rescue (although I know she would anyway). I can no longer afford to draw the curtains and blinds, I can no longer avoid every mirror, stay off school, add fuel to the vicious cycle that is starvation and binging. I can’t. Not when my first thought in the morning has become “I wish I didn’t have to live today.” or I catch myself digging paper clips into my legs and scratching the skin of my thumbs until they become red raw. If I want to move to London, or even be happy in Cleland, I have to recover.

‘Help’ is both thee most hopeful yet thee most misleading word on the planet. I was kind of naïve to think it could work out 100% first try- I know that doesn’t mean it never will though. Every Wednesday, I talk with Dominic, a friendly therapist. Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying he is a terrible one because he quite clearly isn’t. But I feel reduced as I sit across from him, watching his animated facial expressions and hearing the condescending clichés. I need somebody to be deadly serious with me, to let me talk and have an answer not a suggestion. To tell me they are the expert, not insist and insist that it’s really me, forcing me to finish the sentence “and who is the expert here?” I just feel constantly overpowered. Fighting for a chance to get a word in. Dominic dictates the direction of each session; I know this is not a bad thing, and he can probably see that the desolation I feel because of my Dad will have caused other issues in my life such as anxiety, but I am digging up old feelings then feeling their sting ten times harder. Digging old ones up does not mean burying the new, and my mind becomes swamped with every struggle I ever faced. My brain is a playground for depression. Dominic beckons the little children out of the back burner of my mind and into the light. They have never played so intense before.

[mf-despair-queen]

Hocus Pocus - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Stiles Stilinski/Reader

Word Count: 7,051

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Oral (both receiving), Hair Pulling

Notes: So, I was at work listening to a song and it inspired this. I will include the song that is sung IN the fic as well, in case you have never heard it. And in case it is not obvious, the inspiration is based a bit off of the movie Hocus Pocus. PS Happy Belated Halloween. I missed it by less than 2 hours. But I wrote 7k in less than 7 hours.

Inspiration Song | Fic Song

As a child, Stiles Stilinski heard the same story every Halloween from his mother, Claudia.

“There was once a band of witches that roamed and ruled the Beacon Hills Preserve. And every Halloween, they would lure little children such as yourself in to feed on their souls. With a simple lullaby, children would disappear into the trees, ever to be seen again. So, when you are out Trick-or-Treating, you need to make sure to stay away from the woods. Otherwise, they will come and take you away.”

With his young age and curious mind, he laughed at the thought, dubbing it as a tall tale people told their kids to keep them in line when Mischief Night came around. He thought it false and spent many years brushing off the story his mother had told him.

The doubt didn’t dissipate as he grew older and wiser; it only seemed to strengthen. And even when he learned of the supernatural, he overlooked those tales, figuring nothing like that could ever be true.

How wrong can one man get?

Maybe he should have listened to her closer…

Stiles glared between his burger and the two men sitting across from him. The three didn’t share any glances, the tension so thick, it could be cut with a knife. Finally slumping in his chair and running a hand through his hair, he sighed.

“Why the fuck did I agree to go out to dinner with you guys again?”

Derek looked up from his food, sipping the chocolate shake he had ordered. “I didn’t want to be home when the kids start trick-or-treating. You know I hate people. I can moderately stand you.”

The two turned to their third companion.

“I just like to piss you off,” Theo stated calmly, earning a loud groan from the spastic male.

Stiles leaned forward, stuffing a handful of curly fries in his mouth. “Yeah, well, this is exactly how I planned to spend my Halloween,” he grumbled, every word laced with his classic sarcasm.

Derek grumbled, placing his glass down. “Yeah because my ideal Halloween is sitting in a fast food restaurant with you and dipshit chimera over here,” he stated bluntly, Theo still looking amused that he was pissing the boys off. “It’s not our fault that Scott decided he wanted to have a weekend getaway with Liam and Isaac.”

“I know,” Stiles sighed. “He called it Alpha-Beta Bonding Time. Because they definitely needed it.” Please, note the high level of sarcasm dripping like venom with every word he uttered. “Then the girls decided to go to a club in San Francisco to help Allison get over her break up with Isaac. My dad is out on a date. Who the hell goes on a date on Halloween? And all this just means I’m left with you guys.”

“Someone’s bitter,” Theo remarked, his tone snarkier than normal.

“I will shove my fist through your face,” Stiles deadpanned at him. His stomach was suddenly full, his appetite lost in his anxiety. “I can’t eat another bite.”

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” Derek suggested. “Maybe we can find a nice hole to bury dipshit in.”

“You mean yourself?” Theo quipped, gathering everyone’s trash and tossing it in the nearest receptacle. The boys continued to bicker, the bell on the front door of the fast food joint jingling as they left. Their bodies moved in unison down the dark road, their mouths moving a mile a minute. They weren’t sure where they were going nor did they care. They were focused on the mindless argument they found themselves in.

Their wandering led them to the edge of the woods, the light from the moon above them providing no relief in the trees. Fallen leaves crunched under their shoes, hands stuffed in pockets or hugging their jackets closed. Everything around them was silent, not a single soul in sight.

Stiles stopped suddenly, his honey brown orbs staring off into the endless abyss of the preserve. The other boys stopped, staring at their “friend,” if they could call themselves that. Stiles cocked his head to the side, forehead scrunching in confusion.

“Do you guys hear that?” He asked suddenly, breaking the silence. The two supernatural creatures looked at him in confusion, taking slow steps towards the chocolate-haired male until they too heard a soft sound in the distance.

𝅘𝅥𝅮Come, little children. I’ll take thee away. Into a land of enchantment𝅘𝅥𝅮

“What the hell is that?” Derek whispered to himself, though his companions picked up on his words.

“More importantly, how the hell did Stiles hear that? He’s a human, yet he heard it before our supernatural hearing? That isn’t possible, right? What is going on?” Theo asked, receiving no answer. Derek was just as confused as Theo was. Stiles was busy staring into the blackness, entranced by the sound.

𝅘𝅥𝅮Come, little children. The time’s come to play. Here in my garden of magic𝅘𝅥𝅮

“I’m going to figure out what it is,” Stiles said shortly, his feet moving forward without much thought. Derek and Theo followed shortly after, being pulled towards the voice just as much as the spastic one was. Their bodies moved quickly through the underbrush of the trees, the singing growing louder the further in the preserve the got.

𝅘𝅥𝅮Follow, sweet children. I’ll show thee the way. Through all the pain and the sorrows𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Maybe we shouldn’t be going after them,” Theo tried to reason, though his heart ached when he said so.

“Oh, come on, Raeken. You are a big, bad chimera. A werewolf and a werecoyote hybrid. You can handle whatever scary singer is haunting these woods,” Stiles mused, casting the quickest glance possible to him. Theo scoffed, shaking his head.

“Guys, look,” Derek said, stopping dead in his tracks. The others stopped as well, staring at the large house yards ahead of them. Dim lights shone through the windows, the door swinging ajar. A billow of white smoke flittered from the chimney on the roof. A large tree stood beside the old house, a ragged swing swaying in the late Halloween breeze.

The voice was louder than before, the sound spilling from the crack in the front door.

𝅘𝅥𝅮Weep not, poor children for life is this way. Murdering beauty and passions𝅘𝅥𝅮

“We should leave,” Derek muttered, his body betraying him when he took another step towards the mysterious house.

“Agreed,” Theo nodded, his claws digging into the tree beside him to fight the urge to rush forward as well.

“I’m going,” Stiles firmly said, willingly letting his body move forward. “Whoever it is can’t be that bad, right? And if they are dangerous, you guys can take them. But,” he paused in speech and step, looking back at the guys. “Something inside me is saying I need to find out who is here. It’s like… I need them in my life. And they want me here. I’m not turning back.”

The guys didn’t respond, reluctantly following Stiles. They knew he was right. They felt it too. They were just too stubborn to admit Stiles was correct on this matter.

Stiles pushed the door open with a shaky hand, fully engulfed by the elegant singing that had him lost in a beautiful trance. His eyes widened at the sight ahead of him, his heart picking up at the view combined with the enthralling sound.

𝅘𝅥𝅮Hush now, poor children. It must be this way. To weary of life and deceptions𝅘𝅥𝅮

He found you standing in the middle of the room, a black dress lining your body, a reddish-purple lace lining the sleeves and skirt, ending mid-thigh. A locket was encircling your neck, Stiles swearing he saw a soft glow emitting from it. Black thigh high stockings covered your legs with black booties. Your hair was thrown up into a ponytail, the front ends falling loose to frame your face. A black hat sat atop your head, slightly off centered to the right, the same lacing around the rim with a cat pendant attached to it.

Your hands extended out to him, gesturing him forward with a curl of your fingers, your voice coaxing him inside the house further. Stiles’ mouth dropped open, making his way forward until his hand was in yours.

𝅘𝅥𝅮Rest now, my children, for soon we’ll away into the calm and the quiet𝅘𝅥𝅮

Derek and Theo stopped feet behind Stiles, no one realizing the front door swung shut, locking itself.

Stiles blinked, opening his mouth slowly to speak, but no words came out. You giggled, your hand placed on his cheek instead. “Well, aren’t you adorable? My name is Y/N. What can I call you, handsome?”

“S-Stiles,” he was able to force out, his eyes never leaving yours as you backed away slightly.

“Oh, I love that name!” You mused, seeing Stiles smile are your enthusiasm.

“Y/N, you aren’t getting attached already, are you?” they heard a voice from above. “You always had a habit of getting attached to the children.”

Two sets of foots steps were heard, one descending the stairs, the other staying perched against the rail on the second floor, staring down at them. The figure at the bottom of the steps smiled, her pearly white teeth shining and her blue eyes glittering in the candlelight around the house. Her brown hair was strung over her shoulder, her curves accentuated by the black, sleeveless dress with blue trim she wore. A star barrette was holding some of her hair back.

“Oh my,” she mumbled, glancing at you are the girl on the second floor.

“I think your singing is getting rusty after being locked away,” the third girl mused, her brown eyes flicking between her compatriots. Her brown hair was up in a bun, loose stands falling about. A moon necklace dangled from her neck, resting mid-chest above her black halter dress with gold lining. “You’re attracting teenage boys now instead of children.”

“Well, I’m not arguing,” you hummed, staring at Stiles. “They’re quite… delectable anyway. I can feel it. Except for this one, they aren’t human.” You nodded at Stiles, a blush forming on his cheeks. “I’m sure Amanda agrees.”

“I definitely agree with Y/N. I like this one,” she said, moving from her spot at the bottom of the stairs and making her way towards Theo. Theo’s mouth opened, Amanda’s finger placed on his lips before he could speak. “He’s quite handsome. And his energy is delicious.”

Theo pulled away slightly, licking his lips slowly. “Who are you?”

“My name is Amanda,” she said, her eyelashes fluttering behind the glasses she wore. “And you are Theo.” Theo wanted to question, but his mind was blank. Her fingers drew circles on his chest, her touch fire to his covered skin. “How about I show you around the house? We have this really nice game room that I think you might like.”

Theo nodded, sending a look to Stiles and Derek as he was dragged away. Stiles gawked as they disappeared around the corner. “Damn, Theo is gonna get some,” he said loudly, Derek rolling his eyes. You laughed at his words.

“You picked up a real charmer, Y/N.”

“Oh shush, B. He’s sweet,” you hummed, glancing up at your friend long before focusing back on Stiles. “She’s just jealous, sweetie.”

“I can tell,” Stiles joked.

“Don’t try to lift his ego,” Derek groaned, massaging his temple. “He’s already witty and sarcastic enough. Don’t add a big ego to the mix.”

Briana, the third of the trio jumped over the railing she had been perched against, landing gracefully in front of Derek. “She always does this. She’s attracted to these kinds of guys. Then she likes to keep them longer than she is supposed to,” Briana snapped at herself, sending a look to you, which you proceeded to ignore. She looked up at Derek, her 5’7” frame doing nothing to his 6’ stature. “I’m Briana, B for short. And you look like a man who likes some good food.”

“Well, I live alone, so I don’t get a lot of good cooking,” he mused, a smirk on his face. Stiles gagged to himself at Derek’s lame attempt at flirting, his stomach twisting when he realized it was actually working.

“Well, I’m the cook between the three of us. I can show you to the kitchen. I am in need of some nice… meat anyway,” she hummed, eying his body a couple times. Derek’s eyes darkened, allowing her hand to slip into his and lead him away.

“Well, that was interesting,” Stiles mumbled, shuffling between his feet in front of you. You stood there calmly, watching his every move. He eyed your figure once, his tongue passing over his lips. “What are you? How did you lure us here? And why?”

“You like to question,” you told him, taking his hand softly, your thumb running over the top of it. “I like that. No one ever questions us. Though it has been a while since we’ve done this. And We don’t normally get guys like you coming.”

“That doesn’t explain what you are.”

“We’re witches, silly,” you said, grinning as you pull him up the stairs. You hummed as your led him through the winding halls, Stiles trying to process what was going on.

“Witches?” He asked himself more than you. “Alright, why are you here then?”

“No reason,” you said shortly, pushing open a door. Releasing his hand, you walked into the room, your arms spread wide and spinning in a circle. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Stiles slowly followed you in, the door swinging closed and locking itself just like before. Though Stiles didn’t pay attention. He glanced at the objects around him, tracing his fingers on little objects here and there. “It’s nice,” he mumbled.

“I know, right?”

He stopped at a book, flipping through the pages, his orbs scanning the foreign language inside it. Spells, he assumed, biting his lip. Multiple questions raced through his mind, though none made it to his lips. There was something off about you, and he knew it. He felt this aura you exuded, the feeling he was getting slightly off-putting. He felt kind of weak in your presence, and growing weaker every time he came in contact with you.

But, being around you also felt right. More right than he ever felt. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the captivating song that still buzzed around in his head or the true beauty you held, but being near you made him happy.

Stiles stopped at a picture frame delicately picking the photo up. It was a group of females gathered in front of the house he was in now, all wearing black dresses of some form with different colored trimming. Each had their own style, own look. Their hair colors varied from a bright silver to vibrant red. They all looked so happy together.

“Friends?” He asked. You nodded, sitting on your bed and patting the spot next to you, which Stiles gladly took. You leaned against his arm, your hand on his thigh drawing invisible shapes.

“We used to be one big group of girls, but small towns are hard to house so many witches.” He wasn’t sure what you meant, but ignored the feeling inside him when you started pointing at different people in the picture. “You know me, B, and Amanda. This one is Lauren, but everyone calls her Lau. She is pretty much our queen since she brought us all together,” you hummed, pointing to the beautiful red-head, her curled hair and make-up highlighting every feature she hair. She wore a green choker with a cat pendent, the green matching the green trimming she wore.

“This is Talia. We got lucky she joined in this picture because she normal takes all the pictures. She’s a sweetheart and I miss her,” you told him, pointing to the girl with longish, silvery white hair that was held back with a rainbow cauldron barrette. She was slender, her breasts perky in the C-cup she sported (don’t ask how Stiles could tell that from a picture). “She moved up north with Lau and Audrey”

You pointed next to a pale but beautiful girl, her brunette hair silky and smooth and her blue eyes as bright as can be. And orange pumpkin locket hung from her neck, the same shade as her dress. “This is Kayla. She’s a peach man. She makes killer potions believe it or not.”

“Witches really make potions?” Stiles jokingly asked, seeing you nod.

“Yes, we do. I will show you sometime,” you grinned, winking at him. You pointed to the next girl, her brown her half up and half down, held by a planet pin. Her blue eyes glimmered, almost as if they were entering your soul, and freckles peppered her face cutely. “This one is Jane. Super talented, super nice, super caring. One hundred percent would bake her a cake,” you laughed, Stiles chuckling along with you.

“There are two people unfortunately that aren’t pictured. Arielle and Madison. They are babes, but they moved down south to start up a new house and hopefully find some more witches for our coven. We are stronger together, not apart,” you told him, a sad smile on your face. His hand reached out, taking one of yours between his fingers, rubbing your skin softly.

Stiles looked over the picture again. “They’re beautiful,” he hummed.

“They are,” you whispered, leaning closer till your lips were against his ear. “What about me?”

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat, fumbling to keep from dropping the picture. “I mean,” he choked out, heaving slightly. “You’re definitely more beautiful than them. Absolutely gorgeous. And I feel like I need to be here with you. You just seem so amazing and I feel kind of complete with you. Fuck, I’m rambling.”

You laughed, kissing his cheek. “Precious,” you mumbled.

Stiles swallowed, his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down, trying to focus. “Why did you lure us here? Why are you here? You said something about not being here for a while.” He paused, thinking. “The Nemeton…?”

“The Nemeton sealed us away,” you said, standing from the bad and taking the picture from his hands. “But you helped release us, Stiles. I can feel the Nemeton’s power inside you. So, thank you.”

“Why are you avoiding telling me why you are here?” He asked once more.

“You’re too curious, Stiles,” you said, humming a new lullaby. His mind blanked slightly, watching your body approach him, hips swaying slightly. You pushed against his chest, carefully straddling his waist on the edge of the bed. “It doesn’t matter why we are here. All that matters right now is you and me.”

The chocolate-haired man’s jaw dropped, his mouth dry. “Y-Yeah,” he choked out.

“Relax,” you mumbled, taking his hands and running them up your torso, his hands attaching to your clothed breasts. They squeezed at the perky mounds unconsciously, a smile flitting around on your cheeks. “Yeah, just like that, Stiles.”

“Holy shit,” he groaned to himself.

“You like this?” you cooed, placing your hands on his and helping him squeeze more. “You want more, Stiles?”

“This is a dream, right?” She asked rhetorically, looking up into your eyes.

“Hmm, definitely not a dream, Sti. This is all real,” you told him, placing your hands on his cheeks and moving down to kiss him fully on the lips. A low noise was lost between your lisp the second they were attached, his eyes sliding closed quickly. His head tilted to the side to get a better angle, his lips naturally engulfing yours. You mewled, the feeling of his lips being soft and juicy. Your lips fit together like two puzzle pieces, lips smacking against each other loudly. He pulled away occasionally to breathe before delving back in for another hot, open mouth kiss. Your teeth clashed whenever he leaned forward once more, your noses brushing and your lips sliding against one another. He would tug at your bottom lip with his teeth, eliciting a quiet moan from deep inside your throat.

Stiles paid no heed to the dropping energy he was feeling, every kiss he shared with you fueling him and draining him simultaneously. His body burned under your touch, your lips and fingers making his skin tingle. His body was yelling at him to spot and run, but his mind was urging him to continue, to regret everything in the morning.

His mind was winning by a landslide.

His tongue slid through a small gap in your lips, tangling with yours in a fruitful battle for dominance. His hands squeezed at your breasts a few more times before sliding around to your back. The back of your dress was open, his nails raking across your skin before attempting to find a zipper or clasp that held it closed.

He pulled away after a few attempts, his brow knit together. You giggled at the look, kissing along his jaw. “Need help?” You hummed. Stiles blushed a bright red, looking away slightly ashamed. He nodded slowly, frowning when he felt you slid off his lap. “How about you take off your shirt in exchange for me taking off my dress?”

Stiles’ pupils dilatated, gawking over at you. “I can deal with that,” he replied in a gruff voice, practically tearing the buttons off his flannel to get it off. He heard your soft giggle, the flannel slipping from his grasp. “You’re turn.”

“Deals a deal, right?” You asked, reaching behind to pull down the zipper that held the black silk to your body. It slid down with ease, the dress literally dropping off your body once the zipper was lowered. You stood in front of him in just your reddish-purple panties, thigh highs and booties. His tongue ran along his lips at the image in front of him, his hands reaching for you.

You grinned, strutting forward until you were directly in front of him. Your hands locked with his, entwining your fingers together, moving to kneel next to him on the bed. His breathing was slightly ragged, a tent forming in the khakis he was clad in. A manicured hand dipped down to rub the tent through his jeans, Stiles burying his face in your chest to stifle his moan.

“You’re so excited, Stiles,” you teased, cupping him through the tan material. He groaned into your chest, sucking dark red marks in the valley between your breasts. You mewled at the feeling he was giving you, shifting in your position so you could unbutton the intrusive material. His lips remained on your chest, moving just enough so he could attach to your nipple.

Your hands stilled, head falling back with a slew of moans. His smile against your chest was obvious, his actions deepening. His lips wrapped around the hard peak, kissing and sucking at it vigorously. His teeth nibbled at the bud, tugging at it whenever he pulled away. Dark bruises were splayed across your torso, zero regrets between either of you.

Stiles made to swap breasts but was surprised when he found his back to the bed, your dainty hands tugging his pants and boxers down his legs. Stiles propped himself up on his elbows, watching your expression turn into one of shock at the size of him. His cock slapped his stomach proudly, a string of precum connecting the tip and the dark hairs of his happy trail. He twitched in the chilly air around him, eager for some form of contact.

“Damn, Stiles,” you mumbled.

“What?”

“I’ve been around a long time. I’m sure you’ve figured that much out. You’ve the smart one of your pack. But never in all my years have a seen someone quite as… well-endowed as you,’ you muttered.

“You mean like…” he trailed off, pondering his words.

“You have a huge dick,” you told him bluntly in return.

“Oh,” he mumbled, looking down at himself. “I am bigger than the average guy, aren’t I?”

“No shit, Sherlock,” you quipped, your body squirming its way out of your panties. You dropped them on his khakis, smiling. “Now, I need to moisten up for a little bit of fun. And I think you do too.”

“I… what?”

The spastic male received not reply, just a face full of dripping pussy, one leg on either side of his head. His warm breath fanned over your core, your fingers wrapping around the base of his cock and your lips kissing along his length. Stiles mumbled curses into your core, his tongue flicking across your clit when he tried to moisten his lips.

“Come on, Stiles,” you hummed, licking at the slit on his tip, savoring the taste of his precum. “Lick me. I want your tongue inside me.”

His cock twitched in your hands, Stiles releasing a deep groan. “Fuck, that was sexy,” he said in a gruff voice, moving his head forward until he was kitten licking at your clit and entrance. You followed in response, your mouth wrapping around the head of his cock. Your hollow cheeks applied extra pressure around him, combined with the feeling of your mouth sucking hard at him. He groaned into you, pulling you back by your thighs so his tongue could slide into you easily. His tongue slid in and out of you quickly, swirling in circles to rub every inch of your walls. His fingers toyed with your clit, flicking it and rubbing harshly at it.

You moaned around his cock, your head bobbing quickly on him. It didn’t matter how deep you went. The feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat made your mouth water. Your fingers fondled his balls, your nose burying into the dark hairs around the base of his shaft. He groaned into your pussy feeling your tongue tracing the pulsing vein on the underside of him, his length twitching against your cheeks.

He pulled from your pussy, pressing his tongue to your clit once before lifting you off him. You gave him a confused look when you turned to him, the man under you just grinning widely. “I don’t want to cum in your mouth,” he stated. “I want to cum in your pussy.”

Your body shook with happiness and want, promptly moving to straddle his hips. His harden shaft slid along your moistened core moans pulled from both of you. You slid forward until the tip of his cock pressed to your entrance. When you backed into him, he slid inside you with ease until he was fully sheathed.

Your hands met his chest, rest then for a moment while you rotated your hips, adjusting to his large size. “Damn,” you mewled, head falling back. “It’s been so long since I’ve been fucked. But I’ve never felt someone as good as you.”

Stiles groaned, settling his hands on your waist. “You feel so good, babe,” he mumbled without thinking.

“Babe?” You questioned with a smile. You leaned forward, your breasts pressing to his chest. His eyes locked on yours, closing only when your lips met his. “Does that mean you’re mine? And I’m yours?”

Stiles contemplated his words carefully, unsure what the right answer was. But the answer filled the room before he realized he said it.

“Yes.”

And it felt all too right to say it.

“Good,” you whispered, kissing him softly. You pulled away from him, your hips rocking against his steadily. Stiles groaned, your walls tightening around him whenever his length rubbed against them. Your hands landed on his chest for leverage, speeding up with each thrust.

It wasn’t long till you were bouncing on his cock, the sound of your skin slapping one another filling the quiet room. His fingers dug into your sides, helping led your motions, his hips occasionally bucking upwards to meet your thrusts in perfect harmony. He shimmied up on the bed until he was propped up on the pillows, his eyes swapping between your bliss-filled face, bouncing breasts, and his glistening soaked cock emerging from your pussy, disappearing shortly after until he was buried deep in you once again. The tip prodded at your g-spot, your body massively shaking whenever he hit it. You moaned his name due to the friction between your pelvises, your body burning inside.

You pulled him into a sitting position, your arms slinging over his shoulder to claw at his back. Stiles grunted, resting on his hands and bending his knees to give him leverage. His hips thrust up into yours, a whiny moan ripped from inside you as a plea for more. Stiles took this as a sigh to continue, his thrusts growing more rapid and harder, pounding upwards into your beaten cunt.

Your head buried into his neck, arms wrapping around him. Red scratches lined his back muscles, proof that he was making you feel good. The thing that caught him off guard was when he felt a burning sensation on his left shoulder blade, the pain diminishing seconds later. He brushed off the weird sensation, focusing on driving you to your orgasm.

You shook in his arms, nipping at his neck. “Stiles,” you panted, withering in her grasp. “I’m close.”

“I know,” he mumbled, wiping the sweat on his brow. His thrusts were growing sloppy, his cock twitching violently inside you. He pulled you from his neck to look in your eyes, his forehead on yours. “Cum with me.”

You grinned, leaning up to kiss him. The kiss sparked something inside him, a literal jolt of electricity running through both your bodies. His cock sputtered inside you, his legs tightening when he came, his seed spilling in waves into your pussy. You mewled at the warm feeling it gave you, your stomach tightening until your own release hit, juices mixing with his. You moaned into the kiss, nails digging into his pale skin more, your body flush against his.

When your bodies still, you rolled off him, propped on your hands and knees. “One more round. And I like it hard, baby,” you heaved out, sending him a seductive grin. Stiles’ eyes darkened, the normal honey brown turning into a dark chocolate. He swung behind you quickly, rubbing his cock through your folds a few times to reharden himself.

With a single, swift thrust forward, the giant cock you had grown attached to filled you to the brim, a loud scream trapped in a pillow. You were given no time to accommodate his size, his hips snapping into your ass. His speed was godlike, faster than anyone you knew – including supernatural creatures. He was forceful, feverishly thrusting into you. His hands held you still, the only movement your body made was when it jolted forward upon contact. The sound of skin on skin was louder than before.

“Come on, baby,” he huffed, tugging your hair slightly so you couldn’t hide in the pillows. “You said you like it hard. I want to hear you scream for me too.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered loudly, your body shaking. Stiles chuckled, speeding up more, his thrusts solid, hips vigorously slamming into you. His hand reached around, rubbing harsh circles to your clit, your body getting overly stimulated. The way his cock slid into you, his girth stretching your core more than you were used to, the tip easily jabbing at your cervix and sweet spot. He was effortlessly making you lose control. Your body tightened in ways you had never experienced, and you loved every second of it.

“Come on, baby,” he grumbled, his thrusts growing messier by the second. “Scream for me.”

The male’s body jerked forward with a powerful thrust, the sensation made your eyesight blacken and your hearing go out for a second. When you came to, Stiles made a groan of satisfaction, the only indication that you had let out a loud scream of his name.

“That’s right,” he moaned, rubbing harder at your clit, driving his weary body to the max. “Cum with me.”

You whimpered for him, your toes curling in your boots. Your stomach clenched, snapping in a single second. Your walls clamped around him in a tight hug, your juices gushing out and splattering around his thick cock. The warm moisture sent his senses wild, loads of hot, white cum spilling from his tip and mixing with yours. You moaned loudly, relishing in the feeling his seed gave you. His thrusts slowed, easing you both through your highs.

He pulled out a minute later, collapsing on the bed. You smiled, leaning over him and pecking his lips. “Sleep, Stiles,” you mumbled.

Stiles said nothing, lulled into sleep without a fight. You placed a light kiss to his forehead, draping a blanket over his body before proceeding to get dressed. You folded his clothes, placing them on the dresser, leaving him a treat of your panties in his pocket. You gave him one last smile before slipping out the door and running downstairs.

B was in the kitchen, fixing her hair. “Good time?” You asked, catching her smirk.

“Absolutely,” she laughed, looking over at the snoring former alpha on the kitchen table, a dish towel over his privates. “You sounded like you had a good time. I heard your screams echoing down here.”

You blushed, playing with the bottom of your dress. “Well, you know…”

“That big?”

“That good,” you told her. “I’ve never had better sex.”

“Is that why you’ve glowing?” Amanda asked, strutting into the kitchen. You could see Theo laying on the couch in your game room, wearing only his boxers.

“She marked him. You only get that glow when you mark your significant other,” B said. Amanda gawked for a second, her mouth wide.

“Damn, he must be REALLY good if you are serious like this. You want to see him every year? You pledged to him?”

“What can I say?” You hummed. “He’s special. And he said he was mine.  And I’m his.”

“Get it girl,” Amanda laughed.

“Too bad he won’t know what it means. I’m sure he will figure it out before next year rolls around. He’s smart,” you told them. “Though he might kill me when he realizes that I was feeding off his soul the entirety of us being together. Especially the sex. It won’t permanently affect him, but it will be an interest conversation starter next time.”

“Well, you can’t kill him now that you marked him,” B said, gathering her stuff and pulling three brooms from the closet. “Now, can we go? We have little children to lure from home. Derek was a good appetizer, but I need my main course.”

“Amen to that, sista!” Amanda laughed, taking her broom. “Let’s go, Y/N. And this time, bring us children, not hot guys with your singing.”

“No guarantees,” you joked, the girls glaring. “Take a chill pill. Let’s go, losers.”

You led the girls outside, the three of you flying off into the night, the only sound echoing through the air being the last bits of your song.

𝅘𝅥𝅮Come, little children. I’ll take thee away. Into a land of enchantment𝅘𝅥𝅮

𝅘𝅥𝅮Come, little children. The time’s come to play. Here in my garden of shadows𝅘𝅥𝅮

Stiles groaned, looking around the bare room. He faintly recalled what happened the previously night, sighing to himself.

“It feels like a dream, but it wasn’t,” he told himself, ruffling his hair. “Otherwise I would be home right now.” He rolled off the bed, placing his clothes on, frowning when he found your panties stuffed in his pocket. “Definitely not a dream…”

He quietly made his way downstairs, finding Theo and Derek awake and dressed. Derek pursed his lips, looking at the human. “Glad you could join us.”

“What’s going on?” Stiles asked, looking between the guys.

“Scott is home. And he wants to meet with all of us,” Theo mumbled, scowling slightly.

Stiles nodded slowly, making his way to Scott’s house with the guys silently. No one spoke of the events of the prior night, all ashamed of letting their guard down to the witches of Beacon Hills. Stiles recalled the events personally, rubbing at his left shoulder occasionally.

Scott looked horrible when he opened the door. Dark bags under his eyes, messy hair, bruises on his neck.

Wait… what?

“What happened to you?” Stiles questioned his friend.

“The same thing that happened to you apparently,” he mumbled. Everyone gathered in the living room of Scott’s house, sharing the same looks. A cold silence filled the room until Scott broke it. “While we were bonding, we heard this music. Like someone playing the piano. And I don’t know why, but we were drawn in. And we just wanted to be with them…” Scott trailed off.

“Who were they?” Stiles questioned.

“Lau,” Scott muttered, a furlong look in his eyes, like he was missing her already. “She was just so beautiful… I wanted nothing more than to spend every second with her.”

“Same thing with Talia,” Isaac mumbled. “She had this cute British accent. She was the one playing the piano. She played more for me while we were there.”

“Audrey was amazing, guys,” Liam said flatly. “She showed me things I will never forget. She was so talented in every way…”

“I never want to hear you say that again Dunbaby,” Stiles mumbled. He turned to the girls who sat quietly in the corner. “You guys too?”

“Mostly just Allison,” Lydia told him. “We were at the club and I knew the bartender, so he was giving us shots. Next time I know, I walked into the women’s restroom and Allison was there…”

“Her name was Kayla, alright?” Allison said boldly. “And I am not ashamed of what happened. I felt wanted again. I felt like I did when I was first with Scott. And that means a lot more than anything else guys.”

“Ally, you passed out when she left. You were hardcore sleeping on the drive back,” Lydia told her.

“I don’t get it,” Scott said, sitting on the couch. “Who were they?”

“Witches,” Stiles said quietly, recognizing every name that was listed. Everyone turned to look at him. “Y/N said they were witches. But she wouldn’t tell me why they were here.”

“They’re feeding,” Derek said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What?” Everyone in the room questioned.

“That’s what they do. They lure people in and feed on their souls. It’s how they survive till the next year. Their power is at its peak on Halloween. Have you ever heard the tales?”

Stiles paled. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you more, Mom…

“They were probably feeding off us the entire time without us knowing it you know,” Derek mentioned lowly. “We gave them power. We’re lucky we are alive.”

“Is that why every time I touched her, I felt weak?” Stiles asked. Everyone silently agreed with his observation, admitting they had felt the same, and had fallen into a deep sleep after their contact with the witches.

“Most likely. They took our energy,” Derek said, leaning on the counter.

“That’s all good and well. We know what they did to you. But we don’t know why they are here. Why are they only doing this now?” Malia asked, looking between everyone. “There hasn’t been reports of people disappearing before. And I used to live in the woods. I never heard any singing. Or saw kids wandering to that house.”

“They were sealed by the Nemeton,” Stiles answered. “When we sacrificed ourselves, we gave power back to the Nemeton. Which woke them up.”

“Great,” Lydia sighed, standing from her spot. “More issues to deal with. At least it’s just yearly now.” She grabbed Allison’s arm, leading her to the door. “Now, we are going shopping so I can cheer this one up. Again.”

Everyone began to file out of the room, leaving just Scott and Stiles. Stiles rubbed his shoulder again, Scott narrowing his eyes at his best friend. “What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

Stiles frowned, shrugging. “I don’t know. When I was with Y/N last night, there was this burning sensation on my shoulder blade. But since I woke up, I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Let me see,” Scott said. Stiles wordless turned around, removing one arm from the flannel so Scott could look. He heard a click, Scott’s phone shoved in his face. “You have a mark.”

“What?” Stiles asked confused, looking at the picture. It was the outline of a black cat etched into his skin. “The fuck?”

“I have one too,” Scott said, rolling up his left sleeve. A small fox was embedded in his tan skin right above his bands. “I don’t know what it means.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Stiles sighed, fixing his shirt. “I’m going to head home. Get some rest. I’m still not all there after last night.”

“I get ya, man. Get some rest, alright?” Stiles nodded at his friend, the two doing a bro hug before he left. Stiles caught sight of a small fox in the bushes across from Scott’s house before he left, shaking his head at the image and telling himself he imagined it.

His drive home was silent, his thoughts consumed by thoughts of you. He sighed, part of him missing you. Well, a lot of him was missing you. He ran his fingers through his hair as he parked in his drive way, cursing to himself. He felt foolish for caring, but depressed that you weren’t there. He slid from the jeep, walking up to his front door.

What he saw surprised him. A small black cat sat outside his door, staring up at him. His brow furrowed, bending to look at it better. “And how did you get here?” The cat meowed, leaning forward to rub against his leg. “You’re a cutie, aren’t you?”

He picked the cat up, listening to it purr. He saw the glisten of a locket around its neck, his heart wrenching. He felt a familiar pull, like he felt towards you the night prior. “Well, I can’t leave you out here, can I?’ he told it, cradling the cat in his arms as he walked inside. He hoped this would help him cope until he could see you again.

If only he knew the truth…

 To my Witches: You are amazing and I love you all. @ofxmicexandxmanda @brianaisasongbird @khaotickittenkuriosity @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed @arikachang @girlwiththerubyslippers @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @fox-lau

Tags: @ellie-bee242, @stilinski-stydia-obrien, @daisy-chains-over-diamonds, @sumcp, @anxitized, @catcrown21, @girlwiththerubyslippers, @bottleoffirewhisky, @xqueenarianax, @daddyxraeken, @parislight, @anxiety-emoji, @wittystiles, @born-into-the-fandom, @arikachang, @bitchy-sprinkles, @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone, @savage-stilinski, @obriensmystiles, @lovefilledtragedy, @stilinski-lover-24, @riddikuluslysupernatural, @honeymoonmuke, @rumoured-whispers, @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname @fuckwhateverfuck @caitsymichelle13 @lunacluna @awkwarddly @muchluvnicole

Want to be tagged?

[stuck-on-writing]

The Sleeping Dragon

In the darkened tavern you would have never seen her, she clad her lethal frame in an abyssal black leather, slim fingers covering in gloves with a ring on nearly every finger. She said not a single word only watched the people of the sea port town as they laughed and went about their business, her ever watchful eyes covered in shadows, leaving her lower face slightly visible. No smile nor smirk lay upon her lips, she remained unfazed, her attention never lasted long on anyone. A group of farmers in the middle of the tavern laughed and joked, almost (rude or loud and shrill). Next the pub owner whose daughter was hustling about giving food and drink to people, a small girl maybe late teens or early twenties, with deep brown hair that curled near the ends. Nearly at every turn she was grabbed or gropped, it was common everywhere for such to happen, it didn't mean she had to like it. It was when she went to walk back to the bar that she was pulled into someone's lap, the girl gave a shriek as she tried to get up but the man would not let her go.

“come on now honey, let's go have a bit of fun.”

the girl shook her head and once again tried to get up but he pulled her back down gripped her side hard.

“it wasn't a question.”

the girl looked terrified and tried to call for help but before she could he covered her mouth and stood pulling her toward the door.

she tried to fight back but he wouldn't let her go, as he neared the door and gunshot rang out, and a bullet pierced his shoulder. The man let out a scream as he dropped the girl to hold his now wounded shoulder. the tavern was silent as the people looked at the man and the blood that fell from his wound.

“now is that anyway to treat a beautiful young lady?”

the woman that hid in the shadows emerged, a gun in hand as she walked over to him, the barrel of which was still smoking. Her footsteps were light and made little to no sound as she moved. Thick coal black hair hung over her shoulders and swayed as she walked, the people around her moved aside as she took her place before the man; whose anger was clear as day.

“you fucking bitch! you shot me arm you whore!”

In a flash she drew another gun and shot him in his leg, causing him to drop to knees.

“and now i've taken you leg, shall  i go for the throat next?”

wide eyed the man shook his head and tried to scoot back away from the gun wielding woman.

“thats right no you don't, you want to live, just like everyone else, so i'll give you proposition. i let your filth live but you'll crew my ship.”

the woman knelt down in front of the bleeding man and lifted his chin so he could look her in the eyes, his pale blue eyes meeting her sea green eyes.

“savy?”

the man nodded quickly and again tried to move away, but she stopped him.

“i need my crew alive now sailor.”

the woman stood and nodded to a few men who took the man by the arms and walked him out of the tavern The woman followed behind them.

~~~~~

When the man woke the next morning he found himself on a ship, the smell of salt and water as every where. He sat up groggy and sea sick, with white bandages on his right arm and leg, a reminder of his deplorable actions the night before. That was when he remembered the woman, the one in the shadow he had not seen, she had taken him into her service, panicking the man bolted to his feet and tried to get to the door but he couldn't see one. he looked to his left and saw only the deep brown wood, it was same on his right, but there was a bucket there as well, most likely for his bathroom needs. when he looked up he saw the hatch to deck above, he could hear men shouting and the wind on the sails. Blue skies and hungry sea birds loomed over him, none of this made sense to him, who would she need him to crew this ship? by the sounds of it she had crew enough, what did she need him for? or was it because he tried to rape that girl? was this his punishment for being drunk and letting his cock rule his mind? was he now bound to the services of a pirate?

The man dropped to his knees with a thud that caused his injured leg great pain, he let out a hiss and skirted from his knees to his bottom to relieve his leg of the pain. His blond hair covered his eyes as he dropped his head, his body ached and his mind was clouded with regret and despair.

In the misted of his self wallowing the hatch on the ceiling opened and young boy peered in.

“oi the cap’n want to see yah, get off ‘er ass now sailor.”

the boy spoke like one of men and to his surprise he didn't seem to know any other way to talk. What kind of ship was he now in service to if they let a child run around the ship.

“come on, i ain't got all day and nor does thee cap’n”

the man slowly stood wincing as he did so, the boy shook his head and lowered a rope ladder down the hole to him. He took  hold of it, giving it pull before looking back up to the boy who seemed unfazed by it. slowly he placed his foot on one of the bars and heaved his pained body up to top deck. it was slow but he made it after some time, with the boys help he pulled himself out the hole.

upon standing he looked around and saw men and women bustling about, some cleaning the deck others climbing the beams to work on the sails, but everywhere he looked he saw people working. never in his wildest dreams did he think that would ever see so many people working in damn near perfect unison. he felt a small tug on his sleeve and looked down, the boy trying to get his attention.

“cap'n's on the top deck. whatever you do don't piss er off,”

the boy then pointed to some stairs that led straight up to top deck, he looked back down at the boy giving him a small smile before heading for the stairs. he tried to keep off his right leg as much as he could, it hurt enough as it was. each step he took made his leg scream and made him wince, it took a while but he finally made it to the top, where he was greeted by the hard face of the woman who had shot him. her coal black hair was pulled up and without he being covered in shadows he saw that she had a well built upper frame with an overpowered looking lower body, a woman used to hard work. she was tall, at first glance she looked like a rugged human, its when you got to her ears you would have done a double take, they were long and pointed, coming to a point at back of her skull. An elf, she was an elf, most of her kin don't wander the seas. they mostly stay with their own kin but some go live with humans, elves are beautiful and graceful, the embodiment of all the natural beauty in the world, in kind they saw humans as wonderful, wild and free creatures. elves and men often fall in love, but the child they make is considered even more exotic than their parents. This woman didn't look to be a half elf but it was normally difficult to tell at first glance.

The man stepped forward and approached the captain, his leg felt like it was on fire, he reached down to see what was wrong but before he could look the elf spoke.

“i see you're awake, Jay took good care of those wounds dont worry.”

the captain nodded over to one of the men that was standing to her right and he came and took the wheel from her. She smiled at him before turning to face him, she looked very elvish straight on, slanted cat like eyes, a narrow pointed nose with a matching chin and high cheekbones, but she also had human features, her nose wasn't as fine pointed as most elves he had seen, her chin was slightly rounded as well.

“i hope you remember why you're here?”