#he likes to think he got everything under control and that she doesn't really get to him

[kurohaai]

I love like a smoking gun

Ripped a shot, then I hid and run from the scene

You sick of your life, I don't lie

The ones we need.

[monstersflashlight]

Okay , so, I have this request, it's sounds weird, but pls hear me out, werehusband who loves breast milk?, he purposely gets her pregnant, stealing her birth control pills and throwing them away, replacing them with aphrodisiac pills instead, then that night, when they passionate love, he keeps saying stuff like "I'm gonna your belly swell and round with my pups" and similar stuff like that, and it's no surprise when a month later she's pregnant, and in the middle of her pregnancy, her breasts grows large obvi, and they start producing milk, and werehusband just go feral, sucking on her breasts and slurping every last drop of her breast milk? Hope this request doesn't cross your boundaries! Tyy! ❣️

Hi anon! I like your idea, but I'm not the one for pregnancy and I don't really like the part about messing with ppl ability to choose over their own body. So I'm gonna pass on that part. For now I offer you short txt with non-pregnancy induced milking and some hucow fantasy. Hope you like it!

When you thought your werewolf husband was pretty vanilla on the sex department you were a bit disappointed. You thought werewolves would be more fun to play with, he got you off incredibly well... But it was bland. Just normal sex with a big husband. Which was fine, but you needed more, wanted more. But you couldn't ask, your husband was just vanilla. Or that's what you thought.

He loved your boobs, he loved them so much he was constantly groping them and pinching your nipples and sucking on them... If you were alone at home, chances were he was pulling up your shirt and sucking on your nipples. He did it all the time, and you didn't complain because he seemed to like it and it got you going. But after a few weeks your boobs started to feel heavy and weird. You thought it was because your period was approaching, but when you touched them under the spray of the shower, little drops of white liquid came out. You got scared and went to the doctor without alerting your husband. When the doctor informed you that you were milking everything clicked into place. He did it on purpose. He wanted you to produce milk. He wanted to suck your tits until they were big and heavy and you were leaking milk from your sore nipples. And you found that so fucking hot. The idea of feeding him your milk, of him being all over you because he wanted to drink your sweet nectar... Your pussy tingled thinking about it.

When you got home, he wasn't there, your boobs felt heavy and uncomfortable and so tender you wanted to cry. But when he got home? It was like a switch inside his brain turned on. He smelled the air and looked at you, baring his fangs and launching at you. He pushed you to the ground and ripped your shirt, sucking on your left breast like he was desperate, grunting and groaning, telling you how good it was as he changed between your boobs. You were seeing stars, you didn't know it could feel so good, so intense. Each pull of his mouth against your sensitive nipples was replicated on your pussy, your clit tingling. He made you cum just sucking your milk out, and when you were panting, he ripped a hole in your pants and pushed into you in one hard thrust. He fucked you ferally, grinding against your clit and making you scream. He knotted you for the first time, talking about how much he wanted to make you big with his pups. And when he emptied himself inside of you and got to pull out, he told you how hot you looked leaking milk from your breast and cum from your pussy, his perfect little human cow. His hucow.

[sundrop-writes]

BRAINWASHED

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Everything’s clean - except for my thoughts. (Thinking about me getting you off.)

Can’t stop thinking you got me B R A I N W A S H E D .

Summary:

Stiles likes you. He really, really, really likes you. It's bordering on obsession, but he likes to believe that he has it under control.

So when you accidentally leave a pair of your panties in his presence, ripe for the taking, and they're in his backpack faster than he can blink - he realizes that he might not have it as under control as he would like to think. But he can't find it to be too much of a problem when he has those panties wrapped around his cock.

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Best Friend!Fem!Reader. Pining!Stiles/One Sided Fantasies. Panty Stealing. Smut/PWP.

Word Count: 8,000

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

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

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns and is described as having a vagina; Stiles and the reader have been best friends since childhood and they are in high school now (they are both the same age) (for argument's sake, they are both 18, but the horny parts were motivated by the hotness of a 20-something actor so idc what age you interpret the characters as); the reader's looks are mostly undescribed and left neutral in terms of race, hair texture/colour, height, etc. however the reader is implied to be fat/plus sized; mentions of the reader wearing dresses and tights (things that the other characters on the show would typically wear); mentions of the reader having a cat - I did not give the cat a name so you can imagine it's the same as your cat's name/what you would want your cat to be called if you had one; use of Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); brief mention that the reader would like wearing bikinis; the reader calls Stiles 'good boy' in non-sexual contexts and it turns him on; mentions of Stiles looking up the reader's skirt when she doesn't know it; some slight dubious consent because Stiles steals the reader's underwear without her consent and uses them in a sexual act (his masturbation); masturbation (Stiles touching himself); this is a one-sided/pining fic - all the sexual acts take place inside Stiles's mind as sexual fantasies while he masturbates; the reader character is described in these sexual acts as they play out in his mind, so that's why she is included heavily in the warnings; Stiles is submissive (even in his own fantasies) and he fantasies about the reader being dominant toward him; Stiles becoming aroused by the idea of the reader not shaving her pussy; technically there is edging - because Stiles edges himself to make his fantasies last longer; panty sniffing (though the panties Stiles took are freshly launder and not used ones); scent kink/sweat kink - Stiles likes the way you smell, including your sweat; kinks and sexual acts mentioned only in Stiles's fantasies (taking place only in his mind in this fic): car sex (in the back of the Jeep (typical, I know)), fingering (reader receiving), degradation kink (Stiles receiving - he likes the idea of the reader insulting him and being mean to him); pussy eating (Stiles fantasizes in depth about this); Reader makes a joke about spanking Stiles and Stiles has a small fantasy about being spanked by her; I think that's finally it.

A/N: Title for the fic comes from the song Brainwashed by Waterparks. Warning - Stiles might be a bit OOC in this because I wrote it before I started re-watching Teen Wolf again (and before I started watching Season 1 for the first time, because previously I had only seen 3B and beyond). In this, I have said that he's flunking classes and he's not really great with studying, while in the show, he's really smart and bookish and really well studied - but it could just be chalked up to the fact that he has a huge crush on the Reader that is distracting him from studying. So, interpret it how you want. I hope that you enjoy it, and please read through to my end notes to find out about a potential sequel to the fic!!

...

Stiles was hopeless. 

That was the only way to describe his current state of being. Completely, utterly hopeless. 

He was a complete and total loser, hopelessly in love with his best friend. And he was getting more stupidly caught up in that crush every single day. And of course, he didn’t even have the courage to admit his feelings for you so that it could be awkwardly out in the open. So that the two of you could get the rejection part over with, at least. 

Basically - his feelings for you were slowly ruining his life. 

Stiles had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. Well, maybe not that long. 

See, you, him, and Scott had all been friends since the beginning of kindergarten, and naturally, Stiles always liked you as a person. He always thought of you as a good friend, even if he gravitated toward Scott more.  

But he distinctly remembered the first moment when he had started to develop a crush on you. It was a very special memory to him - the day when you shifted in his eyes from annoying, slightly nagging friend to a beautiful, fierce woman. 

It was the day when the three of you were out on Halloween night during the third grade - and that was around the time people started whispering about crushes in school, when people would have playground girlfriends and boyfriends that they broke up with every other week. That night, a group of eighth grade bullies began chasing the three of you, trying to take your candy. 

Without hesitation, you picked up the largest rock in sight and threw it at one of them, causing a large cut across his forehead - and you loudly told them to ‘fuck off’ (the first time Stiles had ever heard such a word when it wasn’t coming from his dad). They had run away, somehow terrified of a girl a foot shorter than them. 

That night, you had become his hero. 

And since then, you had been the only object of his affections. 

Of course, over the years, Stiles had plenty of opportunities to tell you about his feelings for you. He just… always felt too cowardly to do so. 

In seventh grade, he had come very close to asking you out to the winter dance - only to have Scott beat him to the punch. When he pulled Scott aside to ask him about it, Scott confessed to him that he also had a crush on you. This resulted in their first ever fistfight. The first ever true rift in their otherwise close, brotherly friendship. 

The boys didn’t speak to each other for days. Which, naturally, annoyed the hell out of you. Especially because, of course, neither of them told you why they were fighting, not wanting you to know that you were the source of the rift in their friendship. And to you, this only made the fight seem more stupid and immature. 

So finally, when you demanded it, they called a truce. They agreed that they didn’t want to lose their friendship or lose you. They didn’t want to make you choose between them when it wouldn’t make any of you happy. 

So Stiles proposed that the three of you should go to the dance as friends, which you loved, and they both got you a corsage, one for each wrist - and the three of you still laughed at the pictures of you holding each of their arms. 

Eventually, Scott grew out of his crush on you and moved onto other girls, and he loved that he got to keep you as a close best friend, someone he could go to for dating advice if needed. Scott kept trying to convince Stiles to simply ‘man up’ and tell you about his feelings, but Stiles kept that same sentiment they had concluded upon years ago. Telling you about his feelings would only ruin the friendship. Not just between you, but between the entire group - it would fuck up the pack. 

Though it felt like the more he tried to ignore his feelings for you, the more they festered like a tumor. While Scott was able to mature past his crush on you, Stiles only grew more intense, and more insane when it came to his ‘crush’ on you. 

Over the years, his crush on you had grown from something sweet and childish into something much more. When puberty truly took over and lust was added into the mix, he now had to deal with the fact that you had grown into a gorgeous woman. He could barely control his arousal when looking at you, hearing your voice, smelling you, talking to you, thinking about you - even simply being in your presence made something in his mind melt. And it was growing much worse with each passing day. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t wake up with a raging boner fueled by sexual dreams of you. 

And naturally, he would say that not telling you about his feelings for you was ultimately the best thing for him. He would steadfastly refuse to admit that him being distracted by all these fantasies of you was slowly eroding your friendship from the inside out. Slowly, bit by bit, his worst fears were coming true - your friendship was being ruined by his crush anyway. 

But he tried to ignore that. Even if you were the most gorgeous, perfect being ever put on the planet, he tried his hardest to simply enjoy the platonic version of you. He tried to act like he wasn’t stupidly, head over heels in love with you. 

He tried not to act like it. 

But on nights like this, it was just so hard. 

Tonight, the two of you were studying for an upcoming English mid-term that would be worth a decent portion of your final grade. 

Logically, Stiles knew that he should have locked himself in his room and forced himself to study independently. Or he should have taken up Scott on his offer to study with him and Allison. 

But no, he just had to ask you for your ‘help’. 

And you pitied him and said yes, because he was doing poorly in the class. The only reason for that being because it was one of the classes that he shared with you, and he spent all of his damn time staring at you across the room during it. He had tried to tell himself that he really would study tonight, that he would really take advantage of your intelligence here and now to get his shit together in order to up his grade. 

But no. That was just one of many daily lies that he told himself. Since the moment he had set foot in your bedroom that afternoon (and it was dark out now, well into the evening) - he hadn’t been able to focus on anything but you. 

Sure, sometimes that worked to his benefit. Hearing you recite Shakespeare, the words coming off your sweet lips - it did force him to focus on the material at hand for at least a short period of time. But it wasn’t like he was actually retaining any of it. He was just thinking about how gorgeous your voice sounded and how amazing you would be in an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet. One where he played Romeo, of course - and he would get to use someone else’s well-crafted words to romance you, finally getting to kiss you for the first time. 

Again - he was hopeless. 

Currently, Stiles was laying diagonally on your bed, sitting among a mess of books - the English textbooks, the assigned novels, the published copies of the play, along with binders of your notes and other notebooks, stray papers. He couldn’t pay attention to the notes he was supposed to be writing, not for a moment, not if his life depended on it. Not when you looked this stunningly beautiful while busy writing your own notes. 

With the soft lighting from your bedside lamp brushing across your skin, making that skin look even softer, you were a goddess-like vision sitting on the bed across from him. You were wearing the simple dress that you had worn to school earlier that day, your modest tights since shed off in the name of ‘comfort’ (and so that your cat wouldn’t rip holes in them while crawling across your lap, you had remarked to Stiles). When you had stood at your hamper and peeled them off your legs, Stiles had a hard time not letting the drool spill out across his chin. 

Your thighs were gorgeous. Thick, wide, spread out like a buffet for his eyes to feast on every single time you sat down. From his angle, laying down the way he was, he was up close and personal with the dimpling cellulite and stretchmarks you had there. The hem of your dress had ridden up when you had adjusted your position to get comfortable, and he felt absolutely spoiled by how much more of your thighs were revealed to him. 

A few times throughout the evening, he had to physically clench his fingers, tight, to remind himself not to reach out and touch. To remind himself that he wasn’t allowed to touch. The last thing he wanted to do was to creep you out by randomly reaching out and touching your thigh. But he wanted so badly to touch. 

How many times had he imagined what those thighs would look like bouncing and jiggling while you rode his cock? How many times had he imagined those thighs clamped around his head while he licked your pussy? (Far too many times for the good of his own sanity.) 

Not to mention the concentration spread across your face - you were so fucking hot when you showed off your intelligence. Hell everything about you was hot - your sweetness, your laughter, your sarcasm, even your bitchy side. But your bookish side had to be one of Stiles’s favorites. 

The way you would nibble your own lip when thinking, the way your brows furrowed slightly in thought. Everything about you - from the bra strap sticking out of the neckline of your dress to the chipped edge of your nail polish where you had chewed on it - you were a fucking vision. And Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off you, no matter how hard he tried. 

It was a wonder that you didn’t notice Stiles staring at you - not as often as he did it. 

Stiles felt strangely caught when you put down your pen and looked up from your notebook, then. He quickly scrambled to grab his own pencil and start writing something, to look busy. But of course, he just looked like more of an idiot when the eraser end began scraping across the page in nonsense patterns. 

“Stiles,” You scolded him with a sigh, a way he was used to hearing his name come off your lips. “Have you gotten anything done? I told you to copy down at least half my notes-” 

Of course. You pegged his blank page as simple laziness, rather than his brain slowly melting out through his ears due to his inability to think about anything but you (especially when he was in the same room as you). At least he hadn’t been caught staring at you in that creepy way yet. 

You snatched up his notebook to check his work, and his heart dropped - if you looked too carefully, then he would be caught. In the back of that notebook, there were about three pages of his name and yours in hearts, and a few times he had practiced writing his signature as ‘Mr Stiles L/N’. (He was a feminist, and he liked the idea of starting a new tradition.) There was even a drawing he had made designing your theoretical wedding cake, including a cake topper where he was Superman and you were riding on his back while he was flying. 

“Y/N, uh-” 

He quickly snatched the notebook back, causing a glare from you while he sighed in defeat. 

“Fine.” He shrugged, knowing that he had to admit to a smaller crime in order to cover up the larger one. It was something that he did with his father all too often. “I didn’t get anything done. I was slacking off. You caught me.” 

“Stiles!” You scolded him again, reaching out to gently smack his shoulder. “If you keep this shit up, you’re never gonna graduate!” 

Sadly, you were probably right. His crush on you was absolutely going to ruin him. 

“Well, you could just let me copy off you,” He replied, giving you a wide grin that let you know he was mostly kidding. 

You rolled your eyes in reply, and soon your gaze caught sight of the clock on your nightstand. 

“Well, it seems like you have wasted enough of my time for tonight.” You scoffed sarcastically. 

Stiles knew that you had intended this to be a joke - but he couldn’t help the twinge of pain the words caused in his gut. The idea that he was truly just a waste of time in your life. He pressed his lips tightly together to suppress a frown and didn’t say anything more, and then you continued. 

“It’s almost your curfew anyway.” You pointed out, gesturing toward the clock. You were right. Stiles hadn’t even noticed how late it was getting - too busy enjoying his time with you. “We’ll pack it up for the night - but you should meet me at the library tomorrow morning, early, so we can go over everything again before the exam.” 

Of course, you were still invested in the idea of him getting a good grade, even if that seemed unlikely to happen. 

“You’re gonna make me get up early?” He whined, hating the idea of missing out on even ten extra minutes of sleep. 

“Yes.” You stressed. “I want you there at seven o’clock. Sharp.” 

Your ultra serious voice ordering him around was undeniably a turn-on for him. No matter what sexual fantasies Stiles cooked up about you in his mind, he could never picture himself having full control over you. In fact, most of the time, he found himself covered in cum at the idea of you having complete control over him. And it was likely because this was how most of your friendship went - you told him what to do, and he did it. And that was a huge part of why he fell for you in the first place. 

When he didn’t verbally confirm the time, too caught up in his infatuation yet again, you let out a gentle growl of frustration. 

“Stiles!” You called out his name. “You have to be there at seven. So you can’t get out of bed at seven - you have to set your alarm for like six-thirty, got it? Don’t make me come over there and get your ass out of bed like last time.” 

This thought caused Stiles’s stomach to clench. 

The last time you had come to his house to wake him up for school (because he had agreed to help you with some bakesale project and you were pissed off that he wasn’t there early to help you set up tables and whatnot) - you had charged into his house in a fury. You had your own key, of course, and his dad wasn’t there to busy you with conversation or pleasantries. 

And you charged right up the stairs and nearly caught him with a hand around his cock, jerking off to a picture of you in a bikini from the summer before. And he had rushed to shove the picture in his nightstand and cocoon himself in the comforter to hide his body just as you made it to the top of the stairs, shouting at him for being late. Luckily, he had gotten away with the lie that he had slept in, rather than revealing the truth that he had been distracted because he had woken up with morning wood after having a heated dream about you. 

When Stiles didn’t respond yet again, you grabbed a smaller decorative pillow from behind you and lightly hit him with it for emphasis, causing him to burst into laughter. 

“Promise me you’ll be on time!” You said, smacking him with the pillow again. 

“Yes, yes! I promise!” He finally agreed, his face becoming pink from laughter. 

You dropped the pillow then, and leaned down, causing his eyes to inadvertently go straight to your cleavage while you gave him a gentle, friendly kiss on the forehead. 

“Good boy.” You responded, praising him for agreeing to your terms. Obviously, it was another joke. 

But these praising words combined with your lips even slightly brushing against his skin, along with your tits dangling so close to his face, had his cock swelling to hardness nearly instantly. He grabbed the pillow then, trying to look subtle as he put it over his crotch, desperately trying to hide the very obvious bulge that had popped up at the front of his jeans within seconds. 

He was lucky when you shifted your attention away from him, now busy with cleaning off the bed, gathering your textbooks in a pile and moving to put them on your desk in the corner. You being distracted gave him a few moments to try and mentally will his dick down, which worked slightly. Only slightly. 

“You could help me, you know.” You mocked him lightly - distracting him from his thoughts of baseball, trying to will the blood out of his cock. 

He looked up and saw you standing there with his backpack, putting away his textbooks and notebooks now. He had been so dumbly distracted by his own dick that he hadn’t noticed you taking the kind initiative to clean up his things for him too. 

“Right, sorry.” He jumped into action and did so, taking things from your hands and shoving them into his bag with haste. 

“You don’t have to rush out, I just need the bed cleared off so I can pick out my clothes for tomorrow.” You told him. 

“Wait - you actually pick out your clothes in advance?” He asked, thinking that this was entirely adorable, and explained why you were always so well dressed. 

(And it explained why you were always so punctual in the mornings while Stiles was usually a mess - running around his house still half-asleep, shoving his head into a shirt that he had sniffed to see if it was clean, shoving things frantically into his bag in order to get out the door five minutes late.) 

“Well you know not all of us are okay with just throwing on last week’s mustard stained tee shirt,” You said, playfully pointing to a mustard stain that he had on his shirt from lunch. 

He rolled his eyes in return, trying to ignore the slight twist of embarrassment that wanted to swell up inside of him at the comment. 

There had been a point where he used to make a very pointed effort to impress you. Back when his crush on you had first gotten serious - likely around the beginning of high school. He used to get up early every single morning, spending a lot of time being intensely picky about the clothes he wore. He drowned himself in cologne (until you had complained about it), he wore certain colors just because you mentioned liking them. But none of it seemed to garner any more of your attention than usual. 

And so, he resigned himself to be the loser best friend who would always just float at the corners of your life, drowning in his secret affection for you until some better, hotter guy came along and swept you off your feet one day. 

He was just glad that day hadn’t come yet. 

Stiles was hesitant to leave - he wasn’t done being around you for the day yet, too emotionally attached. But he guessed that he would need to get some decent sleep before waking up at the asscrack of dawn in order to see more of you the next morning. (Even if it would include the horrors of studying at the library.) 

“So - I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” He posed, ready to take his leave as he swung his backpack over his shoulder. 

“Ooh, wait one second.” You said, eagerness twinging through your voice. 

His heart pounded hard in his chest for a moment, wondering if this could be the moment he had been waiting so long for - would you stop him there, grab him by the shoulders and kiss him hard, and then tell him that you had been feeling the exact same way as he had for all these years? 

“Which one?” You asked, spinning around from your closet to face him, holding up two dresses on hangers. 

Oh. You were asking for his opinion about what you should wear to school the next day. 

“The blue one.” Stiles said, motioning towards it. “That shade of blue looks beautiful on you - it compliments your skin tone well, and it makes you shine. But ya know, you look gorgeous in everything. You could wear a paper bag to school and everyone would still be jealous of how amazing you look.” 

He rambled on for a moment too long, and realized that his genuine fondness for you - something straying too far into romantic territory - was slipping out. 

“But - uh, yeah. I’ll see you later.” He quickly added on, now eager to leave before you could make any further comments. 

Then he dashed out of your room and down the stairs, getting out the front door so fast that he practically left a poof of cartoon dust behind him. 

He got into the Jeep and tossed his bag into the passenger’s seat - which, he hadn’t realized was not even zipped up. (A habit you often scolded him for - going around with his bag unzipped.) Papers and books spilled across the seat and underneath it, and he let out a loud growl of frustration. 

“Idiot!” He screamed, scolding himself as he leaned down, trying to clean everything up. “Idiot, idiot, idiot!” 

Partially, he was feeling so idiotic because he had just been so vulnerable with you and you probably thought he was weird for it. Actually, that was mostly why. 

As he was picking up his things, he realized that - yup, he was missing his English textbook. He had forgotten it in your room. He heaved out a sigh and collapsed back against his seat. He could leave without it - but then he would get an earful from you in the morning about how he was ‘forgetful’ and ‘irresponsible’. Ugh. 

He got out of the Jeep again and shuffled his way back into your house - your mom was working late, so there was nobody there to question him running out of the house at top speed and then appearing back so soon. All he got was a curious chirp and a head tilt from your cat, who was sitting on the top of the stairs. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Stiles remarked to the animal, stopping for a moment to pet him. “I’m pathetic. But you can’t rat me out, okay? I know she thinks highly of your opinion and I need you to put in a good word for me. Got it?” 

The cat purred and pushed his face into Stiles’s hand, so he assumed that was a positive affirmation that he would root for Stiles - or at the very least, keep his secret. 

Stiles linger for a moment to scratch the cat’s furry cheek, and then he stepped over the cat and made his way back toward your room. He passed the closed bathroom door and heard the shower running, and he almost cheered. If you were in the shower, then you wouldn’t notice him slipping back in to grab his book, so you couldn’t scold him for being a forgetful idiot. 

He went into your room, and the second he made it through the mouth of your open bedroom, his eyes locked onto your bed like a hot target. Your clothes for the following day were spread out so neatly, and right there, on top of the blue dress he had suggested - there was a pair of lacy purple panties that were something right out of one of his fantasies. 

Stiles had thought about your underwear before - many times. Too many times to count. 

He had even caught small, passing glimpses of your underwear before - when you had worn dresses without tights and bent over in front of him. But he had only seen enough of it to determine the color, not to know if it was lacy or silk or cotton. And even that was enough to send him into a tailspin that had him rushing to the bathroom to relieve his aching cock. 

In the back of his mind - or truly, the forefront of his mind whenever he jerked off to thoughts of you - he always wondered what kind of underwear you wore. What kind of decorative wrapping your pretty pussy would come in if he ever got the other-worldly privilege of getting his hands up your skirt. 

Would they be simple, practical cotton underwear? Would they be cute? Would they be sinfully sexy? Would they be those underwear with the days of the week written across the front? 

But seeing this now - seeing the tangible evidence in front of him that you actually planned to wear purple lacy lingerie to school - it was something that had all sense draining from his mind as blood rushed to his cock once again. He barely had time to think about it - and he didn’t think about it. Because then, they were in his hands, in his pocket, and he was back in the Jeep, hiding his stolen goods in his bag and hastily zipping it up so he could slam his foot on the gas and race home. 

He didn’t even have a chance to think about the fact that he left without the textbook that he had gone back into your room looking for. He didn’t have the attention span to notice that said textbook was in a stack along with your own - almost as if purposefully kept there like an excuse to lure him back into your room, rather than clumsily forgotten by him. 

… 

When Stiles got into his room, he slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, now entirely frantic, and thankful that his father was working a late shift again. He sat down on the edge of his bed, his hands shaking with anticipation as he unzipped his bag and pulled out the thing he had so hastily snagged. 

His mind was warring with so many sensations. Guilt for taking the panties, paranoia that he would get caught, shame that he even had the urge to take them in the first place - but all of that was easily toppled over and forgotten in the name of lust. Overwhelming lust and arousal that he felt for you. Greed and joy at knowing that he had something so private of yours in his hands now - something so secret that he shouldn’t have. A perfect little piece of you. 

His little secret piece of you. 

He still couldn’t believe that this was the kind of underwear you wore on a daily basis. 

Just imagining that this was what you wore to school - thinking about the fact that this was what you were wearing under your clothes during your everyday interactions with him: it drove him wild. 

He easily pictured this pretty lace sticking to your cunt when you were wet, the lavender colored material getting slick and slightly darker, soaked through and visibly sticky when you spread your legs for him to see. He wondered if your pussy would be shaved or not - but you didn’t have a boyfriend, so currently, you didn’t have anybody to shave for. 

He remembered a conversation from a few weeks ago where Scott had wondered if he should shave his pubes for Allison and you had remarked that ‘putting a razor near your junk’ was ‘ill-advised and stupid’ - so you probably didn’t even like shaving your pussy on principle. 

This immediately put a picture in his mind of your pussy being covered in soft hair that matched the shade on your head - maybe a bit darker. It would clump together with your juices and become soaked when you got wet. The little hairs would probably stick out cutely from the sides of the bikini cut underwear, peeking at him. 

Your pussy would be the prettiest thing he had ever seen, he knew that for certain. 

Stiles imagined getting you in the backseat of the Jeep one night after a game. 

He would still be covered in sweat from his efforts, worn out from trying his best. Sure, he wasn’t the best player, but you wanted to ‘reward’ him for his efforts on the winning side, even if he hadn’t directly contributed to the win. 

So as soon as the game was over, before he even had time to change out of his pads or shower, you hauled him to the parking lot and shoved him into the car. His gear was only half-off, ditched hastily by your feet, and you were in his lap - a perfect prize after all the hard work he had done, sitting astride his already sore thigh muscles while you kissed him - hard. Your mouth greedily sucked the oxygen out of his lungs while you shoved your tongue past his lips, painting his tongue with your sweet spit - and fuck, it felt like he was made for this. 

He got sucked so deep into the fantasy - it felt so damn real. 

He imagined having his hands splayed out against your beautiful, plump ass, gripping you tightly, noting wanting you to separate from him for even a section. While you held on tightly to his face, sealing him into the kiss until his lips were sore. And you would only pull back to look into his eyes with glossy desperation and utter out: 

“Please, Stiles. I need you. I need you to touch my pussy.” 

And what else could he do but obey? 

So he would lift up your skirt - a particularly short skirt that you had worn with nothing else but a pair of knee-high socks. Something that you knew he loved to see you cheer for him on the sidelines while wearing. Even though it was a chilly night, you couldn’t feel too cold when you saw him glancing at you every single chance he got. Of course, those distracted stares had gotten him screamed at by Coach more than once. But he loved the way your skirt would flutter up in the nighttime breeze, teasing him. The way the fucking beautiful thick fat of your thighs would jiggle whenever you would jump around in order to cheer him on. 

He was a man of simple, divine tastes. 

So - he would lift up that perfect skirt to find those purple lacy panties underneath; to find the perfection of your wet cunt waiting for him, growing slicker by the second, more needy for him. You were humping yourself against his athletic cup, which his hard cock was practically dying inside of, bursting to get out of the hard shell of plastic to touch you. But he ignored his own needs for a few minutes longer in favor of yours. Reaching forward, sliding his fingers along the wet spot at the front of your panties, absolutely indulging in the beautiful gasp you let out when his touch grazed across your swollen clit through the fabric. 

“Stiles, please.” 

He could almost hear it - it was so fucking clear inside his mind. The way your voice would be so pitched with desperation, so perfectly needy curled around his name. He wanted so badly to hear it in real life. 

And he would push those panties to the side, pushing his fingers inside of your hot, wet cunt-

Back in the real world, Stiles’s cock gave a needy pulse, leaking into his boxers. 

He heaved out a sigh, his cock practically vibrating with blood. He had driven home the whole time trying to ignore that boner, but he simply couldn’t do that anymore. He just had to give in. 

He hesitantly put your panties aside - already feeling a strange sense of attachment to them - and reached to his nightstand, grabbing the bottle of lube that he had in the drawer. Shamefully, it was already half empty, mostly due to the fantasies that he had about you. He undid his pants and had them around his ankles in record time, and whipped off his shirt for good measure, knowing that he was quite a ‘splasher’ and not wanting to get cum on it to pair with that ugly mustard stain. 

He lubed up his cock more than a healthy amount, knowing that it would contribute to the fantasy of you being so wet around him. It was a distant fantasy that he would never actually get to achieve, but hell - a man can dream. Then he began to slowly pump his cock in hand, wanting to milk it and truly enjoy it, and he let his mind get back to work. 

He thought back to your place. A place he was comfortable, spent a lot of time at hanging out with you. 

He imagined that early that night when he had forgotten his book, rather than you being in the shower, he went back to your room and found that you had been getting ready for bed. You were rubbing sweet-smelling lotion on your arms, pulling back the covers, wearing nothing but a pair of cute little socks, a tiny camisole - where he could very visibly see that you weren’t wearing a bra, with the natural teardrop shape of your breasts bared to the eye, your nipples poking through the fabric - and those purple lace panties. 

When he would appear in the doorway, you would gawk at him and ask: 

“Stiles? What are you doing? Did you… forget something?” 

But you would be positioned half leaning over the bed, taking back the covers so it would be comfortable for you to sleep - and your ass would be unintentionally on full display. Your sweet pussy lips peeking at him from behind, the roundness of your ass so fucking inviting, daring him to leave bite marks across the beautifully fat flesh. 

And after a few moments of him staring so brazenly, saying nothing, simply drinking in the gorgeous sight of your body bent over, wearing so little clothing, wearing those perfect little lace panties-

(Stiles sped up his hand on his cock, the lube sounding downright sloppy in the silence of the room.) 

You would stand up to your full height, come to him in the doorway, put your face so close to his and say: 

“If you’re gonna spend so much time staring at me like a gaping idiot, then you should do something about it.” 

Stiles had to stop the swift movements of his hand and clutch his grip tightly around the base of his cock, making his entire dick throb hard as he edged off his own orgasm. 

He still wasn’t sure why the idea of you calling him an ‘idiot’ in such a brazen tone made him want to cum so hard - but he didn’t have time to unpack all that now. 

He grabbed up the panties again with his non-lubed hand. Something in the back of his mind thought that it would be a crime for him to get them dirty. Another part argued that he would absolutely love to get them covered in his cum, not clean them, and then return them to you. That it would be fucking thrilling to have you wear them in that dirtied state. 

Though he knew that would never fucking happen. 

If he returned the panties to you covered in his cum, then you would slap him, call him a pervert, and likely have Scott beat the shit out of him with his newly harnessed werewolf strength. Stiles pushed this thought to the back of his mind, though. 

Out of curiosity, he lifted the fabric to his nose and took a whiff. They smelled like fresh laundry - a nice lemony detergent. Of course they weren’t ones you had previously worn - they were a pair you had been planning on wearing tomorrow. 

He distantly wondered if that meant you would not be wearing underwear tomorrow, because he had taken your intended pair. And that could have led his mind down a whole different filthy track, but instead - he began to wonder what a pair of your dirty underwear might smell like. 

You should take a pair of used ones. A voice in his mind told him. Snatch them right out of the hamper. Come on, you’re over at her place all the time. She won’t even notice them gone. 

Terrible idea. Terrible rabbit hole. 

But what would they smell like? 

He wasn’t deluded enough to think that pussy smelled like roses. He had never been close enough to one - a real pussy - before to actually know. Yes, he was a virgin. He could have said that he was waiting, ‘saving it’ for you - but every other girl, including you, was smart enough to look past him. There were plenty of other guys who were better looking and more charming than him, and probably better in bed than him, that girls had chosen instead of him. 

He wondered if your pussy smelled like that perfect bit of sweat that you gathered at the end of a long day. Sometimes when he went to hug you before the two of you parted ways, he would catch a whiff of the tiniest undertone of musk, a good amount of sweat paired with the berry scented body spray you had put on that morning, and orange tic-tacs you had popped after lunch. It was a delectable combination. 

He imagined that your cunt would smell like that bit of sweat, combined with the blueberry body wash you used - the one he knew about and loved because of the time you had insisted he use your shower while stinking up a study session because he had skipped the showers after lacrosse practice when he was late to be with you. 

He imagined getting hints of that blueberry body wash smell coming off your thighs when his head was buried between them. What would your cunt taste like? That was a mystery he wanted to solve live. 

He could always imagine the other aspects so well. 

He could imagine the feeling of the heat under his tongue, the perfect feeling of your wetness mixing with his spit. He imagined getting to bounce your swollen clit against his tongue and while feeling your moans and cries of his name vibrate through your body as he pleasured you so well - the feeling of your pubes brushing against his cheeks as his entire face became soaked with your wetness. 

But the taste - that was something he could never conjure up in his mind, no matter how hard he tried. 

He knew that eating your pussy would be perfect. Not just because he would be giving you pleasure, serving you. But he so often dreamed of having his head smothered by your thighs, having you grab his head and shove him tighter into your cunt, you purposeful and demanding. You having that beautiful control over him while he drowned in your wetness. 

He knew that he would likely cum in his pants from eating you out if he ever got the privilege of doing so, and even if you laughed at him - stupidly, he would find that hot too. 

Stiles picked up the pace again, pumping his cock in hand evenly and firmly - even reaching down with the other hand to cradle his balls, gently rolling the flesh in his hand as he got lost in another fantasy of you. 

He imagined the two of you in his bed - textbooks forgotten and pushed off onto the floor, your dress hiked up around your hips, and again, those fucking purple lace panties. He was on top of you, hovering on his knees so that his hard cock wouldn’t brush against you (even through his jeans) while the two of you sloppily made-out. 

It wasn’t long before you pulled away from his kiss-swollen lips. 

“Stiles,” You purred into his ear, kissing along his neck. “You know, you’re so pathetic.” 

These words had his cock jumping, spurting out precum - in his fantasy, it made his underwear messy as you undid his fly. 

In the real world, it made his hand messy as he continued to rhythmically jerk his cock. 

“I’m not gonna let you fuck me.” You told him, contrasting these words with your intentions as you put your hands inside his waistband and shoved his pants and underwear down over his hips - down to his knees until his hard, throbbing cock was exposed. “Not until you prove yourself.” 

Before Stiles could ask the question, the beautiful, fantastic you that he had made up inside his mind gave him the perfect answer. 

“Get yourself off by rubbing your pathetic dick against my panties. And then - I might let you fuck me.” 

In the real world, Stiles let out a throttled moan - a choked sound that surely would have had his father knocking on the door to ask if he was okay if he was at home. And then he rushed to grab the panties again, and without even thinking, he used his sticky lubed up hand to position the fabric around his dick. It was a coarse roughness compared to the slick smoothness he had previously been feeling, but it did wonders to complete his fantasy as he delved back to the you inside of his mind. 

He started rubbing the slightly lube-sticky rough fabric up and down his dick at a very slow pace as he imagined it: 

Being perched between your thighs, with the fabric of the panties stuck to your wet cunt, his cock hard and leaking as he tucked himself right up against you and began to rub his dick against you in order to get off. Just like you wanted, just like you had ordered him to do. 

“Please.” Stiles chanted, the words leaking out of his lips, chanted into his empty bedroom as he pleaded to the imaginary you that would always have a hold over him - just as tight of a hold as the real you had. “Please, please - oh fuck.” 

He moved the fabric over his cock faster as he moved his hips faster in the fantasy, imagining how hot your pussy would feel against him, imagining your nails digging into his hips as you looked up at him with mocking and adoration in your eyes. He imagined you forcing his hips faster, trapping him in place with your knees bracketed around his thighs, showing him absolutely no mercy. 

“Please, please, please.” He chanted, knowing with a distant part of his mind that he must have sounded utterly delirious. “Please, Y/N, lemme cum-” 

“Cum for me, Stiles.” 

Confirmed by that fantasy version of you and truly unable to hold it any longer, Stiles arched up off the bed, cumming all over his own fist. Just as he had predicted, it was an utter, uncontrollable mess. He shot cum all over his stomach, and absolutely soaked the fabric of the panties - making a horrible mess of them. Which, the lube had definitely already done. He laid there for a single moment catching his breath before it truly hit him. 

Fuck. He had fucked up. 

You would definitely notice the underwear missing after a while and he certainly couldn’t return them to you in this condition. 

… 

Stiles spent the next hour in the bathroom, absolutely panicking over how to get them clean. Luckily, he wasn’t a total idiot and he looked up the washing instructions online - and after hand-washing them in warm water with a ‘gentle’ detergent (handsoap was the best that he could do), they came out perfectly clean. 

The only problem? 

Hang to dry. 

He set his alarm for early, earlier than you suggested, and prayed that he wouldn’t sleep through it. In fact, he set three more alarms just to make sure. He couldn’t have you or his father barging into his room to wake him up when he had a pair of your stolen panties pinned to his corkboard in order to properly dry them so that he could sneak them back to you in good condition. 

… 

The next day, he departed for school by 6:45 with the stolen goods hidden away in his bag, ready to sneak them back into your room later that afternoon. He made it to the library ten whole minutes before seven, and you seemed shocked that he was not only on time - but early. 

“Wow.” You said, having just gotten there yourself, spreading out your items at a table - including a tray with some coffees. “You know, Stiles, I am impressed.” 

“You don’t have to act so - so shocked.” He replied, partially interrupted by a yawn. 

You leaned over to get a pen from your bag, and Stiles’s eyes immediately went to your ass, unconsciously trying to spot panty lines through your dress and tights - wondering if you were even wearing underwear because he had stolen the ones you had intended for today. 

Focus, Stiles. Focus. 

“Well, if you weren’t here by seven sharp like I told you, I was gonna pour this in the garbage.” You told him, taking his coffee out of the paper tray and sliding it toward him. 

“You don’t have to be so mean.” He chuckled, airy and light - very secretly annoyed with the way your ‘mean’ streak affected him sometimes. Why did he have to be turned on by you scolding him and punishing him? Why? 

“Hey, if I’m not mean then you never get anything done.” You told him truthfully. “And you know how it works by now. Good boys get rewards and bad boys get spanked.” You told him, letting out a bright laugh - indicating that it was clearly meant to be a joke. 

But instantly, it shook his mind with imagery of you bending him over the table, ripping his pants down and spanking him until he came untouched and cried for mercy, forcing him to agree that he would behave and listen to you. He became downright dizzy at the thought. 

You meant it as a joke - he had to sharply remind himself. But the way you so casually called him a ‘good boy’, said that he was deserving of a ‘reward’ - it sent chills down his spine and already had his cock waking up. Too early. Bad rabbit hole. 

If he was any sort of brave, he would have pushed it more and asked you what kind of ‘reward’ you had in mind. But he wasn’t, and he was too tired to analyze the potential consequences. 

“Oh!” You said, as though suddenly remembering something. You moved to grab your bag again and Stiles closed his eyes to forcefully keep himself from staring at your ass. “You left this at my place last night.” You told him, sliding his English textbook across the table toward him. 

He was too busy trying to calm his own lust that he missed the smirk on your face - the mischief lingering in your eyes, the intention in your tone. He was too caught up, drowning in his own affections for you that he never would have pieced together that you had taken in and hidden it on purpose as a ploy to get him to come back. That you had put out some other bait for him to find. 

“Thanks.” He said quietly. “So - what do we need to go over before the test?”

“Everything.” 

Stiles groaned.

...

A/N: Yes, there is a sequel for this fic in my drafts. It is something that I worked on during my hiatus. It's 10k long, and it's pretty much done.

If you would like to see the sequel edited and posted in a timely manner, I would like to see at least 30 reblogs and 25 comments on this fic - in the form of replies or anon asks.

102 people liked the preview for this fic and I know a lot of people are interested in it, so I am only asking for a 1/4 of the people who liked the preview to interact this fic before I release the sequel. But please, keep comments to the content of this fic rather than just asking for the next part to be released.

If you want to be tagged in the next part, you can ask to be put on my Teen Wolf taglist by interacting with this post, but please know that if you don't follow my taglist rules, you will be removed from the taglist promptly. If that happens, you are still welcome to read and enjoy future fics, you just won't be included in my taglists ever again.

Happy reading, and I hope you enjoyed the fic!!

[yakichoufd]

I got that issue thinking I would have a fun read and it was interesting but so disappointing too. There will be a of lof of spoilers here, so don't read my post if you want to enjoy that story first. It will also become an illustrated "fanfiction" cause I had to draw few things haha! I liked that Scott and Alex's parents survived their plane crash and both boys could have a normal childhood. The story is from Alex's point of view which is quite interesting. He barely remembers the plane accident, but Scott does (even if he never talks about it, but him remembering that event is important). Alex doesn't really know where he belongs since his big brother is "great at everything". Scott is great at school, sport, he has friends, he cares for his baby brother etc... and Alex feels like he is living in his brother's shadow. Then Scott get his mutation and get a personnality switch. Even if he controls his beams, he still freaks out and panics most of the time (which is fair, his power is very destructive after all). Then the story takes a direction I did not enjoy, so I won't talk about it. I will just explain what I would have liked to read instead. I would have loved for the two brothers to bond over what Scott was dealing with. For once Alex's big brother needed help and support. Alex could have been there for his so "perfect" big brother. It could have reversed their roles and boost Alex's confidence. It could have create a deep relationship between the two brothers.

Scott is traumatised by the plane accident. He has a nightmare seeing aliens looking after them when their plane hit the ground. It is during that nightmare that Scott's power manifests. Maybe him freaking out about his powerful mutation is linked to that traumatic event. Maybe he is scared of destruction since their plane got hit by alien's weapons? Maybe he thinks the aliens did this to him? I don't know but he is a very scared kid who is cclearly afraid of that attack. Scott could have talk about that to his parents. They are very supportive and caring. That story could have grown their family bond stronger. Plus both brothers have a destructive mutation, that could have made them closer than ever. Continuing with that alternative universe. Xavier gives up on Scott a bit too fast (which makes little sense imo) but I would have find it interesting that a less awkward Scott meet Warren, Hank, Bobby and Jean. He could have joined the mansion still as a lost teenager but his social understanding would have been so much better.

I do not think he would have fall for Jean like he did in the comics. Maybe he would never have fall for her since he was popular back home. I think comic Scott always fell for Jean because she was so perfect and he was a lost kid who had nothing but a lot of love to give. Or he could fall for her once he is more mature. I love that HC that Scott is a bisexual bean, so he could have had a boyfriend back home. Bobby could have understand himself a bit faster seeing Scott with another boy.

Scott being in a loving family he would be at ease with his sexuality and he and his family's popularity in town made everyone accepting everything easily. However Scott still being afraid about his mutation, he wouldn't have tell anyone why he went to Xavier's mansion. Whcih would confure his mutant friends a lot. Scott could still have trouble with accepting who he is and how his loved ones see him which will be his personnal dilemma.

(Todd is the OC boyfriend haha) Warren and Scott could have been close friends and maybe more. Angel is a very caring character too and he would have understand Scott's scasred mind. I think Scott could still have being brainswhased to become a child soldier (which would terrified his parents) but it would have helped Scott to accept his power. He could still become an amazing field leader but I do not think he would have stayed under Xavier's manipulation long. He would have take his own path eventually. He has the confidence and his years with the X-men would have created his network. I think that AU has a lot of potential and it didn't need to become over dramatic as the original issue did. Siniter could have shown up later or not at all. I do not think he needs to be present in Scott's life in every universe. Being a mutant is already hard as it is, you can always find dama around that if you want a dramaticc story.

[starkeysprincess]

ooo i love that the worst punishments for reader are related to her need to please him. she misbehaves, she gets edged but never that final reward of cumming, she disrespects him, she doesn’t get the privilege of his cum inside of her. he uses that dynamic against her but makes up for it afterwards (referring to the other anon). i like the implication that he never does “vanilla sex” with the women he doms but does with her, but she doesn’t even realize it because it’s still so overwhelming for her after not getting to cum at all the day before. it lets him pretend that he isn’t aware that he never wants to let her go 🤭

as for what to discuss next… maybe a fluff break of little moments that have him more and more wrapped around her finger? or perhaps spanking, with his hands or something else 👀 i think he’d like to see her ass red and welts forming on her body as much as he likes her tied up and helpless

(ps, dom rafe anon can be ❤️‍🩹 if no one’s taken it yet, for when i’m camped in your asks again 🙂‍↕️)

i'm gonna talk about the fluff moments + the spanking hehe <3 all my other dom!rafe thoughts are under the tag ‘stargazing’ + links for everything are at the bottom of this ask !

also he only does "vanilla sex" with her cause he's quite literally already obsessed with her but she doesn't realize that cause she's too overwhelmed from not being able to cum the day before. he's so obsessed with her to the point that if he got hard and she wasn't there to help him, he wouldn't be able to get off but that's just what i thinkkkkkkk

for spanking, i think dom!rafe has two preferences for how he spanks her. i think his kinky lil ass would have a leather flogger, which she's seen a few before in sex toy stores (she had to meet her needs somehow before she met him) but she didn't know what they were actually used for until she met him and god, the sound the genuine leather makes when it meets the flesh of her ass as it leaves wilts across the soft flesh is like music to his ears.

his second preference is using his hand, which is by far, his favorite way to spank her. it gives him more control and he loves the feeling of his hand coming down on her ass but nothing makes his cock twitch more than seeing her ass all red with his handprint etched onto her skin. he can't help but knead at her plump cheeks to soothe the stinging sensation.

now, onto the fluff moments that make him more and more wrapped around her finger. it would be the smaller moments that really get to him. moments like after her being so worn out from him fucking her, she cuddles into his chest and falls asleep, something he isn't used to at first, he would hesitantly wrap his arms around her but he realizes how much he enjoys her being in his arms.

another moment would be when he wakes up and she's gone, he got out of bed and assumed she left while he was asleep, which makes him reach for his phone as he heads to his kitchen. before he can send her a text, he looks up to see her back facing him and she's wearing nothing but his shirt as she dances around his kitchen, making breakfast.

he's never had a women he's been with stay the night, let alone, cook him breakfast. he can't help but him smile to himself and he can't help but lean against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, admiring the way she moves around as she cooks.

taglist ✦ rafe masterlist ✦ stargazing (thoughts) tagging: @oceandriveab / @babygorewhore / @drudyslut / @rafesthroatbaby / @rylie-m / @maiiuelle / @lilacheavenn / @hallecarey1 / @heartsforvin / @sturnioloshacker / @xxbimbobunnyxx / @redhead1180 / @eddieslut69 / @eternalbuckley / @kisses4angel / @hyperfixationgirl / @emilysuperswag / @flvredcas / @rafeinterlude / @ihe4rttwd / @starkeysheart / @peterpan-neverfails / @nemesyaaa / @starkeyisthelastname

[littleplantfreak]

Run my hands through - Umemiya Hajime

Made a post about how much i loved Ume with his hair down yesterday and ended up writing something entirely self indulgent //gestures at this official art too

-SFW (but almost wasn't I almost got super carried away but deleted it cause I leave smut to the professionals) so uhhh marking/hickeys, hair pulling, makin' out with Umemiya and slightly possessive behavior on readers part but in a silly way if that makes sense just in case anyone has problems with that stuff.

You're looking at him more than usual. Umemiya can feel your eyes boring into the back of his head while he's re-potting plants on the roof. He asked you about it before but all you do is hum and say you think you're staring a normal amount. Of course he doesn't mind, but it feels like he's under a microscope. When he asked Kotoha if she knew why you were acting weird, she shrugged and said you'd were looking at some old pictures at the children's home so maybe you'd just been noting how different he looked in his childhood pictures. She ended it with a look and tone that conveyed you'd already asked her to keep something secret.

-----

It's his hair again. The hair that's always gelled back in a slight wave keeping it out of his face completely. It's not hard to break it free from the glassy prison he molds it into though. There have been plenty of times strands fell forward from sweating, working or fighting, but you've never seen it fully down in person. That's why, when you saw a semi-recent picture of him with his siblings, long hair falling in his face, trimmed neatly with ends blunt, you started to feel a certain way about it. You innocently asked Kotoha if she had any more pictures of Ume like that.

"Like what?"

"Like with his hair down."

"Oho you have a thing for his hair now?" She teases and although you know she won't tell him if you ask her not to, you're still embarrassed at being found out so easily.

"He's my boyfriend! I have a thing for nearly everything about him."

"But anyone can tell you're kinda obsessed with it with how much you fix and touch it throughout the day. Just ask him to wear it down for you."

It's not that you hadn't thought about it, but the more you thought, the more you started getting frustrated. Why didn't he wear it down more often? It seems like he did in old pictures. If he hated it now you didn't wanna force him to change it

Your self control was pretty good, but once you'd started really looking it was impossible to stop. His most recent fight with Shishitoren had haphazard strands in his face dislodged by sweat and aggressive movement. Of course you were concerned with the wounds spanning across his face and body, but another part of you wanted to eat him alive with how good he looked. You're not quite sure you'd be able to stop yourself from jumping him if you saw him with his hair fully down. Sitting in a chair on the roof, you watch him and think about the feeling of running your fingers through his white locks unhindered by that damn tough gel he puts in.

"Pumpkin can you hand me the small pruning sheers to your left?" he calls over without looking over at you.

"Mhmmm," you barely reply still stuck in a daze.

Pruning sheers...

Right!

You snap out of the daydreams that'd been haunting you to stand and grab them. Just as you're about to hand them over, Umemiya grasps the wrist with the sheers and pulls gently but firmly to drag you down on the ground with him. He sets the sheers down before taking both your hands in his.

"Something on my face? You've been starin' an awful lot."

"Ahh dirt, if I had to guess," a halfhearted excuse while your brain continued to process things slower than usual.

"Sweetheart baby love of mine," he is all dramatics now stringing pet names together in a silly amalgamation. Once he starts making direct eye contact it's hard to look anywhere else, "you have got to tell me whats going on in that beautiful head of yours. I love the attention but if something's bothering you-"

"It's your hair!" You spit out in a panic, drawing your hands away to cover your face in embarrassment. You can tell he's a little worried and it makes you feel even worse for making a big deal about it.

"My hair bothers you?" He's confused. Of course he is. It isn't something you've brought up in the past after all. He thought you liked his hair since you were always fixing it for him and you do. Your voice is muffled by your hands but he can still understand to a point.

"It looks great and I love it, but I reaaallly wanna see it down," you can hear yourself whining the words instead of saying them normally. "You always have it up when you're at school," taking a deep breath as your hands come off your face to speak more clearly. "I was looking at pictures with Kotoha and they're pretty much all of you with your hair down." Taking a second you twirl one of his loose strands around your finger in lieu of staring again, sincerely embarrassed you let it get to you this bad. He finally puts the pieces together from his conversation with Kotoha earlier.

"Our date night's tomorrow right? I'll wear it down then," he says, letting you mess with his hair. He can see a jolt go through you at his words and you lock eyes with him immediately.

"Really? Really really?" You're just about vibrating in place, grabbing his face with both hands and squishing his cheeks.

"Rweawy rweawy rweawy!" His breath is coming out of his nose in amused puffs due to the quick shift in enthusiasm and your hold on his face.

"I'VE GOTTA GO PICK MY OUTFIT OUT OH MY GOD ILOVEYOUBYE!" A small peck on the nose and you're gone like the wind throwing open the door and running past Sugishita who was on his way up the stairs. The long haired boy looks back at Umemiya with wide, questioning eyes before letting the moment pass, his head dips in the usual greeting before he walks over to do the daily gardening tasks.

_____

“I changed my mind we can’t go out tonight.”

“Babe you’re all dressed up and you were so excited to check out that new restaurant near the park,” Hajime sighs exasperated. You’re in the foyer of his home, hands on both sides of the door frame blocking his escape.

“Not looking like that you aren’t! Do you want every girl in a 20 mile radius to fall for you? The men too? I’ll have to fight every single one of them and of course I’d win but imagine the casualties! The collateral damage!” you cry hanging your head in fake hysterics. Both Kotoha and their other siblings have been watching this two-part comedy special for about 10 minutes now, two minutes of which you just STARED at him. Then you began circling like a hawk looking at him from any and all angles as if to commit it to memory. Then you started laying on the compliments and pick up lines but he could tell you meant every one of them. “Who is this absolute knock out in front of me? Is my boyfriend a model now? Did it hurt when you fell because I’m staring at an angel.”

Which brought you both to the current scene and while you were (for the most part) joking, you also…weren’t. You could and probably are just extremely biased but GOD you think no one could pull off that hair quite so well. Usually it takes a lot to make Umemiya blush, but his face is currently stained red by how brazen you are at the moment. He’s smiling and trying to take it in stride but even Kotoha can tell he’s affected by your display and she's relishing it.

“No more arguing,” he picks you up by the waist and hoists you to him in a hug that leaves your face in his chest and feet off the floor. “We’re heading out now.” He sends a farewell back to your amused audience and the kids yell back a cacophony of teases and calls for their onee-san and onii-san to come back soon. You start muffling unrecognizable words into his shirt before he puts you down as he gets further down the street.

“It would’ve been one of the best ways to die if i’d stayed there a little longer,” you breathe and stumble back a bit.

“You are shameless today,” he laughs and goes to hold your hand. Anyone watching you both can tell you're grossly in love by the dreamy look on your face as you watch him while you walk down the street. You realize now that this is the first time in about two weeks you have him to yourself, which may be why you've been clingier than normal. Every time either of you tried to schedule date night with the other, someone or something came up and made you push date night back.

Going two weeks without any prolonged physical contact (save for hello and goodbye hugs or kisses) with your boyfriend has made you starved for him in every way your brain can fathom, which is why it isn't surprising that you end up dragging him through the park to an alcove you know isn't traveled to often. It also isn't surprising when you sit him down on the bench bracing a knee next to him, and pinning him loosely in place. He doesn't say a word, but tilts his head up slightly angled in favor of you closing the distance, daring you with those stormy grey eyes.

Your hands find their way easily to the soft ivory of his hair, delving deeper to twist and pull him in. Caught between a sigh and a moan, Umemiya Hajime is melting into you, lines blurring and nerves on fire. His hands fumble to grab the thigh closest to him as he moves you to straddle him. You haven't let up on your assault on his senses, fingers loosening their hold to rub small circles into his scalp.

Is this how you feel when he goes all out after stress starts to take it's toll on him? Now that he thinks about it he's always been the one to initiate this kind of thing, but god he would've asked you to take the lead sooner if he knew it felt this good. Heartbeat thrumming through his hands, he runs them in a soothing pattern from the top of your hip to you knee giving your legs the occasional extra squeeze.

A wave of calm shifts the clouds filling your head out as you have an idea. Parting from him briefly you start kissing and mouthing your way down to the collar of his shirt. He squeezes your thighs harder as your breath ghosts his neck and you give it a few experimental nips before cooling the spot with your tongue. He's trying to stifle a high pitched noise in the back his throat but once you hear it you latch on biting and sucking a single bright red mark. A soft breath over your work before you sit back to admire it. The mark peeks out just enough for you to see it right now but low enough that when he's wearing his furin jacket, he'll be able to hide it.

"That was-," you start, still breathless.

"Wow," he voice cracks at the same time. His eyes are a little wild but his hair is even wilder, sticking up in some directions and falling flat in others. Giving a small tap on his arm he releases the deathgrip he had on you before his eyes stick right to where he had been holding. Blue bruises are scattered over both legs where his fingers were, but they're just barely hidden once you fix your dress.

"Guess we're uh...even?" you're suddenly bashful at what was probably the same type of stare you've been giving him for a week straight now. Umemiya runs his own hands through his hair trying to catch his breath and make himself a little more presentable too.

"No way are we close to being even you little monster. After dinner I'm getting you back," and you can tell he's not bluffing.

"I'm shaking in my shoes Haji," you shot back feeling a bit more like yourself as you go to grab his hand. He moves towards you but you end up spun around and he picks you up for the second time that night, this time settled on carrying you bridal style.

"Put me down," you squeak in warning, the skirt of your dress no longer hiding the fresh bruises.

"This is part of your punishment sweetheart. Also, no one's coming after me if I carry you around like a princess right?" It was hard to argue with that logic and to be fair, despite your earlier boldness your legs ended up weak. He had probably seen the shaky steps you took towards him a second ago.

Both of you got to the restaurant in time despite the detour and the next day you were sporting a hoodie to hide the payback you took happily after.

[flippinpancakes64]

How the Cullens would react to you being a newborn

*Note* This is my first ever post please be nice :(

Edward:

Super supportive

Is so so patient

Will teach you everything he knows about self control and how to best curb your hunger

Will go hunting with you every day if that's what you want

He doesn't care if you're dangerous he wants a hug so he's getting a hug

Protective x100

If Jasper still has trouble trusting you after you've mostly gotten yourself under control he will be right there telling him to back off

10/10 would let him turn me into a newborn

Alice:

Again, supportive x100

She deals with Jasper on the daily, she knows how to help with cravings and sporadic behavior

Can easily stop you from things you shouldn't do because she can see them in the future

Would go hunting with you

Would lose her patience after a while if you keep tearing the clothes she buys you tho

(Not actually she'd just be a little frustrated :) )

Would also come to your defense if Jasper or anyone else doubts that you have yourself under control

"I can literally see the future it's fine-"

Jasper:

The worst of them all probably-

He's very tough to get to in the first place

He has a dark past, most of his trauma is from Newborns

He doesn't trust you for a really long time

Super skeptical, will follow your every move ready to hold you down

He's just trying to protect his family tho

You're gonna have to be on your best behavior if you ever want him to trust you again

He'll come around eventually though with the help of his family to show him that you're adjusting well

After he's certain you're no longer a threat he will feel so bad

Cuddles x100

He's just a big softie who loves his family behind those scary eyes

Rosalie:

Ok I lied she might be the worst actually-

If you did this to yourself or had another one of the Cullens turn you chances are she's never gonna talk to you again (sorry)

I mean we all know that she hated Bella's guts until she got pregnant with Renesmee

But if you got turned by accident or by a rogue vampire attack?

Supportive x200

Mama Bear mode activated fr

She remembers what it was like all too well

The pain, the confusion, the anger, the hatred

You couldn't do a single thing wrong in her eyes

You accidentally attacked a hiker? It happens to the best of us

You broke one of the super expensive cars by closing the door too hard? It's ok Carlisle can buy a new one

Can and will defend you if anyone says you're not ready yet

Emmett:

Kinda chill tbh

Obviously since he's the strongest he's with you most of the time to hold you back if need-be

But he's more interested in making bets against anyone who will bet with him

"I smell an elk up ahead, I bet I'll get to it before they can"

"I bet I'll win in an arm wrestling contest"

"I bet they'll scream at Edward for playing that piano too loud"

Mostly is just a good supporter

He's really observant though and is a good judge on if you're ready to be alone yet or not

Esme:

Supportive x100

She hates seeing anyone in pain and you are no exception

Will give you all the tips and tricks she can think of

How to control your cravings, the best animals to hunt, the best places to go to just scream and let it all out

She's got you covered

Wouldn't be that strong of an advocate towards you being ready tho-

She acknowledges that she is not very well versed in this field and will accept Carlisle's or Jasper's judgements very seriously

She will do her best to help you though

Carlisle:

The man for the job fr

He has raised four different newborns that he created mostly all by himself

He knows exactly what to do

How to best help you, how to make sure you feel the least pain possible, how to speed up your process

Literally anything

He's very open to answer any questions you have

If you were dying and he did this to save you he'd be perfectly okay with you wanting nothing to do with him

He understands

It will take a while to fully convince him that you are in control of your urges, but one he's convinced he is on your side 100%

Vampire! Bella:

Definitely the most sympathetic

She was the most recent change, she remembers it the most

Even though she did have her self-control on her side, she still remembers how difficult it was

Will stand by your side no matter what

She's not scared of you or what you could do

To her you're still you

Will do her best to help you with anything you need

Does her best to help give you distractions if there are people nearby

Once she believes you're ready, she will not take no for an answer

She's stubborn

Very good support tho 10/10

[daenysx]

Hurt/comfort, my favorite !!! How about aemond with a reader who gets angry when she gets overwhelmed, and him knowing exactly what she needs? Like a book and hot tea, knows not to touch her until she asks? Thank you sm bae and obvs you don't have to write this if you don't want to ! Ilysm and you're so talented, esp in hurt/comfort !!! 🩵🩵🩵

thank you so much for requesting and being so kind, i hope you enjoy!! <333 requests are open

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, hurt/comfort

aemond keeps the distance between you and him on the couch and suddenly you hate it.

you turn to look at him through glossy eyes, smudged mascara runs on your cheeks. you didn't mean to be so stressed out but can you really control how you feel under pressure? work has been hectic lately, you don't know how to finish everything you think of doing. you don't know anything.

your boyfriend has been patient with your little tantrum even though all he wanted was to keep you in his arms, safe and secured. he didn't touch you other than leading you to the couch with invisible fingers on your shoulder. he still doesn't touch you to not overwhelm you further. you want to wrap your arms around his shoulders, you want him to hold you until you stop breathing.

"aemond?" you say slowly.

"yes?" he turns to look at you. his fingers itch to hold you but he knows not to touch you without you touching him first. you still shake with anger and stress.

"can you- can we-"

"it's okay." he says. "just tell me what you want."

his voice is so gentle, so soft. you want to cry in his arms.

"can you hold me?"

your voice is so small, aemond wants to protect you from everything.

"of course." he replies. "come here."

you settle down on his lap, his arms are strong around your body. your head is buried on his neck just like he wants, he kisses your hair. you keep crying for a few minutes, he rubs your back and dries your fresh tears with his thumb. he is warm, his chest becomes a pillow.

"i'm sorry." you say when you finally calm down.

"don't." he says. "you've got nothing to be sorry for."

you look at him. he cleans the mascara stains on your cheek with his thumb.

"i was angry because of work." you start with a low voice. "i don't know how to finish things. i didn't mean to- upset you with my problems."

aemond gives you a broken smile. you talk as if he's never done the same to you. most of the time he's stressed, under so much pressure in his family's company and what happens to him affects you too. you're the kindest person he's ever known, always comforting him with your sweet touches and gentle words. he tries to do the same for you, but he feels like a failure now that you keep crying.

he gives you a big kiss on your forehead. "it's okay, sweetheart." he says. "you can be angry, you can be upset. it's been too overwhelming for you lately and- reacting to it is not your fault."

you put your head on his shoulder. aemond has never been good with people who needs comforting by him, most of the time he freezes and does nothing except waiting. with you, it's different. he always feels the urge to protect you, keep you safe. even if it's your own mind and your feelings that are battling against you right now, he'd try to fight.

he counts down minutes, careful with his fingers as he touches you. his fingers are soothing. you breathe in his cologne, the smell of the shampoo he likes. closing your eyes, there's only him. he holds you until your breathing turns normal, until your cheeks dry. he gives you a nice kiss on the side of your head when you move.

"can i make you some tea?" he asks, the most gentle you've ever heard him.

you nod, how can you refuse when he speaks as if the tea he makes will heal everything? he tucks you under your favorite blue blanket before he leaves for kitchen.

he comes back five minutes later. your eyes are heavy from the tears but you keep them open to see aemond. you're almost certain you won't be able to finish your tea but that doesn't matter. he'll make you countless cups of it if you ask him to.

you drink slowly, the room gets darker each minute as the sun goes down. aemond keeps your hand in his, his fingertips shaping little circles on your palm. you fall asleep with the half finished, nearly cold tea in your other hand.

he kisses your forehead and gives you a silent promise to never let go of your hand.

[vivwritesfics]

Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter Four - Princess And Her Prince

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

2K

Series Masterlist

Princess And Her Prince

Dear readers,

We at the Monaco Press would like to apologise for out earlier comments, hinting that Princess Y/N could have possibly been dating Fernando Alonso, driver for the Aston Martin F1 team. 

It seemed that, just last night, the party princess was attending dinner with none other than our very own, Charles Leclerc. The two aren't known to be friends, but the Ferrari driver is known to have a friendship with Prince Henri. 

Ever since the pictures of the princess and her possible beau were released, many fans have been theorising as to what is going on. Many suspect that this was all set up by Prince Henri himself. We are all aware just how much the Prince loves the five time race winner. 

But here at the Monaco Press, we are thinking a little deeper than that. It is no secret that Princess Y/N could use some good PR. And what better way to get good PR than to date the people's Prince?

Henri exhaled as he threw the newspaper down. "I'm starting to really hate the Monaco Press," he muttered to himself as he rubbed his temples. 

There was little more he could do but parade them through the streets in a golden carriage. 

He had seen the pictures leaked of she and Charles having dinner. Even he believed they were in love and he had set the entire thing up. All he could do was wait and see what happened.

***

Ever since the pictures of her and Charles had been released, along with that damn article from the Monaco Press, her group chat had been going crazy. Her friends couldn't quite believe what they were seeing 

Party Paupers 🎉🎉

Luc: 

YOU SLY BASTARD 

Amelie: 

How tf did you pull Charles Leclerc?

Luc: 

I have never been more jealous of you

On a side note, what does he see in you?

Y/N:

Wdym I'm a catch

But also

Hole in the wall tonight?

I beg 

Luc:

only if you bring your new boyf

The hole in the wall was a little, lesser known bar in Monaco. It was the perfect place for the party princess and her friends to just chill out.

She got herself ready, dressed down in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and headed out to the hole in the wall.

As usual, she was the first one there. The owner slid her usual drink towards her. "Haven't seen you in a while," he said as he cleaned glasses. She didn't doubt that he'd read the tabloid about her, knew what she had been up to.

She shrugged her shoulders and sipped her drink. "You know how life is," she said.

She finished her first drink by the time Luc came into the bar. He pushed his dark hair out of his blue eyes and strode towards her. "Tell me everything," he said as he sat in the seat beside her and ordered a drink.

"There's nothing to tell." Her drink was filled up and she downed it. "We met at the Grand Prix, he asked me out and... here we are." She finished her second gin and tonic and placed it down onto the bar. It was quickly filled up again. "When are Amélie and Bea getting here?" She asked

Luc shrugged his shoulders, but it was clear he didn't care about their whereabouts. "So, are you and Charles going steady now? Could you invite him here?"

"Luc, I just want to have a drink in peace," she groaned.

But then, Amélie and Bea walked into the bar. "Thank God," she muttered under her breath, ordering a beer instead of gin.

But Amélie and Bea were as determined to annoy her as Luc was. "He doesn't have our approval yet," they said the minute they sat down. "We need to hit him."

Her head hit the bar and she groaned. "You guys are kidding," she said as she straightened herself up and sipped her beer. "You can't meet him."

"Yeah, we can."

"We must!"

One drink later and she had her phone out, texting Charles. They had hardly texted each other since their date, just said hello to ensure they had each others phone numbers.

She sent him a quick text and slipped her phone into her pocket, not expecting any reply.

Charles hadn't yet left Monaco. In just a day he'd be leaving, heading off for the next Grand Prix. While he'd been in Monaco he'd seen his family, kept up with his training, and gone on a date with a princess.

It had exhausted him. For the entire day he sat at his piano, ignoring his phone as he just messed around. Soft melodies filled his apartment.

In the evening, Charles finally checked his phone. He scrolled through his notifications, ignoring most of them until he got to his text messages.

He answered his mother, his brother and Prince Henri. He scrolled through the rest of his messages until he got to her.

Her. Why was she texting him? Sure, they had exchanged numbers, but Charles hadn't expected her to use it unless she wanted to set something up for the tabloids.

Princess Y/N:

Waaaant to meef Mr atc the holg in the f wall,

*?

Charles couldn't stop the surprised laugh that left his lips. He quickly typed out a reply and wandered into his bedroom to get dressed.

Charles Leclerc:

I'll be there in ten x

He got dressed as quickly as he could. In all of his years of living in Monaco, Charles had never heard of the hole in the wall. He searched for it on Google maps, but even that wasn't entirely clear.

He found himself parking his car anywhere and wandering down a street that didn't feel entirely safe. Halfway down the street (it was really more of an alleyway), there was a door with a beaten up and battered sign. The Hole In The Wall.

He could hear all of the noise as he pushed open the door. But, the minute he stepped into the bar.

Charles looked around, looking for any sign of the princess, but bewildered faces stared back at him. "Um... hello," he said and offered a wave.

"HE'S REAL!" Came a shout from the left of the bar.

So, that was the direction he started in. Charles walked past the bar until he found a small group of people.

Two girls stared at him, but not in the way girls usually stared at him. It was more like they were scrutinising him as they stepped to the side to reveal her.

There she was, on a bar stood with an empty drink in her hands. She laughed as she leaned against a boy with dark hair. "I was almost 110% sure nobody was going to show up. Or Henri would have dragged you out again."

Charles looked at the guy with a frown. Was this her boyfriend? Why not at least fake date this man?

"What can I get you, Charlie?" She asked him, her words slurring together.

Charlie. He froze up at that. It was rare he'd let anybody call him Charlie, and he certainly didn't think he and Y/N were on that level, yet.

He shook his head. "Let me buy you a drink, princess."

At that, she fell quiet, her expression turning from a smile to a glare. "Forget it," she muttered under her breath, turning her attention back to her friend.

Charles stood there somewhat awkwardly while the two of them conversed. And then there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned quickly, flattening himself against the bar as he looked at the two girls.

"So, you're this Charles she's been talking about," one of them said.

"What makes you think you're good enough for our Y/N?" The other asked.

Charles wasn't entirely sure how to answer. But it confirmed one thing for him, that his friends didn't know it was all fake. "I... uh, I think she's really great," he said, drumming his fingers against the bar. "She's fun, she's pretty and she's sharp."

But still, her friends glared. "You're way in over your head," the first said. She let out a dry laugh and shook her head, returning to her drink.

For the next few minutes, things were uncomfortable. Charles stood there, watching the girls to the left and the pair to his right. He watched as the man kissed the princess's head and turned his attention to Charles.

"Smoke break," he said, pulling the carton of cigarettes from his pocket. He grabbed Charles arm and pulled him out of the bar.

Charles spared one look at the princess, but she turned away, still wearing a scowl.

Once outside, the man leaned against the wall and lit his cigarette. "Want one?" He asked, offering the pack to Charles. But he shook his head. "Ah, right. You're a high performance athlete, and all that." He placed his cigarette between his lips and offered his hand to Charles. "I'm Luc."

"Charles." But Luc definitely already knew that.

Luc drew in a breath, bringing the smoke to his lungs before he exhaled. "You want a bit of advice for the princess" He asked, but Charles was pretty sure he wasn't going to get a choice in the matter. "She hates who she is. She hates being a princess so maybe stop reminding her of it."

"I... thanks," he said, leaning beside him on the wall.

But Luc wasn't finished. "She must like you," he said. "Or she never would have introduced you to us." He tapped the ash from his cigarette and placed it back between his lips. "You can go now."

Charles did just that. He thanked Luc once again and headed back inside the bar. Immediately he walked over to the bar. "Gin and tonic, please," he said to the girl behind the bar. She took a moment to make it and then passed it to him.

He picked it up and walked it over to the prince- Y/N. He walked it over to her and placed it down in front of her. "A peace offering," he said.

She picked it up and sipped, all while staring at him. When she finished it in four large gulps and placed it down, she smiled. "Now you know what not to do."

She was too drunk for proper conversation, Charles realised as she leaned against him. But he still tried. He'd get her home soon enough. "I've got a question," he said and she looked up at him. "Your friend Luc, why doesn't Henri have you 'date' him?" He asked quietly.

Suddenly she was laughing, a laugh that echoed around the hole in the wall. "Charles," she managed through her laugh. "Charlie. He's famously gay."

Charles couldn't help it as his cheeks reddened. He had no idea who Luc Sinclair was.

Conversation flowed somewhat easily. But, before he knew it, he had his arm around her waist, her arm around his neck, as he carried her out to the car. "You're wasted," he said as he pulled open the car door and helped her into the seat.

She giggled as she looked up at him. "Get used to it if you're gonna be dating me," she said and Charles shut the door.

For the entire ride to her apartment, she fiddled with the radio. But Charles didn't much mind.

When they got to her building, she climbed out of the car and began stumbling towards the lobby doors. Charles was quick to follow, wrapping his arm around her to keep her upright. "What're you doing?" She asked, stopping in front of the doors.

"Helping you up to your apartment," he answered.

She shook her head. "You can't see my apartment."

Charles pulled open the lobby door and helped her inside. "No, Charles," she moaned as he led her to the elevator. "It's all messy and not very princess like at all."

Well, Charles didn't much care about that.

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[calisources]

CHILDREN   OF   THE   NIGHT.   a   collection   of   quotes   and   scenarios   about   vampires.   change   pronouns/names   as   you   see   fit.   These   were   all   taken   from   different   sources   of   fiction,   both   in   literature   and   audiovisual   media.   all   known   triggers   for   vampire   media   apply   (blood,   death,   murder,   gothic   horror, obsessive love   and   more).

SENTENCES AND QUOTES. change pronouns and names, locations as you see fit.

"I took mythology a lot more seriously since I’d become a vampire."

“None of us really changes over time; we only become more fully what we are.”

"A vampire, like a lady, never reveals his true age."

"How do we seem to you? Do you find us beautiful and magical?”

"The strength of the vampire is that people will not believe in him."

"Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!"

"The blood is the life!"

"Loving the monsters always ends badly for the humans. It's a rule."

“When people see good, they expect good. I don't want to have to live up to anyone's expectations.”

“Love is a vampire’s greatest weakness. And we are not weak.”

“You know that old saying. Once you go dead, no one's better in bed.”

“For a hundred years I offered ugly death to everyone I met, and I did it with a song in my heart.”

"I'm not human. And I miss it. I miss it more than anything in the world. That is my secret."

“I'm in love with a woman I can never have. The point is I'm in love with her and it's driving me crazy. I'm not in control.”

"Your life is pathetic. Your after-life doesn't have to be."

"Life sucks either way, Jeremy. At least if you're a vampire, you don't have to feel bad about it if you don't want to."

"You want a love that consumes you. You want passion and adventure and even a little danger."

"Sometimes the world turns good people into bad people."

"People have been after me for a thousand years, but I'm always one step ahead."

"Mother made us vampires. She didn't make us monsters. We did that to ourselves."

"Perhaps one day, in a year or even in a century. You'll turn up at my door and let me show you what the world has to offer."

"Do you have any idea how rare love is? In a thousand years, I have found it but twice, and when I have, I have honored it."

"You're a vampire, sweetheart. I don't think you'll ever be okay again."

“When you feel the blood rush in, you tell yourself that you’re gonna get through it; that you’re strong enough.”

“You’d be surprised how easy it is to forget the past, Elena.”

“I wanna rip into your skin. And I wanna feed on your blood. Under your skin.”

“I just want one taste. That''s all I need. I just want one taste.”

“There’s the briefest of moments before we kill, where we literally hold their life in our hands and then rip it away, and we’re left with nothing.”

“Do you know the secret to immortality?”

“The vampire bond. There is no human equivalent.”

“He was my mentor, my murderer, my maker.”

“When was the last time you drank blood?”

“Left you with a bit of a craving, didn’t it? One day that craving is gonna grow.”

“That's cause you took my life! I got nothing. I lost everything. I lost my brother. I lost my family. About to lose the last fucking thing I care about.”

“And then I watched you pull over and drain a dog. And run down an alleyway for two more rats. This is not a life!”

“Hunting is an art. You have the power to subdue anyone you want, but sometimes restraint is your most powerful weapon.”

“What does this taste like to you?”

“There is one thing about being a vampire that I must fear above all else, and that is loneliness. You can't imagine the emptiness. The void.”

“Vampires are killers. Apex predators whose all-seeing eyes were meant to give them detachment. The ability to see a human life in its entirety.”

“Don’t underestimate the allure of the darkness. Even the purest hearts are drawn to it.”

“End of the day, human life is just a means to an end. Our means to our end.”

“A mutual law of nature is the strong always take from the weak.”

“It’s better to have a flawed life lived than wasted rotting away in clay.”

“Hatred, a pure and perfect hatred that’s greater now than the day I first took your life.”

“A thousand years of history isn’t going to write itself.”

“I can’t be killed.”

“I’m the monster lesser monsters fear.”

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you."

"You don't know what you are asking of me. To drink from you."

"You need blood, take it."

"To walk with me you must die to your breathing life, and be reborn to mine."

"I love you, Stefan. We will be together again. I promise."

"You loved me once, you will love me again."

"I made him. Did you know that?"

"I never compelled your love. It was real, and so was mine."

"What did you think was gonna happen? She would look at you, see your real face and give you a kiss?"

"I could swap this life of shame. Swap it out for a dark gift. You just have to ask me for it."

"Vampyrism is, by definition, an afterlife."

"I'm not the one who was sleeping with one vampire while half in love with another. Your morality is a moving target. Mine is not."

"A man damaged by his demons and those demons are not dormant, they are hell-bent on killing me and everything I find beautiful. And you, you are beautiful."

"You are stronger now. Meaner. Sexier."

"They are like vampire royalty. The oldest among us."

"He is the original hybrid. Half vampire, half werewolf."

"We both know I could snap your neck and do my nails at the same time."

 “Viktor. The oldest and strongest of us. That night, he made me a Vampire. "

"Stop fighting who you are."

"I'll tell you what I know about death, Camille. Death dances silently in everyone's shadow, and she doesn't give a damn."

"Turns out, I have complicated feelings for a monster."

ACTIONS AND SCENARIOS. Add a +reverse for the inverse action. Change names as you see fit.

[YOU ARE NOT HUMAN]: sender figured out receiver is a vampire and confronts them.

[FEEDING HOUR]: receiver finds sender feeding on someone's blood.

[WHEN IS A MONSTER NOT A MONSTER]: sender touches receiver's vampire face, showing they are not afraid.

[YOU NEED TO]: sender offers their blood to receiver.

[ECHOES OF THE PAST]: receiver is a doppelganger/looks like a person the sender knew in the past.

[DEATH AND THE MAIDEN]: receiver and sender can't be together as one is immortal and the other is a vampire.

[MY MAKER, MY LOVER]: sender is receiver's sire and they reunite after centuries after.

[BOND]: receiver is senders fledgling and sender can feel them.

[ELIXIR]: receiver is hurt and sender, a vampire, feeds them their blood.

[SHARING]: sender tempts receiver to share a meal of blood.

[HUNTING THE HUNTER]: sender is a vampire hunter, and they found receiver.

[THE INVITATION]: receiver receives an INVITATION to stay at sender's gothic/ancient manor.

[DRACULA'S BRIDE]: sender wants receiver to be one of their wives/lovers.

[BLOOD FAMILIAR]: sender is a vampire familiar, a human bloodbag under receiver protection. receiver finds out another vampire had bitten them.

[CRAVING]: sender tasted receiver once and craved them again.

[INVITED]: after bring invited inside, sender shows up at receiver's home.

[LICK]: sender licks receiver's blood remains from their mouth.

[LAST RESORT]: receiver has to turn sender into vampire because they are dying. sender wakes up in transition.

[ANCHOR]: sender calms receiver down after receiver went on a bloodlust spree. sender reminds them their humanity.

[RIVAL COVENS]: sender and receiver are from rival vampire covens and they talk in neutral ground.

[HUMANITY]: sender is human and because of them, receiver is starting to feel humanity again.

[I'LL BE YOUR GUIDE]: receiver is guiding sender through the early stages of vampirism.

[RIVAL SPECIES]: sender is a werewolf/witch and receiver is a vampire. they fall in love/ally with each other.

[DHAMPIR]: sender is a half human, half vampire who just had their first taste of human blood. receiver finds them.

[REFLECTION]: sender looks in the mirror and finds out that receiver has no reflection.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Steve Harrington having a stutter? maybe Eddie and Steve are in an interview after revealing their relationship to the public (kinda ties with ur rockstar eddie drabbles?) and people make fun of his stutter. Hes always had it, he just doesn't talk in public so its a surprise to everyone that he has a stutter and that they actually get to hear his voice

So I know the request said he always had the stutter, but I wanted to do something head trauma related for this because Eddie is gonna get a little overprotective and says some stuff about his very amazing husband to be. I've never written a character having a stutter before, so I hopefully made it realistic. In my head, he struggled with some hard consonants and 'th', 'ch', and 'sh' sounds. - Mickala ❤️

------------------------------------------------------

“Everyone please give your warmest welcome to Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington!”

They walked onto the stage with smiles and waves, hands clasped between them as they walked to the couch they’d be sitting on for their interview.

They chose this talk show host, Hannah, because she wasn’t pushy, asked heartfelt questions, and wanted to get the genuine stories out there.

Steve had been nervous to be on any talk show, so he was the one who made the decision to be on this one and Eddie was happy to oblige.

Her viewers may not have been his usual crowd, but if it made Steve more comfortable, he didn’t really care.

“Wow, that was a warm welcome!” Eddie exclaimed.

He wanted to keep it light; Steve’s hand in his was sweaty and shaking, and he knew Hannah could see his nerves.

“I think everyone is just so excited to have you here! You’re not our usual guest, I’ll be honest, so you’re shaking things up for all of us.” She smiled before looking at Steve. “Now, let’s get the elephant in the room out of the way first. Steve, that ring on your finger sure is a beauty!”

He glanced down at it for a moment, smiling to himself.

Eddie proposed a month ago, on their week-long getaway to Greece, and as much as they tried to hide it, it was on the cover of every tabloid and online news article within 24 hours.

They hadn’t even come out officially yet.

It caused Steve to panic, and then Eddie panicked, and then they both decided to take control of their own narrative and do this interview.

“Th-thank you,” Steve replied. “Eddie did g-good, didn’t he?”

Steve’s stutter was barely noticeable when they were in a comfortable environment, especially since they’d been together for so long. But when they were in a stressful situation, or around new people, or both, it became more obvious.

Steve had already spoken to Hannah about it beforehand, said he wouldn’t mind talking about it as long as it wasn’t the focus of the interview. She agreed and said that she would follow his lead on everything, and Eddie warned her he wouldn’t hesitate to walk them both off the stage if Steve got uncomfortable.

“He did great! Honestly, I’ll have to get you to show my husband how to pick an engagement ring. Bless his heart, he tried. Luckily, we married for love and not his ability to know what I want in a ring.”

The audience laughed, and Steve couldn’t help letting out a small giggle.

“Soooo…tell us how he did it!” Hannah continued, eyes glimmering under the stage lights.

“Um.” Steve took in a shaky breath. “We were at a p-priv-vate d-dinner on the beach-ch.” Eddie squeezed his hand once, smiling over at him as he let him lead. “He s-sang me a s-song and th-then proposed.”

“How romantic,” Hannah rested her head in her hands and sighed. “Everyone in the audience is going to show this to their significant others for them to take notes, I’m sure.”

“He left out the part where I also bought him the fancy wine he wanted only for it to be the worst thing we’ve ever tasted and we ended up giving it to a couple further down the beach,” Eddie added, playfully nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“Yeah, w-well,” Steve shrugged, blushing profusely.

“What a letdown! Hopefully the other couple liked it,” Hannah laughed.

“They didn’t complain, but honestly we didn’t stick around for too long. We were freshly engaged and had much better things to be doing,” Eddie winked at the audience.

“Oh, I bet you did!” Hannah smiled before getting more serious. “So you’ve been together for a while?”

“We were friends when we were really young, and it grew into more when Steve was supporting me and my band in the local bar scene. We’ve dated for almost four years now.”

“Awww. And you’ll be getting married pretty soon, right?” Hannah asked.

“Yes, we d-decided on next March-ch,” Steve added. “Spring is when w-we met-t.”

“Lovely! I’m sure the wedding will be quite the party.”

“We’re keeping it pretty small, just family and our circle of friends. My bandmates will be there. Just us back at home with the people who love us,” Eddie smiled.

“I think that sounds wonderful.” Hannah clapped her hands. “So, Eddie, with all this excitement in your personal life, what’s it look like for the band?”

“I’ll be on tour with them for August and September, and then we’ll be working hard on recording the next album in October and November so we can have it out next year. I won’t be doing anything else until after the wedding, though. I promised Stevie I’d help him plan everything.”

The crowd cheered, and Steve spoke up.

“He also p-promised t-to visit the loc-cation with me in Novemb-ber so we’ll see,” Steve teased, seeming to relax quite a bit more.

The interview carried on, mostly focusing on Eddie’s band and some more casual talk of the wedding and future plans.

Steve never completely relaxed, but he seemed much more at ease as Hannah focused more on Eddie for a few minutes, smiling at Steve when he decided to add something.

“Alright, that’s all the time we have boys! It was lovely to have you and we’re so looking forward to your future together!”

The audience cheered, the boys waved goodbye, and they walked back to the green room to grab some water before going back to their hotel.

Eddie stopped Steve in the hall, ignoring the people passing by, and pulled Steve against him.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” he whispered against his lips before pressing a soft kiss there. “You’re amazing.”

“Eds, st-stop,” Steve blushed.

“Nope, wanna tell you all the time. You’re incredible.”

“F-fine.”

—--------------------

Steve is a lovely person, and I will not tolerate hate comments on anything related to the interview I did with him and Eddie. My team always does the best with reporting hate comments, so keep that in mind before posting something you may regret later. Any Eddie Munson fan should know that Eddie wouldn’t accept this disgusting behavior towards his fiance.

Steve could feel tears welling in his eyes as he read Hannah’s lovely public comment about some of the hate she’d been receiving in regards to their interview.

One comment in particular had hurt to see: a fan claiming that Eddie just felt bad for him and didn’t want to break up with him because Steve would run to the press with negative stories about him.

Eddie was still asleep, hadn’t seen most of what was being posted since the interview aired first thing that morning, but Steve did.

He liked Hannah’s statement and posted it to his Instagram story with a heart emoji.

He went through some responses from Eddie’s bandmates and liked them, too.

Steve is probably the best thing that’s happened to all of us, so any “fan” of ours who doesn’t see how awesome he is, consider yourself uninvited to any show. Gareth posted.

You guys better hope Eddie doesn’t hop on here and see all this or he’ll end up hunting you for sport. Jeff joked, though Steve knew that he may be more right than not.

Imagine being so jealous of someone that you decide to make fun of the one thing they’re self-conscious about. Couldn’t be me. Grant posted on all his social media profiles.

Then he saw Robin’s post and his heart stopped for a moment.

My best friend is the bravest person I know. He only has a stutter because he risked his life to protect me. If head trauma is a joke to you, then I hope you find new material soon. When Eddie sees this, he’s gonna lose his shit.

Steve let out a mix of a sob and a laugh, startling Eddie awake.

“What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?” he asked as he sat up in their bed.

“I g-guess p-people aren’t a b-big fan of me,” he said as he held his phone out towards Eddie to show him what was going on.

Eddie’s face flushed red with anger before he calmly handed Steve his phone back.

“Eds?”

Eddie silently reached for his own phone and pulled up his notes app.

Steve watched him type furiously for a few minutes, then screenshot a couple of times, and open Instagram.

“Eds…it’s fine. Not w-worth it.”

But it was too late, and Steve’s phone went off with a notification that he’d been tagged in Eddie’s post.

It was a series of pictures, the first being a picture taken of them shortly after Steve’s worst head injury, when he barely could speak at all.

The next few images were the screenshots from Eddie’s phone.

I can’t believe I have to say this, but here goes. Steve Harrington, soon-to-be Munson, is the best person I know. I am lucky to be able to wake up next to him, to call him mine, to be his. He is incredibly brave, incredibly loving, and much too forgiving. He will be much nicer than I will. He is not defined by his stutter, but it is a part of his life, and it does impact him much more than he should ever have to worry about. But that picture you just saw? That was a man who could barely even say my name. I thought I would never hear him even say my name again. I’ve seen comments making fun of how he talks, how long it takes him to say some things, his intelligence. And I won’t tolerate it. If you have anything negative to say about him, unfollow me before I block you myself. Fame means absolutely nothing to me compared to this man, and I won’t let him suffer through the bullying just so I can make some fucking music. See yourself out or see us be happy. Up to you.

The last image was a picture of them the night before, cozy in their bed, Steve looking into the camera while Eddie looked at him, so much love passing from him it was almost a physical presence.

“Eds-” Steve started.

“I love you. I won’t let anyone let you think for a second that I don’t,” Eddie said fiercely.

“I know. I l-love you, t-too.”

They both shut off their phones for the rest of the day, didn’t care much for anything outside of their bed.

Steve called Hannah to thank her for everything the next day, and she was grateful to hear from him. He explained that he wouldn’t be doing any more interviews, but was glad he’d had a positive experience with her.

“Do you think Eddie will come back to the show someday to talk about you?” she asked.

“I th-think you’ll reg-gret asking him back. He won’t sh-shut up about me,” Steve smirked to himself.

“He shouldn’t. You’re both so lucky to have each other.”

“Yeah. W-we are.”

[fsfghgee]

Warning: Long dive. Bi-Han and Sektor's relationship part 2 (+ Bi-Han's redemption)

Honestly, I think people who are expecting to see Bi-Han flirting with Sektor in the expansion will be disappointed, 'cause Bi-Han isn't like Johnny Cage or Kung Lao. He really is not that kind of guy…

And he's damn far from it. Even if Bi-Han and Sektor do have a romantic relationship, I'd bet anything that in the intros they'll just be praising each other, reaffirming vows of loyalty, talking about the clan's defectors, making more plans together, giving each other advice, and hopefully talking about their parents. And that's it.

'praising her is something he does often"

I don't know about our new Sektor, but Bi-Han is not the type who flirts and the way he doesn't like to follow traditions, does everything together with Sektor and treats his female subordinates as if they were any other subordinate (I think everyone saw how he got a face-to-face with Cyrax… And if Frost really is already part of the Lin Kuei, I doubt she's getting any special treatment either…), I'd say he takes gender equality really seriously and chivalry in Bi-Han's language is letting her shoot first.

And most importantly…

He takes his position very seriously. The fights between Bi-Han and Sektor will be just sparring, but I doubt he would treat even that lightly. If he is romantic, which I personally doubt (I wouldn't put my hand in the fire for that), we will never know because even his perception of romance is independent. I believe that his romanticism comes down to heroic acts, like probably giving his life for Sektor's…

I mean, the person who built the armor was Sektor, so the woman who is fighting alongside Bi-Han in OutWorld can only be Sektor. And to me, it looks like they were about to take her instead of Bi-Han (and remembering that their target was Geras who they also take with them).

.... Or stroking her ego (which is almost as big as his), promising heaven and earth, giving her expensive gifts, maybe calling her his queen when they're alone, being a bit too touchy-feely when he's needy…

I imagine that as a self-centered mama's boy (I love him, but that's just who he is), he must prefer people to give him attention instead of giving attention, I can even imagine him enjoying a cuddle with a gentle petting, honestly.

And the way Sektor seemed surprised by Bi-Han's reaction to Cyrax... I believe she's not used to seeing him angry around her, I doubt she hears anything from him other than compliments.

After all, Bi-Han was the one who sensed that she was his kindred spirit…

What are kindred spirits?"Kindred spirits are like-minded and like-souled people with whom an instant connection of love and understanding is mutually experienced," clinical psychologist Carla Marie Manly, Ph.D., tells mbg. "The connection is inimitable and often defies verbal description."

People who share common interests, values, or worldviews might be described as kindred spirits. "In more spiritual words, we could say that they resonate at the same frequency, and there is matching energy between them," Katherine Bihlmeier, a relationship coach specializing in energy work, tells mbg.

And it's Sektor who rescues Bi-Han in the story mode, not Scorpion, her lines don't appear like all the dlc, but she's clearly the one rescuing him. She joins KuaiSc's mission to rescue Geras just to rescue Bi-Han.

You can hear that she's the one who recognizes him first and sounds really worried about him…

In fact, in the first trailer for the story mode expansion, you can see Sektor fighting alongside Bi-Han already turned into Noob Saibot but with his mind under his own control again.

He's fighting the khaos versions of Cyrax and Sektor...

We can see Bi-Han fighting alongside Liu Kang too, fighting SubZeroChaos, TakedaChaos like in the datamined script…

And again, although I'm still a little bit confused about their fate…

Will Sektor really sit back and accept the Lin Kuei being punished by Liu Kang and leaving Bi-Han locked up in the temple? Honestly, I highly doubt it.

I have no problem with the nature of their relationship, whatever it is. I'm a Lin Kuei fan, so Sektor getting some love kinda warms my heart since it never happened before...

And I think if it's well written it could be really interesting and make Bi-Han's character more multidimensional. Since he literally has no one else besides Sektor to lean on... Cyrax will desert them.

Hopefully, Noob Saibot ending will show us what will become of Bi-Han Sub-Zero in mk1.

...

edit: With the revealed Sektor trailer, we saw that Bi-Han ended up in Havik's hands when he jumped after him trying to strike him and accidentally ended up entering the portal that Havik had opened.

[starrycassi]

Ballister's been through this many times. Ambrosius comes into his room, hysterical, to announce him of some ridiculous upper crust rule or ball or challenge that he's got to participate in. He knows the drill by now; listen to him, reassure him and help him get ready, be it brushing his hair or co-writing a speech for him to give.

The Goldenloin family puts up an act for people to show off Ambrosius and his many qualities every so often. He doesn't really care, not anymore. He used to panic alongside Ambrosius, when they were thirteen. He's seventeen, now, and the novelty of it has worn off — it's just kind of funny, really, to see his boyfriend suffer through hours and hours of whatever bullshit he's supposed to do now.

This upcoming event, however, is doing a number on Ambrosius's nerves. He's pacing back and forth the room, and he hasn't even looked at Ballister yet. His tic — the one in his left eye, is back, and his lips are red and swollen in the places where he's been bitting them. It's barely five am, and Ballister knows that this is going to be a long day.

"You're going to get nauseous if you keep spinning around, Amber" he tries to start the conversation, voice soft and words slow. Between them, Ambrosius has always been the worst when it comes to keeping his emotions under control. Ballister's learnt, by now, that sometimes it's just better to give him space.

"I'm nauseous already. Some spinning won't hurt, I'm sure" he snaps back, almost screaming. Ballister decides that talking to him won't be possible right now, and goes back to the project on his table, making sure to hold the screwdriver at the right angle.

After fifteen minutes or so, Ambrosius finally stops. He whines, letting his body weight drag him down on Ballister's mattress.

"What is it, this time?"

Ambrosius's silent, only whining a bit more after the question, like a wounded dog. That's new. He usually loves to go on rants about how everything is going to go wrong and how the whole world hates him in secret. Ballister puts down the tools, quickly scribbles down what he's supposed to do next to avoid future mistakes, and sits down next to his boyfriend, threading a hand through the other teen's hair.

They stay like that some minutes, Ballister working his way through the blond strands and Ambrosius simply lying there. Ballister's starting to think that he's fallen asleep, when Ambrosius finally speaks up, face still buried in pillows.

"They're marrying me off, Bal"

The world stops spinning.

Ballister goes static. His whole body freezes, and his heart stops beating. He can feel the blood on his veins going cold, so cold his bones feel stuck, too.

This was a expected situation, kind of. Captain Gloria, Ambrosius's mom, had been married off, too. She didn't like her husband in the slightest and they never talked to each other. Ambrosius told him all that.

She had also promised to keep her son away from that predicament. But Ballister knew better than to trust mothers. His own had abandoned him some years ago, after all.

"What... How? What?"

Ambrosius sits up, criss cross, hugging a pillow. He's such a kid. His eyes are already watery, and he's got a red nose, probably from slamming his face into the pillows.

"Not- well, not actually marrying me off. Mum doesn't want that, y'know" He shrugs, looking at his own hands. "But she can't really... just go against tradition, I guess. So, uh, there's going to be a tournament, figths, you know? And I know I'll probably win, she chose combat because she knows I'm good at it, but what if I don't win?"

He takes a deep breath, grunting. Ballister's brain is struggling to catch up, so he can't do much more than nod, encouraging his boyfriend to keep talking.

"It's not going to be like here, only us, cadets and students, where I know I will undoubtedly win. Actual grown ups could get in there, Ballister. My mom's been screaming to anyone and everyone about how ridiculous everything is, but- I guess rules are rules. I haven't slept. We stayed up all night on the phone, she tore down the whole family's library, called all of our lawyers, we tried every single article and law ever written. Nothing. The best we can do is... hope"

"The Captain's right. This is ridiculous, Ambrosius. What do you mean grown ups? Why? That's fucking creepy. Can't you guys just... say no? You're a Goldenloin, surely you-"

Ambrosius grunts, again, tugging at one of his hair strands.

"It's not that easy!" He screams, shutting Ballister up. "I've been getting proposals for... for forever! It's not really a matter of love as it is a matter of money, Bal. I've been getting proposals even from before I was actually born. Political alliances and all that. Mom's been doing her best, I know she has, but when a heir has said "no" enough times, then a duel or something can be called up, and an actual tournament would be way easier than just fighting every single idiot that wants to get my last name!"

Ballister's never been happier to be an orphan commoner than right now. His only worry when it comes to marriage is whether or not he can afford a pretty ring.

It's not like commoners don't marry for money. Arranged marriages were a pretty common thing around him, young kids marrying older people to try and get their families ahead, forced by their parents, their "spouses" or their economical situations. He just... never really had to worry about it, ever since he became a knight.

"That's incredibly fucked up, Ambrosius"

"I know ! I am well aware of how weird this must be for you, Bal. And I have absolutely no backup plan. My mom's confident that I'm winning, because Goldenloins never lose, but I'm not her! She can still beat me when we spar together, what am I going to do if someone else wins? Just... get married?"

Trying to come up with a solution, Ballister stutters and stammers his way through a sentence.

"You could, uh, get married and have a divorce, right?"

"No! Totally no! You don't get it! Whoever wins gets to ask whatever they want from my family, money, land, my hand- whatever, and then that's irrevocable!"

Stressed out, Ballister screechs. Of course he doesn't get it. No one ever bothered to explain this to him. He knew that parents could force their kids to marry (Captain Gloria once told him the story, very drunk and very mad at her departed dad) but not that a whole fucking event could be staged even if the family said no.

"It's not my fault I don't get it, you twat! Do you think the knigth training automatically gave me political marriage bullshit training, too? Well, no, it didn't! I'm so sorry for not knowing you weird ass nobility traditions, Ambrosius, I didn't realize I was supposed to!"

Getting up from the bed, mad at the world for being unfair and at himself for snapping, he runs his hands through his hair, with the impulse to simply rip it all off. It quickly gets replaced by guilt. Ambrosius has done nothing wrong, and here he is, being an asshole instead of helping.

"Amber... Shit, I'm sorry. This is just-"

Chuckling humorlessly, Ambrosius waves his hand in the air. He looks up at Ballister, and shakes his head.

"You're right. Sorry. I just forgot. I always do"

They already went through this, too. Ambrosius is good at keeping Ballister up to date, always happy to explain the situation, but sometimes things just... slip his mind. It isn't anyone's fault, but it's still annoying when it happens.

"Sorry, too. For calling you a twat"

Ballister leans down, tentatively. Ambrosius doesn't hesitate to lift himself up, and they share a quick kiss. All is forgiven.

"So... what now?"

Silently, they both try their best to think. Ballister's mind is blank, just screaming at him to get a sword and go decapitate however wrote the fuckin rules. He ignores that voice, per usual. The fucker's probably dead, by now, anyway.

Ambrosius is the one who gasps, and smiles all of the sudden, so bright that the sun should be jealous. He bounces on the bed a couple of times, clapping to get his boyfriend's attention.

"We're both idiots!"

Ballister frowns, confused. An awkward smile is all he can offer Ambrosius, wondering if his man finally went crazy.

"I see no correlation between our supposed idiocy and the problem at hand, Amber."

"Come on, Bal! This is easy. I have the best plan" he giggles, like a kid that just got a new toy. Ballister can tell that this plan probably will suck and get them in more danger than necessary. And he's so on board. Always on board, when it comes to Ambrosius.

"Which is?"

"You!" Exclaims Ambrosius, rolling his eyes. "You're my plan"

"Excuse me?"

"You're going to compete and win, Bal"

Perhaps he never should've become a knight, that way he never would've fallen in love with this absolute trainwreck of a man. Is it too late to go back to being a random kid and forget about all this? Probably.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Funny you mention my boss… he’s a slight older guy, always in the gym. He’s such a big, powerful, assertive guy. Fucking gorgeous.

But he’s always got some woman on his arm. Never the same one for long… I’ve always fantasied about him settling down and choosing me to be on his arm permanently. The boss at home, not just at the office. Can you make that happen for me?

You really hit the jackpot with this boss! The man is everything you described and more, with a personality as big and as dominant as his body. Sure, he's addicted to women, and yeah, he thinks you're a wimp, but I think I can change his mind...

"Conference room. Now!" the sound of his commanding voice rising over the murmur of the office is a fairly routine occurrence. Still, the mouths of your coworkers snap shut while their eyes fall instinctively to the floor. Your eyes stay locked on him, though, and your mouth hangs slightly open as you watch in awe.

"Ben!" his voice calls from deep in his chest, "You have something to report?"

You stare at his piercing smile, managing to stammer a reply, "Uh no, sir," in as calm of a voice as you can muster.

The boss suddenly cracks the deafening silence with gutteral laughter. Your colleagues around you take this as a signal to join in, but you brave a nervous smile. Once again, you're the butt of your boss's joke. He always pounces at the chance to make fun of you.

The man brushes off his amusement and gets started with his weekly progress meeting, barking out productivity rates like they're the only things that matter. The guys sitting around you eagerly take notes, but you take the time to study the great man standing before you. You want his attention so bad!

"Ben, are you paying attention?" the boss asks.

"Yeah, boss..." you reply shakily, and it's true! You heard every word he was saying, but you still can't muster up a response before he is fed up waiting.

"If you aren't listening then get out!" he commands, "Grab me some coffee, if you can handle that. I need a new receptionist, Ben, and if you're not careful, it'll be you!"

The assembly of guys snicker under their breaths, and you feel eyes staring at your back as you step out. You can't help but wonder why the boss is so hard on you, when he goes so easy on that stupid woman. It's bad enough that he's promoted her twice in the last month, but does he really need to make out with her in front of everyone too?

Rebecca is the latest woman your boss has enjoyed. Like all the other girls he's been with, she is confident, clever, and absolutely stunning. However, unlike all the other girls, Rebecca is his employee.

Needless to say, she's a bitch, but your boss doesn't care. He seems to enjoy Rebecca's ruthless climb to the top. At least he does for now. You know he'll get bored with her sooner or later and move on to someone else.

Maybe I can speed up the process...maybe I can manipulate it to end in your favor...

I enter his mind in the middle of the presentation, causing him to pause his speech unceremoniously. His employees wait patiently for him to resume, but his head is battling to reject my influence. Even a great man like him fails.

His brain falls under my control, and I can feel his competitive and strategic areas working overdrive to run this business. However, there are two small sections that seem very different. These areas are much more calm, involving two key things to his satisfaction: one is his primal desire for women and the other is his pleasure for bullying you.

Why should you have to be the one he likes to humiliate? Why can't he want to rip off your clothes instead of Rebecca's? Why should his mind have to work this way?

Oh wait, it doesn't have to!

It takes me seconds to swap the two concepts. In an instant, his urge to bully is directed towards women, and an insatiable lust is pointed at you and only you.

"Ben!" he calls, his words still have the same bite they always do, making you spill some coffee as you flinch.

You can't help but freeze as the man marches across the office. His employees scatter out of his way, fearing they'll be pushed if they don't, but they all look confused as to what the boss is actually going to do when he gets to you.

"Babe?" Rebecca snaps as he brushes past her.

A part of your boss's mind yells defiantly, insisting on his heterosexual orientation, but I swiftly put out that spark of a thought.

"We're done," he tells her flatly, "And you're fired. You lied on your resume."

"I told you that in private!" she screeches.

The man winces, not wanting to make this harder than he has to, but I correct his thoughts once again. He needs to remember to humiliate her like he used to do to you.

"And I'm telling you to go. I should've never let a woman try to do a man's job." His eyes find you as he finishes his statement.

Rebecca scoffs and storms off as he marches right up to you. The boss doesn't wait for permission to grab your waist. His swollen arms pull you into his chest, and his mouth is already exploring your own. You can feel his hand wandering down your backside. For a moment, you regain enough composure to worry about how this looks to the office. Your shoulders tense up as you realize all of your coworkers are watching the boss enjoy feeling you up like he did all those other girls.

Don't worry. I reach into his mind once more, reminding him to be hyper aware of your comfort levels at all times. Every husband should have that quality, don't you think?

"Let's get out of here," you hear him say, as he pulls his tongue from your mouth, "I can tell your getting a bit tense."

"Ok..." you breath in response.

The boss grips your hand roughly and walks you out of the office. Everyone else is either staring at the ground in fear or staring at you in awe. Either way, you don't know how to feel, but you can't help but enjoy the look on Rebecca's face as her former boyfriend escorts you down his private elevator.

The whole way home, all he thinks about is what he wants to do to you. He'll treat you rough, just like he used to do with all his girlfriends, but I also stuffed a few of your fantasies in that mind of his. He's about to do exactly what you like without even realizing it.

"Come here," he growls as you arrive in his bedroom.

"This place is huge," you gasp at the sight of his giant house.

"Get over here Ben!" he demands, growing more impatient.

You approach, stunned by the rock hard abs suddenly peaking out from beneath his suit. His expression is intense, like he's about to fire you, but you're not going anywhere. He may have been a straight executive this morning, but now he's gay as hell. Well, he's into you as hell. Nothing else will turn him on ever again.

Enjoy the company of your boss! A guy as assertive and successful as him is a definite keeper. I'm already planting the idea of marriage in his mind...

[punktactical]

ASSHOLE , eustass kid ★

★

summary ; a one-night stand with kid, more emotion spills out than it should.

warnings ; 18+ content , smut , mutual - masturbation , eating out , controlling behavior , cursing , light angst , kid is bad at feelings , he's also a lil asshole

a/n ; this was originally taken from my quotev one-shots , so if u recognize it , u know why lol ! woohoo my first post , i hope it does well *clasps my hands together obnoxiously*

★

★

eustass kid is an asshole for sure.

that much could be said as he spat on her, grabbing her hips harshly.

"d - don't be so hard! it hurts." she whines, tears pricking her eyes as she pushes at his chest. he smacks her hand away, sneering at her. "don't tell me what to fucking do." he lifts up her dress, revealing her white, puffy bloomers.

"ya dress like a lil' girl." he shimmies her bloomers down to her knees, the fabric resting down her legs. her pink panties peek through from under her skirt. he reaches a large hand out to rub her, but she stops him shyly. "you said you wanted me to . . ." she looks away, embarrassed. " suck you off . " he grins, his gums showing from behind his lips. "so? i changed my mind, not like you get to decide what i do."

his thumb grazes her clothed cunt, making her suck in a breath. he licks her through her panties, saliva mixing with her slick. "oh, oh, eustass!" she gasps, squeezing her thighs around his head. he growls, his tongue pushing and prodding at her entrance. "you still got yer panties on, y'know? ya really gonna cum when i'm eating you out from behind yer panties?" she blushes, holding a small hand up to her open mouth. she sounds like she's about to cry, with the way she hiccups every so often. "besides, i needa get ya ready for my cock, it's big, y'know?" he laughs at her horrified expression. he pulls her panties to the side, his tongue diving into her wet cunt. she screams in delight, her fingers winding themselves up in his hair.

what wonders a guy with a rude mouth could do.

"eustass, i think - i'm gonna - !" her breath catches in her throat, a sharp shriek ripping through the air, he doesn't stop licking up her juices.

"then do it." he spits out between his sucking.

she grinds her teeth, screaming from behind them as she feels the waves of pleasure come crashing down onto her. her hands pull at his hair, tugging it harshly. he hisses, lapping up her juices quickly. her body is sweaty, the remaining clothes she had on sticking to her body. everything was so hot now, too hot. "take yer clothes off, i'ma jack myself to ya now. so get comfortable."

eustass kid is an asshole for sure.

that much could be said as he forced her clothes off, stroking himself as she watches with a red face.

★

"what's yer name?"

"excuse me?"

they both laid in bed next to each other, still naked. they weren't touching though. his hands resting on his stomach while hers were holding her hips. "i never got yer name." she frowns. "does that really matter now? i'll be gone as soon as the sun rises." she closes her eyes, enjoying the plushness of the sheets beneath her. "no, but i just wanted to know, i guess." he turns his head the other way, hiding his embarrassed blush. god, why did he care anyways? she hums. "you're not the most kind man, are you?" he huffs. "what's the point of being nice? i'm a pirate." she looks at him with drowsy eyes. "i suppose so but." she reaches out a hand, the back of her fingers grazing his cheek.

"you're not being a complete asshole, just a little mean." she smiles, watching as he scowls, a visible blush on his cheeks.

"if yer gone as soon as the sun rises just like you say, then."

"i'd like to . ." he hesitates.

"i want to hold you." he gulps.

"only if you want to." he sighs.

it was almost a relief as soon as the words left his mouth. her smile widened. she shuffles over, her smaller body curling into his own. his hand hand rests on her hip, but it's cold, no affection radiating from it.

the cool metal reminds her that she is nothing but one night.

eustass kid was an asshole.

that much could be said as he woke up the next morning, the other side of his bed empty. he'll look around, confused, unsure as to what happened last night and if he'll ever remember. the only thing to remind him is a small, crumpled up letter with a name on it. he thinks about writing the name down.

he thinks about sailing the ocean, looking for the person that the name belongs to.

he thinks about fighting through thousands of marines, to get to that name.

he thinks . . .

he rips the paper up, the flakes falling to the floor. his hand continues to tear the paper up, his human hand. the only hand that has flesh. the only hand that has meaning.

as he said, he was just a pirate. what's the point?

eustass kid is and always will be an asshole.

not much can be said.

★

[annabelle--cane]

im listening to mag again and damn do the archival crew HATE jon. listen i get it supposedly your lives would be normal if he hadn't brought you here... but he didn't? (minus og archive crew, jon requesting them and all) if anything he was just kinda there when you made decisions, bro wasn't EVEN THERE when melanie got hired like??? like how r u gonna wish him pain rn, he's ltrly sopping wet and on the verge of dying💀

like another anon I got a month or so ago, this is one of my sleeper agent trigger phrases, so this might be another marina monologue moment.

as I'm also in the middle of a (for my standards) incredibly slow relisten, I've been thinking about this topic, too, but I've been coming at it from a slightly different angle than I normally do. in tim's case, we don't get an actual look at the circumstances under which he transferred to the archives, it is theoretically possible that jon laid it on a bit thick in asking him to come with him to the department and tim wouldn't have even thought of it otherwise, but with melanie we have several scenes of her hiring and onboarding where jon is not present and she continually rebuffs people who tell her she's making a mistake, so the text very clearly sets up that her blaming jon for being trapped there doesn't make sense. and, even with tim having been requested by jon, he still had to make the ultimate decision to switch departments himself, so, yknow, what gives?

most people, I think, and myself in the past, have come at this question from a very jon-centric pov because he's the main character and it's a jon-centric show, but I think putting it down to "they lash out at him because he happens to be there and stops defending himself after a while" misses something, as does "they lash out at him because elias sets everyone up to think they have an adversarial relationship to jon." more than that, I think it's about the rejection of agency.

tma is a show that's very much About agency and choices, so it's important to keep track of where characters suddenly balk and try to offload their choices onto other agents. martin, despite being very proactive and efficient when he sets his mind to it, has a consistent habit of thinking of himself as fundamentally unimportant and unable to affect real change. jon, someone who is usually culpability_acceptor_4000, really tries to convince himself that the web made him pull statements out of strangers. and melanie and tim, on realizing that they've gotten themselves stuck in the archives, have similar reactions of trying to retroactively make those decisions jon's.

they hate being stuck there and they can't bear the idea that it might be their fault, and they don't know how to reconcile the choices they did make with the greater forces outside of their control that shape their lives. tim swings right from seeing jon as fully responsible to seeing everything as the result of cosmically inevitable bad luck, and this hits him so hard that it leads directly to his suicide. post-bullet melanie gets a better handle on it; accepting that she chose to fall further into the slaughter opens her up to accepting that she made other choices, like joining the archives, as well as accepting future choices, like quitting the archives.

and yes, in the moments where tim and melanie are most vulnerable and just starting to realize how deeply screwed they are, jon (at least from their pov) does something to make it worse. when jon tells tim that jane presntiss wasn't his fault, tim says "well you sure made me feel worse afterwards! and then everyone had to pay attention to how you were feeling to get you to stop stalking us!" when melanie goes in for a second assassination attempt on elias, elias makes jon talk her down instead of doing it himself, presumably to try and get the slaughter mark done with. neither of these are the inciting incidents for tim and melanie's situations, but they stand out. and because jon is culpability_acceptor_4000, a man who feels like the weight of the whole world is on his shoulders and is even right some of the time, the accusations stick. tim and melanie don't want anything to be their fault, jon thinks everything is his fault, and it's a bit of a vicious self-fulfilling cycle.