#tmow

[peetarizzlark]

I am really motivated for the mystery of willowhill again

[silverchildqueen]

Chapter ?? - Di mi nombre.

It was the third night in a row she went to Pandemonium club looking for the guy she met a few nights ago while having a drink with Mina. She and her friend made a bet on who would get him, and in the end it was Isabel who did it. But even if it was just a night for fun, she couldn’t take his image out of his mind. She should, he smells like trouble. She pretended to go there to keep an eye because the club is well known across cultivators as a place filled with demoniac activity. It was loud, blue lights illuminating the dance floor, and there were a lot of weird people. But she always went alone, which was against the code of cultivators. In every night hunt you should be with at least one partner, it was a safety code that existed for a reason. But everyone knew she never took the rules too seriously, only when it mattered. And Cordelia, her beloved sister, was sharp enough to realize quickly that it was something else keeping her apart from the institute at night. Before she went out, her sister had at the tip of her tongue the question of where was she going, not because she wanted to control her but because the cases of demoniac activity and poisoning corpses were increasing on a dangerous level, and she was concerned for her safety.  

Isabel couldn’t be described as a romantic person, in fact, she didn’t believed in love in the first place. She was used to one night stands, short flings; not giving her heart away was a rule she established to keep it safe.  To keep her heart safe. Despite all this, and how hard she tried to conceal the reason behind her outings, her sister could tell she was attracted to someone, truly, for the first time in her life. She decided to play dumb to make things easier for her sister, she would talk to her when she felt ready, and for Delia the only thing it mattered it was her happiness. If Isabel was happy, there was no need to know who she is pinning for.

Isabel lifted the glass with a strange drink inside and emptied it within a second, asking for another round at the same time. The barman looked at her half shocked half amused by how many shots she could take without even getting a little bit drunk. Isabel could drink a lot without actually getting drunk, although she wasn’t much of a drinker. She only did it occasionally, but the frustration took her to strange places.

Nothing was stranger than waiting for a man she barely knew to appear out of the blue, just so she can face him again. She still felt his hands roaming on her body, his harsh kisses, and the way he smelled. But even if she still remembered the heat of the moment, Isabel wanted to only see him and know more about him. Julien was a mystery, a mystery she wanted to solve. A puzzle to put back together.

She was about to give up and turn her way back to home, when a voice took her out of her thoughts, shaking the ground under her feet.

“You surely look like you need a drink, or maybe don’t drink at all.” Isabel looked up, finding the man who owned the voice. It was the same man she and Mina met, the same man she made a bet about, that ended up with her tangled in between his legs. She pressed her lips together trying very hard to restrain any sound.

“It’s you.” She said, without moving from her seat.

“The one and only.” Julien said with a smirk. “You are by yourself, I presume”

“So what? Is it wrong for a woman to be drinking on her own?” She asked, eyebrow raised, and there was a sharp coldness in her tone.

“Not at all, what is wrong is for women to be afraid of doing it, because men are disgusting pricks.” Julien simply said, taking the seat by her side. He asked for a drink; whiskey, neat.

Isabel stared at him with curiosity, what he said it wasn’t expected. “It only happens because men think they have some kind of right over a woman’s body and decision. None of you have any rights on female bodies. But it is the culture that feeds on that thought.”

“It truly makes you mad.”

“It would make you feel the same if it was you in the place of a female.” Isabel drank the last inside of her glass.

“You should eat something” He said, and before she was able to answer, he ordered something from him and looked at her so she could take her order. She laughed, shocked by his forwardness.  

 They talked for hours, laughed in the middle in multiple times, flirted even more. Isabel wasn’t sure how much time she spent on a table with this man she barely knew, but it felt like only minutes. She realized she wouldn’t mind to repeat this one more time, the thought made her shiver in fear. Fear for a feeling she couldn’t really understand. You cannot understand what you never felt. It was him who told her to leave, because it was really late, and she felt a little disappointed to be thrown away. But of course, she didn’t show it, Isabel would never show such a dangerous emotion to a person.  It requires a lot of trust to show some kind of vulnerability. In her line of job, weakness and emotions aren’t allowed. You live with your feet on the ground, no emotions or illusions clouding the senses.

Dreams are a dangerous things, and so is love.    

“Well, this is it then.” Isabel said when they were outside the club, she zipped her jacket and was about to leave when a hand stopped her, holding her by her wrist firmly.

“Or you can stay the night with me.” He suggested, and the little smile painted on his face was devilish. It could make anyone go down on their knees, weakening the strongest. Oh, but she will make him go down on his knees as well.  

“Are you growing on me, Julien?” She asked, amused, but with confident steps she walked his way.

(cut scene)

Her back hit the front door in the moment they entered his apartment, and his body was towering her without losing time. Lips crushing on lips with violence and want. A want that can consume the whole world, it was like fire burning down a forest. A tragedy, when you fear the fire.

Isabel Crowthorne isn’t afraid of being burned, she had been burnt before in her own fire and she can take the heat.

Julien removed her leather jacket slowly, his hands dancing around her tight black dress as he let the jacket fall to the floor. When she was free from it, Isabel placed both of her hands in his shoulders and in a precise jump she wrapping her own legs around him; while she returned the kiss outrushed, and her tongue fought for dominance. She moaned in his mouth when Julien pressed her body against his. His own bulge finding her center.

“That’s right, moan for me.” He whispered with a rough voice, before biting her lower lip with his teeth, pulling a little bit, a little bit of blood came from it. He licked the trace of crimson.  

Julien unzipped the dress from her back, in a slow torturous pace, while he kept devouring her mouth. He was kissing her like his life depended on it, as if he would die without touching her. Isabel felt his fire consume her, as if she was the one to strike the match. He abandoned her mouth to keep track of her skin with his lips and tongue, descending from her face until he reached her neck. He traced a path from her neck to her shoulder, alternating kisses and tongue.  When the sinful dress fell to the floor, living Isabel almost naked -apart from her underwear- he sinked his teeth on the skin of her shoulder, biting her until it left a mark. Not a mark of possession, not really, it was more about passion. About how he knew what she wanted, what she needed of him. Julien only spent with her one night, but he already knew what she wanted. Like he was made to pleasure her. It felt as if this woman was able to get under his skin, and intoxicate his selfish mind.

After touching and kissing her upper body, he took her by the hand and threw her on his bed, staring at her from the end of the bed with a hunger she was used, but never really enjoyed, or truly felt herself. She was about to say something clever, because he kept staring instead of doing something, but she had to swallow her remark when the weight of his body was over hers, trapping her in between the bed and himself.

“You have too many clothes.” Isabel told him as she tried to unbutton the shirt of his very formal suit. A man of business, he seemed to be. But there was more than what was caught by the eye. She was only half way through his shirt, when she felt strong hands stopped her, apprehending his hands over her head. He used his own tie, to bind her hands to the bed. He used the opportunity to sit above her, without pressing too much weight, and he started to take his clothes off slowly. His eyes fixed on her own dark stare, as he got rid of every piece of clothing. Isabel bitted her own lips, watching him atop of her, she tried to undo the knot made by his tie, but it was well done and she couldn’t do it. Or, more accurate, she did not really tried with all her strength.

Isabel contained a moan from coming in between her lips, when Julien settled in between her legs, kissing her inner tights until reaching the space in between. She threw her head back as she moaned loudly when she felt his tongue find her core, raising her back and hips to collide with his own body, grinding against his mouth to feel more. With his tongue he found his clit and started to tease her, as his fingers feasted on her wetness. He kept alternating between his tongue and fingers, looking up to see her face as she came undone. When he did, he made sure to drink on her as if she was the finest of wines.

“Take me.” She demanded with her hands free of strings now, bringing him up to kiss him eagerly, feeling her own taste against her tongue.  She craved her red fingernails against his muscled arm that would probably leave a mark.

He grinned against her mouth, and with one hand he found his own member, teasing her entrance with the tip. He enjoyed torturing her, making her go mad by want and desire. But she would have none of that, she was not a person to lay still and let a man control her every reaction. No, she wanted something and she was going to take it. Before he could react, she turned the tables around, pushing him against the mattress to be on top of him. Isabel covered him with her exuberant body, and she took his cock in her hand penetrating herself. She closed her eyes and moan when she felt him inside of her. Julien grabbed her by her hips, grunting as he started thrusting against her, trying to control the rhythm. But she wouldn’t let him, she blocked his intentions by holding him down, her hands pressing his wrist against the bed. They kept staring at each other, bodies rubbing against each other. He tried very hard to control his own groans and moans, but it was harder to achieve when she was moving above him.

“Di mi nombre.” She said the words in Spanish, she wasn’t sure if he could understand. But every time she was deep in her emotions, Isabel let her mother’s language to slip.

Julien slithered his hands from her grasp, and he sat holding her head, entangling his fingers in her long dark hair. He looked at her as is she was a goddess, a sight to behold. He took her mouth one more time, in between gasps and thrusts, his tongue sliding in between her lips.

“Di mi nombre.” She said again, more demanding this time, they hugged each other as she kept thrusting, a rough compass. Isabel moaned against his lips, dodging his kisses until he let her name slip his tongue.

Julien knew he was close, but he tried to hold it to finish with her, he didn’t wanted to finish until she came in his arms. He wanted to hear her scream as they came undone together. He turned her against the bed, laying atop of her, plunging his teeth in her shoulders, biting hard because she could take it.

“Isabel!” He screamed her name when he came with her, deep inside of her.

They stayed in this position for a moment trying to catch their breath, with his member still inside of her, their lips sealed in an innocent kiss.

[peetarizzlark]

time to bring my tmow fic back?

[tealquills]

guys guys guys it seems like i’m actually on my way to finishing a fic

[tealquills]

re titling a wip woo

[peetarizzlark]

Hopefully canon reliant to an extent, gonna try working on it sunday

[themarkofwar]

The Fighter

The Marine Corps taught Sam Siatta how to shoot. The war in Afghanistan taught him how to kill. Nobody taught him how to come home.

An Important read