#the mummy returns fanfic

[auburnlaughter]

Some "Mraaaah ch 6" please!

Here you go. Thanks for the ask!

WIP Wednesday Game-The Sorrows of Ra (fanfic)

So, despite Alex's protests, Alex was sent with the Medjai who were taking the dead and wounded back with them while Ardeth, Evie, Rick, and a resigned Jonathan continued with the others towards Amarna.

"I hope your memories will be a little more specific once we get closer, Evie," Jonathan said. "'Just outside Amarna' still gives us rather a lot of ground to cover."

[carnationworld-writings]

I’ll be at your side (Ardeth Bay x fem!reader)

To read my other works, check my MASTERLIST !

Paring: Ardeth Bay x fem!reader

Universe: The Mummy (1999) / The Mummy Returns (2001)

Word Count: 1105

Requested: No

Warnings: mention of pain, gunshot, blood, attack on village and being held captive. 

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your wellbeing is important to me!

Summary: The one where she was hurt.

She woke up with a throbbing head, feeling her mouth dry. She looked around, and after a few seconds, she realised she was in the bedroom she shared with her husband. She tried to sit up, but suddenly stabbing pain rose in her arm, making her fall onto the bed breathlessly. She tried to recall what happened, moving her hand to a place that hurt and found a bandage under her fingers. A few days ago, Ardeth and a few of his trusted men went to check on some illegal digging. Not long after it, some travellers came into their village. With one of her best friends and great warrior, Rashid, she kept an eye on them. She provided them with the help they needed and did everything to keep as much information about Medjai secret. All at once, everything went south. They took out the guns, screaming to prepare all the goods for them. She tried to talk them out, to calm the situation, but it didn't help - soon, one of them kept his gun to the head of a local girl. The chieftess' heart stopped in her chest when she tried to take her place. What the attackers didn't know, they chose the worst time they only could. By the corner of her eye, she noticed Fahran - the right-hand man of Ardeth, and that meant that they all were back. He quickly took the attacker's attention to himself as she jumped to help the girl. She hit him in the nose and took the girl in her arms, shielding her with her body. She moved them to leave this place when her eyes met the well-known irises of her husband. She smiled softly, knowing that now everything should be better. However, fate had different plans. A loud bang was heard, just like the scream of the girl next to her. She felt a burning sensation at the top of her chest. She looked down and saw the red stain start showing on her chest. The last thing she heard before she fell on the floor was Ardeth screaming her name. 

She tried to move, trying to sit against the headboard. Her tired mind noticed movement by the door, and she moved her head to the side. She looked at Farhan, who smiled at her and then shouted for his chief in Arabic. Not even a minute later, Ardeth came into the room and fell on his knees by the bed. 

"Ya Hayati*. You're awake!" He gently caressed the side of her head, and she closed her eyes at this reassuring gesture. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired… And my arm hurts." She looked up at him and noticed how worried he was. She smiled when he moved the hair away from her face and kissed her forehead. 

"Would you like to drink something?" At her nod, he stood up. He leaned over her, carefully wrapping his arms around her and helped her to sit. He tried to gently support her body, but a quiet groan left her lips nonetheless. He mumbled an apology, kissing the side of her head while she caressed his back. He brought a cup to her lips, and she gratefully drank its contents. She immediately recognized the taste of the tea that women in the village made to get rid of pain, and she was grateful to have it now. When she had enough, Ardeth whipped the drops that fell on her chin. 

"How is that girl? Was someone hurt?" She was watching him when he placed the cup on the cupboard and sat next to her. 

"She is alright." Ardeth took her hand in his and squeezed it. "A little shaken up, but nothing happened to her. Rashid already checked on her twice." He chuckled softly, and she couldn't stop smiling forming on her lips. "Aziz got himself a black eye, but no one was injured. Except for you." 

"Twice? He must be bewitched by her." She bit her lip, mindlessly starting caressing the back of his hand with her thumb. "I feel like she was in danger because of me… I should do more to stop them, to make them go away much faster." 

"Ya Hayati, you did nothing wrong. You gave them the help they needed, and they used your good heart. You made sure that our people could run when they took guns. You shielded this girl with your own body. It was not your fault." Ardeth brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. She looked into his eyes and nodded, trying to believe in his words. "You scared me terribly…"

"I'm sorry, ya Amar*. I'd promise it won't happen again, but it probably would be a lie." She smiled sadly, squeezing his hand. "I was so relieved when I saw Farhan and you."

"I'll keep you safe. This time I won't fail."

"Ardeth Bay, you never failed me. And I would argue more about it, but I'm too tired right now." He couldn't help but chuckle. "Would you lay with me? I missed you."

Her one look was enough for him to agree. He knew he should check if the whole situation were cared for. He should go and tell their friends and family that she was awake and only needed a lot of rest. But even the thought of leaving her alone was too much right now. He helped her move a little on the bed and lay down. Her every hiss of pain went straight to his heart. With his help, she found a comfortable position that allowed her to snuggle into his side. He placed a few kisses on her head until she looked up. 

"You know that you can kiss me? I mean a proper kiss." 

They exchanged lovesick smiles, so similar to these at their wedding. Ardeth placed his hand against the side of her head, caressing her cheek with his thumb. He leaned his head, gently tucking her nose with his. He  knew how impatient she was for his touch, and he smirked when she tried to catch his lips with hers. He kissed so lightly the corner of her lips, and at her disgruntled grunt, he finally kissed her. He kissed her slowly but deeply. He cherished that she was by his side after these few days and that she was alive. He perfectly knew that if this bullet hit her a little lower, he could lose her, lose part of himself. It was all that mattered, they were together, and he promised himself he would double his efforts to keep her safe. 

Translation (by google, and some page on the Internet):

* ya hayati - my life

* ya amar - my moon

Author’s note: Thank you  so much for reading! If it’s not too much trouble, I would love to hear your thoughts about it. Any feedback is greatly appreciated and motivate me to work.

I am sorry about every grammar mistake and misspellings. English is not my first language.

Klaudia  💜

Taglists are always open! If you want to be added fill this up or send me an ask!

[mummy-bi-bi-bi]

Inspired by WineWoman on Tiktok, who posted the same song edit, but I added my own twist to it:

My OC, Sadie O'Connell, whose face claim is Rebecca Ferguson

Ardeth is also Alex's uncle

MASTERLIST

[laurelindebear]

Ardeth Bay Headcanons

As well as his native variant of Arabic, he is fluent in a number of other regional dialects, and proficient to fluent in English, French, German, Italian, some Coptic and some Middle and Late Kingdom phrases.

Is an avid reader, especially of poetry. He'll pick up any volume of poems he can, ancient, modern, or anything in between, in any language he knows.

Poetry and storytelling are extremely popular pastimes amongst the Medjai. As well as readings, Ardeth writes some poetry of his own.

When they are invented and he gets a chance to experience them, he loves roller-coasters.

Drinks alcohol sparingly, but has been known to indulge in pomegranate wine if he's feeling laid-back.

Beverage of choice is strong Turkish coffee, which he drinks anytime he has the water to spare.

Has a sweet tooth, and gets sparkle-eyed for strawberry tarts when he first tries them while visiting the Carnahan-O'Connells in England.

Strong coffee + sweet tooth means his favorite treat would be a cafe mocha, full fat milk and whipped cream with cinnamon on top.

Has a younger sister, Nesreen, with whom he is very close (even though she is prone to teasing him, as little sisters do.)

His mother is deaf, so he signs with her using a Medjai variant of Arabic sign language which incorporates some of their signal codes and other gestures.

Has always had a falcon named Horus since he was first old enough to learn. Horus I was presented to him by his father. Subsequent birds all take the name (Horus II, Horus III, etc.) like a little dynasty.

Has cultivated a good rapport with a merchant in Cairo who makes and sells the highest quality soaps and emollients. Ardeth keeps his spare money aside to pick up the best shampoo and hair oil when he's in the city. Those luxuriant locks don't happen by accident.

(He may ignore the question, if asked about it, but Nesreen will happily spill the beans.) If he shares his hair care secrets and products with you, you have made it to his innermost circle.

Surprisingly good with children. When interacting with young kids, he will squat down to talk on their level, face to face. Enjoys giving piggyback rides to young family members, and lifting them up to sit on the saddle in front of him when they are too young to learn to ride yet.

Has a great dry sense of humor he shows only around people he's comfortable with (and when he's not in Serious Medjai Chieftain mode).

He inherited the knife with the elaborate handle (seen on his back in the first film) from his grandfather.

Slow to open up and trust people, but once you've earned it, you have a friend for life.

With thanks to @nnobodoodles, @belphegor1982, @picklebrinedgoblinmind, @nooneleavesforgood, and @tinydooms for letting me share some of these before and sharing some of their own ideas with me for brainstorming! ❤

[pandaimitator]

Woah boy. This could develop into a dopamine addiction quite quickly. Just look at those stats 😶 3 Kudos from 6 hits.

I'm a greedy writer, cheer me on some more and I might just funnel that attention into more chapters. Hopefully. If I can get past the massive research this will require.

(and I already caught, and corrected, the typo in the summary. That's what enthusiastic midnight posting gets you 😅)

[druid-in-hiding]

The Power of Books

Evie stalked over to O'Connell and smacked him on the arm.

"Ow!"

"That man..." she pointed to the balcony.

Rick glanced towards the balcony. "Ardeth."

"That man wants to accompany us on our hu... our time together."

Rick grinned. "You were going to say honeymoon?"

"He said he needed to still protect us. He said..." Evie glanced back at the balcony.

The wind ruffled through Ardeth's raven hair as he closed his eyes and breathed in the night air. His shirt, loose in the night, gently draped open, exposing a delicate sheen of sweat on his chest.

Evie's eyes unfocused for a moment. "Oh..." She shook her head. "I... I think we should let him."

Rick glanced at her, and then over at Ardeth, who finally noticed the attention and was gazing cooly back at both of them. "Evie, I don't think he wants to go with us to read books."

Evie drew herself up to her full height, which, admittedly, wasn't quite up to Rick's, but it was much fiercer. "Mr. O'Connell, I am a scholar and a reader of Bainbridge. I am well aware of what..." she cleared her throat. "--of what a woman can do with two men."

Rick let himself the grace of blushing and two blinks. "Well... I guess that settles that then."

What Evie wants, Evie gets.

Cultists.

Cultists everywhere.

Guns blazing, knives.

Very annoying.

"You know..." Evie complained. "If Anck-Su-Namun had just come to our quarters and explained the situation maybe we could have helped. In a way that ressurected her and didn't lead to this jackal-soldiers / cultist / scorpion thing debacle."

She smacked a cultist on the head, kicked him out a window.

"I mean, if you really look at it, it's just a love story between the two of them, if you take away the curse and the pharoah-murder and stuff like that. And, do we really know if he was a good pharoah or not? Maybe he deserved all the stabbing."

"I can pretty much attest..." said O'Connell, shooting several cultists trying to get through the door. "that most, if not all, pharoahs were probably not good people."

"Well that settles that then. She just should have come to our room."

O'Connell looks over at her, skeptical. "Evie, I'm pretty sure she would have tried to suck out your soul."

Evie tried to focus on the dangerous aspect of it, but another visual kept interferring. "I will say..." she let out a sigh that was anything but concerned about her safety, "--that as a scholar, one should try everything at least once."

"Oh really? Does that mean we should..."

Evie cut him off with a frown. "No. At least not until we invent a better lubricant."

[stardust-daydream]

Pomegranate Wine

Summary: This is the story of Ancksunamun and Imhotep; the passionate love that almost destroyed the world. A story of love, passion, rage, and the power to destroy the very sands of time. This is a work in progress, and part of a 3 story series.

FFN

Archive of Our Own

Wattpad

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

Currently has 13 chapters and updated bi-weekly! 

[eirian-houpe]

30 Days of Fanfiction

I think I may have done this particular challenge before, but if so it was a looooong time ago, and sometimes things change, perspectives and understandings change, so, I thought I would have another go around.  So here goes:

Day 1: How did you first get into writing fanfic, and what was the first fandom you wrote for? What do you think it was about that fandom that pulled you in?

Depression.

Maybe a strange reason for getting into fandom, since Social Media is being blamed a great deal for the rise of depression, right?

Anyway, the fandom was The Mummy (1999) - although actually it was The Mummy Returns that drew me in.  It was the only thing that would get me out of the house, and I must have seen the movie about 7 or 8 times - roughly about once a week that I was on medical leave from work. Of course after a while it wasn’t enough; definitely not enough Ardeth Bay, and so I went looking for Fan Fiction, because you can’t get enough of Ardeth Bay (Oded Fehr), not at all - so I guess that was what drew me in.

At the time it was on a site other than AO3 (which shall remain nameless). I read, and I despaired.  Okay, I’m not full of myself really, but I am an educator with an English major, so the quality of the fic - well... it made my eyes bleed. I thought, “If this is not the fic I want, then...” Yes, you guessed it, “I should go ahead and write it myself.”

That’s exactly what I did. That fic was Power Is, spawned two ‘sequels’ (one of which - I am ashamed to say - is still unfinished), and several other fics in the same fandom.  

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 6)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Summary ─ Evan and Y/N are back in LA. When he dares Y/N to wear vibrating panties at his friend’s party, things go from flirty to explosive. What starts as a cheeky challenge turns into a heated race to the guest room, where they unleash an erotic showdown of throbbing heat and raw need. Just as their passion peaks, a shocking announcement throws their world suddenly into chaos. 

Warnings ─ Swearing, oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, vibrator teasing, overstimulation, mild daddy kink, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, pinned against the wall, doggie, extra smutty—it’s the norm by now ;)

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4 | Read Part 5

Word count ─ 4.5K (they’re getting longer, you guys 😱)

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

The evening sun dips below the horizon, bathing your apartment in a warm, honeyed glow. You adore these longer days—they make everything feel more alive. You saunter across the room, the hem of your mini skirt flaring and swishing around your thighs. Your outfit hugs your body like a second skin, leaving just enough to the imagination.

Your phone screen catches your eye, gleaming in the dim light. 21:16. You’re officially late for the party, and you can’t shake the nagging feeling that you should be rushing out the door. “Evan, we’re gonna miss all the fun if we don’t hurry,” you call out, trying to keep the urgency from creeping into your voice as you spritz on your favourite perfume.

Evan lounges on the couch, long arms draped over the sides and legs stretched out, a lazy smile playing on his lips. “Chill, baby. Fashionably late is our brand,” he defends with a confident wink.

A script lies forgotten across his lap, the pages flipping slightly from the ceiling fan overhead. He’s petting Rufus, your housemate Mayra’s Siamese cat, who purrs contentedly beside him. Mayra had barely returned from NYC before jetting off to Turkey to tend to her ill dad. With no time to get Rufus’ travel documents in order, he stayed behind, leaving you in charge of his care. You couldn’t ask for a better arrangement, to be honest.

Evan’s eyes are not on the words bouncing across the page in front of him; they’re on you and with a laser-focused intensity that makes the room feel a few degrees hotter. You sense his gaze tracking your every move as you flit from room to room; he traces the way your hair smoothly cascades over your bare shoulders, following the delicate arch of your back and the fabric clinging onto the curve of your ass just right.

His eyes linger, greedily drinking in every inch of your body as you rifle through your porcelain jewellery box. His gaze feels like a warm caress, drawn to the rhythmic sway of your hips with every stride, your smooth skin glowing under the light. Your bare feet make no sound on the plush carpet, but the air between you two seems to crackle like a live wire.

You pick out a discreet rose gold necklace, clasping it around your neck so it flows over your protruding collarbones.

“Are you gonna stare all night, or do I need to start charging for tickets?” you tease huskily, glancing over your shoulder with a sly smirk.

He chuckles, a rich rumble that sends a delightful tingle across your skin. “If I had to pay for a view like this, I’d be flat broke. I’m not sure I’m ready to share you with anyone else’s eyes tonight. Maybe we should skip the party and stay in,” he taunts, waggling his brows with a suggestive crooked smile.

Although his deep voice purrs with a seductive charm that always sends a shiver down your spine, you shake your head with a mischievous grin. “How about no? Nice try, but we’re going. So, get your adorable ass off that couch and put on your shoes, handsome.”

You head to your bedroom to grab your shoes and jacket, feeling his eyes trained on you. “Looks like you and Rufus are hitting it off, despite your die-hard dog obsession,” you mock as you pace back to the living room, fluffing your hair in the mirror with a casual toss.

He nods in agreement as he gently scratches behind Rufus’ ears. “We’re practically besties, but there’s only one pussy I’m interested in tonight,” he spills out, his lips curling into a knowing grin.

You catch his reflection in the mirror, snorting at his bold remark. “Is that so?” you coo, eyebrows raised, your voice dripping with feigned surprise.

There’s a wicked, predatory glint in his eyes as he slips off the couch with fluid confidence, nodding. In an instant, he’s beside you, his arms sliding around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. He brushes his chin along the nape of your neck, his stubble scratching pleasantly against your shoulder blade as he lets out a shallow breath into the shell of your ear.

“You know, miss, you’re making it very hard to concentrate on anything but you,” he rasps, his tone a low, intimate murmur that makes your insides flutter.

He peppers kisses along your shoulder until his lips find your earlobe, taking it between his teeth for a gentle nibble that makes your breath hitch and your pulse quicken. His arm glides across your stomach, splaying possessively on your hip, while the other hand sneaks up under your top. The electric feel of his fingertips cupping your tits and tugging at your hard nipples forces a gasp out of you.

“Evan,” you manage to huff out, trying to wiggle free from his grasp, but his robust arms only tighten around you. Each breath you take stutters in your chest as you struggle to form a coherent thought. “We gotta go.”

“No, we don’t,” he groans softly, the sound vibrating against your neck as he leans in to kiss the sensitive spot just below your jawline. “Come on,” he pleads and pulls you back in, his teeth grazing your skin as he leaves love bites along your flesh. “We’ve got a few minutes for a little appetiser before the main course, right?”

“We’re already late, Evan, and you’re not exactly helping,” you growl lowly through gritted teeth, playfully swatting his hands away. You’re giving him a reality check, but the scratchy undertone in your voice betrays your growing arousal.

“I could help you out of these clothes, though,” he blurts out with a smug smile, his arms glued around your waist, making your heart race even faster. You can feel the hard lines of his body as his fingers fiddle with the hem of your top. 

“It’s just a house party, no biggie. My friends are cool with it…but you’re too hot to handle… and I’m having a very haaard time keeping cool,” he rambles, his face buried in your hair. He inhales a deep whiff of your jasmine scent, his hands roaming hungrily over your curves. 

“Evan, we won’t get outta here if you keep this up,” you chide tenderly, though your words tumble down breathless and wanting.

Every fibre of your body screams at you to resist, to not let him fuck up into you. Even when his crotch is hard of rocket magnitude and leaking for you, and he’s only intelligible for a mere “Just sit on it, baby, please.” 

Even when he’s mindlessly babbling utter nonsense crap because he truly has nothing in his head but the feel of your hot, wet pussy restlessly sliding over his cock until he loads you up to the brim.

Even when all you want is to play with his angered red tip, pull it back to open his little slit up and make him mewl, a chocked oh my fucking god, please escaping him. Even when you press his cockhead to your clit and rub it around, slapping it relentlessly on your cunt, and he implores you to stop.

“Evan…” your voice a breathy whisper as he hikes up your skirt, his feather-light touch making your cunt pulsate. He hums as his hands travel over your torso, now slowly and tortuously snaking underneath your skirt. “It’s not nice...your friends are waiting for u-u-s,” you trail off, your tone dying out as you feel his erection nudging insistently against your lower back.

You love the hard press of his boner against you. It makes your heart thud and your pussy drip, knowing you’re the sole source and cause of all that raw desire.

“We need to leave-e…” you protest weakly, torn between the ticking clock and the sinful temptation to stay and get laid. But your voice lacks conviction as he drags kisses down your shoulders, each one more insistent and heady than the last.

He chuckles softly, sensing the crack in your resolve. “We can, don’t worry,” he murmurs, his hot breath sending electric jolts down your core. “I’ll make it worth every second.”

Deftly unzipping your skirt from behind, his hands—firm and decisive—massage your ass as he leans in, peering into your panties. The sight of your black thong on full display makes him suck in a sharp breath and instinctively squeeze your waist in his strong hands.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N,” he hisses, voice thick with lust and just a hint of disbelief, like he can’t believe his luck. You let out a soft mewl as his erection grinds between your ass cheeks, almost spreading them apart with its intensity. The heat of his body seeps into you, and you can practically feel your slick pooling, turning your thoughts into a jumbled mess.

His lips find your neck again, this time more urgent and harsher, nibbling at your skin with a fervour that makes your brain go all mushy. You wince reflexively, but the brief sting melts into pleasure as his tongue laps over the forming hickey, soothing the bruise with gentle strokes. 

His fingers hook under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down with agonising slowness. Just as you’re about to speak, his fingers slide against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your slippery folds, and you lose all train of thought. You moan, tilting your head to grant him better access, your fingers threading into his hair to massage his scalp, holding him close.

His free hand moves over yours, and you guide his fingers towards your bundle of nerves. “Oh, shit,” he hushes, his breath hot and laboured against your skin. His thumb brushes against your plump lips, parting them gently to reveal the soaked slit of your beautiful pussy.

“Imagine my dick drowning in these waters,” he mumbles more to himself, his chin resting on your shoulder as he holds you firm. His hips rub against you with a slow, deliberate rhythm, the friction making you arch into him, craving more of the pleasure he promises with every motion.

“Evan…” you breathe, the sound barely audible over your thundering pulse. But he hears you perfectly. His lips curve into a devilish grin against your neck as his fingers continue their teasing dance, sliding through your wetness with practised ease.

His thumb circles your clit with maddening slowness, and you can feel the heat swimming in your belly, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. His other hand grips your hip, anchoring you to him as he rubs against you. The pressure of his cock, still slotted between your ass cheeks, is a constant reminder of how desperately he needs himself inside you.

When he plunges two fingers through your sobbing walls, you mewl loudly. Your hands clutch at his shirt as your arousal splashes across your lower abdomen, trickling down your thighs. The sensation makes your legs quiver, begging to clamp together, but he keeps them firmly apart, teasing you with a wicked smile. He purposefully pops his fingers out just to smear your slick juices over your entrance before brushing his thumb along your swollen clit, and then sliding back in.

You bite your lip, your knees buckling, choked moans escaping as you watch his fingers disappear beneath you. They stretch your cunt, his index and middle fingers screwing and twisting just enough to draw a series of desperate whimpers from your lips. The way they press against your sensitive, gummy walls makes you feel deliciously full.

“I-I need my cock in here like…yesterday,” he huffs out, his voice strained with lust. His eyes flicker between your face—your brows furrowed, jaw slack with uncontrollable pleasure—and your beautiful sex clenching around his fingers.

“Evan,” you moan again, more insistently this time, your tone quiet yet desperate. His fingers probe in and out, deep in your cunt at an excruciatingly slow pace, curling expertly until the knot in your stomach stiffens. You can feel yourself spasming around him, your body on the edge of bliss. 

You know you’re losing this battle, but a part of you doesn’t care. Not when he’s making you feel like this. 

“T-t-tell me what you want, baby,” he dares in a passionate whisper. He keeps working his fingers in sync with your choppy breaths, angling them just enough to tease your deeper spots.

“I want more,” you exhale, every word laced with despair. “Finish me up,” you plead, and your eyes lock onto him. His dick twitches needily, responding to every tug of his fingers and the wanting moans gushing from your throat.

He lets out a dark chuckle as his fingers pump in and out, his knuckles sinking in through your arousal. “Consider it done,” he fires back, his voice a low growl as he swipes his fingers left and right with rapid precision. The messy, obscene sounds of your slick, wet cunt echo through the room, making him impossibly harder.

Your thighs twitch and ache with every deep plunge, instinctively trying to close around his hand that’s practically fucking you into exquisite sensitivity. Your hand wraps around his forearm, an attempt to slow him down, but it’s like trying to stop a freight train with a feather. Your nails bite into his skin, forming little half-moon indentations.

He laughs breathlessly, his teeth scraping your sensitive flesh as he ruthlessly works you over. His eyes are on your flushed face from the side, watching how your expression shifts with every thrust, your cunt squelching embarrassingly loud. He smirks at the sound, utterly captivated by your body’s reactions.

“You sound so pretty,” he grunts, nudging his hips against your bare ass as his fingers milk small sobs out of you. “You’re so fucking perfect like this,” he hushes, lips caressing your neck. Your pussy practically moulds around his slender fingers, holding them captive as you claw at him, your orgasm building and rolling through you like a storm about to break.

Evan groans, his arm veins (aka your fetish) popping out, the muscles in his shoulders straining against his shirt as he picks up speed. Your moans become louder, your breathing erratic and desperate.

“Cum for me, baby girl, would you?” he sighs, smacking your ass with his free hand as his clothed erection rages against you, demanding attention.

You nod eagerly, your eyes darting down to his bulge, wanting to reach out and feel him through the fabric. But he’s quick to catch your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it with surprising tenderness. “This is your moment,” he whispers, his voice filled with possessive intent. “I want you fully here with me, no distractions.”

Was that a man written by Olivia Laing, directed by Sofia Copolla and sung by Lana Del Rey? Just sayin’...

He dips inside you all the way to the hilt, upping his pace and rubbing tight figure eights against your clit like he’s discovered a new hobby. He mutters a string of curses under his breath as he watches your pussy swell around him, your clit throbbing under his relentless touch. You’re milliseconds away from an earth-shattering climax when an unexpected clatter slices through the air.

Rufus, your ever-watchful feline roommate/guardian, has knocked his metal off the dining table, sending it clanging across the floor like a gong of doom. His eyes are on you both with a judgmental glare, as if he’s caught you skipping class to make out behind the bleachers. It’s like he’s planned this interruption—a well-curated, meticulously premeditated offence.

You both flinch, gasping at the sudden chaos that shatters the moment. Evan snickers, reluctantly pulling away, his fingers shiny with the evidence of your disrupted freaky time. You lock eyes with Rufus, who’s perched on the table like a miniature tyrant, his tail flicking, clearly unfazed by your antics.

“Your son’s hungry,” Evan quips, smirking as he lifts his fingers to his mouth, sucking off your cum with exaggerated flair, humming at your taste. “Perfect timing, really. The little guy just wants to make sure you’re not having more fun than him.”

You scoff, playfully rolling your eyes at him as you smooth out your clothes with hurried hands, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Rufus is a more responsible and diligent adult than us,” you mutter, adjusting your top. “Honestly, he’d make a great personal assistant if he didn’t have such a lousy attitude.” 

Rufus merely blinks, unimpressed, as you dash off to the kitchen to grab his food, trying to ignore the lingering heat between your thighs. But behind you, Evan’s throaty chuckle reverberates across the room, making your knees weak all over again.

“Shoes, please,” you call over your shoulder as you scoop kibble into Rufus’ bowl, trying to maintain some authority. “We’re leaving, Evan… like now. And not a second later, or I’m dragging you by your shirt collar. Don’t make me put on my mum voice.” 

“Woo, feisty,” he teases, puckering his lips mischievously as he slides on his shoes, still flushed and grinning like a naughty schoolboy. You shoot him a glare, trying to stay serious, but your lips twitch with amusement.

He throws his hands up in feigned remorse, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Fine, fine,” he concedes, though his eyes light up with mischief. “But I’m definitely picking up where I left off.” 

You glance back at him as you set Rufus’ food down. “And what does this mean, Peters?” you challenge him, tongue grazing your side teeth. Your curiosity is piqued, wondering just how far he’s willing to go once you’re back alone together.

Rufus sniffs his food approvingly, tossing you a look that says, Finally some service in this house as he begins to eat with regal disinterest, tail swishing like a sceptre.

Evan disappears briefly, and you hear him rummaging through his bag. When he returns, he’s got a small box behind his back, and the tension in the room skyrockets with each passing second.

He slowly pops the lid off, each moment stretching out as you watch, breathless with anticipation. “Are you gonna propose?” you squeak, already half-freaking out at the prospect.

He bursts out laughing. “Close enough… but not yet,” he cheers, eyes drown in yours, eager and mischievous, as you peek inside to find a burgundy bullet vibrator nestled in a cocoon of velvet.

Your heart skips a beat as you stare at the object, a swirl of thoughts crashing through your mind. “You didn’t,” you gasp, eyes almost bulging off their sockets. 

Evan’s fingers stroke lightly over the smooth, silky silicone. “Oh, I did,” he murmurs, a malicious grin spreading across his face. “I want you to wear this. To the party.”

“You’re joking. What’s that for?” you ask, suspicion lacing your voice as you eye the device like it’s a ticking time bomb.

“It’s my hand’s substitute,” he quips, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thought it’d make the party more… stimulating,” he adds with a wink. “It’s a night out and a night in, all rolled into one.”

Your jaw drops as the implications hit you. “Evan, you wouldn’t dare in front of all those people.”

“Oh, yes, I would,” he counters, brandishing a small remote like it’s the ultimate power tool. “Let’s see if you can behave yourself,” he dares, his thumb hovering tantalisingly over the on-off button. “I’ll have you buzzing all night, baby. All highs, no lows.”

You shake your head, biting your lip between excitement and disbelief. “You’re impossible,” you giggle, your voice barely above a breathless whisper.

He steps closer, pulling you into a deep, searing kiss that leaves you breathless, his lips moving with a hunger that makes you tremble. “Only when it comes to you,” he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip. “And I promise to be gentle…most of the time, ma’am,” he continues, tailing it all off with a teasing soldier salute.

The bass from Gorillaz’s Feel Good Inc. thumps through the walls as you step into the house. The party’s already in full swing, laughter and joyful chatter floating up from every corner. Evan’s hand is a warm, reassuring weight on your lower back, steering you through the crowd like he’s the captain of this chaos.

Your outfit is drawing more than a few admiring glances as you weave through the throng of partygoers. If only they knew about the little secret buzzing beneath it all—a pair of vibrating panties, locked and loaded, with Evan holding the remote like it’s his personal plaything. His grin is downright wicked, a mix of triumph and mischief, like he’s got you on a leash, promising both pleasure and torment. You swallow hard, anticipation pooling low in your belly.

As you tread past the other guests, you catch sight of a few familiar faces from past outings with Evan during the nine months you’ve been together. There’s Mike, the self-proclaimed beer pong king, who’s always boasting about his legendary tournaments, with Evan often being the unfortunate opponent. And then there’s Lily, your lovely girly pop, who wouldn’t be caught dead without her portable fan, waving it like she’s a Southern belle about to faint from the heat. 

You bump into Jake, your host, who’s holding court by the swimming pool with a group of friends. As soon as he spots you both, his face lights up, breaking into a wide grin.

“There they are! The dynamic duo!” Jake bellows, raising his solo cup in a toast as he swaggers over, pulling you both into a hearty bear hug.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Evan assures, his grin expanding. “Heard you were rolling out the red carpet just for us.”

“How else would I welcome the celebrities, eh?” Jake hoots, playfully thumping Evan’s arm like it’s a punching bag. “And look at my boy, all beefed up for Tron after that Dahmer famine. Y/N’s keeping you well-fed, I see,” he jests, wrapping Evan into a playful headlock and rubbing his head like a proud big brother.

Evan lets out a hearty laugh, pretending to struggle. “What can I say? She’s a miracle worker. Took me from beanpole to beefcake in record time!”

“Had to get him back on his feet, didn’t I?” you quip, watching Evan flex his muscles dramatically like he’s auditioning for a superhero movie. The exaggerated poses have you all in stitches. “Careful, those guns are a safety hazard,” you exclaim, poking his bicep.

Jake rolls his eyes, still grinning. “Well, you’ll need those muscles to handle the drinks tonight. They’re stronger than ever, so pace yourselves,” he warns, winking like he’s letting you in on juicy gossip.

You exhale loudly, placing the back of your hand to your forehead in mock drama. “Are we talking rocket-fuel strong? Got anything that won’t make me see double in two sips?” you ask, giving Jake a playful nudge.

Jake gasps in mock outrage, clutching his chest. “Hey, I’m practically a mixologist now,” he grumbles, acting deeply wounded by your lack of faith. 

Just then, you feel Evan’s hand slipping into his pocket. You know what he’s up to, but before you can react, your panties spring to life with a gentle buzz. The loud Maroon 5 playlist drowns out the sound, but it doesn’t stop the sudden bolt of pleasure that zips through you. You inhale sharply, eyes widening.

Evan inspects you with a sidelong look and a mischievous gleam in his eyes, his lips curving into a knowing smile. “Everything okay, Y/N?” he asks, feigning innocence like he’s not the one flicking the damn remote buttons in his pocket.

You cast him a death-stare, running a shaky hand through your hair. “Oh, just peachy,” you croak, forcing a smile towards Jake while the vibrations catch deliciously against your clit and slit. It’s a struggle to keep your knees from buckling, but you’re determined not to give Evan the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, my love, would you?”

Evan grins, his expression the epitome of mischief. “Not a clue.” 

“Maybe it’s the party vibe getting to you,” Jake retorts, snapping his fingers as the music swells. “Let me whip you up something real quick. You’ll be singing my praises for my drink by the end of the night. Be right back.”

As soon as Jake’s out of earshot, you lean closer to Evan, lowering your voice to a hushed yet playful mumble. “You’re such a bastard,” you hiss, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as another wave of pleasure ripples through you. “I’m gonna get you back for this,” you mutter, but you bite your lip to supress your moans, dulling the sharpness of your threat.

His hearty laugh engulfs you, clearly showing how much fun he’s having with your delightful predicament. “I’d like to see you try, baby girl,” he taunts, giving your waist a gentle squeeze and your lips a set of loving pecks. “Besides, I think you’re enjoying this more than you’re letting on.”

You click your tongue and narrow your eyes at him, trying to act nonchalant despite the relentless vibrations. “You just wait, Mr. I-think-I’m-so-clever,” you begin, but he shuts you up by crashing his lips against yours. His tongue raids in your mouth, like he’s claiming it, while his left hand wanders up to fondle your breast with playful desperation.

Without warning, Lily sidles up beside you. “Hey guys,” she cries out, arms wide open as she air-kisses you both. “Oops, am I interrupting your get-a-room moment? Long time no see! Y/N, my stunner. What’s your secret? A killer workout routine, or just pure happiness? I swear, I’m trying to drop some fat, but those damn fries keep calling my name,” she rambles, pouting in frustration. 

You laugh nervously, struggling to focus on Lily’s chatter over the persistent, teasing pulse of the vibrator that Evan has intentionally set to a teasing low. “Uh… you know, Lily… I-I. It’s mostly yoga and... m-maybe...uh a little too much caffeine,” you stammer, doing your best to mask the delicious distraction fluttering between your legs. 

“Or maybe it’s a little too much of Evan’s company,” she teases with a mischievous wink. 

Evan chuckles, his eyes dancing with a roguish glint as he casts you a sidelong glance that says more than words ever could. “I like to think I’m a positive influence,” he quips, his hand tightening on your lower back as he plants a kiss on your forehead. His gaze hints at a playful secret, clearly plotting something.

Just then, Jake struts back over, handing you a drink with an exaggerated flourish. “One cocktail for the fair lady,” he declares dramatically. “Tell me this doesn’t taste like heaven.”

You take a sip, and the fruity concoction explodes on your tongue like a carnival parade. “Alright, I’ll give it to you, Jake. This one’s a keeper,” you cheer, nodding appreciatively.

Jake bows deeply, puffing out his chest with mock pride. “You’re welcome, Y/N!” he sings, standing tall with exaggerated poise, as if he’s accepting an award for best bartender. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, chicos, I’ve got more magic to conjure.” With a final spin and a wink, he leaves you and Evan to your own devices, his exit as theatrical as his entrance.

The garden is a dimly lit dance floor, pulsing with the beat of the music. You and Evan are wrapped up in each other, swaying to the rhythm.

“God, I love this song,” he purrs, his body pressed close to yours, moving in perfect harmony. “But I love you more.” 

“I love you too,” you mouth, smiling bashfully, as you reach up and tangle your fingers through his hair, tugging him down for a kiss. It’s soft at first, a teasing brush of lips, but swiftly escalates into something rougher. His tongue sweeps past your lips, exploring and tasting, invading your mouth. You lose yourself in the kiss, the world around you fading into a blur of tunes and arousal. 

A group of friends gathers around, joining in a spontaneous dance choreo. You raise your drink to your lips, savouring the moment, when suddenly the vibrations crank up, hitting you like a jolt of electricity. You cough, nearly choking on your drink and almost dropping the glass. A wave of pleasure crashes through you, finally making your knees buckle. You gasp loudly, your face burning bright red. Lily pats your back, her concern evident as she watches you with raised eyebrows, while Evan’s grin stretches impossibly wider.

Evan vs Y/N 15 - 0

As the night wears on, you’re deep in conversation with Lily about her latest dating disaster—a guy who thought karaoke night was a perfect first date and that feminism is just an overhyped fad—when Evan decides it’s the perfect moment to dial up the levels to the max because…he can. The panties whir harder, the palpitation surge ruthlessly. You clutch the edge of the table for support, covering your mouth to stifle any sounds, praying no one notices your red-hued cheeks.

Lily, ever observant, glances at you, her head tilted with curiosity. “You okay, Y/N?” she asks, frowning slightly with worry.

You force a twitching smile, your eyes watering as you nod vigorously. “Yeah, just...really into the party,” you slur, your words catching in your throat, and you hope your tone doesn’t give off the sweet agony you’re enduring.

Evan, ever the tease, smirks at you from across the room, clearly pleased with himself. He raises his glass in a mock toast, enjoying the little game he’s orchestrated.

You give him a look that promises retribution. You swear, you’re going to wipe that smug look off his face later.

Lily heads straight for the buffet, giving you a perfect chance to escape the outdoor mayhem. Realising the downstairs bathroom is occupied, you make your way to the one upstairs. Evan floats up behind you, his hands slipping around your waist. His beer bottle presses against your hip bones, and his hot breath against your ear makes your core shudder.

“Having fun?” he purrs, his tone velvety and inviting. Before you can catch a breath and reply, he spins you around and hammers his lips against yours. His tongue dives into your mouth again, taking charge with an eager frenzy that leaves your senses reeling. He’s kissed you a hundred times tonight, but each one sends you spinning into another freaking dimension.

You don’t mind the way his lips are bruising yours with each expert tilt of his head. His hands glide down, and with a playful smack on your ass, you groan into the kiss. He always kisses you senseless, leaving you breathless, aching and craving for more. 

You draw in a shaky breath as you try to regain your footing. “You’re lucky you’re so damn cute,” you coo, tucking a stray curl of hair behind his ear, “or I’d be prepping up some serious revenge right about now.”

Evan lets out a playful giggle, his lips brushing yours as he leans in for another fiery kiss. “I’d be seriously disappointed if you weren’t,” he rasps against your mouth, his voice hoarse and filled with mischievous intent.

“You’re such a troublemaker.” Once again, you try to sound stern, but the twinkle in your eye gives you away as you start for the bathroom.

But Evan’s having none of it. He slams his arm against the doorframe, effectively boxing you in. “I know,” he growls softly, his voice laced with lust. “But you love it.”

“You wish,” you hum, teasingly pinching his cheek. As you try to sidestep him and go back to the party outside, he shifts with you, his body melding into yours, blocking your every escape route.

“We’re not leaving until I fuck you.”

A shudder of arousal runs down your spine at his statement and the gruffness of his voice. You arch an eyebrow, trying to stay composed despite the heat rising between you. “Do I look like an idiot to you? Begging you for my freedom?”

He chuckles darkly as he gives you a once-over, his eyes flashing with raw desire. “No, you look like you want me inside you,” he fires back, your heart thumping wildly like it’s going a mile in a minute, and you struggle to swallow past the lump in your throat. “Y/N, I don’t think you quite understand how much I want you.” There’s a short distance between you as he’s looming over you, his breath scorching hot on your neck. “Every time you try to move, it just hits me how badly I need you.”

You shiver intensely as his words ignite a fiery thrill inside you. Trying to ignore the way his body is pressed firmly against yours, you clear your throat and force a playful grin. “Well, you know, a little public pressure never hurt anyone.”

His lips form a wicked smile as he walks you backwards, step by step until your back hits open the door of one of the guest rooms. Pushing his nose against the curve of your neck, he snarls, “All I know is that my cock is so fuckin’ hard for you right now. If I don’t have your pussy wrapped around it within the next thirty seconds, I’m taking you out there in front of the whole damn party.”

You can feel the hardness of his muscular chest through the thin fabric of your top as his hands move over your skin, with a confident yet affectionate grasp. They cup your ass beneath your skirt and drag you closer. You think you can tamp down the soft groan trapped in your throat, but you’re sorely mistaken when it tumbles down, strained and punchy, without remorse. 

“So what’s it gonna be, Y/N? In this room or out there where everyone can watch me ruin you? Your call,” he insists, his tone both commanding and mischievous, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I-in here,” you stutter.

The Cheshire cat smirk you receive in return spikes your nerves even higher. “Bingo.”

Without giving you a chance to backtrack on your decision, he hoists you up into his arms with powerful ease. The door clicks shut behind you with a definitive thud as he smothers the little squeal ripped from you with his lips. The new angle allows him to roughen the kiss even more, and you feel every tensing muscle of his body against yours.

He wastes no time—he dives in like he’s starving, tongue slashing into your mouth with hungry urgency, fighting for dominance like always. His slurred groans vibrate against your lips, his tongue darting and flicking against yours. A zing of electricity shoots straight to your pussy, and you’re clumsily fumbling with his clothes to get them off him—buttons popping, belt clinking, a flurry of desperate hands.

In a swift, flawless motion, he strips you off your skirt and top, tossing them aside with a flick of his wrist before gently laying you on the bed. You perk yourself up on your elbows, staring up at your boyfriend’s towering stature. Your chest heaves with exhilaration, imagining the joy of having his load spilling inside you.

Still holding his beer like a trophy, he unzips the fly of his trousers with excruciating suspense. He shuffles them down just past his ass until his cock bounces out. You gasp at the sight; he really is hard for you already, if the angry-looking vein bulging from his thick length is anything to go by. He’s throbbing—you can see his dick viciously twitching with needy desire, sending another gushing wave of slick pouring out of your eager pussy.

As he kicks off his pants, he pounces on top of you, his rock-hard erection rubbing continuously against your slick folds. His mouth slips down your collarbone, igniting trails of fire as they move up to your neck. Each kiss is a jolt as his lips sloppily slide along yours, both of you swallowing each other’s moans.

“I’ve been dreaming about those sweet lips of yours all night,” he murmurs, his voice a heavy, lustful whisper that vibrates through you. “But not these ones.” He nibbles gently at your nipple, his breath hot and sensual against your flesh. He releases the area with a resounding pop before continuing his sweet ordeal, kissing up the column of your throat to your jaw and then finally your lips. “I wanna make out with your bottom lips until you crumble to dust in my hands.”

The thought of his mouth on you, his nose deep on the ridge of your clit while his tongue plunges deep into your gummy walls, lost in the sauce, sends a spark of excitement rushing through your veins. Those wet, slow licks across your slit until his chin drips with your juices…my god.

But as his hand and mouth drift lower to your sensitive bud, your playful defiance takes over. With a mischievous grin, you flip him over with a strength that makes even you recoil in surprise. You straddle him, pressing your palms against his firm chest, practically caging him beneath you with a triumphant smile.

“Sorry, baby boy, but you’ve got me so worked up with your freaking remote that I need you deep inside now. Ravage me,” you demand, your voice a sultry growl.

That sputters a chuckle from him as he spanks your ass, biting his lips, anticipation building to a fever pitch. With a gentle but firm grip, he takes your chin between his fingers, locking eyes with you. His dark orbs seem to pierce right through your soul. “Then, I guess I’ll just have to enjoy the ride,” he whispers, his smirk promising a world of velvety pleasures.

led with equal parts lust and admiration. His hands massage your breasts, rolling your erect nipples between his forefingers before gripping your thighs, nails digging in just enough to make you shiver with want.

As you hover over him, poised to take on cowgirl duties, a sudden commotion from the hallway erupts through the haze of passion. Voices, loud and furious, yank you back to reality like a bucket of ice water splashed over your heated skin.

“What was that?” you gasp, freezing mid-motion, eyes wide darting to the door.

Evan sits up, concern etched on his face. His hands are still steadying your hips, but his body is in full alert mode. “Damn it,” you whisper-shout as something heavy shatters against the wall outside. Your pulse hammers as you scramble off Evan, instinctively clutching the sheet to your chest to cover your nudity.

His protective instincts kick in immediately. He wraps his arms around you protectively, pulling you into his warm embrace. “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs, tenderly kissing the crown of your head. His voice is a soothing balm against the tension—the voices outside now distinct as those of a man and a woman trapped in a fierce argument. “Probably just some drunk jerks. I’ll handle this. You stay behind,” he commands, his expression hardening, a deep furrow in his brow as he reaches for his clothes. 

Together, you sneak toward the door, the shouting growing clearer as you get closer. You exchange puzzled looks, trying to figure out what’s going on out there.

You press your ear to the door, listening intently. But then the angry voices suddenly shift—what was a heated argument dissolves into… laughter? You blink in confusion, pulling back slightly.

“Is that... Mike?” you mumble, recognising the unmistakably boisterous laugh of his friend, mingling with a few others.

Evan lets out a breath he’s been holding, shaking his head with a mix of relief and annoyance. “Those idiots,” he spits out, sighing, as his shoulders relax and the tension of the false alarm dissipates. “I swear it’s like a damn sitcom in here sometimes,” he scoffs. His hands find your waist again, his touch warm and familiar, as if he’s trying to rekindle the heat that was simmering between you just moments ago.

“Maybe we should go back to the party,” you suggest, your voice a little sheepish, trying to ensure everything’s okay. 

“No way I’m letting you go,” he croons, his lips hovering dangerously over the soft, greedy slope of your neck. His hard, thick cock is just a whisper out of reach, teasing and taunting you with its nearness. 

You hiccup a gasp as he lifts you effortlessly, pinning you against the wall with a force that makes your knees wobble. His mouth captures yours in a sloppy kiss that wipes away any remnants of anxiety, replacing them with a renewed surge of burning desire. 

“I’m so wet for you,” you breathe in half-protest, half-plea as he trails kisses down your neck. 

“I can tell,” he mumbles, chuckling against the steamy flesh of your boobs as he slides our panties off. Your breaths come in tattered and frayed bursts as he sheathes himself entirely inside your slick, sobbing sex with one smooth yet forceful thrust. Your nails dig harshly into the firm muscle of his bicep as you whimper, jaw dropping open in pure, blissful shock.

“H—Holy shit,” you yelp, your voice high-pitched and shaky as you squeeze your eyes shut, surrendering to his delicious torture.

With your legs twined tightly around his torso, you silently beg him to dive deeper. He obliges, rocking back and forth with a primal intensity, his hips slapping against your thighs. “Take it, baby, you can fuckin’ take this cock,” he growls, his voice raw with lust as he slams into you with merciless pumps. “It was made for you, just for you-u.”

He flashes you a victorious grin, his eyes half-lidded and intense. He scrunches his cute nose with every thrust that drives his stiff length deeper into your core, his balls pulsing against your tender slit. He bites your bottom lip to muffle his own groans, his breathing slipping out in ragged gasps.

So hot. He’s so hot.

“Ahh, yes. Give it to me rough,” you beg, your legs tightening around him as your mewling grows stronger. 

“You sound so fucking pretty,” he pants. He nibbles and sucks on your lips before his tongue enters your mouth, tangling with yours in a tantalising assault. You whine as his thick girth slides out inch by inch until only the tip nestles teasingly inside you.

He’s fully pressed into you, his hot breath a mix of short and shuddering huffs against your neck. He pauses for a moment, burying his face in the crook of your neck, soaking in the scent of your skin as if trying to memorise every part of you. “I don’t wanna finish that soon,” he laughs breathlessly, fighting to keep control.

“You got me seeing stars, baby boy,” you whisper huskily, your words barely audible over the pounding of your own heart. Your lips brush against his ear, planting an affectionate peck that sends a tremor through his core. As he quickens his pace, his eyes roll back, his hands gripping firmly onto your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

He leans back, his abs flexing with each powerful pull of his chest and arm muscles as he slams back into you again. He’s so shredded, and you can’t help but skim a few teasing fingers down his chiselled pecs. So ripped, and you’re not missing the opportunity to trace a few veins that prod against your fingers. He gasps delightfully at your touch, his cock convulsing inside you, driven wild by the way the brief gape of your pussy grips him like a vice.

“Fuck, you’re like a glove on my dick,” he moans, his voice catching as he gazes down at the way your cunt hungrily swallows and slurps him deeper. The filthy, lewd sounds of your groans and bodies melting together skin-against-skin reverberate through the room, echoing your shared need.

Unable to utter a word without screaming, you bite down on his neck, leaving a dark purple bruise. “So good—cock feels so good in me. Fucking me just riiight,” you cry out against his lips. Your voice rises in pitch, the words dissolving into incoherent moans as your nails rake his back, leaving tiny red crescents in their wake.

He lets out a dark chuckle, pressing his forehead against yours, eyes fixing onto yours with a feral intensity. “You’re markin’ me, huh? Want everybody to know who I belong to?” he grunts, squeezing your thighs with a possessive grasp, a crooked smirk playing at the corners of his lips. 

You nod faintly, a soft whimper escaping your lips as your fingers tangle in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. You’re trying to keep it together, you really are. But the way the head of his cock repeatedly strokes that delicate, spongy spot inside you turns your brain to utter mush. It leaves you no option but to spiral further into bliss and moan like a whore. 

Evan tuts, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “Guess I have to do everything for you, hm?” His voice is coated in a low rasp, the words gliding into your ears like a warm cuddle. His lips curl up in perverse satisfaction as he shoves three of his fingers into your mouth, eyes glittering with enthusiasm.

You hum around them, staring at him with a lustful challenge. You gargle around his large hand, jolting each time he rams into you, drool spilling from your chin down to your tits only to finally land on his lower stomach and dick.

“Can’t even let my fingers keep you quiet, huh? Gotta let everyone know how good I’m fucking you?” he taunts, his tone a hoarse, sensual growl. His hips snap forward, and your body responds instinctively, every nerve lit up with pleasure. 

You keep on sucking on his fingers, your eyes hooded with desire, each swirl of your tongue around his digits drawing a ragged breath from him. With a soft thud, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he runs them down your body, tracing a path from your lips to your breasts, down your stomach, and finally to the apex of your thighs.

“Right, I need to take stricter measures, then,” he mutters, his voice like gravel, as he carries you to the bed, still buried deep inside you. You gasp at the sudden movement, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

He sets you down in the middle of the bed and gruffs, “Bend over f’me,” his tone leaving no room for disobedience. You barely have a moment to comply before your ass is met with a rude spank, forcing a sharp moan out of you and flipping you over on your chest. 

His voice is a deep rumble, and you feel yourself pulse between your legs every time he speaks in these rough low decibels. 

“Mhm, don’t get shy. Let’s see that arch again, baby girl…like the good slut you are,” he urges, and your face gets smashed right into the crimson coloured sheets, his fingertips softly caressing down your exposed spine and over your ass facing skywards, his touch both gentle and demanding. “Let’s see my favourite wet pussy, best piece of ass I’ve ever seen,” he growls, admiring the view.

“E-Evaann,” you drag out, your voice breaking as you suck in a shaky breath. It’s almost humiliating how much he makes your pussy clench and drip for him, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he's looking at you like that and goes to great lengths (no pun intended) to satisfy you.

He rubs his hand against the stinging part of your ass, soothing and igniting at once, before aligning his leaky tip with your entrance. Your cunt is soaked, practically begging for him, profusely sweltering hot with your own slippery slick. He licks his lips at the sight as he smacks his fat cock against your puffed folds, the sound wet and filthy. 

“Don’t tease me, p- please,” you whisper, glancing over your shoulder at him as you balance on all fours, your voice barely a breath above a whimper.

He lets out a sinister throaty cackle as he leans down, staring at your dripping cunt before rubbing his fingertips right down between your slit. “Quiet, baby. I’ll fuckin’ tease you if I want,” and you moan, feeling the pad of his thumb smear the lustrous trail of cum near your hole and back down towards your clit. “I love hearing you beg,” he teases, but it’s short-lived as he slides the head of his cock inside you, stretching you inch by inch with delicious pleasure.

“My big boy, railing me so damn well,” you babble out as his thrusts become faster and harsher, your eyes widening once his lengthy dick hits against that perfect, sensitive spot so effortlessly. His sharp hips are so unapologetically mean, each snap of his body forcing you forward and back into him like a yo-yo he’s toying with.

He’s drilling into you at full speed, the headboard bashing against the wall in time with his thrusts. Your thighs jitter with ecstasy at just how nastily he’s using you, your needy walls biting around his shaft as he reels you back into his sculpted pelvis. You let out sweet sobs that fall on deaf ears as he practically splits you open each and every single time.

“D-don’t stop. F-f-fuck me, Evan. Right there, ‘s fuckin’ big,” you pant, your mouth hanging open, more spews of whines leaving you as he accelerates his hips ever further. The bed screams beneath you, each creak sounding like it’s about to give way, and you’re almost sure it’s going to break. “More, more… please,” you yelp as he thoroughly swivels inside you, wearing you thin.

“Shit, you feel.so.damm.good,” he growls, pumping even deeper with every word only to grab one of your wrists and restrain it behind your back. Your limbs grow knobbly as the heavy and thick base of his cock smacks against your ass. You’re dizzy, insanely so—your eyes rolling back and the wet hit of sounds of your desperate cunt fill the room, blending heavenly with your breathy mewling that matches his pace.

Docile dark irises meet yours as you look over your shoulder. Raw, guttural grunts die from the back of his throat as he allows you a moment to seize control, letting you rut back and forth, bouncing against his swollen, throbbing cockhead. The slanting curve in your back deepens, elevating the spectacle before him and inviting him to spank you again. You watch him bite his lip, his brows knitting together with ravenous desire as he throws his head back. Your name spills from his lips in a breathless mantra, and you reciprocate with endless whines. It’s your personal plea for more, for everything he has to give. 

“Fffffuck, keep going,” he hisses, peering down at the way your sobbing cunt fervently takes him in. “Such a good girl—fuck, wanting my cock,” he mumbles, and you feel a rippling wave of goose bumps running down his body as you walls tense around him.

Shivering breaths ghost down against your sweaty skin as his pace falters and weakens, humping into you with his mouth prying open, falling slack. A gasp wretches from his throat as the melting crown of his cock smacks up against your g-spot over and over until you’re seeing nothing but pure white.

With a cry, your orgasm crests and crashes over you, your folds convulsing with pure euphoria. You stretch upwards, and he seals your lips in a steamy kiss from above, consuming the sounds of your sweet release with affectionate back rubs and a victorious grin against your mouth.

“That’s my girl,” he rasps, your hips bucking and jerking as the violent aftershocks of your high wrack through you. Evan holds you tight, chasing his own climax.

“Who owns this little pussy?” he hisses through gritted teeth, hitting against your cervix a few times before shooting ropes of hot cum deep into your womb. It’s abundant and warm, your pussy continues to constrict and pulse around his length. He whimpers curses into your neck as he collapses against you, twitching and pouring generous amounts of himself into you.

Rough tides of overstimulation wash over you as Evan climbs on top of you, his lips capturing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. Your mind is still foggy from riding out the seismic waves of your orgasm, but a nagging thought breaks through: you’re in someone else’s house, and you need to leave things as you found them.

“The sheets,” you gasp, gently pushing him off the bed. Baffled and out of breath, he observes with hooded eyes as you kneel down and begin to lick and suck the remaining creamy love from his spent cock.

“Oh God, Y/N,” he moans, his eyes widening in shock as his fingers tangle in your hair. “You’re killing me,” he whines, his voice a mix of pleasure and overstimulation. His lungs heave with each breath as you clean off the mass of cum he’s dumping into your mouth, drool spilling down your chin. Your mind swims in ecstasy from the adrenaline-fuelled, earth-shaking orgasm, and you moan against his shaft, the vibrations sending shivers through him.

The moment is pure, unfiltered bliss, and you’re lost in it—until the door suddenly flies open, banging against the wall.

“Evan!” a voice yelps. I look up in shock as Jeremy, another close friend of Evan’s, stands frozen in the doorway, wide-eyed and red-faced at the sight of us. His cheeks flushed crimson as he averts his gaze, embarrassed to have walked in on such an intimate moment.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” he gasps, his voice cracking as he takes in the dishevelled scene before him. Evan, caught mid-stumble, face turning beet red, fumbles for his clothes, his stammers response coming out in a strangled mix of embarrassment and confusion.

“W-what’s up, Jeremy?” he stutters, his voice barely a whisper.

“It’s Jake,” Jeremy blurts out, his expression twisting into one of anguish. “He’s fallen off the roof.”

Jeremy’s words hit like a punch to the gut, the colour draining from Evan’s face. The room goes deathly quiet, the weight of his words sinking in. The room spins as everything comes to a screeching halt.

To be continued...

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

Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[kahuunknown]

The "Rebellious" one - BBC Sherlock sibling fanfic

!NOTE!: Male-reader/insert, inspiration from SHERLOCK TV Show

~~~

The rebellious one

Sherlock absolutely loved you; you were by far his favourite sibling by a long shot. You were the eldest of all your siblings, 1 year older than stuck up Mycroft and 8 elder than dear little Sherlock Holmes.

You were the troublemaker, mischievous without a doubt. You saw little reasoning behind Mummy dearest’s desires for you to become something great, like a doctor or lawyer. You hated the private piano lessons, the pointless tutoring sessions and eventually school altogether. It was easy to guess what you did, but dropping out of school was by far one of the best decisions of your life, and one of the easiest as well.

You were rebellious by nature.

Mummy and Daddy weren’t quite sure where the behaviour stemmed from as it was definitely not inherited from either of them. It was obvious to you however, the stress of being the first born, the expectation to be the most successful and therefore grand of your siblings. To be able to support yourself with ease and help your siblings if the need arises.

While you respected the ideal. You ultimately rejected the pathways your parents provided, paving a new one and building everything from nothing. It was satisfying seeing your parents reaction when you visited one Christmas dinner, they were horrified at the ink adorning your right arm. Sherlock however quite liked it, in fact he wasted no time gifting his present early, he wanted you to get his pirate sketch tattooed. And who were you to deny him?

That cute little face was irresistible normally, but with added intent and desire behind them? God, you were putty in his hands.

Together you went to a tattoo parlour, Sherlock was rambling furiously to the tattoo artist whilst the ink was being stained onto your skin, it was adorable, the passion in his story as he explained the intricacy of his design and the meaning behind it. ‘The adventures of Yellowbeard’. Sherlock called it, or something similar at least.

It didn’t quite match the other tattoo’s you’d gotten, as those were all grey-scale realistic designs, but Sherlock was adamant that colour was non-negotiable. The young Holmes was a hyper little bean as he jumped around in joy at the completion of his masterpiece. You couldn’t stop chuckling at his antics; the innocence was overloading your system.

Of course, Mum and Dad were horrified once the two of you returned, though they seemed less upset at the tattoo and more with the aspect of Sherlock in a ‘biker’s tattoo shop’ of which it was absolutely not. You weren’t an idiot, you’d made sure Sherlock was as safe as could be.

Mycroft thought you a moron the majority of your life. Growing up he strived to pass you at everything he possibly could, interestingly enough, it took much longer than expected. He thought you were just another goldfish, swimming around dumbly just like all the others. But of course, you were more than that he later realised.

You were a sponge. While you hated your mother’s insistent lessons and tutoring, you had an eidetic memory and couldn’t help but memorise absolutely everything ever taught to you. You would have been a prodigy, everything your parents ever dreamed you to be. But unfortunately for them, you had slightly different plans.

Mycroft thought he’d finally done it when he joined the British Government, there was no way you could outshine him now. Yet, despite not having achieved a high standing career, it was obvious that whenever the two of you met, who was smarter ultimately. You were the opposite of what you parents dreamed you to be, yet you were the happiest having done so. Mycroft admired that.

He’d admit that of course, you would win in physicality. Always. You loved going outside, working out, playing sports, and eating healthy. It was one of your passions, something that ultimately benefitted you quite greatly as your appearance remained younger for much longer than if you had of neglected fitness and health. Sherlock teased Mycroft relentlessly about it as well, how young and fit their elder brother looked in comparison. Of course it was playful teasing, but it was definitely something to respect.

It was only more recently that all three brothers started getting along quite nicely. Sherlock of course never thought ill of you, he just assumed you were an average idiot like John. You played the part quite well, snickering behind Sherlock back while explaining things to John, whom believed you to be his favourite of the Holmes children. You were fun to be around, the most human and emotional of all. It was refreshing to be around.

When you finally decided to reveal your hidden superpower, he was dumbfounded but also instantly relieved.

Mycroft however was a very different story. It started slowly, you invited him randomly to a gig, of which he was pleasantly surprised when he arrived to a wedding, you adorned in an unfamiliar suit standing at the stage and singing a sweet lullaby to the lucky couple. It wasn’t your usual style, sure, but you wanted to ease Mycroft into your life, and what better way to do it?

Over the years, Sherlock had subtly provided you with more tattoo designs he’d wish for you to get, all his own of course. You were still a sucker for those eyes; it seemed their affect never dimmed as the detective aged.

Eventually one day Mycroft approached you on the matter, rather shyly you’d point out as well, you were open and encouraging as he mumbled the reluctant request to add to your collection of ink with one of his own. Stating through hidden messages within his speech that he’d been feeling a little left out. Of course you were ecstatic, more than happy to agree.

It was then that Mycroft realised no matter what he’d accomplish, you always have the upper hand in the end. Not because of intelligence nor deducing skills, but because of your raw compassion and commitment to your beliefs and dreams, it was awe inspiring. Beautiful even.

Perhaps those brothers of yours might do a little rebelling of their own.

[alovethatkilled]

The Turners

I wrote this out after episode 13x05 regarding the Turners and what I want to see. I spoke about it to someone else before, but I wanted to share my thoughts here, too. 

I actually wanted to write a fanfic regarding this matter, and it's the reason why you’ll see some dialogue. Who knows, I might bite the bullet and do it if inspiration strikes. This is also a rough draft, as emotions were present while writing this. Anyway, here we go. Please ignore all the grammar mistakes.

I actually WANT them to take her away. I want May to be taken away and be put with a different family. Now, hear me out before any hate gets thrown at me.

I want CTM to show the struggle of Patrick, Shelagh, Tim (if he is home), Angela, Teddy, and other characters close to the Turners.

I know Shelagh’s way to cope is to throw herself into work and to keep busy. Show me how Shelagh is struggling to cope with May being gone so show me her breakdown. Have Patrick, Sister Julienne, Sister Veronica, or even Mrs Higgins try to console Shelagh. That chat that she had with Sister Julienne was so short and knowing it probably took a lot of Shelagh to open up was disappointing so have them open up more or just give the woman a hug Sister Julienne, she needs it!

Have Cyril be the one that takes a crying May away from her parents. Show me how every time one of them sees Cyril afterwards, they look away because even though they know he was doing his job, that doesn’t change the fact that they are still hurt by it.  

I want to see May be put into a different house. I like to see May become withdrawn. The house where she is put up isn’t bad, but it isn’t the best for her. Show me Esther seeing May like that. Show Esther looking at the pictures Shelagh has sent and how happy she looks. Then, have her look at May and realise that May was always with the best family she could have because she has parents and siblings who love her deeply. Although it is painful for Esther because she knows she can’t care for May, she understands that the Turners are giving her child a good life. I want Esther and May to talk, even if it’s briefly, and let her choose what she wants. Then give me a cute moment of Esther teaching May some of her native language. Maybe something silly or teach her to say “I love you”. 

Then, give them a reunion. Have Mrs Williams or Esther return May to the Turners. Not at their house, but somewhere public, like a park. Have them not know that May will return until she does. Have May run from where she was standing and call out “Mummy”, then have Shelagh and Patrick turn around frantically at the sound. Shelagh crouches down just in time for May to barrel her way onto her arms. Secure, Shelagh inhales May’s hair as she did at the Mother House. Patrick suddenly envelops both Shelagh and May into a hug. Then, have May say something silly like “I can’t breathe” they panic, but once they see May laughing, they join her or have May say “I love you” to them in Cantonese/Mandarin. And when Shelagh or Patrick asks what it means, Esther approaches and says, “It means I love you”.

Have Shelagh grab Esther’s hands as she repeats, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” 

Then maybe have the Turners meet Esther and let them talk. This part doesn’t have to be shown, but this talk could be about them trying to communicate more for May. Have Esther ask the Turners to send May to get Cantonese/Mandarin classes so she doesn't forget her roots.

This is one of the most essential parts. I don’t want this to be a one-episode story. I like this to be a multiple-episode situation. Have it be until the last episode of the season/series. Or even if we have to wait, have May return to them during the Christmas episode.

The Turners are a beautiful, loving family. We often see bad things happen to them and they pull through like they always do. It’s their strength to have faith and trust in each other, and it’s what makes them so amazing. In the show, we see couples come and go, but none have been as firm as them (with the exception of The Buckles). They are the longest-lasting couple in the series. Show us why we initially fell in love with them and why we still do ten years later. 

Their 10th anniversary was overlooked, and in the Tuberculosis episode, there was no mention of Shelagh or how that particular case could have affected Patrick and Timothy in the aftermath. It is as if none of these things was crucial or significantly impacted them and their friends in the series. So give this to them. 

Anyway, the rant/mini fanfic (?) is done for now.

If you have your own thoughts on the matter please share them but don't be mean.

[auburnlaughter]

Some Mraaaah Ch 8, as usual! :D

Gladly! Thank you for the ask.

WIP Wednesday Game - The Sorrows of Ra (fanfic)

Jonathan tried to throw his sister a look of wounded betrayal, but the effect was slightly ruined by the blush spreading up over his ears. Evy grinned back at him before growing serious once more.

"So, we need to make sure that we find the cultists without them being aware of us.

[fuuyuko01]

It's fine

Ryan Ross x Reader

Slight hurt/comfort (mostly fluff)

TW: swearing, alcohol, very, very slight nsfw

[HII!!! THAT WAS MY FIRST EVER FANFIC, SO I'M SORRY IF IT'S NOT GOOD!! You can tell me what I should improve, and I'll work on it!!! Hope you'll have fun!! ;P

XO Lea ☆]

*Y/N's POV*

It was a rainy day and I was lying in my bed with my friend Ryan by my side. Yes, Ryan Ross, known as Ryan Ross from Panic! at the disco. Cool, I know. We were friends since 8th grade, when he and his parents moved to our town. Since then we were friends and blah blah blah... As you can guess, I might kinda have a littlest crush on him, but hey.... who wouldn't, right? Anyway, I know it might sound cringe, but I'm 100% sure he doesn't feel the same, cause he can get literally every girl he wants, so I see no point why would he choose me. Anyway! I was scrolling through Instagram, when Ryan sighed and tapped at my shoulder.

— Brendon invited us to some party this weekend. He said that it's a Halloween party, so we should wear some costumes, you down? - he looked at me with pleading eyes.

— Well, if you're going then why not? - I smiled to him and he returned it.

— Good! I'd rather not go to Brendon's alone. - he sighed dramatically and I chuckled.

— Uh-huh, so if we're going, should we have matching costumes? Maybe mummies? [Everybody scream it's almost Halloween!!]

— Dude, I was thinking about the same thing, we totally should! - Ryan said excited. I knew he loves mummies, that's why I picked them, cause.... be fucking for real, who would want to go to party as a mummy. I could've been some Frankenstein [Iero] or dead bride. But I knew it'd make him happy, so whatever.

— Great! Well, we don't have much time, let's go shopping for some paints and bandages! - I said, and we went to store, to buy everything we needed.

☆~*°`°*~☆~*°`°*~☆~*°`°*~☆~*°`°*~☆

Rest of the week wasn't so entertaining, we were just basically going to school and completing our costumes.

I had the worst luck in the day of the party. First, I spilled my coffee all over myself in the morning, so I had to change my clothes, but then I didn't have anything clean, so I had to wear some of my old clothes, which were too small for me. Then, I slipped on the spilled coffee and not only did I cut my knee on the floor, but my bracelet from Ryan fell under the kitchen cabinet so far that I practically had to climb under it to get it out. And when I had it, I also got a huge, DISGUSTING spider out of it. Yeah, I hope that was everything for today.

Ryan came over to my house, so I could do our matching makeup and that was so far, the only good thing that happened this day.

I was sitting on Ryan's lap, doing his makeup and his hands slipped on my waist. I blushed as crazy, cause what the fuck was he doing... He just grinned with his eyes closed as I was doing his eyeliner. That bitch... My poor heart was about to blow up, so I just tried to ignore it, which was difficult, cause I HAD A CRUSH ON HIM, AND HE HAD HIS HANDS ON MY WAIST!!! WHAT THE HELL.

I calmed myself and focused on finishing his makeup, and when I was done, I stood up and he went to the mirror to see my work.

— Is it good? - I asked him, still feeling a bit of warmth on my cheeks.

— Bro, it's beautiful! Thank you, Y/N, you're so good at this, damn.... - I chuckled at him and blushed slightly.

— Jeez, stop, you're making me blush! - I said jokingly and he smirked.

— Well, I saw how you blushed when I put my hands on your waist, you liked it so much? - I turned away so he couldn't see my red face, so I could finally do my makeup.

As I was finishing my eyeliner, my hand slipped and I stared at my fucking relfection in the mirror trying not to cry, cause I was almost finished. I groaned loudly and frustrated. Ryan came to me and looked at my fucked up eyeliner.

— Ehh... don't worry, you look great anyway - he smiled warmly and put his hand on my shoulder - You can always say that it's a part of your costume, right? - he rubbed my shoulder and I smiled at him. He's so cute and good to me.... You get why I love him.

I sighed, and after a while of getting our things, we went to Brendon's house.

☆~*°`°*~☆~*°`°*~☆~*°`°*~☆~*°`°*~☆

[Sorry if it's boring...]

When we got there, Brendon opened the door with some girl Sarah beside him and they greeted us.

— Dude, you know who's coming today? - Brendon said to Ryan - Juliet! - he said and grinned at Ryan. Who? I was so confused. I knew it couldn't possibly be Ryan's girlfriend, cause I'd know if he had one, but... I've never heard of anyone named Juliet from him. He side-eyed me and I shot him a confused look.

— That's um... great. - Ryan said embarrassed and Brendon just shook his head.

As the sun went down and everyone was tipsy or just drunk, I was talking to Frank and Andy, cause Ryan went to grab some drinks for us. I realised it was a while ago, but I thought that maybe he met Jon or Z on the way. But after some more time, I was getting worried.

— Uh, guys, I'll go check on Ryan, you wanna stay or go with me? - I asked them and they looked at each other.

— I'll go with you! - Andy shot me one of his stunning smiles. Don't get me wrong, I love Ryan, but Andy is so cute! And he's more like a brother to me anyway.

Frank said he'll stay and went to talk to Pete and Gee.

As we were going and talking with Andy, I spotted Brendon grinning and giggling, while looking at something in the kitchen. Andy said he's probably so drunk, that he's hallucinating, so I brushed this off and then we get there.

Ryan was kissing with some blond girl. She was almost fucking eating him alive and he held her so tightly... I was stunned and I could tell Andy was too. We were standing there for like 15 seconds, which felt like hours and then Andy grabbed my arm and started walking off to the doors. Last thing I saw, was Ryan's shocked face, when he caught a glimpse of us walking off.

☆~*°`°*~☆~*°`°*~☆~*°`°*~☆~*°`°*~☆

I was crying into Andy's shoulder, when alcohol and the whole Ryan-situation caught up with me. I'm not really blaming him for kissing that girl. She was pretty and in his type. I knew I wasn't that pretty, but she looked nothing like me and this broke me even more. I was kinda angry that he didn't told me about having girlfriend or even a crush.... I thought we were friends.

I heard someone opening the door, and Andy turned around.

— Um...hey, could you leave us alone? Please... - great. Well, who would've thought that it was Ryan. I hung my head low as Andy backed off a little.

— Sure, but don't worsen her state, cause I swear to god... - Andy looked at him with his brows knitted. He was such a good friend. As he was leaving, I heard him whispering "She loved you, bro" to Ryan. Damn, could it get worse? I sniffed and Ryan came to me.

— I'm sorry, Y/N... - he said. I started to feel bad, was I a bad friend and person?

— No, Ryan, it's fine! I just... I thought you'd tell me if you had a girlfriend... But it's okay, really. - I tried to smile at him, but my words were just worsening my ability to speak and hold back tears, so my voice and smile were cracking as fuck. Ryan sighed.

— It's not okay, Y/N and... she's not my girlfriend, I 'd tell you. I'm sorry, fuck, she's just an old friend of mine and... God, I'm sorry, she kissed me and I wasn't really thinking straight after alcohol, so I just went with it. And... you were all over Frank tonight, I just couldn't take it. - my eyes widened at his words.

— What? Ryan, what are you talking about? Frank and I are just friends, besides, Frank have a girlfriend, don't you remember...? - I looked at him in disbelief. He met Jamia, I didn't know what he was thinking anymore... He looked me in the eyes and his cheeks went slightly red. He said a little "Oh..." and I smiled lightly.

— So... that girl isn't your girlfriend, right...? - I asked shyly, cause I still was confused about all of this.

— No, I... - he sighed - I love only you, I couldn't look at you being so close with Frank, I just... I don't even know what I was thinking. I'm sorry Y/N, I get it if you don't want to be with me or you need a break I..- he didn't get to finish the sentence, cause I bring him down and kissed him quickly. We both melted into the kiss and his hands went to my waist, while mine rested on his shoulder and at the back of his head. We broke off after some time and just smiled at ourselves and he kissed me again, this time much softer, without any hesitations and fears of rejection, just pure love and happiness. Soon I deepened the kiss and it got pretty heated. My back collided with the wall and Ryan's hands were roaming on my body. But then someone opened the door and we broke off again. We were panting heavily, and Jon walked through the door. He looked at us, panting and blushing and he started laughing.

— Having fun? Don't get too fucking freaky when everyone can walk on you and get flashed. - he said and we looked at each other and smiled.

☆~*°`°*~☆~*°`°*~☆~*°`°*~☆~*°`°*~☆

Soon, we got back to my bedroom and as the sun went up we ended up on a ground. I smiled into the kiss and felt Ryan smiling too. He then backed off a little and looked me in the eyes.

— I'm sorry for tonight. I never thought you'd like me like that... I really love you Y/N, really, you're my everything. - he said and kissed my cheek, I felt like crying again.

— I love you too, Ryan! I thought YOU wouldn't like me like that. I guess we're just two idiots. - we chuckled and I hugged Ryan tightly.

I guess that day wasn't so unlucky, after all...

☆

[mummy-bi-bi-bi]

Mummified Memories Masterlist

Fandom: The Mummy (1999)

Main Pairing: Ardeth Bay/Original Female Character

Summary: As an orphan, Sadie has struggled to survive Egypt her whole life, but she always survives, nonetheless. Her skills are tested when Rick comes knocking on their door after escaping the noose in prison. He's got a job for them, and when have those jobs ever gone wrong?

The desert awaits them, along with something else shrouded with mystery. Rick recognizes the men in dark robes and facial tattoos from his previous journey to Hamunaptra, but for Sadie, her experience goes far deeper than that, and not even the undead can make her forget it.

Tag: # mummified memories series

(Posted on AO3)

Full series (WIP)

desert flowers are the most adaptable (Complete)

isn't it strange (Chapters 3/6)

Other fun stuff for the series:

"Laughing with the enemy" edit

Alex O'Connell "My Family" edit

Incorrect quotes

Ai generated images of OC

Disclaimer: I do not own the Mummy's plot, lore, and/or characters. All rights go to their respective creators. I only own my original character, Sadie.

[verai-marcel]

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 20 of ?)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

Act I - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Act II - Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19

AO3 Link is here, darling.

Word Count: 3,441

—————————————

Act II, Chapter 8 - The Towers

Astarion came out of his reverie a few hours before dawn, as per usual. Normally he would go read or take a dip in the hot bath to relax.

Instead, he stayed right where he was, looking at his little hearth witch, tucking her thick hair behind her slightly pointed ear. 

Gods, he wanted her. Wanted to bury himself inside of her warm body, feel her heart race against his as he pleasured her, made her cry out his name.

But he still couldn’t shake the tainted feelings that went with his carnal craving. Damn Cazador! That son of a bitch!

His witch groaned and shifted in her sleep, her breathing hitching as her muscles tensed. Immediately he tamped down on his frustration as his concern for her overrode his anger. He carefully lifted her shirt to glance at the circular rune tattooed on the small of her back.

The orange cracks pulsed angrily in the dark. He placed his hand onto her skin, feeling the heat slowly dissipate under his touch.

Should I tell her? He looked down at her face. Her furrowed brow gradually relaxed and her breathing returned to normal.

I’ll tell her in the morning. For now… I’ll keep an eye on her.

***

The next morning, you awoke draped on top of Astarion, his arms wrapped around you covetously. 

“Mmhmm, g’mornin’,” you mumbled, blinking away the sleep. You looked up to see Astarion staring at you with a peaceful smile on his face.

“Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” you said with a smile. You tapped his chest with a finger. “You normally get up far earlier than I do… Did you stay here just to be with me?”

He smiled back at you. “Perhaps.”

You got up and let him get ready for the day, turning your back as you got changed. When you turned back around, you realized that he had been watching you the whole time with the way he eyed you appreciatively, one side of his lips quirked up.

“Were you watching me change?”

“Well, you didn’t tell me not to,” he said, shrugging.

“You can make your own decisions, you know.”

“And I chose to watch you change.” His expression turned serious as he stepped closer to you and lowered his voice. “Your seal… it still has cracks all over it.”

You blinked. You hadn’t thought to ask him to check it for you. “Oh. Hmm. It doesn’t feel any different, though.”

“Tell me if it does,” he said softly.

You nodded. 

He smiled and ruffled your hair before leaving the tent. You wondered at this more affectionate, almost cuddly version of Astarion, and hoped that you could keep healing his heart, little by little.

***

You made the others a nutritious breakfast and packed them a few bundles of snacks to keep their energy up for what would hopefully be the final battle in this place. Their expressions were more grim than when they had left last time. As they all walked up the pathway out of the camp and disappeared from sight, your spine tingled.

“W-wait!”

But they were already gone.

You turned to Withers. “Should I go after them?”

He stared at you for a moment. “Whatever thou does shall make no difference in what is to transpire.”

You hated not knowing why your seal was tingling. “Then what’s the point of these damn premonitions if I don’t know what to do with them half the time?!”

“Who said it was a premonition?”

You stared at the skeleton, who looked back at you in curiosity. “I…”—you gestured helplessly—“I don’t know. No one, I guess. I just thought…”

He turned away from you as you trailed off, staring out into space once more, his usual state of being. It was as if he was seeing something far away, watching events elsewhere.

“Can… you see them, right now?”

He ignored you.

Damn cryptic mummy. You closed your eyes and focused on your seal. Why the hells are you tingling, hm?

Tracing the power, tracing the lines, you could feel something like a thread being tugged at your seal from below the ground, down, down deep underground.

Something is happening down there. Something big. And there’s nothing I can do.

You fell to your knees in despair. Astarion. Astarion!

Your mind went to the others. Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, Gale, Shadowheart!

You knew it was useless, but you sent a heartfelt message in your mind. Please, be careful my friends!

Taking a deep breath, you slowly let it out, trying to rid yourself of the worry that was threatening to freeze you like a winter storm. 

Nothing I can do about what I can’t control, so let’s do what I can. 

You cleaned and sorted and mended until every last thing you could possibly do was done. You practiced your songs, you tried to dance, but your mind wasn’t focused. Apprehension stalked your thoughts like a hunter, and your tired mind its prey. 

I can’t bear not knowing, but I have no choice, do I?

Staring at the entryway, you spaced out, your mind going to all kinds of terrible scenarios. Your breath caught, your heart raced.

This isn’t helping. I need to calm down. Godsdammit, why can’t I calm down?!

Scratch came up to you and nudged your leg.

“Scratch? What’s that you got there?”

Holding out your hand, you took the proffered gift. It was a small pouch, purple dyed with a striped pattern, and felt very light. When you opened it, you could smell a light grassy scent. 

“Autumn crocus?” You looked down at the dog, who was looking at you with an expectant expression. Squatting down, you scratched his head and neck. “Good boy.”

~You seem down, friend.~

You blinked. I can hear him without taking that potion? Strange. “I’m worried for the others.”

~You don’t think they’ll come back?~

“I… I’m sure they’ll come back.”

Scratch tipped his head. ~You don’t seem sure.~

You sighed. What I’m not sure about is my sanity. “I’m not. I’m just trying… to make myself believe.”

~Do you trust them?~

“I do.”

~Then they’ll come back.~

You smiled. I wish I could think like that. “I’ll take your word for it.” Sitting down cross legged, you petted Scratch’s head while you spaced out. No point in letting the unknown get me so riled up. Let’s hope for the best, shall we?

Laying down and staring at the ceiling, you closed your eyes, using the sound of the rushing water to empty your mind and bring yourself some peace.

***

1489 DR, Three Years Ago

You had just set up your little cottage by the River Chionthar. The previous owner had long since passed away, and no one else had laid claim to it. You had even checked in the village to see if anyone else owned it, but it appeared to just be abandoned property. Given how much of a shithole it was when you found it, you weren’t surprised that no one wanted it.

It was slightly off the beaten path and weeds were everywhere, vines on top of the house, in the house, between the tiles. Fortunately, you knew a few songs that handled gardening very quickly, and after a few days of cleaning up, it was finally livable. 

You slowly started to build your business, first from your regulars from the village who liked your potions, and then the merchants who passed by and saw your sign for potions and a resting place. After half a year, you had steady business.

It was a good life. It was a simple life. Sure, you constantly felt anxious being by yourself in your tiny home, but part of you knew, logically, that some of the folks in the village would notice if you disappeared, and some of your regular traveling merchant customers would be disappointed if you weren’t here.

But in the back of your mind, in the dark of night, the memory of the bounty hunter in Baldur’s Gate, of those mercenaries in Waterdeep, of the warlock getting eaten alive by a devil, of the demons attacking your village… 

If you had no customers sleeping in your guest tents, then every noise would shatter your calm. You started to advertise your resting site more vigorously, to make sure that every night, someone else would be around. It was a risk, of course. Your guests might be murderers or bandits. 

But you always shook hands before offering a guest tent, so you always knew if someone had bad intentions.

Early in your business, a pair of thugs forced you to entertain them for the night. You offered them a song and a dance to go with their meal.

When they fell into a deep slumber, you had quietly buried them alive on the shores of the Chionthar, letting the wildlife peck at them while they were blissfully unaware of becoming part of the circle of life.

You couldn’t bear to kill them yourself; you didn't want to sense that agony again. Was it more cruel to be eaten alive? Perhaps. But they would never know. Your spell of unassailable sleep was one you crafted, after all. A melody weaved with shadows and shade, a dance designed to hypnotize and mesmerize, a stew laced with valerian and foxglove…

It wasn’t the proudest thing you had done. But it was certainly one of the most life-preserving. And you probably saved someone else from becoming one of their victims in the future. 

You were doing good in the world by silently taking out the trash. At least that's what you told yourself. 

***

You woke up with a cold shiver. You hadn’t thought about that night in a long time. It hadn't been pleasant, but it needed to be done. Fortunately, it was the only time you had to do it. There was a passer-by who had asked about anyone matching the description of the two men you had buried, but you had only shrugged and told them you had seen some folks like that wandering westward. 

You did know how to lie. You did know how to kill. You just didn’t like doing it.

Slowly picking yourself up off the cold stone floor, you gave Owly and Scratch a warm look. The two had fallen asleep together next to you, as if they were keeping you company. My sweet little ones, I love you so.

They both suddenly lifted their heads together and looked towards the entry.

Your seal tingled at the same time, growing and growing, until it felt like power was surging up and down your spine. Gasping, you closed your eyes and concentrated, imagining yourself grabbing an electrified rope and pulling it taut. The energy focused onto a target far above you, moving quickly away from the temple.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you had an inkling.

“C’mon boys, help me pack up,” you told your two animal companions. “I have a feeling we’ll need to leave quickly.”

You were just finishing packing up the communal area when the group appeared, looking exhausted and covered in blood and grime. Shadowheart looked particularly out of sorts. She wasn’t even pushing away Gale, who was hovering next to her, a look of concern etched onto his features.

Wyll waved at you. “Looks like you already anticipated our next move,” he said.

You nodded. “I had a hunch.” You glanced over at Shadowheart, who was heading towards her tent, not looking around. I’ll talk to her later. “Where are we headed next?”

“Back to the Last Light,” Wyll answered. “We need to tell the others what happened.”

“Although they’ll have a good idea, once they see Nightsong soaring in the sky,” Karlach added.

The Nightsong was a person? You only nodded and got to work helping everyone pack up. They’d fill you in on the way back.

***

You had run into several groups of Harpers making their way to the towers, following the streak of moonlight that the Nightsong left in her wake, so by the time you arrived at the Last Light Inn, it was two-thirds empty. Still, it was bustling with energy as all the fighters still present were getting their things together to join the fray, while the non-combatants were preparing supplies.

Jaheira was one of the few remaining, and she came up to your group. “I am guessing this”—she gestured at the light rays above—“is your doing.”

Your group mumbled and shrugged. 

The High Harper shook her head with a smile. “We will meet you at the towers.” Without another word, she took off with a small group of fighters, not waiting for a reply.

As you came closer to the building, Halsin came out to greet you. He took one look at everyone. “Do you need to rest first? Or will you carry on to the towers?”

You looked at your friends. Though they were tired and grimey, they still had a spark in their eyes. They could fight. They could win.

But everyone looked at Shadowheart.

She took a deep breath, as if she was gathering all the strength left in her. “Just give us a moment to wipe the dirt from our faces, then we can go,” she finally said, determination straightening her spine.

Halsin nodded and smiled at everyone. “Good. I will accompany you.” Then he turned to you. “Thaniel and Oliver are resting inside. Could you keep an eye on them?”

You nodded.

The next hour was a blur of everyone getting a bit of a breather, cleaning their weapons, restocking on potions, and getting a small bite to eat before heading back out.

As you were preparing another batch of potions, you felt Astarion’s arms wrap around you from behind. 

“Need a bite?” you asked without looking at him, tipping your neck to one side.

“You’re so thoughtful,” he murmured before sinking his fangs into your neck, holding you tight as he took two strong pulls from you. Letting out a soft sigh of satisfaction, he licked your wound clean and kissed it gently. “Ah, I feel much better.”

“Will you be alright?”

“Who knows? We could die horribly in this next fight.”

You turned around and stared at him, frowning. “Please don’t say that. I want you to live.”

“So do I, darling.” He tapped your nose. “And I have so far. Don’t fret, nothing can keep me away from your delicious self.”

You smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Let’s go!” Wyll announced to the group, leading the way out of the Inn. The others grabbed their packs and followed. You barely got to hug Astarion before he headed out with them.

“Good luck, everyone!” you called out to them as they set off towards the Towers.

Left in the Inn with some of the tieflings, the injured, and the two fey boys, you got to work.

They have their battle to fight, and I have work that I can do. So I’ll do it to the best of my ability.

***

When the ground shook violently later that day, you were both scared and hopeful. And when your companions returned, battered and bruised, yet whole, you breathed a mighty sigh of relief.

But with your friends, came a newcomer. A winged angel, who held Isobel so tenderly in her embrace. You soon learned that she was the Nightsong, Dame Aylin, daughter of Selune herself. Which made her an aasimar. You had only heard of her kind in legends that your father had told you. Greeting her with respect, you thanked her for helping your friends.

“It is they who helped me in my time of great need,” she replied. Then she looked at you for a moment. “How is it that you did not join the battle?”

“She doesn’t have any fighting experience,” Astarion answered in your stead.

Dame Aylin glanced at Astarion. “The girl can answer for herself.” She turned her intense stare towards you. “You have power. Do you not know how to use it?”

You swallowed. “I… I did use it once. But I…” You shrugged helplessly. “I can only create a stationary shield that drains me of my power very quickly. Not much use in a real battle.”

The aasimar observed you in silence for a few extra moments, making you squirm under her scrutinizing gaze. “Then you must train. You wish to help, do you not?”

Astarion finally stepped in between her and you. “She does help. A lot. By helping us.” He turned to you. “Come my dear, I am very hungry.” He proffered his arm to you.

You gladly took it. “Of course.” You bowed to Aylin, not wanting to disrespect her. “I’m afraid I must attend to my companion. Excuse me.”

The two of you scurried away to the back of the building where the bath was.

“Thank you,” you breathed. “I felt like a criminal being interrogated.”

Astarion pulled the curtains closed and began to strip. “She shouldn’t have questioned you so much,” he whispered angrily. “You do plenty to help us. You don’t need to put yourself in more danger on top of that.”

While you understood and agreed with him, a part of you felt a slight sting of disappointment. You couldn’t fight. You didn’t want to fight. But you wanted to protect them.

Why did Dame Aylin think you could join a battle?

You completed heating the water just as Astarion had finished stripping down. Quickly turning around, you heard him climb into the bath with a satisfied sigh. 

“Do you still need me?”

“Always.”

You turned back around, keeping your gaze focused on his face. “Do you want me to wash your hair?”

He blinked. “That… that sounds nice.”

You came around and grabbed the shampoo bar. “Dunk your head in the water first.”

He did as you told him, and you quietly hummed a tune while you washed and rinsed his hair. You even dried and brushed it, just as you did before. When you were done, you turned around and let him dry himself off with a towel while you cleaned his armor and clothes with a cantrip. As he was getting dressed, you asked timidly about the battle, unsure if he wanted to relive it so soon. But he graciously obliged and weaved you a tale, the cadence of his voice soothing your soul even though the content was horrifying. An elder brain, headed to the city? Gods, what a mess.

When the two of you returned to the common area, the others were drinking and eating, quietly gathered by the bar.

“Must be nice, having someone to bathe you,” Shadowheart teased.

You glanced at Gale. He subtly shook his head.

“You could too, if you’d let him,” Astarion sniped back.

Everyone went eerily quiet. 

Godsdammit! “So Astarion was just telling me about the battle. I’m glad you all came out alive,” you quickly said, trying to change the subject. “So what’s our next step?”

“We follow the elder brain to Baldur’s Gate,” Gale said. “We need to go Sorcerous Sundries first though, so we can research more on the crown on its head. That way we can learn how to control it.”

“You mean destroy it,” Wyll corrected.

“Let’s table that conversation until we learn more about it,” Gale replied. “For now, we rest, then head out to the Gate at first light.”

***

Sleeping in a real bed for the first time in a long while, you lay next to Astarion, watching his facial features. He must have been really tired, for he barely took two mouthfuls of blood from you before laying back and closing his eyes.

“You’re not hungry?” you asked him.

“There was a lot of fresh blood in the tower,” he mumbled. “I drank plenty to keep up my strength. So many people to stab.” He sighed happily. “It was wonderful.”

You chuckled.

He opened one eye to look at you. “Did you find that funny? I thought you would be rather horrified.”

You shrugged. “I can have a gallows sense of humor.”

He hummed. “I learn something new about you every day.”

“Well, I can’t very well bore you, now can I?”

“That wouldn’t be very fun.” He reached out and pulled you into his arms. “Sweet dreams, darling.”

“Sweet dreams, my star.” You winced after you said it. Seems a bit on the nose, doesn’t it?

He smiled, his eyes closed. “Don’t say that in front of anyone else”

“Of course,” you snickered. “It’ll just be for us.”

“Us. I do love the sound of that.”

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

End Notes: So a purple crocus flower can represent hope and optimism, and since the autumn crocus in the game are purple, I thought this would be a good little present that Scratch brings you. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you thought in the comments, I thrive off your feedback! Last chapter is the end of Act II, we're getting closer to the Gate!

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Tag List: @numblytemporary @xalphafox @avitute @stormyjane7 @kmoon21

[blackheart1454]

We own you (Yandere!Creepypasta x Abused!Depressed Reader) Chapter 1

Warnings!: Abuse, violence.

Minors get the fuck out of here! 🔞+

Hello everyone! This is my first Creepypasta x Reader fanfic, I hope everyone enjoy it! I must apologize if the fanfic have grammar and spelling mistakes, english isn't my native language, but I'm trying very hard! 

Thanks and enjoy the story

Chapter 2

I was panting heavily, feeling the blood staining every part of my body. I was chained against the wall. Naked, cover in boiling water burns, cuts, cigarette burns and bruises. Why I am here? Let me tell you my history. I used to be a happy girl with a normal life. I had two lovely parents, that were worry about me and always made sure that I had everything I need. My mom was a nurse and my father a journalist. I barely remember my mother, she was always busy at the hospital, she worked the whole day, and when she didn’t, she came home pretty late and, in that circumstance, my father was my best friend. He used to look after me, he used to take me to school, he used to listen to my problems… he used to love me.

One day, my mother got terrible sick, and my father did everything to cure her, to find a treatment… but as time passed, my mother’s illness became increasingly worse. She died one Friday at 12:00 am. From that day, dad started to act weird. He started to avoid me in every way, like I never exist. I never see him until night, but he was passed away on the coach with a smell of alcohol. That routine continued for 2 months. I knew he was having a hard time by dealing with mom’s death, I was waiting for him to recover, to return to the lovely father I knew, but I was wrong. So wrong.

Who knew that my life would become a nightmare overnight? First the insults began, then the beatings, finally the torture. I never knew what I did for deserve this, the only thing I was sure, he was always blaming me for mom’s death. I had to deal with the pain every second. There were days that I was bruised so bad that I hardly had the strength to stay awake. I never told anyone about this, he treated to kill me if I did… because of that I never had friends.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here.”

I was so focus on my thoughts that I didn’t notice the man entered to the room.

“Did you sleep well you little shit?” he whispered in my ear.

“Y-yes..” I said. I could barely talk, my throat hurt from screaming and I hadn’t drink water in days.

“Yes, what? And look at me while I’m talking to you!” he pulled my hair to face him clearly annoyed.

“Y-yes.. s-sir” I replayed softly.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” he shouted angrily.

“YES SIR!”

“That’s better” he said pleased while unlocking the chains. “Get dress, you have 5 minutes and don’t keep me waiting.”

“Yes sir!” I said, and immediately ran to my room. I open the closet to put the first things that I found. I was kidding, I didn’t have a closet. I didn’t have furniture at all. That man sold most of the things of my room to buy alcohol and cigarettes. The only thing I had was an old futon that I used as bed and my cloths that were throw to the floor. Most of the were rip apart by the man when he was in bad mood. I only have simple t-shirts, sweaters, hoodies and jeans. I picked up (f/c) sweater, a (f/c) t-shirt, black ripped jeans and black combat boot. I took my bag pack and ran out of the house. My father was already waiting in his black car, with hesitation I approached it. Lucky for me, he didn’t say anything and started the car. It took around 25 minutes to arrive to school, the ride was uncomfortably silent. It was the same routine every fucking day. Waking up, dress up, go to the hellhole which is call school, return to home, eat a half bread, do the homework and the beating sections. I got out of the car and enter the building.

“Hey look the freak is here.”

“What a slut.”

“She looks like a mummy with all that bandages on.”

“Emo freak.”

“Why the hell is she still coming here?”

Same day, same routine, same idiots who don’t have anything better to do, it didn’t matter anyways. Since my father started to abusive me, nobody approached me because of the horrible bruises I have and they got me nicknames like the “emo freak”. Just keep going (Y/N), and let the idiots be idiots. I entered to the classroom, that was empty and wait for the teacher. I put on my headphones and listen to (f/s) while sketching on my math’s notebook.  Little by little, it was filling up the people. A little later the school’s bell rings, the teacher followed by enter the room.

“Good morning everyone” the teacher said.

“Good morning” everybody replied, except me.

“You have a pop quiz, so take out your pencils and keep everything away.”

Everybody complained and the teacher just ignore them. Lucky for me I have nice grades on (f/s). While doing the quiz, I couldn’t help but notice that there was something or better… someone watching me outside. I looked thought the window and saw what it looks like a monochromatic clown, and he had an evil smirk on his face.

“Miss (l/n) is there something wrong?” the teacher interrupted me.

“Eh… w-what?”

“I asked if there is something wrong?” the woman said annoyed.

“Eeehh… n-nothing miss” I murmured.

“The hurry up! You only have 20 minutes to complete the quiz!” she said while the others start to complain again.

I looked thought the window again, only to notice that the creepy clown was gone. What the hell was that?

??? P.O.V

-Soon. Very soon, just wait dear (Y/N), we will come for you. We will end your pain, you will be happy with us, you will love us…. Because you don’t have choice.-

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