#queued fiery

[cfabyssal]

//I managed to almost get Laha to 70 on all crafting and gathering thanks to @nossumusmanus, @ancalagxn, and another friend. Would have been far long and painful without their help and seriously appreciated what they had done.

[mencnfire]

For two men who had seen far more in a few short years than most people would see in a lifetime, Genesis and Kazuhira shared a special kind of camaraderie, the sort that only fellow war veterans would have. But as the two shared a couple of drinks in a bar that they often frequented, Genesis found himself more drawn to Kazuhira than usual.

"All this time we've served others... but we've never once served ourselves." He leaned closer to Kazuhira then, stroking over one weathered cheek before he pulled the man close, planting a kiss on surprisingly soft lips. "I think it's time we changed that."

One hand gripped the other's shoulder as he leaned in, his lips crushing against Kazuhira's with more urgency this time, a soft noise sounding in his throat as he held the kiss for as long as he dared before he had to pull back for air, his hand moving to trace over that impressively strong jawline. "...surprised I didn't do this sooner."

the redhead isn't wrong - the sacrifice that comes with their work, one that they carry in scars both seen and unseen. in kazuhira's case; his burden is one borne by a crutch. as genesis speaks, eyes remain still upon him - the closeness between the two undeniable but kazuhira only able so far to feel a slight warmth. he knows that the other man sits close, knows that rubies edge closer after words are spoken - can see the other all the clearer now - his features youthful, those eyes, so bright.

the hand on his cheek would have the old soldier swallow hard, eyes instinctively pressed shut and lips puckered in return of a kiss.

his lover's lips are soft; a moment tender, despite the two of them so hardened by battle. kazuhira can feel the swell in his chest, the warmth that spreads through his cheeks - affection so far forgotten that the slightest touch has him pining for more.

how long had genesis felt this way? did a kiss really mean anything at all?

kazuhira finally opens eyes, genesis so close he'd see the grey peaking out through camouflage-shades, the crimson hue that spreads across otherwise pale skin. kazuhira's reaction met with another press of lips, this time - a touch reciprocated - the soldier's kiss one that would have kazuhira part lips, embracing the other's with his own. his own arm reaches out now, a hand that pushes fingers through hair, his tongue slipping the gap between their affection.

"hm-" the blonde pulls away, lips glistening with the dew of the moment, eyes pressed beneath brows "but -" he hesitates "if you'd done it sooner...you might not have meant it."

did he mean it? affection more than a mere kiss? kazuhira would hope so.

[mouschiwrites]

hi!! could i get a kai x reader oneshot where the reader has bad health anxiety / hypochondria and is worrying about their health more than usual, so kai decides to calm them down or something??? tysm if you decide to do this

Of course my darling! I really hope this was okay ^^”

(Potential TW for portrayal of behaviors related to health anxiety! Proceed with caution sweet doves!)

Word count: 895

Ninjago - Kai With an s/o Who’s Health-Anxious

You were bouncing your leg anxiously the whole way home, practically flying out of the car the second it came to a stop. You speedwalked inside, leaving Kai further and further behind you.

You fumbled with your keys, hissing curses to yourself as you struggled to open the door. Another symptom? You fretted, feeling even more overwhelmed than you already were.

You hurried to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind you as you flicked on the light and yanked off your shirt.

You examined your skin carefully, scrutinizing every inch like your life depended on it. And, for all you knew, your life actually did depend on it.

You pinched and pulled, trying to get a good view of the spots you couldn’t see very well. Your breathing was labored and quick while you obsessed over your reflection, and you were so focused that you didn’t hear Kai walking through the front door.

Nor did you hear him call: “Y/n? Are you okay?”

You weren’t finding anything on your skin, but this was more frustrating than comforting. You were convinced that something was wrong; you just needed evidence, which was irritatingly hiding from you.

Kai was leaning on the bathroom doorframe now. “Y/n, what are you doing?”

You spared him a glance that didn’t even last a full second. “Can you check my back?”

“For what?” Kai seemed worried, and was already approaching to take a look.

“Anything! A rash, a sore—anything!”

Kai was looking at your face through the mirror. He was clearly more worried about your mood than your skin. You tried to glare, but your face was frozen in a panicked expression. “Would you just look?”

“Your back is fine,” he assured you, resting a hand on your shoulder.

You shook your head, tears pricking your eyes while you checked your underarms for the tenth time.

Kai knew what was going on. He’d been watching you all night, and he’d seen the subtler signs. This, however, was as blatant as it got. “Hey, look at me for a second.”

When you didn’t obey right away, Kai came between you and the mirror, held your head in his hands, and forced you to meet his gaze.

“Now take a deep breath.”

You nodded, trying to slow your breathing. You focused on the brownness of his eyes; you always loved that color. And in the warm light of the bathroom’s overhead lamp, they were glowing that fiery amber that never failed to enrapture you.

“You’re okay. You’re healthy. You’re not going to get sick.”

He repeated his reassurances a couple times while you came back down to a normal breathing rate. You were just nodding, losing yourself in his soft voice and enchanting eyes. You let the words reach you, really reach you, and you were finally believing him as you brought your hands to hold his wrists.

He smiled suddenly, moving his hands from the sides of your head to your shoulders. He turned you away from the mirror and guided you out of the bathroom, bringing you away from the obvious instigator of your already horrible anxiety.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He suggested, eager to get your mind off of your worries.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to watch with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go get you some clean pajamas; why don’t you get something queued up?”

You shook your head, grabbing one of his hands and squeezing it. You didn’t want to be alone with your thoughts—not tonight, not anymore. “Can I just go with you?”

Kai nodded. “Of course.”

He let go of your hand to open your wardrobe, looking at you to make sure it was okay first. You hesitated, but finally let his hand go, getting a small nod that seemed to say: “thanks; don’t worry, I’ll be quick.”

“What are we thinking tonight: actual pajamas or one of those old t-shirts of yours?”

While he spoke he pulled out a few options for you to see. You pointed to the one that looked comfiest, taking it into your hands and pulling it over your head. You took off your shoes and pants, too, replacing them with pajama bottoms and slippers.

Kai watched you carefully, which was oddly comforting. It was good to know that someone was looking out for you, someone was paying attention to make sure you were safe.

Kai then changed out of his clothes and into comfier ones, making a point to match colors with you just so he could say: “Look, we’re twinning.”

That made you giggle. You let him take your hand and lead you out to the living room, where you wrapped yourself tightly in one of the blankets folded in a pile beside the couch.

“What should we watch…?” Kai wondered aloud, already browsing.

You saw your favorite movie, and you opened your mouth to suggest it, but Kai had already chosen it and it was starting up. You went to give him a grateful look, and he winked at you. “Hey, what can I say? I know my Y/n.”

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. Right now, everything was okay. Right now, you were safe with Kai. As long as he was there, you knew you’d be fine. And, luckily for you, he would always be there.

Thank you so much for your request! And thanks for reading, take care duckies <33

(Also, quick note: this applies to all my works, but please let me know if there’s anything I need to fix/anything that’s incorrect! I never want to hurt you guys!)

(divider by saradika)

[gallavichthings]

Data on the Masquerade

Here's some data about the Masquerade results, as requested by some of you. After the break because it got a bit long.

Top 5 readers in points

@lingy910y - 80 points

@mmmichyyy - 67 points

@suzy-queued - 65 points

@ian-galagher - 62 points

@michellemisfit - 56 points

Top 5 readers by number of guessed works

@lingy910y - 17

@suzy-queued - 16

@mmmichyyy - 15

and

@ian-galagher & @michellemisfit - 14

Top 5 writers by number of points

@notherenewjersey with AITA? - 58 points

and

@sickness-health-all-that-shit with The man in the van & @gallawitchxx with Snowballs and Sneaking Out - 55 points

and

@ian-galagher with Black Charcoal meets Fiery Red & @andthatisnotfake with The Guardians

Most "mentioned" fics:

AITA? - Black Charcoal meets Fiery Red - Jump To Recipe - Wonderful- a Gallavich Christmas Mini-fic - 24 mentions

Least guessed fics:

The Guardians - 3 guesses

Snowballs and Sneaking Out - 4 guesses

weight of the world - 5 guesses

Red Hot - 6 guesses

(several got 7 guesses)

Most guessed fics:

Jump to Recipe - 15 guesses

Span the Distance, Bridge the Border - 13 points

Carnival, Infused Attraction & So drunk on you - 12 points

[snelbz]

‘Til Death Do Us Part {Chapter Fourteen}

Elorcan. Rockstar Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

‘Til Death Do Us Part Masterlist

A/N: So sorry this is late! We had some crazy storms in my area last night and today and I never got around to queuing this! Enjoy!

Elide —

After one very fiery pep talk from Aelin, I’m gazing at myself in the bathroom mirror. This wasn’t how I expected my evening to go, nor did Lorcan, clearly. I believe him when he says he has no hand in this, but when it comes down to it, this was what used to take place when they had a get together.

It’s not his friends’ fault that this was Lorcan’s life. I just didn’t expect our home to be overrun with exactly the type of woman Lorcan wanted me to be.

It all happened so fast. One minute, Aelin and I were in the kitchen, getting more wine, when the doorbell rang. Rowan said he’d get it and we thought nothing of it.

And then I heard voices. Lots and lots of voices.

By the time Aelin and I rushed into the living room, it was full of big titted blondes and tattooed strangers making themselves comfortable wherever they could. Not to mention the long line of people already streaming out to the large back patio.

Sighing, I unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out into our room. At some point while I was in here, Lorcan managed to make good on his word and find Anneith. She was curled up on his pillow, fast asleep, as if the bass booming from downstairs wasn’t enough to shake the water in the bottle Lorcan had left on his nightstand.

I want to join her, want to curl up under the blankets and try to forget about everything going on downstairs but that’s unrealistic. I should find Aelin again. She would be my partner-in-chaos for the night. When I left her, she was going to talk to Rowan about not wanting to be at this shitshow of a party, but I know Rowan wouldn’t leave Lorcan in a house full of blonde bimbos and drugs, and Aelin wouldn’t leave me here to bear it alone, either.

So, I take a deep breath and open the bedroom door after telling Anneith goodnight. The music is horrible, so loud that I feel I may start bleeding out of my eardrums. I hate it. It only gets louder as I descend the stairs. I pray no one goes upstairs to defile any of our bedrooms. 

I weave my way through the crowd but I’m so fucking short that I can’t see anyone beyond those in front of me. I never cared much about being short, but right now I wish I was a good foot and a half taller.

As I enter the kitchen, I don’t see Aelin and I don’t see Lorcan. I can’t tell if I want to see Lorcan or not. I’m pissed, but not so much at him. I’m more disappointed than anything, although I can’t tell who or what I’m disappointed in. Either way, that sense of disappointing dread fills my stomach as I grab a beer off the counter and look around for a bottle opener. 

I don’t like getting drunk.

I think it’s sloppy and disgusting.

One beer won’t hurt, though. Right now I need something to take the edge off, something to keep me from crying in front of a crowd of people that I don’t know. 

After a minute of looking for the bottle opener, I curse and grab a knife out of the silverware drawer. I saw it in a movie once. Surely it can’t be that hard.

“You must be desperate if you’re willing to risk your fingers for a beer.”

I nearly jump at the voice beside me. I was too focused and the music was so damn loud that I didn’t see the gray-eyed man approach me until I had the blade of the knife against my bottlecap.

He’s right.

I must be desperate.

“Looks like someone went off with the bottle opener,” I say, and look up at him. He’s handsome enough, the crisp gray of his eyes something I feel is rare. His black hair is cut neatly, a little longer on the top than the sides, and his smile is warm as he laughs.

“Well, luckily for you, you don’t need one.” I’m about to ask what he means when he grabs my bottle and twists off the top.

I stand there, gaping and mortified. “Thanks.” He can’t hear my half-assed gratitude above the music, I’m sure, but I’m too embarrassed to care.

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, common mistake. I promise not to tell anyone you were about to go full-assassin on a twist top.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “That’s very kind.”

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he admits, gesturing to the kitchen around us. I know he means the party, not around my island. “Fenrys told me there was a party and I had nothing better to do, although now I feel a night at home with my dog was a better option.”

He takes a drink from his own bottle as I nod. “At least you had a choice.” 

He lifts a brow before realization dawns on him. “Oh, damn, this is your party.”

“And it’s nearing my bedtime,” I say, and he laughs. I add, “It may be my house but it’s not my party.”

His laugh is warm and he holds out a hand. “I’m Nox.”

I take it in my own. “Elide.”

Nox might be the first normal person I’ve met since getting married to Lorcan. We realize what a small world it is when we both realize we’re from Perranth, as well.

“How old are you?” He asks, leaning against the counter. “Maybe we went to high school together or something.”

I hope he doesn’t see me flinch. It’s not a story I feel like delving into. “We’d moved to Orynth by the time I was in high school.”

“Got it.” He’s nodding and I notice had a dimple beneath his five o’clock shadow. “I didn’t think there was any way we could have known each other. I wouldn’t have forgotten you anywhere.”

I think that may have been a compliment, but at the same time, probably not.

“I promise you, I’m very forgettable,” I say, and he rolls his eyes.

“Bullshit,” he mutters, and his lips curve upward as he takes another drink from his glass bottle. “I promise that after tonight you’ll be on my mind for a long time.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he cringes. “That sounded so cheesy. I’m so sorry.”

My head falls back as I laugh. It’s not a forced laugh, either. I laugh so hard my cheeks hurt. “It’s okay. I like—” “Elide?”

I turn around to find my husband, his tall frame looming behind me. Although he says my name, he’s looking at Nox. He doesn’t have a drink in his hand. In fact, Lorcan’s brows are knitted together as if he’s been filled with tension all night.

“Hey,” I say, and that laughter of mine fades. Uncertainty with that underlying anger returns. Even though I've been enjoying myself with Nox, I’m still pissed at the whole situation. I still don’t belong in this environment. In Lorcan’s environment. 

“I came to talk to you,” he murmurs, but nods at Nox. “Who are you?”

There’s something in his tone that I don’t like. Something hard, his voice full of warning. 

“This is Nox,” I say, slowly, looking up at his tight jaw. “Nox, this is Lorcan.”

“Her husband,” Lorcan says, and he doesn’t even lift his hand or anything in greeting. Doesn’t even say hello. 

It doesn’t sit well with me. 

Nox’s smile falters, surely thinking the same thing. He clears his throat before taking another drink.

I look behind my shoulder at Lorcan and give him a look. He just lifts a brow, like he’s not acting like a total jackass. “Want a drink?” I ask him.

He looks shocked by my question and I suppose he should be. When we first met, the day of our wedding, I had scolded him for drinking. Right now is different, though. He looks uptight and stressed and I feel like he’s taking it out on Nox, whose company I’m enjoying the hell out of. 

“Here, man.” Nox is holding a beer out to Lorcan. “Still cold.”

Lorcan looks at the glass bottle but makes no move to take it. Instead, he grabs a plastic cup off the counter and goes to where the hard liquor sits and fills his cup. I watch him, lips pursed, wondering where the sweet, caring man I had come to know in the past weeks went. It was like he flipped a switch and I don’t know if it’s because of the party or because of Nox, but I don’t like him like this. I continue to watch as he drinks the liquor like its water. He meets my hard gaze with one of his own.

Nox clears his throat again, reminding me that I am not alone with my husband in this kitchen. “Look, if I overstepped—”

“Would you like to go for a walk?” I ask, turning to Nox. “I haven’t shown anyone all my hard-working labor when it comes to our landscaping yet. I know it’s not that exciting, but I—”

“Lead the way,” he says, laughing quietly at my rambling. “Anything to be able to get away from this obnoxious music for a minute.”

Lorcan’s jaw locks.

It’s one of their earlier songs that’s blasting through the speakers. 

I almost feel bad for walking away from Lorcan but at the same time, I don’t. There is nothing romantic going on between Nox and me and there never will be. Lorcan jumped to conclusions. He’s letting his male ego control his attitude and it makes me want to throttle him. I won’t, though, not in front of all of these people. Instead, I’ll take a walk with my new friend and he can kiss my ass. If a party is going to be thrown in my house without my consent then I should at least be able to make friends.

Right?

Lorcan’s downing the rest of the contents of his cup as we exit. I don’t feel bad. I don’t want to be around him when he’s acting jealous. Jealous. That’s what he is. He’s jealous of Nox and I don’t understand why. Sure, Nox is handsome enough, but not nearly as attractive as Lorcan, even though they’re attractive in far different ways. While Lorcan is a rugged type of handsome, a handsome that shouldn’t be handsome but is, Nox is clean-cut perfection. It has me wondering how the hell he knows the Cadre. He doesn’t look like one to fit into this crowd. 

There are people everywhere, in the house, on the front and back porch, the front drive and yard. Nox and I take a few laps around the exterior of the house, barely even looking at the landscaping I’d used as our escape out here. Sitting down on the steps of the front porch, I look over at Nox who finishes off his own beer, setting it on the step beside him.

“I’m sorry about my husband,” I say, giving Lorcan that respect. Whether he’s being an ass or not, he is my husband, even if he jumped to conclusions when he saw me talking to Nox. But he’s my husband, not my keeper. “This is all still new and he can be pretty territorial—”

“Are you the two that got married without knowing each other?” Nox asked, assessing me.

Nodding, I take a deep breath. “That’s us.”

“Huh.”

He doesn’t say anything else, so I turn to look at him. “What?”

“Makes sense why he’d be pissy.” He shrugged, looking back at the house as if he’s expecting Lorcan to come out the front door searching for him. “I’d be wary of someone I don’t know talking to my wife, too.”

“How’d you end up here?” I finally ask, curiosity finally getting the better of me.

“I sell to Fenrys and Connall.”

I blink, sure I have to be misunderstanding him. “And by sell you mean…?”

Nox laughs, shaking his head. “Drugs. Pills mostly, to Fen. Connall almost exclusively smokes weed.”

That was literally the last thing I expected and I’m having trouble wrapping my head around it. “You’re a drug dealer?”

“That’s not the profession I put on my taxes, but yeah,” he laughs.

This truly is a world I’m not used to, if the most clean cut, normal looking guy here sells drugs to the rock stars.

“Nox, hey!”

As if on cue, a couple guys approach and I take the chance to find Lorcan as money exchanges hands and he takes off a backpack I hadn’t noticed he was wearing.

It’s been a while since we left him in the kitchen, but I check anyway. He, and his bottle of liquor, are gone.

With a sigh, I search the house. Once again, my height puts me at a disadvantage. I don’t find him anywhere, although I do see far more than I want to. The number of tits I glimpse when walking from one side of my house to the other is astounding. A line of white powder is on my new coffee table and a guy with face tattoos is snorting it. The music is still loud as hell and empty glasses and cups are everywhere. Bodies are pressed up against one another on the dancefloor and I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s coming awfully close to an orgy. 

I still haven’t found Aelin, either. I make a note to text her once I find my damn husband. 

After placing my half-empty beer on the counter, I make my way out onto the back porch and I’m suddenly filled with so much anger that my body is shaking.

I found my husband.

He’s in the hot tub in nothing but his boxer-briefs but he’s not alone. There’s about ten women cluttered together, surrounding him, in nothing but their bras and panties. 

His earlier words come back to me about the hot tub being our place, and there’s a burning in my eyes.

He notices me and grins. “There’s my smoking hot wife!” He points at me, and all of the girls he’s with look at me. “Hey, baby! Why don’t you come meet my friends?”

He knows exactly what he’s doing. It seems to him that this is some sort of game and I suddenly feel foolish for trying to make a point with Nox. I went away with my friend, so he went away with his. He’s not touching them. His hands are together on his lap, but I can tell he’s drunk. I wonder how much liquor he had after we parted. His eyelids droop and his body is swaying, just a little bit. 

My jaw locks and I beg myself not to cry. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He laughs and the girls around him have no shame. They know that their racks are on full display and they’re basically tossing their breasts at him. A thought hits me that makes me sick: how many of these girls does he know? How many of these girls have shared his bed? 

Jealousy. I feel it now too and it’s an ugly bitch. 

“We don’t want to be rude,” Lorcan says, eyes bright as his words slur. “I can’t just leave my friends. Can they come, too?”

My cheeks heat as the girls around him giggle. One reaches out to brush her fingertips along his shoulder and even though he moves away from her touch, I want to throttle her. 

“You’ve made your point,” I say, through gritted teeth. “I’d like to talk to you.”

“This is your wife?” one of the girls asks, laughing as she bobs in the water, bouncing her massive breasts. “She’s so…tiny.”

“Why don’t you come join us?” another one asks, looking up at me. Her high-pitched voice annoys me. “We promise to help you have a good time. Strip down. It feels so good.”

“Yeah, baby, strip down,” Lorcan croons, taking another gulp from his plastic cup.

I’m not playing this game with him. I’m not going to let him taunt me with these women, with his drunkenness. This is a side of Lorcan I haven’t seen yet. At first, his jealousy of Nox was frustrating, yes, but it was also endearing. Jealousy isn’t always automatically a bad thing. If he’s jealous, it means he cares.

I’m not going to consider what that means about my own jealous feelings.

I see the change in his eyes the second he realizes I’m not going to play back.

“Goodnight, Lorcan,” I say, and look around the hot tub at his friends. “You ladies have fun.”

Without another word, I walk back into the house, not looking back at my husband.

When I unlock our bedroom door, Anneith is still asleep, curled up on the comforter. I can’t resist giving her a scratch under the chin and she stretches adorably without waking.

I’m in the bathroom, changing out of my uncomfortable jeans and into shorts, when I hear our bedroom door bang open. 

I know who it is so I don’t panic. Instead, I take my sweet time. I brush my hair for the hell of it before taking a few minutes to pick out another tank top that’s less form fitting and putting it on. Then, when I finally open the door, my husband is standing there in his wet underwear.

And gods, those boxer-briefs do good things to him.

I swallow as I fight to meet his eye but he’s swaying on his feet, too drunk to notice.

“H-hi,” he says, then holds onto the doorframe to help keep his balance. 

My brow shoots up as I cross my arms. “Hi?”

He leans in close to me. “It’s what you say to someone before you start a conversation.” 

The need to rub my temples is overwhelming. “Why are you here?”

He blinks, looking around the room in confusion. “Don’t we live here?”

The look on his face is adorably ridiculous, but I’m pissed so I don’t laugh, no matter how much I want to. I try again. “Why aren’t you downstairs with your friends?” 

“Ohhh,” he says, and takes a step back. “Them. Yeah, I left them to do their thing.” He leans in close to me and his breath smells like the inside of a whiskey bottle. “After a while, they get a little handsy and I wanted nothing to do with that.”

Well, that’s comforting…even though his words are slurred. “Lorcan—”

“You left,” he says, and he’s frowning. “You walked away from me.”

I scoff. “You didn’t seem to be too lonely!”

He rolls his eyes in dramatic drunkenness. “Those girls…” he shakes his head, long hair swaying. I wonder when he took it down. “They mean nothing to me. I lied. They’re not my friends. They disgust me.”

I hesitate as I remember that drunk people are prone to telling the truth. I’m still pissed, though. “I don’t like you like this. I didn’t like seeing you like that, and I didn’t like that stupid stunt you were trying to pull.”

His brows shoot up and he stumbles back to the point where he nearly falls over. “The stunt I was trying to pull? Nox, will you take a walk with me, outside at night, in the dark, just the two of us?” 

I laugh but there’s no humor in it. “Are you mocking me?”

“You started this game,” he says, and pokes me in the chest with his pointer finger. His touch sends a chills through me even though there’s nothing even remotely sexual going on here.

“Game?” My voice is higher pitched than I’ve ever heard it, but to hear him actually refer to whatever bullshit has been going down between us as a game sets me off.

Before I can say anything else though, Lorcan holds up a hand, making me pause. If he were just telling me to stop talking, I would have lost it, but he turned towards the door, stopping to strip out of his wet underwear and pull a pair of sweats on. I don’t even have time to look away before I get a glimpse of his sculpted ass—of course he has defined muscles on his ass—before it’s covered by grey cotton, and he’s out in the hallway.

I’m livid that he had the nerve to walk out on me, right after getting mad at me for walking away from him outside, but then the music suddenly stops. There’s a flurry of outraged voices, but then one voice rises above the rest. “If you don’t live here, get the fuck out.” It’s quiet for a few seconds before he adds, “Now.”

Hundreds of footsteps hurry over our threshold and while I wait for the crowd to clear out, I check my phone that I’d forgotten on the nightstand hours ago. I have two texts from Aelin, one from two hours ago, letting me know they were leaving since she couldn’t find me and Lorcan was getting drunk, and a second about thirty minutes ago, telling me they’d made it home.

I type out a quick text to her, letting her know Lorcan is kicking everyone out and we’ll talk tomorrow. I don’t have the emotional aptitude to deal with my best friend tonight. I know she’s pissed, but just like me, she doesn’t seem to know where to place the blame, which means she’ll just want to vent.

Lorcan comes back in and shuts the door behind him, although a little too forcefully. I jump at the sound before crossing my arms.

“Happy?” He asks, striding past me into the bathroom. He braces both hands on the sink and for a second I think he’s going to puke, but he doesn’t.

“Happy?” I repeat, incredulous. “What about any of this would make you think I’m happy?”

“The house is empty!” He throws his hands in the air and faces me.

“Yeah, and trashed!” I add. “Your sorry ass better be cleaning it up tomorrow. Ask Fenrys to join you, considering he was the apparent mastermind here.”

I’m not even mad about the party anymore, not really. Now it’s just him that’s pissing me off, even though I can’t take my eyes off of his broad, bare chest in front of me.

Lorcan snorts and takes a step closer to me. “You’re just upset I kicked out your friend.”

My mouth falls open and I have half a mind to cross the distance between us and slap him. “You’re an ass,” I snap, instead.

His eyes light up. “Maybe, but at least I speak the fucking truth.” 

This time, I do step forward but he doesn’t move. I go to shove his chest but his hands grip my wrists and suddenly I’m in his hold. He’s not rough, he’s simply stopping me from pushing him, not that it would do anything. It would be like shoving a brick wall. 

From the second his hands are on me, though, I can’t breathe. Even drunk, he’s hot as hell. 

“I won’t apologize for talking to someone,” I say, voice quiet but firm. “You’re my husband, not my owner. You should have a little faith in me.”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” he says, and his grip on my wrists tightens. He pulls me closer and I wonder if he’s even aware of what he’s doing. “It was that prick. I don’t like the way he looked at you.”

I exhale through my nose, the short burst of air sounding like a laugh. “He wasn’t looking—”

“He was looking at you like he was starving and you were his last meal.” Lorcan’s intense gaze left little room for response. Damn it, isn’t he supposed to be drunk? “And, yes, it pissed me off cause you were smiling at him. You were smiling at him and—” He shakes his head. “Nevermind.”

He releases my wrists, but doesn’t step back. “And what?”

“Nothing.” It’s so quiet I almost don’t hear it.

“It’s not nothing,” I push, touching his chest, gently resting a hand over the inked flesh. “Tell me.”

He won’t look at me, instead he’s found something on the bathroom wall that’s clearly much more interesting. “You were smiling at him and you two looked like you belonged together.”

“What?” I’m not sure what I was expecting, but that hadn’t been it. “What do you mean?”

He laughs, but it’s a hollow sound. “He was what you asked for on your application. To a T.”

Scoffing, I shake my head. “He is not.”

“Fancy ass haircut, neat beard, preppy clothes, not tattoos?” Lorcan rolls his eyes. “I’m sure the accounting office he works for loves him.”

I cross my arms over my chest and my elbow skims over his bare abdomen. “He’s a drug dealer.”

Lorcan’s entire body goes still before he asks, “What?”

“He’s Fenrys and Connall’s dealer,” I say, and watch as his drunk brain tries to comprehend what I’m saying. 

Lorcan’s mouth opens and then closes. “Well, shit.”

I scoff, rubbing my temples. “So you’re telling me that you got drunk off your ass and into a hot tub, in nothing but your underwear, with a bunch of nearly nude women because you thought that I wanted Nox instead of you, because of what I put on my application?” The words rush out of me, a whole new anger taking its place. “Even though our time together has been nothing less than amazing?”

He cringes and hesitates. “I—”

“And instead of talking to me about it, you decided to handle it like a damn, territorial brute—”

“You went off with him just to prove a point!” He yells, and I suppose I did, which makes me hesitate now. 

“That’s not the point!” I snap. 

“Yes, it is!” He jabs, and we’re so close that it’s almost comical because I’m looking up at him while he stares down at me, a good foot and a half separating our faces. “You went off with him even though you knew I didn’t like it.”

“But you had no reason not to like it!” I challenge, running a hand through my hair. “Nothing was ever going to happen—”

He shuts me up by grabbing my face and kissing me, ruthlessly. It’s sloppy and it’s brutal and his tongue is coated in whiskey. Yet, I melt into it, every thought vanishing from my head. He bites my bottom lip and I gasp, my fingers digging into his sides as my anger fades into nothingness. 

He’s drunk, but as I said, drunk people tell the truth and this kiss is no exception. If Nox was looking at me earlier like he was starving, his hunger hadn’t even come close in comparison to Lorcan’s right now.

His hands find the back of my thighs, lifting me up and setting me on the bathroom counter behind us. My hands have found a home in his messy, tangled hair and I’ve never been more attracted to long hair than I am right now. The loose strands are tickling my face as he leans down, but they don’t bother me like I would have thought they would. Instead, they heighten every feeling as they brush against my face, my neck, my shoulders.

One of his hands is pressed to the small of my back, pulling me tight against his body. I can feel every hard inch of him as he kisses me. His other hand weaves into my hair and he cups the back of my head as he grinds his hard cock into me.

I fight off a moan, knowing if I let him right now, he’d prove to me exactly why he’s the obvious choice to be my husband. I know he’d bring a whole new meaning hot, angry sex, but he’s drunk.

He’s drunk and I’m still kind of pissed, no matter how turned on I am.

But I don’t stop him just yet.

He doesn’t push me to go any further, even though I’m tempted to yank down his sweats and take him into my hands. I keep my hands in his hair, though, keep brushing my tongue along his as I imagine what sex with him would be like.

I’m getting closer to that point of letting him have me, even with the events of tonight. I don’t love him, not yet, but I care for him and I do want to have a successful marriage. We’ll be sober for that, though. Sober, so he can remember every damn second.

When that kiss breaks, we’re breathing heavily. His forehead is against mine and my fingers are still wrapped in the strands of his hair. I glance down, unable to stop myself, and see just how ready for me he is. He’s not wearing underwear. There’s nothing to help hold down his thick, lengthy cock. I have to close my eyes to keep myself in check. Gods, what he’s going to feel like inside of me… The thought alone has me throbbing between my thighs.

Lorcan kisses me softly one more time before he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Two simple words but they have my chest feeling a million times lighter.

“I was an ass,” he goes on, and even though those words are still slurred, I know he means them. “Again.”

I don’t bother telling him it’s true. He knows well enough. 

“I want to be the man you want,” he confesses, and I wonder if I never say a word just how much he’ll confess. “I want to be the husband you deserve. I want to be everything you want and need.”

I want that, too, more than anything, but this isn’t a conversation we need to have while he’s been drinking. So I don’t say anything.

Instead, I wrap my arms around his waist, letting my head rest against his chest. His arms come around me and I close my eyes as I listen to his heartbeat. As the minutes tick by, the beats slow and it’s not nearly as frantic as it was before.

I don’t know how long we stay like that before we pull apart, Lorcan’s hand coming up to frame my face.

He opens his mouth to say something, but a massive bang from downstairs has him rushing out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and into the hall. I’m right behind him, shocked at the audacity that someone would have stayed after he kicked everyone out.

I’ve made it to the second floor landing where I can see the living room below while Lorcan’s long legs have already brought him downstairs where he’s in the living room, looking at one of his big, pricey speakers that had fallen.

Fenrys, Connall, Gavriel, and Vaughan are all standing near it. One of the twins has a trash bag and the other has at least ten beer bottles in his arms. The two latter are looking at the speaker, scratching their heads. I blink as realization dawns on me. They’re cleaning up. 

Drunk, apparently, judging from their hazy eyes and the fact that they’re knocking shit over. Gavriel is the only one that doesn’t look completely wasted. 

I can hear the exhaustion in Lorcan’s voice, his alcohol-high wearing off, as he asks, “The fuck are you doing? I thought I kicked everyone out.”

Fenrys has some balls as he looks offended. “We didn’t think that included us.”

“We’re trying to clean up,” Gavriel says, and I know why they call him the voice of reason, the mature one. I can tell from his tone and calm demeanor. “After talking with those two—” he gestures to the twins, “—now all of us know that this wasn’t quite the night you were envisioning.”

Fenrys and Connall look like they’re being scolded by a parent. It makes me chuckle.

Five sets of eyes shoot in my direction. Apparently none of them knew I was here.

Gavriel gives me a chagrined smile. “We’ll clean up and be on our way.”

I shake my head as I descend the staircase. “Don’t drive. You’ll stay here tonight. We have plenty of space.”

Lorcan looks surprised by my offer. 

I shrug. “Only dumbasses drive drunk and I hope they’re smarter than that.”

Gavriel could probably drive just fine, but he doesn’t need to deal with the others, especially the twins, while they’re intoxicated. 

They continue to clean the living room, the kitchen, and the back porch while Gavriel and I supervise. Lorcan joins them, picking up used bottles and gods know what else and I have to admit that it’s hilarious.

Rockstars.

Cleaning.

As they clean, I get to know Gavriel. Lorcan told me that his fiance had passed away and every time he mentions her, his eyes light up. He seems kind and genuine, and I couldn’t imagine losing someone that I want to spend the rest of my life with. He didn’t deserve for that to happen to him. He tells me how music and the Cadre got him through it, and are helping him through that loss still.

It makes me have a new appreciation for Lorcan’s band. Yeah, they’re rowdy and live a lifestyle that I don’t agree with, but they’re also a family. 

Speaking of that family, they’re all a mess, with the exception of Vaughan. Vaughan just seems tired, but Fenrys has gotten sick twice now. There’s no telling what had gone into his system tonight. Connall just seems sad now that his high has worn off, and as for my husband…

I watch Lorcan grow more sober - and nauseous - by the second. With each minute that his liquor wears off, his face grows greener.

“Get him upstairs,” Gavriel says, inclining his head in Lorcan’s direction. “We’ll handle the rest and lock up before we go to bed.”

I’m already moving towards Lorcan, very willing to take Gavriel up on that. I need to get him in bed while he still has the capability of doing so. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go.” Gavriel is moving out of the way, and by the look on his face, it’s a toss up whether Lorcan will throw up or not.

Wrapping my arm around his waist, we head back for the stairs, everyone saying their goodnights.

Halfway up the stairs, I look up at Lorcan, finding his eyes already on me. I smirk. “Was getting drunk with your friends still worth it?”

“No,” he murmurs as we enter our room. I take him straight to the bed and help him lay down. “They were annoying and way too handsy.”

I get a towel and lay it on the floor by his head, just in case, before sitting on the edge of the bed. Using my fingers, I brush his hair back off his face. His eyes fall closed and he looks like he could fall asleep any second. I remind him, “You used to like that.”

“Yeah, but now I like you.”

His words are so blunt, I wonder if he even meant to say them aloud. It’s the closest he’s come to saying he actually has feelings for me, but I don’t know if he means it the same way I do.

His eyes stay closed and after a few minutes, his breathing evens out and I know he’s fast asleep. I can still hear the rest of the guys downstairs, so after finishing getting ready for bed, I shut the bedroom door and flip off the light.

At some point, Anni had hopped back onto the bed and is asleep on Lorcan’s pillow. I roll my eyes before climbing into bed myself.

Before I can even finish settling, Lorcan’s arms have wrapped around me, pulling me into his chest.

I like being against his chest. It makes me feel not only comfortable, but safe. It makes me feel cared for. With the steady beating of his heart against my back, I finally relax enough to shut my eyes and start to fall asleep.

As I dream, his words repeat in my mind over and over again.

But now I like you.

But now I like you. 

[haveyoureadthisbook-poll]

ive submitted my book (the fiery angel by valeri brusov) a while back, but never saw it in the spreadsheet for queued books. should i resubmit or do you just have too many submissions to get through?

I checked and found the ask (so tumblr didnt eat it dw!) I just havent gotten to it yet... there are so many submissions dont look at me 🙈

[eclipsecrowned]

so. don't know where the back case is, but it is coming. i have done a few little drafts that will be either posted or queued once i have the ability to cut posts again. and mostly, i am in gb3 brainrot hell. i cannot guarantee anything before monday, and even then it's not for sure that my laptop will be repaired same day, but i do want to get something going with my muses for the setting asap.

like this for a small, 1-3 sentence starter from one of my gb3 muses, including a canon companion, an npc, three pcs, and an au for an extant muse. since i do not have the ability to add new muses of yet on this venerable desktop, i'll include mini bios under the cut. i will get to the starters just as soon as i have the ability to add icons/cut posts again, likely early next week.

gale of w*terdeep, a veritable renaissance man. wizard, poet, epicurean, and utterly doomed. his blighted love for a goddess drove him to desperate acts that put the entire world at risk, a shard of dark magic buried deep in his chest and eternally starving. he has done his best to subdue it, to distance himself from the world, but a recent abduction by interplanar forces has driven him back into the world, seeking to control his condition and help yon heroes save the day -- only to find a lovers scorn and holy orders to let the magic devour him in service of that salvation. his goddess, lover, abuser demands his sacrifice, while his companions demand his survival, and gale is somewhere in the midst of it, broken but not defeated.

bing bong, an imp from the hells that was summoned to perform simple tasks for an unscrupulous merchant. he is so named because he can only articulate the words 'bing bong,' which is incidentally the sound his door makes when he pulls the lever to admit customers. he's certainly a minor demon, but also has a little bow tie and loves cuddles, so how can you hate him. for a brief moment, he was cherished and coddled by sh*dowheart, but his joy was ended in a fiery demise, used as a projectile against the forces of evil. yet hope springs eternal, and bing bong is intent on making his way out of the hells -- for good, if he can help it.

aurelia rosegrove, a daughter of the wilds far from home. half-elf, ranger, outlander, she's never quite found anywhere suitable for her myriad natures. raised by a druid mother in a small grove to the east, the wilds were always home to her, and like a proper lady of the house, she was chasing out vermin from a young age. she made a name for herself among local communities as a monster hunter and peerless tracker, unmatched in skill and determination, til she suddenly disappeared in the night, her camp intact and the fire still burning when found days later. captured by illithid forces, she's seeking a cure and a way home, working with others for perhaps the first time in her life. not the most friendly or forthcoming figure, she nonetheless does her best by those around her -- especially the sort of gruff warrior women that have always weakened her iron will.

hel rautametsänen, the problem child of k*lemvor. tiefling, grave cleric, unclear origins, except that she has wandered the whole of faerun as a comforting horror. disfigured from birth, and sickly for as long, she was denied by her goliath mother's clan and raised on the road by her scoundrel father, til he was able to find sanctuary with a noble sworn brother just outside the gate. it was in this court hel first learned to perform, and there her fate was sealed. she has spent the twilight of her youth playing healer to various companies, and now grown acts as a wandering cleric playing priestess, gravedigger, funeral director, and grief counselor as needed. she was snatched from a fated meeting, a chance to put her past to rest, and left with a far more dire prognosis via tadpole. she tries to be a steadfast and comforting figure to the party, but is not above shenanigans or turning a blind eye. has a deep vein of violence hidden under her patient guile that is slow to blossom but effective when summoned.

sybelle riselin, the alleged baby of the bunch. human, wizard, sage origins, she hails from athk*tla and a great archive therein. pretty much her entire life has been spent in seclusion among the records and her fellow acolytes, but she was given a simple task that drove her from her comfort zone. as is common in these stories, the task proved anything but simple. snatched up by mindflayers, she has far greater worries now than the transportation of tomes. yet she has found good company, and seeks to do right by them, to be an asset despite her anxieties and lack of experience. the whole situation has encouraged her to gain more life experience, to live while she still can, to be more than a young woman collecting dust in a musty back room. mostly, though, she's delighted to be traveling with 'real' heroes and able to commit their daring deeds today to word that will be read many generations hence.

'valas' d*vir, the wheel of fortune made flesh. half-drow, sorcerer, a noble-turned-outlander, he's been many things over his century of life, but he can never deny what he is at heart. the son of a great hero and his infamous lady wife, valas' charmed early life ended with the absence of his mother and the grief of his father. in the decades since losing his father, he has had no cause but to further his study of the world, and no lasting tether to others -- until his fathers divine relatives resurfaced. now he is a man hunted, an escape artist trying to put distance between himself and the bhaalspawn that would see shared blood spilt. he has escaped one nightmare temporarily only to fall into another more fully, imprisoned on a nautiloid and infected. he's utterly insufferable as a party member, but capable of great power and insight, and even of change if sufficiently persuaded towards heroic or villainy alike.

[holonetnews]

Under Imperial Eyes

@worldwearyjedi

The Twelve City Loop tram station bustled with activity. The hum of conversations and the distant warble of passing speeders punctuated the air. Alighting from her tram with a graceful ease honed through a lifetime of living on Coruscant, Deena Tharen set off down the platform, the clack of her heels echoing down the long passage. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the crowd for any signs of trouble.

The Imperial Sector Holonet was awash with reports that at a Jedi had been caught boarding a tram from this very station bound for Sah’c Town. From what she had managed to glean, it had become apparent that the Jedi hadn’t made it very far. Nevertheless, the Empire had introduced sweeping new security measures virtually overnight. Imperial Officers flanked by stormtroopers stood resolute at the end of the platform, their bright white armour gleaming even brighter as sunlight settled on it through the skylights.

Deena was thankful she was travelling light. There was hardly any point carrying a bag anymore. Long gone were the days where she would need access to a camdroid or holorecorder at a moment’s notice. She strolled past the orderly line of sentients queuing to have their personal effects examined before being allowed admission into the Federal District, the beating heart of the Galactic Empire.

"Identification, please," one of the officers’ requested, his voice stern and unwavering, his gloved hand motioning for her to halt.

Deena offered a polite smile, reaching into her jacket pocket to retrieve her identification card. As she handed it over, her eyes swept across the checkpoint staff, noticing a subtle tension in their expressions. Whispers passed between the officers, their gazes darting nervously, as if anticipating something imminent.

"Here you go, Officer. Just returning from a business trip. Quite a bustling day in the city, isn't it?"

The officer glanced at her with a hint of suspicion, his gaze flicking between her and the identification card. "Yes, it is," he replied curtly, his tone lacking any warmth.

Deena maintained her friendly facade, though inwardly she felt the weight of the tension in the air. The officer's eyes narrowed slightly, and his grip tightened on her identification card. One of the stormtroopers coughed, the sound awkwardly amplified by their vocoder. The officer grimaced slightly. "Everything seems to be in order, Miss Tharen," he finally remarked, a hint of suspicion still lingering in his tone.

He returned her identification card, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary. Deena nodded in acknowledgment, her smile remaining polite but inscrutable. "Well, you're certainly doing a commendable job, Officer. Keeping us all safe."

One of the stormtroopers behind her thumbed their commlink, their voice buzzing with static. “Say again? The Jedi? That’s a negative, command. She hasn’t passed through yet.”

“Move along.” The Imperial Officer ordered. “Immediately.”

Deena's heart pounded in her chest, and she nodded a silent acknowledgement, moving with a renewed haste as she vacated the platform, keenly aware of the eyes on her back. A helplessness fell over her, the same helplessness that had consumed her that fiery night all those years ago, reduced to a watcher as the flames ran up and consumed the spires of the temple.

As she broke out onto the main concourse, her eyes were drawn to a single figure in the sea of faces, a figure that stirred up more memories long buried. Suddenly, the reality of the situation dawned on her. Who it was the stormtroopers had been waiting for. Rush Darkburst, stood near the departures holoboard, scanning the timetables in a manner seemingly oblivious to the imminent danger that awaited.

Acting on instinct, Deena surged forward, her hand shooting out and grasping Rush's arm in a firm, unyielding grip. Rush’s eyes widened in surprise and recognition, a flicker of the past resurrected in their gaze, but Deena's steely resolve brooked no resistance. "We don't have time for questions or hesitation," she hissed, her voice cold and commanding. "You will walk with me, and you will do exactly as I say. Is that clear?"

"Move," Deena's voice sliced through the air, sharp and commanding. There was no room for negotiation, no time for sentimentality. She propelled Rush forward, her touch transmitting a subtle warning, a promise of the consequences that awaited if they strayed from her guidance. Their footfalls melded into the rhythmic flow of the crowd, their progress seemingly unnoticed amidst the swirl of daily life. It was a delicate dance, a ballet of evasion. As they neared the station exit, Deena's grip tightened, her instincts honed by years of navigating the treacherous undercurrents of the galaxy. She deftly guided Rush through the throngs, manoeuvring with a precision that belied the urgency of their situation.

The pair of stormtroopers, their armor gleaming with an oppressive authority, scanned the passing faces with an unwavering vigilance. Likewise, Deena's gaze never wavered; her focus fixed on the troopers looming presence. She could feel the weight of their surveillance, the cold gaze of the Empire bearing down upon them. Just as they were on the precipice of exposure, Deena made a decision. With a swift motion, she yanked Rush into a concealed alcove, their bodies pressed against the shadows. Her grip remained unyielding; her eyes locked on the approaching stormtroopers.

The troopers passed by, their attention consumed by the bustling crowd, oblivious to the pair concealed mere meters away. It was a moment of reprieve, a breath stolen in the face of imminent danger. In the shelter of the alcove, Deena released her grip on Rush's arm, her eyes meeting theirs in a silent exchange fraught with a cacophony of emotions. It was a reunion laced with a bitter mix of history and uncertainty.

"You absolute fool," she spat, her eyes flashing with a mixture of disappointment and rage. "What were you thinking, setting foot on Coruscant? Do you have a death wish?"

[mariomusicdaily]

If it counts, could I request Fiery Cavern from Wario Land 4?

Queued!

[writerfae]

So, so—the moodboard was really amazing (I queued it, so it should reblog soon) but am I allowed to ask for another oc? Because it was so pretty, and I don’t want to forget (goldfish memory), but like you can totally ignore this ask if you want (seriously no pressure)

But if another moodboard is an option 👉🏼👈🏼 I have more ocs from the same WIP.

Can I do Juni and Emiko? They are friends who are fake dating (fake dating, but since aroace fr only friends). Juni and Emiko are both out for revenge for losing their childhoods to the villain, Cherine.

As for character facts/symbolism. Juni really likes to read too, knowledge is power sort of mentality. He is full of secrets that he keeps. These secrets keep him safe from being vulnerable, but also in his mind protect others. He views himself as a traitor, because as a child he helped the villain against his own. Junichiro is also disabled, so he uses either a wheelchair or a crutch. Some things I associate with Juni are books, his mobility aids, the word secret, chocolates (it’s his fave food), and water. He’s sort of like a river that flows where it’s needed. A stream that can turn into a roaring river. Someone who is soft and strong. You could say he’s like a dam waiting to be released.

Emiko was also forced to work with the villain! Fun facts, they are half-sisters. Emiko befriends Juni, as they make plans to escape and help the family they’re supposed to betray. Emiko has a fiery personality that isn’t afraid to be harsh to get what she wants. Symbolism I associate with her is uncontrolled fire, daggers, shattered mirrors/glass, and white roses or anything else that symbolizes death.

Basically, both characters are trying to work to right the wrongs of the villain, Cherine. They are also each other’s secret keepers—as they guard their past to one another’s family members. If Juni is carefully laying out the oil in the field, then Emiko is lighting the match. A lot of their arc revolves around secrets, rebellion, cleansing, and forgiveness (as in forgiving themselves).

That was a bit of a ramble, but thank you again! (You are so cool and amazing!)

I’m glad you liked the moodboard I made for you! I ran out of requests by now so I had time for another one for you, so here’s a Juni and Emiko’s moodboard :)

Here we have Juni and Emiko, @my-cursed-prince's OCs

[obriengf]

I posted 2,216 times in 2022

281 posts created (13%)

1,935 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@dobrienwrites yea ik right

@onlydylanobrien

@dylan-rhodesobrien

@slutobrien

@dylan-obrien-gifs

I tagged 1,972 of my posts in 2022

#dob - 1,283 posts

#queued. - 648 posts

#c: stiles stilinski - 339 posts

#fic rec - 206 posts

#c: thomas - 117 posts

#rec: stiles stilinski - 96 posts

#dylan o'brien - 87 posts

#dylan o'brien x reader - 77 posts

#c: mitch rapp - 63 posts

#rec: dylan o'brien - 54 posts

Longest Tag: 128 characters

#it just grabbed at my heart and crunched it up like a ball of paper before being thrown into the trash can of suffering and pain

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

can we have ‘ do you touch urself think my of me’ w dylan for ur 500 sleepover thing’ thxx

Warnings: 18+, mentions of sexual language, sexual activity, female masturbation

"DO YOU TOUCH YOURSELF WHEN YOU THINK OF ME?"

You shuddered; large hands ghosting over your sides, radiating dizzying warmth through the terrycloth of your towel. You could feel his movements so clearly despite the lack of physical touch, and it was beginning to make your mind sway with increments of a lustful haze. It was absentminded as your head gently fell back, lulling to the side as his warm breath fanned down your neck, each small exhale feeling like a fiery kiss against your sensitive skin. The man knew exactly what he was doing - the ability to arouse you already easy enough, but executing it without the usage of his masterful hands and lips only added to his adept skillset. You offered a gentle nod of your head, a response that you could only muster from the small amount of sanity he was letting you have. Dylan's lips curled into a generous smile as they dragged under your ear, a tender peck placed over the still wet skin from your shower.

He carefully pulled the abundance of your wet locks over your other shoulder so that his access to your neck became facile, lips now able to properly envelop your skin and leave behind an array of moan-inducing kisses. The man couldn't help but press himself against you, one hand now gripping your waist tightly as the other sat just above your thigh. Even though your eyes were closed, you were sure that you could sense the inevitable swelling of the veins in his arms, an indication that he was trying to hold himself back - that whatever self-control he harnessed was holding on by a whimsy thread before he would eventually have you backed up against the basin and screaming out every goddamn syllable of his name.

"Dyl..." You moaned softly, and if he wasn't focusing so hard on enhancing the purple bruise near your clavicle, he would have missed your near-silent plea. By now, your arm had been thrown behind you to allow your fingers to thread through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp as your other hand entangled with the one guarding your waist. You could feel the upturn of his nose nuzzle into the curve of your neck as Dylan reveled in the soothing attention you were feeding him. He hummed lightly against your skin, his lips unable to stop the small litter of pecks that now trailed across your shoulder as he gently pulled down the material shielding your body. You were immediately covered in goosebumps; the cool air meeting your hot and flushed skin spiking the small bumps and provoking a display of shivers down your spine.

"Does the thought of my fingers make you feel good?" He wondered aloud, voice raspy as it was whispered against the shell of your ear. You could only manage another nod as your teeth sunk deeply into your bottom lip, tugging at the reminiscence your body felt as you remembered how good his hands treated you. It was now more obvious that your thighs had been rubbing together from the arousal he easily prompted - ankles crossed over and a small patch of red skin that was caused by evident friction near your heated core. Just the thought alone of the man behind you harassing your moistened sex was driving you absolutely insane.

Dylan untangled your hands before setting his lightly over yours, his movements slow as he dragged your touch down the front of your body. You opened your eyes, lashes fluttering against your cheek before you focused on your boyfriend in the reflection before you. He was mesmerised - eyes detailing the way you were reacting to his touch and intimate maneuvers - until his gaze finally fell on yours, causing a smirk encased in mischief to curl at his lips, complementing the heavy wink that fell from his right eye. He maintained eye contact as his pointer finger directed yours to your clit, the nub incredibly sensitive as he controlled your caress in a circular motion. He was guiding you to pleasure yourself as your chest instantly swelled with a deep intake of air, mouth falling ajar and eyes slowly becoming hooded.

You eventually sighed out in contentment; leaning back against Dylan when your legs began to grow unstable, his spare arm reaching across your chest. He grasped one of your fleshy mounds as he began to squeeze, his thumb and forefinger pinching an exposed peak to draw out your building moan. Dylan smiled as he watched your face contort with pleasure before murmuring in your ear, "Whatever you do, don't stop." His voice fractured with his own arousal, despite wanting to push it aside to focus primarily on you. He let you continue rubbing an array of shapes against your clit, his second and third finger now sliding into his mouth as he coated them with oral lubricant. You watched him intently, and you knew what was coming.

His lips brushed against your neck, "Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see how I make you feel when you cum on my fingers."

It was a growl that entered your ear, the beautiful caramel tone of Dylan's eyes now clouded with a dark chocolate hue, fervor for your pleasure now etching across his features quickly. He managed to suction his lips back to your neck, eyes still boring into the mirror. You couldn't look away from him, you didn't want to, which is why it took you by surprise when he pushed both fingers deep inside of you. An involuntary gasp squeaked past your open mouth, soon followed by a throaty moan that echoed loudly off the tiled walls. His pace was relentless as his fingers thrust quickly, the curl of their tips brushing over your rigid roofing and eliciting a whine of desperation. You didn't dare slow down your harassment on your clit, even pressing down harder when Dylan's nails scraped over a sensitive part of your core.

It was a quick set decision as he reached up to grasp your chin, turning it toward his awaiting lips before he pressed them harshly against yours. He didn't start to take your bottom lip between his own pair until he felt you relax slightly into him, an indication that you were content with the kiss. He sucked, teeth dragging your lip away as he pulled back, only to immediately dive back in and soothe his tongue along the graze. You were receiving amounts of pleasure all through your body, head now spinning with all sorts of romantic sentiments and lustful sensations. You took the opportunity to drag your tongue over his, pulling your boyfriend into you even more by the union shared between your mouths.

It was his turn to groan, only to be swallowed by you as you took leadership in the kiss. Dylan, though, still had reign over your upcoming orgasm as he thrust faster, angle changing until he found the special spot that made you scream between his lips. The room echoed with your joint sounds of satisfaction, complementary to the slick wet noises of his fingers drenched in your arousal as you neared your orgasmic high. You explored his mouth with the desperate muscle, recognising every nook and crevice as if it were the back of your hand. You provoked grunts from Dylan as he sucked the air from your lungs, needing to survive on your taste and feeling, nose dragging across your face as he fought the metaphorical battle of tongues.

It didn't take long for you to pull back, your voice crying toward him with furrowed brows and an incredibly heaving chest, "I'm gonna cum..." You breathed, whinging tangled with your tone as you found his spare hand. It was second nature as you grasped him, fingers sliding between his own, wanting to hold your boyfriend for support from what you anticipated as a body shaking high. He sped up even further, the contraction of your walls around him making his groin twitch and harden. You could feel it as he spontaneously pushed against your backside, the throbbing of his member settling into your lower back. Knowing that this was turning him on threw you over the edge, completely.

Eyes rolled back as you convulsed; the heated ache in your pelvis spreading through your veins as your body erupted in euphoric fire. A loud cry escaped you, "Fuck... fuck, Dyl-Dylan... baby... shit..." Your words were incoherent, unable to form proper sentences as you spoke absentmindedly in time with the stars exploding over your eyes. You could, however, see the familiar orbs of your partner as you maintained eye contact, Dylan's brows furrowing as he bit his lip with enough force to draw blood. His pace began to slow, only stopping when your frame collapsed against his chest. He pulled the tired digits to his mouth, sucking away the remnants of your juices and moaning at the taste he often dreamed about.

"That was so hot." He breathed out, your hearts thumping in unison as the only sounds now surrounding you both were the jagged breaths you shared.

You agreed as you reached up to him, your arm still shaky as you cupped Dylan's face and rubbed your thumb gently over his flushed cheeks. "You, are, incredible." You huffed, smiling sincerely despite the tiredness that now blanketed your face. He could tell by the lidded eyes you flashed him that the pleasure you felt took a lot out of you, prompting your boyfriend to lean in and tenderly kiss your swollen lips. His soft actions made your shoulders slump in serenity as you remained settled against him, only to be held flush further against his chest as his arm protectively sat at the base of your ribs. You managed a chuckle, "Guess I'll have to have another shower to clean this mess up." You gestured to the dripping juices falling down your inner thighs.

Dylan pulled back, at least two steps away from you as you braced yourself against the counter. He smiled gingerly as he removed his shirt, thumbs tucking into the waistband of his sweats and boxer briefs, "Good, I'll join you."

327 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

#4

“You're joking, right? That asshole did NOT ask you out.” with stiles !!!

Warnings : swearing, doesn't follow canon after s2, i thought this was super angsty but it's not HAHA

Notes : THIS IS LONGISH okay

"YOU'RE JOKING, RIGHT? THAT ASSHOLE DID NOT ASK YOU OUT."

A loud tone of disbelief rung in your ears, the perpetrator only inches off your heels as he followed you through the crowding hallways of Beacon Hills High. His archetypal outburst was far from unexpected, yourself knowing that it'd slip out sooner or later, but what did take you aback was your lack of introduction to the topic - Stiles was the one that approached you, and his words were immediately shot through his lips in full throttle. He didn't take it lightly when you responded with an eye roll, your locker slamming shut before you turned away from the boy to make your way to the courtyard. That's how found yourself dodging strange looks from other students as Stiles continued to flail his arms in utter incredulity, ramblings in the form of incoherent sounds and fractured sentencing now a representation of his cynicism.

"It was one date, Stiles." You replied, boredom of his overbearing protectiveness seeping from your words. With one arm clutching your History textbook tightly to your chest, the other reached out to push the large doors standing in your way, warm rays of sun quick to dance across your skin. You sighed lightly through your nose as a brief moment of contentedness made your shoulders slump. The fresh air was already doing you good, but the rambling from your friend only brought you back to slight suffocation. You turned to face him as feet carried you to a nearby table, eyes glaring immediately at Stiles until his mouth slammed shut. You clicked your tongue as you pondered, "How did you find out anyway? I only told Lydia, and it was only this past Saturday."

Stiles pursed his lips, any sort of eye contact now widely forgotten as he found interest in everything but your stare. His lanky frame began to slide onto the bench across from you, his usual hyper-activeness betraying him as his voice hummed loudly in his throat and leg bouncing distractingly under the table. Stiles looked down to his entangled fingers before a nervous chuckle escaped him, "A birdie told me. A.. super-hearing, hairy, bird of the night.. told me."

You rolled your eyes again, head shaking, voice firm "McCall."

"Look, it doesn't matter who blabbed, alright? What matters is that he asked you out again and you said maybe!" Stiles' voice rose, arms in their typical position as they're held out dramatically by his side, gestures soon to become easily trademarked by Stiles Stilinski. You peered up through your eyelashes, the page of which your textbook was open now bookmarked by your index finger. Your facial features contorted skeptically, eyes squinted, not understanding what point your friend was desperate to make.

Your shoulders shrugged as if it weren't a big deal, and Stiles groaned in irritation, "This is Isaac Freakin' Lahey, Y/N. The guy screams 'bad vibes'!"

"I don't know, he seemed incredibly genuine to me." You exacted, unbothered as you returned focus to your studying. Confidence began to settle your rattled mind when Stiles' voice shrunk into small speechless squeaks. He expected you to agree with him but instead came up dumbfounded as you opposed his delusions of being in the right.

It shocked you significantly when his voice was raised by another two octaves, his tone breaking and strangled as they ran quickly from his lips, "G-Genuine? Genuine, Y/N?! The dude was evil not even three months ago!"

"I think evil is a bit of an overstatement." You quirked a brow, stoic when eye contact with Stiles' widened and amber hues was regained.

"He tried to kill us!"

You began to wonder how many times you could roll back your eyes in a thirty-minute timeframe, sure that by now you'd be close to breaking a world record. The motion was paired with a clicking tongue, "Now, I know that's a definite overstatement."

What you admired about Stiles was also what made him formidable at times. He was continually overrun by his persistence - a trait that derailed him from giving up on people and tough situations, however, also further fuelled his over-energetic notions to the point where the boy became utterly irritant. Paired with his headstrong protectiveness, Stiles was immensely possessive over the ones he cared for most and that made him a constant force to be reckoned with.

Stiles glowered, exasperation clinging to the downward tug of his lips and the furrowing of his brow before his head shook slightly. Large hands dragged down his face at a slow pace as he gritted his teeth, evident that he was trying to not let his inner frustration get the better of him to the point where he'd likely explode with unfiltered wording. You were trying to ignore your friend's 'over dramatics' as eyes skimmed back over your current chapter, the small window of focus now interrupted once again by a heavy sigh; the type that sounded oddly like defeat.

"You're being very difficult right now, you know that? I'm just..." He trailed, hands curling into fists. He appeared ambivalent as his jaw rolled, lips pursing with every attempt to convey his thoughts and feelings in a way that best suited him. Your book sounded gently as you closed it, unable to stop the tilting of your head when you gazed over Stiles' inner conflict with himself. Your shoulders jumped as his fists suddenly banged against the tabletop, Stiles quick to release another heavy sigh, "I'm trying to help you. I don't trust the guy and you deserve better than him! You... you just deserve better."

"Who then, Stiles? Who is better?" By now you were leaning forward on your crossed arms, your voice close to breaking with the frustration you harnessed from your friend's behavior. A small part of you wished that he would finally end the charade and nominate himself. It wasn't a secret that you saw the sun and moon when you thought of the hyperactive boy sitting across from you, hell, you were seventy-eight percent sure he felt the same. Stiles wasn't one to act so readily upon his emotions; he cowered away, pushed them aside, hardly recognized anything remotely reciprocal. But it was simple, you didn't want to act on a stupid crush if you weren't completely sure that he didn't feel the same way.

You looked to him with a questioning eyebrow raise, and he returned it with wide eyes and an agape mouth. Stiles was taken aback by your retort and slowly, his cheeks filled with a heavy dusting of deep rose that pinched at the tip of his upturned nose. He gulped hard, stuttered sounds uncontrollably pushing past his lips until he displayed another unexpected burst of his loud voice, "A-a-anyone! Anyone is literally better."

You didn't think it was possible, but you found another opportunity to roll your eyes once more, tiredly huffing out your words as you awaited on some type of hopefulness, "Give me an example, Stiles."

"Fine... Scott! Scott is better. Scott is like, literally, a hundred-fucking-times better."

His answer was beyond unanticipated. You slowly lent back as you retracted your arms from the table, your own pair of widened eyes expressing how shocked you were to receive a riposte that definitely wasn't thought through long enough. You clicked your tongue as your eyes lowered into a squint of dubiety, brows following as you didn't dare look away from the boy, who himself, was surprised by what he blurted out in the heat of the moment. "So, let me get this straight. You want me to date... Scott? He's the one you think I should be with?"

"I mean, yeah, it's a huge... no, enormous upgrade from scarfy boy." Stiles was simply playing along now, managing a facade that showed his calmness as he leaned back with arms crossed nonchalantly over his chest. His heart, alas, thumped roughly in his chest as he felt it rattle his cage. Nausea seeped into the base of his throat and it took everything to swallow it back down without pulling a face of complete disgust. He was teetering on the ledge of admitting his jealousy and confessing his feelings for you, only to fall down the rabbit hole of concealing away the emotions that quite literally took control of both his mind and heart on a daily basis. He was hurting and he brought it upon himself.

You felt your shoulders slump as his persona was altered so swiftly, doubt about misreading social cues and body language now invading your memories. You bit your bottom lip, harshly, "And there's no one else? At all?" Your voice broke as you squeaked toward him, suddenly feeling so small.

"Why would there be anyone else?"

Lashes danced across your skin as your eyelids closed, a gulp of subdued sadness struggling to pass through your throat. You were familiar with the pain that situated itself with heartbreak, but this felt different - it was raw, and you couldn't understand why. It was as if he had reached through your chest and pumped at your heart himself until the pressure was too much, and the thumping muscle gave out. It was as if the guilt of one simple date with the resident sweetheart Isaac Lahey was beginning to eat at your soul, begging the question of if one small date was too much when you saw hope with the boy next door instead. It was as if those small flirty exchanges with Stiles were one-sided, those fiery touches that left burns against your skin were misappropriated, and that the history you shared together was simply just that... history. You wondered if he was just toying you along for the fun of it all.

"You know what-" You finally said, unaware that Stiles could see how you were so affected by his inability to express himself to his full potential. He, himself, was saddened by the turn that took your usual playful banter to the uncomfortable anguish that was held so tensely in the air between you. When your eyes opened, you took a deep breath, unable to look at the amber eyes that usually made you swoon. Your textbook was gathered in your arms and your bag slung over your shoulder, "This is unbelievable. I don't have time right now for games, Stiles."

He didn't expect you to leave as his eyes followed every movement you made, his body beginning to jitter from surges of anxiety. He threw his hands out towards you as his lengthy arms nearly crossed the entire width of your table, striving to keep the miniscule shaking of his fingers at bay as he called out to you, "Games? What, no, there's no games. What games? No no no... stay, okay, just stay..."

You couldn't find the need to reply, instead, shaking your head and collecting the last of your belongings before moving speedily across the courtyard. Stiles, in turn, was frozen with a clenched jaw and allowed every nervous cell in his body to go unmanaged as he practically fell from the bench and stumbled his way over with quickened feet to block your path. He was at a fastened jog by the time he caught up to your hasty speed, his chest heaving timidly, body hunched as he bent down briefly with hands splayed over his knees. He was short of breath, sure that he would collapse from a heart attack if you decided to move any further.

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345 notes - Posted February 27, 2022

#3

" There's no way i can cover these marks " with Mitch?

SEND ME A PROMPT FOR MY 500 SLEEPOVER!

Warning: mentions of sexual activity, swearing galore

"THERE'S NO WAY I CAN COVER THESE MARKS."

You shamelessly bit down on your bottom lip, eyes trained on the sinewy form at the foot of your bed as his muscles flexed under even the smallest of movements. You could see through the minimal space of which he didn't cover the mirror, that his eyes were squinted in concentration and brows furrowed as he played inspector. A soft giggle fell from your lips as he was referring to the trail of purple splotches adorning his neck, littering over his collarbone and eventually down to his chest. They weren't hard to miss - the colour was vibrant and definitely semi-permanent for a while.

"You didn't seem to be complaining when you had your dick in me." A purr settled in your throat, Mitch peering behind him through the reflective surface just as you rolled slightly over the crisp white sheets. His whiskey hues followed the thin material only just barely covering your torso and thighs, knowing exactly what he'd find if it happened to slip from your naked body. The image made him moan before he swallowed hard, his head slightly shaking as he tried to rid the beautiful picture you'd paint him every time you both were intimate. He had to leave for work, he couldn't be late again - Irene threatening to have his head on a stick if he dared show up outside of their agreed-upon time.

You could see his struggle, prompting you to laugh quietly under your breath before pushing yourself up into a more seated position, hands quick to grasp the sheet and drag it up to cover your exposed front. "I could put some makeup on it? Works wonders for me." Which it often did - your body usually the one marked and decorated with Mitch's insignia. You believed that he enjoyed it more than you, which wouldn't be an understatement if he could only see the look of pride he sported when he admired his pleasureful work. That, and the symphony of moans that he conducted from you with just his mouth.

Mitch instantly scowled, his brows furrowing, "You're not touching me with that shit. It looks fantastic on you, let's leave it that way."

His answer prompted a pout to playfully sit on your lips, causing the man in front of you to roll his eyes. You knew how to get him going. "Don't look at me like that, not with those dumb puppy dog-eyes..." The man sighed, a brief head shake and disbelieving smirk gracing his facial features. He chuckled, knees already breaching the edge of your bed, "Look what you're making me do, baby, now I have to come over there and kiss that frown away, and you're the one that's getting blamed when Irene loses her fucking head."

Mitch moved quickly; his large hands already capturing your waist as he held you through the sheet, lips immediately encasing your own. You fell backward with a gentle thump as Mitch's body completely covered your smaller frame, your arms snaking around his neck to pull him closer to you. His tongue swept along your bottom lip, a dance of its own, until you eventually opened for him. It was as if he was trying to breathe in all that you were - an attempt to graciously accept the love that you so willingly provided him. The intoxication he felt when he was drawn in by your tender touch and sweet taste would always drive him to utter oblivion, a drunken daze that required no alcohol. He knew that the moment he crossed that bed to join your lips again, that it'd take him a hell of a lot to pull him back out.

It was you who pulled back first, needing a moment to catch your breath as your fingers tangled in the slightly long locks of your boyfriend. Mitch, however, didn't stop. He didn't want to. His mouth dragging along your jawline and down your neck, suctioning around particular pressure points that he knew made your legs shake. A throaty groan escaped you and the man couldn't help the smirk that pressed predominately against your skin. Your voice was strangled, a soft choke escaping with your words, "Is this your way of getting pay back? By making us hickey twins?" You sounded dubious, but the nod and muffled sound of agreement he breathed against your neck solidified your beliefs. "You're enjoying this way too much."

The euphoric feeling that vibed through your bedroom was halted when Mitch's phone began to buzz, the vibrations creating a loud and intrusive pattern against the nightstand. He groaned, shoulders slumping before throwing his arm out to the side to bring the device to his ear.

"I'm busy."

He grunted before tossing it to the side, screen now laying flat on the mattress. His hand returned to your body in order to pull the sheet down, his tongue not shy as it followed the material, trailing between your breasts... until the phone rang, again.

"Occupied."

He spoke sternly into the receiver once he picked it up again, the phone thrown across the bed for the second time this morning. You were finding amusement in the situation, wanting to file a small laugh but the second his teeth pulled at one of your exposed nipples, your body returned to its state of anticipation and lust. Your head lulled back as a hand threaded through his hair, softly tugging along with the moans gathering in your throat. The sensations you felt were mesmerizing, until you suddenly jumped, the generic ring tone calling through once more.

Mitch growled, reaching for the device now somehow behind him, "Wrong fucking number."

You stifled a chuckle, "Go. Stan's just gonna keep calling. He'll probably come kick the damn door down and drag you out by your ear if you hang up on him again."

The man deflated, not wanting to admit the accuracy of your statement, especially knowing how Stan likes to deal with things in the unconventional kind of way. He looked into your eyes, their brightness making him smile, "If I have to."

---------

"What the fuck is that?" The older man grumbled, eyes trained on Mitch as he slid into the passenger side of Stan's beaten-up truck. He started mostly at the litter of bruises rising above the neckline of Mitch's black t-shirt, before focusing back on a pair of mischievous amber eyes.

"They're hickeys, Stan. You actually need somebody interested in fucking you to be able to get some of your own." Mitch retorted, his usual level of attitude still managing to push at Stan's buttons, regardless of how used he is to it by now. Mitch smirked, "Y/N's a biter." He declared, voice smug and proud before showing off a wink.

Stan looked utterly disgusted, "Yeah, you don't fucking say."

460 notes - Posted January 12, 2022

#2

Where Stiles Lives Out His Dream.... || Headcanon

Pairing : Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings : just cuteness, maybe like one swear word?

Notes : had this idea for a while, NWH definitely boosted it though!

it started in kindergarten

a five-year-old stiles wearing the same spiderman shirt every day for the first week

surprisingly, claudia wasn't bothered washing it each night

especially when he got it covered in paint and food and.. god knows what actually caused the stain on the left hand sleeve..

one would think that he had that darn action figure superglued to his hand

he refused to let it go, just like that shirt

his obsession never faltered, though

only growing more the older he got

and when he finally watched the movies.. his life changed

stiles was nine-years-old when his dad let him watch the first two tobey maguire movies

he was enthralled by watching spiderman swing around on his webs and fight the bad guys

his large honey eyes were glued to the screen and widened in wonder

and when peter parker finally got the girl, he felt a warmth settle in his chest

a strange warmth that he couldn't describe, not until he was old enough to properly understand

noah stilinski was looking over case files when he felt his son tug at his shirt

stiles only grinned, "dad can i have a mj?"

and noah only shook his head

he smiled back though, admiration etched over his worry lines

"not yet, son"

"dad... is mom your mj?"

and noah only laughed, eyes flickering to a sickly looking woman grinning at her boys' interaction

"she definitely is"

it was freshman year and stiles had turned fifteen-years-old

he wore a large grin to complement his red t-shirt and dark flannel

a large black spider symbol gracing his chest

by now his ADD has grown and he wasn't very good at focusing

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779 notes - Posted January 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

can i request “ actually, i think we have to go again. you know, just to be sure… “ with stiles please ? <3

Warnings: 18+, sexual activity, swearing

"ACTUALLY, I THINK WE HAVE TO GO AGAIN. YOU KNOW, JUST TO BE SURE..."

It was hard to resist the chuckle that fell from your lips, your heart still reverberating severely against the caging of your chest from the intimate union you and your boyfriend have only just shared. He was still laying over half your body - collapsed from the effort he poured into your first time together. Stiles was placed on his stomach, head slightly turned on his pillow to face you as his eyes remained closed in absolute bliss. You were able to tuck your chin over his shoulder before pressing soft, gentle kisses against his sweated skin. You could feel the pads of his fingertips lightly brushing over your exposed sides and it forced a pleasant shivering sensation to rush up your spine. He had electrified you; made your soul and mind and every single inch of your body feel utterly alive, and it was so exhilarating.

"To be sure of what?" You started, hands dragging up and down his back in inconsistent patterns as you held him close to your frame, "That we aren't virgins anymore? 'Cause, seriously, Stiles... we are beyond being fucking virgins, especially after what just happened." A ghosted feeling briefly sparked in your lower abdomen as a familiar and enticing pull of a heated rubber band built with anticipation; you could feel the body memory of your orgasm as you continued to draw a deep breath, your teeth sinking deep into your bottom lip as you mentally reprised the euphoria Stiles had put you through only ten minutes ago. It was your first experience of the metaphorical fireworks you see in those romantic movies, a conversation often spoken between your friends as you and the Stilinski boy stood back in awkward outcasted silence. Not that you planned on having sex for the hell of it, no, it all started with a loving stare that was held for too long and a kiss that made you forget that oxygen even existed.

You knew it was time when you could hardly hear his choked-up voice as he whispered that he loved you; that you brought light to his continuously dark days, that you made him forget about the pain that danger that your lives had been thrown into. He spoke with the utmost sincerity until tears gathered in his eyes, the honey tone enhancing as his heart grew larger. Stiles had lost the woman that meant more than the world to him, but you filled that gap, you helped remind him that loving doesn't mean losing - it means holding on forever, and never letting go.

By the time you realised you were daydreaming with a fresh coat of rosy cheeks and a smile of adoration, Stiles was reaching up to push stray hairs away from your face - the warm brown swirls of his eyes, the ones that were burnt in the back of your mind and seen as a regular occurrence in the happiest of dreams, were gazing into your own. He was smiling lazily and unable to keep his hands off of you. You were like porcelain to him, a delicate cut ceramic that needed to be treated with the most tender of touches, a beautiful artwork that deserved to be admired for as long as you stood, and more. It was an obsession that he couldn't shake, and one that you knew you most certainly couldn't lose even if you tried.

"Ya know, can't be too sure these days," He crooned after your brief silence, his mouth finally caught up with his mind, "Gotta make sure the job is done right and to perfection... every single damn time." By now, Stiles was hovering completely over your naked frame, eyes shameless as they scoured your body and brought immense arousal through the coursing of his veins. You could feel his length pulsate and harden against your thigh, the libido of the Stilinski boy already desperate to make love to you once more. The thought alone made you rub your thighs together, a familiar slickness moistening your sex. You placed your hands on Stiles' chest as you trailed them down his pecs, the muscles in his stomach tensing we you passed over his stomach before nails scraped through the darkening happy trail. Stiles shuddered immediately.

"Can we try something a little different?" Your voice was barely audible, a nervous squeak pushing through your lips like drops of anxiety joining the butterflies in your stomach. You looked up in time to see Stiles gulp, his head nodding in robotic action as his gaze widened. You bit your lip again as your hands now slid under his arms to grasp his shoulders from behind, Stiles' large hands clasping over your waist. "I want to be on top this time."

His groan was loud - a deep and strangled growl that voiced from his chest and echoed off the walls around you. His head dropped to your shoulder and you sensed that this was something he'd been thinking about for a long time, fantasized, even. Your thoughts were affirmed when his dick twitched against you, absentminded jerks against your skin as he neared full erection for the second time tonight. You were immensely flattered, but sexual desire took the front seat and you were suddenly rolling across your bedsheets with the boy until his flop of soft and scruffy brunette locks flounced upon your pillow. You were straddling his waist, and you'd have to admit, the angle of this new position brought a power you didn't know you craved until now.

Stiles let go of your waist and brought one hand up, thumb rubbing small serene circles over your cheek the moment he cupped it within his protective hold. The other trailed south before his pointed finger mimicked the circles of your cheek, however harsher and large against your throbbing clit. You moaned with fluttering eyes, the nub still sensitive but surprisingly prepared to be harassed again. You were melting into Stiles and he relished in knowing that he could bring this sultry side out of you.

"You have no fucking clue how hot you look right now... but in case you were wondering, it's very hot. Extremely hot. Smokin' hot-" He began to ramble and his eyes raked down your upright body, focusing on each breast with the desire to attack them with his mouth and tongue, followed by the small grinding movement you were making now that his finger has slid into the clasp of your core. You were a goddess and Stiles was desperate to worship you, over and over again.

"-You need to shut up and stop teasing me, Stiles." You snapped, voice unable to grasp the concept of frustration as you instead began to whine, head lulling back and nails digging into the skin of your boyfriend's wrists. He nodded erratically, stammering sounds of fractured syllables and lost words dancing from his tongue as he quickly reached beside him. The packet of condoms he was incredibly anxious to buy the week before sat idly on your nightstand, his fingers scrounging for the foil chain of squares as his other hand stayed preoccupied with prodding your moistening sex.

Stiles swore under his breath as he managed to get hold of what he was searching for, a small burst of excitement in his success tugging into a smile. With the crinkling sound of foil nearby, you instinctively slid backward and over Stiles' swollen red girth of desperation, the boy sounding loudly at the feeling. He drew a deep breath, "Fuck... okay, fuck, we're doing this... we're really doing this again..." His voice rose in octave, the ball of energy of which was Stiles Stilinski making you grin out of second nature. You could hear the excitement that cradled his words close, his chest already rising and falling with labored breaths. You had barely done anything in your opinion, and he was practically cumming right on the spot.

He slowed down enough to guide the condom over his upright erection before jerking it briefly, his eyes glued to your still glistening skin and the remainder of your prior afterglow. It wasn't, though, until he looked up and caught your gaze that he began to stop breathing altogether. Set deep within your eyes was complete love - an indescribable feeling that left you with a nauseous sensation in your stomach that actually made you feel good - and Stiles thought that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in this harsh and wonderful world.

It was last second when he lifted himself from the mattress, never breaking eye contact with you until he was seated upright with you positioned snugly on his lap. He gulped, amber hues flickering between your swollen lips and softened eyes. His lips quirked up into a smirk before he lent into you, pressing a kiss so tenderly over your own pair. Your shoulders sagged in contentedness before you caught his bottom lip, sucking on it gently. Stiles pulled back only the slightest, your lips still brushing as he tilted his head to the side and pushed his tongue over yours. It was a dance between muscles, one that caused moans to elicit and drown in the mouths of the other, a desire to breathe life into the one that made you feel so incredibly weightless at this moment.

Stiles drew out each second until it was literally impossible to go any further, his loud breaths fanning heavily against your shoulder after he pulled away. He had his arms secured around your back now, palms flat as his fingers splayed over the small curve of your spine. Yours were too tangled around him as you played with the longer strands of hair above the nape of his neck, the sentiment prompting a grin to press into your shoulder as Stiles nuzzled his nose into you. As your heart ricocheted in your chest, you settled yourself above the boy, holding his tip over your entrance. He hummed, another small kiss pressed between your breasts from your brief change in height, "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too." You replied, biting down as you slowly sunk down on him, your walls still not used to being stretched as you hissed through the pain. Stiles made sure to lay a hand over your hip to help steady you as the other linked with one of yours, this thumb rubbing over your hold as you offered him a tight squeeze from the aching. When you reached the bottom, you groaned out in the bittersweet mixture of pleasure and hurt, Stiles releasing a similar sound as your tightened walls clenched around his still sensitive girth. It wasn't until you started rolling your hips, that both sets of your eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

"Fuck-".

788 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

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[tangymogais]

Guy Fieri gender? I know he is a person but I get gender envy from him so I was wondering if you could make a flag. It’s masculine combined with that retro aesthetic. And connected to flames, diners, and checkered patterns

Queued! :)

[topstoryusa0]

[ad_1] Some followers are oddly unpredictable. Take the Madridistas queuing up exterior the Santiago Bernabeu for tonight's Champions League semifinal showdown between Actual Madrid and Bayern Munich. As an alternative of arising with a slick chant mocking their opponents, they're lambasting an outdated arch nemesis of theirs who's not even within the league anymore: Lionel Messi. “Leo Messi, son of a b**ch,” Madrid followers shout in fiery unison. In fact, we're all lemmings and potential fanatics; all it takes is one fan to get a shout going earlier than it spreads to the lots. “That is their most imp sport of the season and all they're occupied with is Messi. Most disgusting followers itw,” wrote one Messi fan on X. The irony, after all, is two-fold. Barcelona followers just lately chanted “Vinicius d*e” earlier than their Champions League conflict towards PSG. Barcelona followers chanting "Vinicius d*e" earlier than their sport towards PSG. That is their most imp sport of the season and all they're occupied with is Vini. Most disgusting followers itw. pic.twitter.com/9HPcmDrZNX— Dr Yash  (@YashRMFC) April 16, 2024 Sure gamers' unparalleled success haunts their opponents past the speedy realm of focus, creating the final word distraction. If you're nice, you are nice, stinging lasting recollections for everyone. Photograph: x/M30xtra [ad_2] https://topstoryusa.com/sports/watch-madridistas-unite-in-fiery-anti-messi-chant-before-bayern-kickoff-tsu/?feed_id=1639&_unique_id=66430f283772c

[capitalism-is-parasitism]

Byron’s poem Darkness and Mary Shelley’s The Last Man are revealed as the starting points for the likes of The Road and I Am Legend. Their era is the earliest precursor to today’s disaster movies: thrill-seekers queued for hours to see painter John Martin’s vast fiery canvases displayed with nerve-jangling sound and lighting effects. https://www.theguardian.com/books/2024/apr/30/everything-must-go-by-dorian-lynskey-review-why-is-it-always-apocalypse-now

[disdoorted-crows]

this barbie invented the atom bomb!

this is a movie for everyone

who dressed up as little kids

and who stared at the stars wondering what it was like to hold their fire 

in the palm of their hands.

tickets are $20 a pop

because we live in late-stage capitalism

though it doesn’t really matter because we tend to forget

when the bathroom is packed with people shedding their apocalypse-core

in favour of a softer, pinker second skin.

i have thrown away my bingo card at this point;

the geese chewed it up and spat it back out at me

& all i could do was sit there and think,

i can’t believe i’m so surprised.

how we will get there is as yet unclear;

walking abbey road, one foot in front of the other,

in a hot-pink trailer, electro-pop playing from the speakers,

stuffed into a train with no air conditioning and surrounded by men in white lab coats

here i am, sitting at my silly little 10-5, doing my silly little tasks

and somehow here i am, weeping at the sight of those posters they put up outside theaters

one next to another.

i’m picturing a crowd of browns & greens, far too hot for august but we never cared about that 

maybe a flash of pink for the people who decided to take the backwards route

i’m picturing a rush — there is but twenty minutes between showtimes,

and makeup has yet to be applied.

has anyone seen my hot-pink earrings?

it’s the butterflies before going onstage —

if the stage was red cushion with space for popcorn.

how we choose to say i love you — 

behind a ticket counter, asking for four

queuing up in front of closed doors

whispered while trailers run

swapped like lipstick in front of a sticky mirror.

we do not come in the clear packaging.

we build it ourselves, swapping plastic for plutonium and zip-ties for Xanax.

how small we are, picked up and manipulated by little kids learning to dream.

how large we can be, falling, falling, fiery.

holding hands, waiting for the lines to clear

waving cell-phone screens displaying the same bar-code.

calling out, let us in to see the show!

[kits-ships]

(i know this if from a queued ask games so feel free to answer whenever!) fried egg jellyfish + lion's mane jellyfish + moon jellyfish?

hii anon thank you so much for the ask!! im answering for the doctor AND the master bc its my blog and i make the rules!!

[FRIED EGG JELLYFISH] ~ How does it go when you and your F/O try to cook together?

I think the Doctor would be so helpful in the kitchen tbh. He'd love watching Olive happily fry things or search for utensils and, ofc, he'd help her reach anything that's too high for her to reach. I think he might want to help out when it comes to cutting/chopping ingredients though because Olive is both mortal and clumsy. Still, he'd be so happy to hand her ingredients or stir a pot while she's busy with something else

How much do I trust the Master with the utensils readily available in a kitchen? Unsure. I also don't think he'd really know what to do OR he would pretend like he doesn't know what to do. He also pretends to be grumpy when Olive asks him to grab something for her but will always do it no matter what- sometimes even behind her back. Also, if she walked away to use the bathroom or smth, the Master would be SUPER focused on making sure nothing gets burnt or ruined. Even if she'd shrug it off he doesn't want her to be sad :(

[LION’S MANE JELLYFISH] ~ What is the height difference between you and your F/O?

Hard to answer for the Doctor since I ship w/ all his incarnations but!! At his tallest (3rd and 4th), he's a foot taller than me. At his shortest (7th), he's three inches taller than me!

The Spymaster, though, is four inches taller than me! Just an inch shorter than my fiance <3 Also, I think it'd be funny if the Master wore really tall shoes just so he can be taller than thirteen (who is also 5'7.)

[MOON JELLYFISH] ~ If you had to compare your F/O to any sort of cosmic entity (planets, meteors/comets, stars, black holes, etc), what would you pick and why?

I don't know if it counts but the Doctor is an aurora <3 Bright, colorful, and exciting, but also hard to miss and- for certain individuals- you may have to wait years or even decades before seeing them again. Or!! You might only see them once in your life! Either way, it's an incredible, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get to see them! (for most people!)

Cliché, but I think the Master is a supernova <3 A fiery burst at the end of a stars life; he has the chance to either become a neutron star or a blackhole. But, no matter the circumstance, it seems like those around him (and even himself) are always expecting him to become a terrifying, galaxy-eating black hole. Either way, his mark will be seen across the universe

(is this even coherent at this point?)