July used to be something to endure for Ilya Rozanov. Now, however, July is the month he looks forward to the most. A Tale that follows Ilya and Shane over the course of six summers as they spend their Julys at the cottage; 2017 - 2022
**Rating has escalated - blame Ilya**
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July 2020 | Quebec, Canada
“Are you sure this is allowed…” Ilya gritted his teeth, determined to chirp his boyfriend one more time today. It was a risk, but he half reasoned as his brain started to shutdown, Shane would never truly leave him wanting, though he would very likely make Ilya suffer for a while, “on your new diet?”
Shane’s eyes, half lidded and hazy with lust only a half moment before, snapped open before narrowing up at him, and he pulled back slowly, coming entirely off Ilya’s length, hovering for a moment as if warring with himself before pulling all the way back to sit between his boyfriend’s spread legs.
Ilya huffed a grin, brows rising in challenge.
“Maybe not.”
Shane’s breathing stuttered, face flushed, as he took a deep breath through his nose, trying to calm himself down. Ilya recognized it, his body mirroring the action, a desperate attempt to appear collected.
He was on fire.
“Probably shouldn’t,” Shane’s voice was much steadier than it had any right to be given the circumstances, “just in case.”
*pounds fist on table*
CS Sacrifice DH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh, and Multi Killian (i like the sound of this....)
Hehe thanks! 😏❤️😘
CS Sacrifice DH I started after @djlbg added a Dark Hook gif to this prompt post, because I was already thinking that too but then the gif pushed me to start a doc lol. Then @hollyethecurious yelled at me for giving her ~ideas~ and I yelled back that I’d also started another other other wip because of it lol 😘
In my version of it, I still have to work out the details but I’m thinking that the kingdom sacrifices every firstborn royal to the Dark One for his continued peace and protection. When Emma is the next sacrifice, she tries to make a deal with him to spare her life.
I don’t have very much written for this yet, but *gasp* I actually really wanna write something with a little plot! 😱😅❤️
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The multi-Killian doc is a chapter 2 for my 12 Days of Kinkmas fic Sharing the Joy, picking up right where that left off. It’s threesome porn, a Killian sandwich with Emma in the middle of his heart-eyes present self and his piratey past self. There’s quite a bit in this doc but I think I’m only like halfway through what I wanted to put in it, but I got sidetracked with other wips. I really love this one and I hope to get back to it soon. It’s a dynamic I’ve wanted to try to write for quite some time and finally gave it a shot and it’s so fun.
Here’s a snippet for you, subject to editing by the time it posts. 😘
“Take a taste of him, lass,” Hook goaded, watching her as he nosed along the crease of her thigh. “Wrap your perfect lips around him like a good little wench, and I’ll put mine back on your clit.”
“Yes please, Captain,” Emma said, hoping he wouldn’t wait. “Lean closer,” she told Killian, parting her lips and taking just the tip of him between them before sucking hard, swiping her tongue over his slit as he hissed sharply and bucked into her mouth.
“Don’t tease him, darling,” Hook smirked as he did exactly that to Emma, pressing his palm to her flesh and brushing his thumb back and forth just above where he knew she ached for it.
“Fucking hell, Emma,” Killian breathed as she took him deeper with each roll of his hips. As his hand fisted in her hair and cradled her head, it took everything in him not to thrust too hard. “So fucking good.”
“There’s a good girl,” Hook praised. Emma jumped as he dragged his teeth down her inner thigh, whining in frustration around Killian’s cock. “Shh, love,” he soothed, “I’m a man of my word, don’t fret. But first, a wench as good as you deserves to wear her Captain’s mark, doesn’t she?” As Hook clamped down on her soft flesh, Emma gasped at the sudden pricks of pain, coughing around Killian as she choked on her own saliva.
“Are you alright, Emma?” Killian asked softly as he reluctantly pulled back and gave her a moment to breathe.
“She’s fine,” Hook answered for her as he worked a small bruise into her skin and used his tongue to lave over the impressions left by his teeth.
“I’m fine,” Emma reassured him, urging him closer again. “I want more of you, Killian, please.” Arching her brow at Hook, she continued, “And I want that you to keep his fucking promise.”
I'm greedy today, and you'll have to just go with it... 🤷🏼♀️
Thank you my Angel! Let’s go with my most recent wip, affectionately called “Do Swans Have Talons?” (at the moment).
(There’s a liiittle tiny bit of smut in here! I’ll post it after a break just to be safe)
FIRST — the first two sentences of my current project
She likes him.
She likes it when he takes her from behind, when he lets her take control on top, when he drives into her with her knees cradling his hips.
BEFORE THE BEGINNING — three sentences (or more) about something that happened before the plot of my current project
When he sees her across the dark, noisy bar that same night, he’s faced with several conflicting thoughts; one that tells him that he really can’t be pining after his boss’s sister, one that insists that she isn’t interested in the likes of him, and one that tells him he really doesn’t think he’s capable of staying away from her. But then, when she catches his eye and gives him a look that he finds all too easy to read before cocking her head towards the bathrooms and heading that way, he’s certain that he’ll never be the same. Because he follows her, and he falls in love with her the moment she lets his hands come in contact with her skin.
THE END — i’ll make up an ending, or post the ending if i’ve written it
You mean people know the endings to their stories before they get there…?
I really can’t give an ending line because I have no idea what it’ll actually entail, but I will say that they live happily ever after, but not before a good healthy portion of smut, angst, and even some whump 😌
Send me a question! Or ask me about a specific WIP!
July used to be something to endure for Ilya Rozanov. Now, however, July is the month he looks forward to the most. A Tale that follows Ilya and Shane over the course of six summers as they spend their Julys at the cottage; 2017 - 2022
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July 2019 | Quebec, Canada
Hooooolllllllllannnnnnnndddddddderrrrrrr- the radio chirped again. Shane sighed and snatched it up- oh my God, what?- Yuna and David smiling fondly at his exasperation.
“I need more snacks.”
“Ilya.”
“Please?”
“I already brought you snacks. Are you coming back at any point today or do you live on the lake now?”
“You gave me a gift, and now you are mad I am enjoying it?”
“Ilya.”
“I will come back after one more snack.”
“You are so annoying,” Shane clicked off the radio, and rose. They’d ordered the radios from Amazon at the end of the first day with the loon; Shane exasperated on the dock while Ilya shouted at him from 20 feet away.
July used to be something to endure for Ilya Rozanov. Now, however, July is the month he looks forward to the most. A Tale that follows Ilya and Shane over the course of six summers as they spend their Julys at the cottage; 2017 - 2022
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July 2018 | Quebec, Canada
“Are you sad?”
“Sad?” Ilya echoed, side-eyeing Shane's phone in mild annoyance as Hayden’s name lit up the screen- why would I be sad?
“About leaving Boston,” Shane muttered around a mouthful of pasta, eyes downcast as if in worry over the response.
The news had hit the hockey world hard, and the speculation as to why had flooded sports news and podcasts for weeks. Most attributed the move to the salary cap room the Centaurs had on their roster, and their desperate bid to lure all star players for the last several seasons.
Ilya hadn’t provided an answer, which Shane could see was making the noise worse, but he’d confessed he was tired of lying, one evening during playoffs as they watched the game from different countries, and he just couldn’t make himself do it for this. “Besides,” he’d shrugged, necklace gleaming in the light of the television in front of him, phone propped in its usual place on the coffee table, “makes me, ummm, mysterious, I think.”
Shane had laughed- yeah, I guess- and they’d dropped the subject.
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Read the rest here.
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This is (currently expected to be) a six part series.
July used to be something to endure for Ilya Rozanov. Now, however, July is the month he looks forward to the most. A Tale that follows Ilya and Shane over the course of six summers as they spend their Julys at the cottage; 2017 - 2022
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July 2017 | Quebec, Canada
The coffee maker had beeped from the kitchen- Hollander, I am a guest, yes? I should enjoy coffee in bed - and Shane groaned, rising from the bed and sliding his discarded briefs up his legs- fine, you can be a guest for this week- trotting out of the bedroom and returning minutes later with a mug in each hand, handing one to Ilya, not bothering to hide a smile.
“World’s Okayest Hockey Player,” Ilya read, a frown deepening on his face, “why are you giving me this? This is yours.”
“I’ve never used it, so it can be your mug now.”
Ilya had nodded slowly, setting the offending object on the bedside table carefully, eyes flashing as he watched Shane do the same- okay, Hollander- before pouncing on him, pressing him into the mattress.
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Read the rest here.
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This is (currently expected to be) a six part series.
Not much happens, it's soft and fun and there's a bath or two...
Evermore - A Captain Swan Tale
Bare feet slipped against the sea soaked shore as she leapt from the boat into the pulsing cold of the harbour, hissing a creative explicit out between clenched teeth, hands tugging against the roll of the tide while she pulled the small craft up into the pebbled beach; the hull scraping against the shore in protest as she tied a clumsy bowline knot.
Cursing again, she yanked the rope free to redo it; if she lost another boat, she’d never hear the end of it.
Her fingers hummed with cold, the frigid air of deep winter sinking down into her bones, but the lights in the forest danced the way she’d come to recognize and she hopped quickly up into the boat again to pull the small bag of provisions from its secured place, hefting the satchel onto her shoulder.
The boots she’d discarded before leaping down into the frigid surf- you’ll be cold regardless, love, might as well keep your shoes dry- snugged comfortably back onto her feet, socks pulled from where she’d jammed them down into the toe as her small boat washed towards the familiar foreign shore.
HEY!!! Tumblr hated me yesterday, but I'm back online now!
I actually am not really sure why this chapter fought me so hard... but she was a tough nut!
A million cookies to Maddie for cleaning up my mess 🥰
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A clawed hand, fingers gnarled like the branches on the oak tree her mother had taught her to climb as a child, reached through the bars towards her, Neal’s forearm pressing her solidly into the space between himself and the cage which held the creature.
His father.
She’d shaken her head- you’re an orphan, you told me that you were an orphan- when he’d revealed to her who and what the creature was.
“Emma…”
Her name was the creaking whine of an old door, hinges displeased, moving in the wind- Emma- the snap hiss of cold against metal.
“Don’t be afraid,” Neal soothed, pressing her closer to the bars, her slippered feet scrambling on the damp stones, unable to find purchase. “I told him about you, he’s been waiting to meet you for a long time.”
She’d trembled, skin cold from fright, fingers tingling with the chill of the damp and the fear which ratcheted through her blood.
An orphan, that’s what he had said.
But it had been a lie.
Not a lie, a secret- he’d whispered in her ear, as he pressed her steadily forward, the creature’s fingernails grazing her skin before she managed to twist away, bolting up the stairs barefoot, slippers discarded on against the stone twist of the hallway, her back slamming against the door which guarded the dungeon she hadn’t know existed until Neal, Baelfire, led her down into the depths of the earth.
That’s the name the creature had called him, pacing across the back of his cell, floor worn smooth from the action.
How long had the man been down here, she wondered, Neal’s hand warm at her elbow, a deceitful type of comfort she’d quickly learned, skin prickled with the chill of suppressed magic. Of evil.
