various stages of clothing

So Hott

Happy x OC

Loosely based on Kid Rock’s “So Hott”

****If you’re reading this, let me know if you’re interested in a part two on this one. If I do write a part two it would be lots of Happy Smut.****

(GIF isn’t mine)

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Spending time at the local strip club was a hobby of his, he loved watching the women dancing around, various stages of nakedness, money oozing out from every stitch in their clothing. It was a good way to pass the time.
Most of the strippers here moonlighted as prostitutes which worked out well for him. He wasn’t into feelings or long-term things, he enjoyed the one night stands, and if he had to pay to stay unattached he definitely didn’t mind doing that.

After a couple months of frequenting the establishment, he had bedded all of the talent and was working his way back through a second time, but there was this one chick he couldn’t shake from his mind and he wanted her bad. Cute little frame, nice rack, sweet pouty lips and big beautiful eyes.
He first noticed her three weeks ago behind the bar, and he pictured himself fucking her when he was inside one of her hooker coworkers ever since.
Unfortunately only the strippers sucked dick for money, and she wasn’t one of them, but man did he love to watch her strut around behind that bar in that crop top that showed off her tummy, pouring and mixing drinks. He would watch her smile with that pretty little mouth and just think about how good she would sound screaming his name.
The easy bitches, they were fun to fill the void but they practically threw themselves at him, he didn’t have to pursue them. It was pathetic actually, and he loved the chase almost as much as he loved to fuck.

And she was so hot.

He had to get her alone, somehow, it would drive him crazy until he was able to take her home.


He had been figuring out her schedule for a couple days, he didn’t care that it made him feel like a stalker, if he was going to talk to her he needed to do it away from everyone else. He watched her get hit on multiple times a night while she was on duty and it never worked out. She would flirt back for a good tip every once in a while but she always went home alone, so he knew he had to find a different approach from what she was accustomed to. 

He noticed she took one smoke break when she worked, but when he followed her last night he realized she didn’t smoke, she just walked out into the back alley parking lot and sat on the tailgate of her pickup truck, scrolling through her phone. That’s where he would make his move tonight.


She hadn’t taken her break yet so he was waiting patiently for her to remove herself from the bar. When she finally did, he gulped down his drink and popped his toothpick in his mouth, standing up and walking towards the direction she had just disappeared. He stood inside the door for a moment or two before pushing it open and walking outside. The back lot was small, only about 10 vehicles could park there, but she was there, same as last time, sitting on her tailgate, looking down at her phone.
She froze when she heard the crunching gravel under his boots before slowly lifting her head up to meet his gaze.
He stilled himself only a few feet from her truck and stared at her. Her breathing hitched as she hesitantly spoke, “C-can I help you?”  she asked staring at the black leather vest on his back, he was a Son, and his looks were terrifying her.
He realized he hadn’t really thought about what to say to her once he got her attention, and so he just stood there staring at her, moving his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. She swallowed hard and blinked a couple times, staring back at him timidly.
“Whats your name?” he rasped, and she responded with her first name only, still a little shaken.
He stuck his hand out and she jumped before realizing he just wanted to shake her hand so she reached her hand out to his.
“What are you doing out here if you don’t smoke?” he asked and she smirked at him. “The stuff I smoke I can’t bring to work with me,” she flirted and paused a moment before speaking again, “are you gonna tell me your name Mr. Redwood Original?”

“Happy.” he responded, still standing in the same spot, staring her down.

“How ironic,” she winked, “doesn’t seem very fitting.”

He didn’t reply, but he could tell she was the type that found his silence intriguing so he wasn’t worried about losing her interest.

After a couple moments of silence she spoke again, “So…. Happy, what brings a fine gentleman like you to a place like this?”

She was being facetious, he knew it, and it made him smirk.

“Holy shit, he smiles!” she exclaimed.

“I’m here for you.” he spoke plainly, half a smirk still branded into his cheeks.

“Oh really?” she chuckled and his expression turned serious again.

She was into him, it was time to close the deal.

“What are you doing after this?” he asked.

She licked her lips and narrowed her eyes at him placing her hands on either side of her thighs and leaning  forward slightly, “What makes you think I would tell you?” she quipped, smiling and showing off her pretty teeth.

His eyes hardened and he pulled his toothpick out of his mouth, tossing it aside. He took two steps closer to her so he was standing right in front of her, his body only inches away from her as her legs dangled from the tailgate. She didn’t flinch or lean back as her eyes followed his until she was staring up at him. The smell of the alcohol on his breath mixed with the cologne in his shirt and the faint-but-definitely-there smell of gunpowder on his kutte made her stomach do back flips.
His jaw twitched as he looked down at her, “Because you want to,” he husked, unblinking.
The tension between them was so strong it could cut through steel. He leaned into her more closely, placing his hands on either side of her between her legs and her hands on the tailgate, and his eyes moved to her lips.

As he moved his mouth closer to hers, she closed her eyes calmly, and he stilled himself with only a minuscule gap between their mouths. Without touching her, he let out an amused scoff, pulling himself away and standing back upright. She opened her eyes, confused, finding him back a few feet away from her.

“I’ll stay ‘til closing time. Find me after your shift.” he ordered and she nodded silently, reeling from the excitement coursing through her body. He smirked again and then turned around to walk back inside the club.

Yeah, he still had it.

High Horse

(Wrote this for a friend on twitter~)


The muddy and puddle-swamped roads contrasted the lighthearted and optimistic mood of the army passing through. They had finally removed the last known faceless horde that was terrorizing a rural village near the Nohrian and Hoshidan border. This village was so remote, it was not the fighting that had ever proved any challenge, only the prospect of the trek that had ultimately caused Corrin to attend to it later.

Leo was bringing up the rear on his horse, having been assigned by his sister to check on the villagers once the battle was won. The on-and-off drizzle wasn’t too annoying from his position, although the damp air seemed to bring out the bugs, causing his horse’s ears to twitch in annoyance.

Despite his late start, he was now catching up to the infantry who had left before him. They walked in little groups, chatting lightly to themselves, confident that there was no longer any dangers waiting for them in the light shrubbery on either side of the somewhat narrow path. They would politely move to the side when they heard Nosferatu’s heavy steps, allowing Leo to slowly gain some ground. One man did not move to the side when Leo approached, although this wasn’t with the intent to be rude –the thought probably just didn’t occur to him. This wasn’t the only reason Takumi stood out; for tactical reasons Takumi had been one of the few Hoshidans assigned to this mission, and thus he opted to walk alone rather than engage with the other Nohrian foot soldiers. Again, Leo now knew this was less due to hostility (although this would have been a very likely cause a few months ago) and more to a slight social awkwardness Leo would never admit he could relate to.

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I was tagged by @thecallofgothulhu Thank you! *tentacle hugs* 

Rules: Answer all the questions in a new post and then tag 15 people.

5 things you’ll find in my bag:

I just got a new bag, so it’s not filled up yet, but:

Card holder with various cards (VISA, business cards, customer loyalty cards, TOS membership card etc), an algiz rune, a black turmaline stone, a black notebook and eventually whatever book I’m reading at the moment. And all sort of weird shit I find laying around.  

5 things you’ll find in my bedroom:

Somewhere between 1 and 3 cats, stacks and stacks of books, piles of black clothes as well as various paintings in different stages of completion.

5 things I’ve always wanted to do:

Make an album (I’ve done a couple, but I’ve like to do one of my own), write a book (working on a poetry collection and a sort of grimoire), have solo exhibit of my art, write a comic book script and go to space.

5 things that make me happy:

Cats, books, music, magick and good friends.

5 things I’m currently into:

Rune lore, sewing, painting, Alice in Chains and nature.

5 things on my to do list:

Prepare a soundtrack for mastering, make a drawstring bag for one of my tarot decks, finish a painting, update my laptop and back my suitcase for my month long cat sitting adventure.

I tag @satanic–nightmare @haplesschromantica @sixsixteen @vivikalazu @thedevilsconcubineeve @ldybayne @hesitanalien @thewholeuniverseisinus @porcelain-engine @southerncaliforniagothic @crazeemuse @slow-motion-shadow @siriuskitty @hekate-wolf @myglorydayswon and anyone else willing to just tag themselves (which rarely happens, but I’ve seen it in action, so you have my permission). Please just ignore this if it’s not your thing *hugs*

Merry Christmas, bella8876!
Dear Santee

Remember your tongue-in-cheek prompt of:

Ok so basically what I want is a Pretend Boyfriend story set in the Neckz N Throats verse where the Hale family is still alive with minor angst, a bit of porn, and a happy ending. And someone plays baseball, and drinks coffee, in an office, while away at college. In a nutshell Stiles, to pay for college, works in the coffee shop on the ground floor of the building that houses the Neckz N Throats offices where Derek models/is the photographer, with the rest of his family, and for some reason they have to pretend to be boyfriends.  And play baseball.  Yes this will do.

No but seriously is there a trope I’m missing here? Cause I can’t find one.  Also this would be awesome but in no way do I expect my secret santa to do all this.  

Well, my first thought was “omfg, in 2,5k words?! … … …challenge accepted. :3” Because I’m a contrary little shit that way. So let’s play: see how many tropes you can find. Hope you enjoy it!

Thanks go to my secret elf (tumblr user ephemeralkarma) for cheerleading and beta. Fingers crossed tumblr doesn’t eat my italics. Warnings for filthy language, NSFW themes, and blink-and-you-miss-it vague mention of Stiles’ brain Going There. ‘There’ being incestuous polyamorous sexual fantasy. Stiles is very sorry, he wishes he had brain bleach too (no shame intended if that’s your kink <3). 

*****

Fakes Don’t Last Too Long

“I’m going to die, Scott!” Stiles hissed into his cell phone, hiding in the employee bathroom of Fourecks in a dual attempt to both calm the fuck down and vent. “This job is going to kill me, I swear.”

“You’re not gonna die, Stiles, it’s a coffee shop,” Scott pointed out in his gentle reasonable-and-logical voice. Stiles disliked that voice. People shouldn’t be reasonable when he was dying here, especially not his best friend.

“No, you don’t understand, the people here, they’re-…” he trailed off with a whimper. “It’s been, like, a week, and I’ve never seen so many unnaturally gorgeous people in my life, okay? I didn’t think people could get this hot. I’m starting to wonder what the fuck they put in the coffee here, and I’m legit fearing for my life. The hotness level is that lethal.”

It was just supposed to be a part-time job to get him through college, conveniently doubling as a place he could people-watch, to hone his skills for when he graduated and could follow his dad’s footsteps into law enforcement. And now he was tragically gonna expire before he could realize any of his dreams.

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I like the inertia of instruments, like a turned-off television taking up space but no time, like a museum where all the art dies a sudden death at closing time, reverting to hunks of stone, steel, dabs of paint in various stages of flaking away, bits of cloth.
—  Laurie Anderson, Avalanche