#in the book he fully leads a woman on

[ireneispunk]

Saving your virtue: one – Jacaerys Velaryon x reader smut

Pairing: fem!reader x Jacaerys

Summary: The reader is due to marry Jacaerys Velaryon, and after a long stay at Dragonstone with tension mounting each day, it finally boils over but not in the way you expected.

Word count: 4,105

Warnings: plot with smut, starts fluffy with a lot of sexual tension, masturbation, reader and Jacaerys are inexperienced, use of Y/N and reader.

A/N: This idea literally came to me in a dream so it’s a bit of my own fan service oops. Reader is meant to be from a noble family in Westeros but I didn’t specify which so you can imagine whatever house you prefer! This ended up way longer than I meant it to be but I got SO INVSTED. ALSO I’ve never written in the ASOIF universe I’ve watcher both HOTD and GOT and read all the books and been a longstanding fan BUT if my lingo is off please bear with me <3

Three weeks, 2 days and one morning. That is how long it has been since your arrival at Dragonstone, how long you have known Jacaerys Velaryon, and how long you have yearned for him. The journey was gruelling, but your father had boasted about the prosperity of the match, and your Mother about Queen Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon’s beauty the long ride here. It ate away inside of you, the thought of being married to someone you did not love or could ever grow to love. It was your duty as a Highborn woman to marry well and produce heirs. You spent the entire journey trying to picture Jacaerys, your father had met him once briefly many years ago, but it had been confirmed by your handmaids that he had grown to be a very handsome young man, but you did not know if this was an attempt to quell your nerves.

Your first meeting with Jacaerys and his family couldn’t have gone better, Jacaerys was more handsome than the stories could do justice, Rhaenyra and Daemon seemed impressed with you and your families unwavering loyalty to her status. It was now less than one week before your wedding ceremony to Jacaerys. It was planned to be a celebration of a lifetime in order to show the strong bond between the two houses.

You reminisced on the first time you spoke to Jacaerys alone. Being you were not yet wed, your parents protested you both being alone unchaperoned. After a week of being around your presence but not being able to fully indulge into it, Jacaerys couldn’t bare it anymore. ‘This is wrong’ he thought to himself as he paced quietly back and forth down the corridor leading towards your room. The disappointment of his mother, Daemon, your parents flashed through his mind but were quickly replaced with thoughts of you. You had consumed his mind and body ever since he laid eyes on you. He could not wait to be with you in every sense of the word: bask in your presence, your warm smile, feel his hands around your waist on dragonback. The more he thought about you the more impatient he became, he knew what his wedding night would entail and wanted more than anything to have that day arrive more promptly. As much as he wanted you in that way, a sinking feeling would always creep into his heart. Jacaerys wanted to know you. You were one of the most beautiful beings he had ever seen, but he craved nothing more than a conversation with you. To know you. Without the pressure of family or handmaidens watching your each move, eyebrow raise, change in tone. The brief and staged conversations you had both had before now were a glimpse of something more. He was desperate to know the woman he was due to marry.

You sat on the neatly engraved chair pulled up to the table in your room. The castles handmaidens had promised to return later on in the evening as you requested some time alone. You sighed, eyeing the soft and delicate details of the room. You continued to scribble your letter back home to your younger siblings. They weren’t arriving until the wedding. As the silence engulfed you, you focused on the loudness of the silence. The occasional harsh wind whipping against the coastline and traveling up to your window, the soft tide strolling into the shore. Your eyes focussed on the fireplace that centred your room, the way the wood curled and burnt under the might of the flame, the sharp crackling with an occasional pop. You were marrying into a family of dragons, yet you felt you knew your betrothed as much as you did before you left home. A quiet set of footsteps broke you out of your fiery trance, you eyed the heavy wooden door and heard them pass. Relieved you turned back to your letter only to hear the same footsteps walking the opposite directions, and again, and again? It was late, and this was a quiet side of Dragonstone. People only came here if they wished too. Frustrated at your handmaidens’ swift return, you plopped your quill into the ink well and rose from your chair, making haste towards the door. “I apologise girls, I still require more time to-“ you swung open the door, already speaking in a tone with slight annoyance before coming face to face with your future husband. Your heart dropped to your stomach, Jacaerys was here, outside your chambers. You inhaled sharply “Your grace, I apologise. I thought you might’ve been the handmaidens. They are ever persistent, and I am not yet used to it.” You smiled with a small curtsey and drop of your head, trying to recover the situation. Jacaerys seemed to be a shocked as you were at the door opening, his mouth opened and closed with no words escaping his lips. “Was there something you need your grace?  it’s getting awfully late.” You say almost a whisper, eyes laden with concern darting from his to down the hallway. He blinked away any surprise he had, looked towards his feet, before taking a step closer to you. Jacaerys was still feet away from you yet this was still the closest you both had yet been. His dark eyes locked into yours before he said “My lady, I do not wish to speak out of turn, but I feel it is within our best interests to know each other. I mean really know each other before we marry. You are to be my wife in less than a week yet there’s so much I wish to know.” His eyes gazed into yours, searching for an answer and longing for it to be yes. You could not help the large smile that spread across your face, this was everything you had hoped for. You glanced down each end of the hallway before stepping back into your chambers and holding the door open before gesturing him to come in with your hand. Jacaerys swallowed – he did not plan for the scenario in which you agreed. Your quietly shut the door behind you before walking over to the small, padded bench that sat under the window at the end of your room. Sitting down you patted the cushion next to you, “Please sit your grace, I would love to get to know you better.” He walked over and sat as far away from you on the bench as possible and sat stiff as if this were a stone monument. He turned to look at you, relaxing slightly when he met your eyes. “Jacaerys. We are to be married, just Jacaerys is fine.” He says as if revealing a heavy burden. “When we are alone that is.” He nods his head slightly, almost telling himself this, not just you. “Y/N, please call me Y/N.” You said with confidence. Jacaerys repeated your name back to you, finally feeling as if he’d met you. This was the girl who was to be his, his wife Y/N, not just Lady L/N.

Since the first night you had spoken alone, you both had the same routine. Jacaerys would wait until your parents retired to their chambers, and you would insist to the handmaidens that you did not require help getting ready for bed and would allow your hot bath to become tepid whilst you and Jacaerys spoke. Each night you both pushed the boundaries of what was acceptable, with the previous night beginning with the two of you sitting on your bed to talk and ending with a tight hug with Jacaerys’ large hand on the back of your head and one on the small of your back. Tonight, however, was different. After spending a particularly long day in a new and rather uncomfortable corset that you just could not unknot yourself, you allowed the handmaidens to undress you, but still protested as they attempted to brush your hair. You thanked them but ushered them out. You eyed the sunset. It was still a time before Jacaerys would be here. The smell of sweet florals danced around the room. You faced the steel tub, heat shimmered off the surface enticing you in. As much as you loved talking to Jacaerys, you did miss a hot bath in the cold nights here. You sighed and slipped out of your chemise, hanging it over the end frame of your bed. Rose petals swirled around your form as your slowly sunk into the tub, feeling the hot water glide over your body and settle around your neck, lapping into your hair at any movement. Eyes slipping closed you relaxed into the warm waters.

A small knock snapped you out of your light slumber, eyes shooting to the window, completely dark outside. Jacaerys was here and you were in no way ready to see him. “Uh who is it?” You stutter naïvely. A couple of seconds of silence go by as you clamber out of the tub and reach for the soft embroidered towel on the vanity next to you. “It’s me.” Jacaerys says, barely above a whisper. “Just one moment!” You say, panic evident in your voice. You quickly slip your chemise back on before turning to see yourself in the mirror. This was no way to present yourself to his grace, hair wet and almost dripping, skin damp, only in your nightwear being the most unforgiveable factor. You looked towards your dress of the day and curled your lip at the corset. Shaking your head you sheepishly walked over to the door and opened it to reveal yourself. Jacaerys smiled and took a step forward before stopping in the hall to take in your appearance. His jaw went slack at the sight of you, he had admired your beauty so far but seeing you so unready had made him feel a way he never had before. His eyes fixated on your unkept hair, the way little droplets beaded off the strands and rolled down your exposed neck and clavicle. He eyed your shape, appreciating the way the well-lit hallway exposed the shape of your breasts before stealing even more intense stares at your waist and down to your hips. What felt like a fleeting second for him must’ve in fact been longer as he felt your hand grab onto his and pull him into your chambers and out of his trance.

“Jacaerys!” you exclaimed, “someone could have so easily seen you standing there for so long!” you closed the door softly and turned to face him. Jacaerys eyes were wide as you looked into them. You felt a wave of nervousness wash over you, had you disgraced yourself? Were you both not as close as you’d hoped? Or even worse was he disappointed in seeing more of you? Your thoughts raced as you wrapped your arms across your front and smile fading at his lack of response. Jacaerys immediately seemed to get a hold of himself once he noticed your usual grin around him replaced with a slight frown and lowered eyebrows. He abruptly stepped towards you causing you to instinctively step back with you back hitting the door. “I apologise, I did not expect to see you after you were ready to sleep, I was taken aback.” He said softly, fiddling with the cuff of his jacket. “In a good way I mean of course, you were just already so beautiful as you are when I regularly see you. Seeing you in your most unaltered form reminded me that I must thank the Gods every night that you are to be mine.” His declaration sent a shiver down your spine and a heat grew in your stomach that only ever did with Jacaerys on your nights alone. He stepped even closer if that was possible and reached his hand up towards your face, a short breath hitched in your throat as his fingers graced your shoulder before retrieving a red petal that remained in your hair. You smiled and broke out a small giggle, “I might have closed my eyes for a moment or two in the bath, I still wanted to see you.” You confessed. He smiled before staring into your eyes as if they were the most intriguing thing he had ever come across. You never felt observed or stalked when he did this but seen and valued as much as any gem in the realm in that moment. “Shall we sit?” You say and gesture to the bed, being so close to someone you felt barred from touching was almost painful. Jacaerys cleared his throat before making his way over to the end of your bed, allowing you to sit at the top with the pillows behind you.

Conversation rolled forward but neither of you could deny the tension that had returned to the room. It was not a nervousness like the first night, but an undeniable hunger that panged within you both. As a story from your home concluded and left you both laughing, Jacaerys went quiet. “Can I try something, Y/N.” You wondered what he could be thinking and nodded before whispering a ‘yes’. He inhaled before leaning forward towards you, tentatively placed a hand on your cheek and leaned in towards your lips. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt his soft lips touch yours but just as quickly as they touched, he pulled back slightly. Hungry for more you placed your hand at the nape of his neck and pulled him back for a longer kiss. Your lips moved together in sync, tentative but ridden with passion. As you melted into the kiss you slowly laid back onto the large pillows behind you. Jacaerys followed you down, never breaking the kiss, and moved one hand to your waist and the other to hold himself up beside your head on the pillow. The kiss grew hungrier and sloppier as you placed one hand upon his on your side and the other returned to the back of his head pulling him into you deeper. You let out a small gasp at the feeling of his body against yours and sighed as his hand slid up your side. You were completely engulfed in him; you didn’t realise how much you wanted his touch until you got it. He pulled away slightly from the kiss, taking a deep breath in to sigh. He rested his forehead against yours, lips brushing slightly against yours.  “I cannot, I must stop. I cannot thieve your honour.” He said, more so trying to convince himself instead of you. You felt his weight shift and he placed a small kiss to your forehead before laying down beside you in a huff. Your insides burned for him, wanted him, no, needed him in a vicious way. You turned to face him, “Jacaerys,” you whined, “I will be fully yours in mere days, why can I not have you now too.” You say almost begging him. He swallowed before facing you. “I crave every inch of you, everything about you pulls me further into a place I won’t be able to climb out of. It isn’t right. Your virtue may be mine to take soon but for now it is yours to keep, we must save it for when we are married.” Your entire body ached in ways you didn’t know it could. You thought of protesting, but Jacaerys is his mother’s son. Once he has decided something it will be. You nodded, feeling your chest rise and fall more steadily. You stole one more kiss against his lips before laying as close to him as you could with a hand across his chest.

‘Five days’, you though. Five days would not be long in any other circumstance, but right now, waiting that long to be touched by Jacaerys felt like torture. As you realised the wetness that had grown between your thighs you had an idea. You turned your head up to look at Jacaerys, his eyes were screwed shut and his mind racing. “You wish to save my virtue, at the cost of leaving your future wife with certain frustrations.” You say with a sweet smile. His eyes open and he scans your face looking for any indication on where you are leading him. Jacaerys half nods his head, not sure on what the correct answer is. “There is a way, we can save my virtue, but still enjoy each other’s company, so to speak.” You say sitting up slightly so he can admire your full form. His face stays slightly confused, brows furrowed, eyes occasionally stealing a look at the thin fabric covering your breasts. Sensing his confusion you continue, “You know, when you’re alone, late at night in your own chambers, longing for someone to touch you.” His eyes widened at your explanation, and he placed a hand over yours that lay on his chest. “Well, it could be just like that between you and me right now, we get to appreciate each other but still protect my virtue.” You explain, looking up at him from beneath your eyelashes, internally begging he’d agree to at least this. The turmoil behind his eyes was evident. He was torn between what was supposed to be right and what felt right.

Instead of a verbal response he leaned up to kiss you once more, just as desperate as before. Feeling a sudden sense of urgency, he started undoing the buttons on his jacket without ever breaking the kiss before tossing it onto the floor. The thin white shirt covered his torso, and you trailed your hands down his chest towards the tie of his trousers before resting on top of his very apparent bulge. He swiftly grabbed your wrist and moved you hand away with a sharp inhale. Worried, you looked into his eyes before he stated, “I wouldn’t be able to stop myself if you touched me.” he looked defeated and utterly infatuated with you. You nodded, accepting his boundary before sitting back on your knees, he used his free hand to place on the inside of your knee and motioned to move your thighs apart. Just the sensation of his fingertips on your leg sent burning waves throughout your body. With his other hand holding your wrist he guided your hand between your thighs towards your pussy. You lightly rubbed from your clit to your slit opening and massaged your folds as you watched himself undo his trousers at a painfully slow pace before he pulled them down slightly revealing the cock you had blushed at imagining when alone. It slapped against his stomach, red with desire and leaking a few beads of precum. It was large in a satisfying way that made your pussy clench around nothing. You intently fought the urge to touch him. A soft moan fell from your lips as you began to touch yourself faster at the sight of Jacaerys taking his cock into his hand and slowly running his hand up and down the length. He seemed shocked by your moan, like he had never heard a noise so sweet before. A rather large moan escaped your lips before a flash of panic glazed over Jacaerys’ eyes. With his free hand he guided the back of your head towards his face and enveloped you into yet another desperate kiss, this more needy than the rest. Your lips moved quickly against each other as your fingers moved in short, tight circles across your clit causing a number of moans to stifle the kiss. You broke the kiss, needing to bite your lip, and rested your forehead against his. Jacaerys panted and moaned slightly with each stroke of his cock. His free fingers brushed against your cheek before curling into your hair. The feeling made your core tighten, a desperate ‘Jacaerys’ ridden moan fell from your mouth resulted in a harsh groan from the man beneath you.

“Let me see you,” He said gruffly, “I want to see you when you reach your peak.” Jacaerys was assertive in a voice that came from pure desperation. You nodded before sitting back on your knees and leaning further back so could appreciate all of you. Jacaerys sat up further in the bed leaning back into the cushions pumping his cock quicker at this new sight of you. He occasionally threw his head back in pleasure after taking in the sight of you. Your fingers switching from delving into your pussy and circling your clit, your mouth slightly agape and littering moans around the room, the way your chemise was almost see through letting him see the peaks of your breasts and hardened nipples poking the thin cotton. You were a sight he never wanted to forget. You, right here and now, completely coming undone before him is what he wanted to see every night. “I-I’m so close I cannot hold on anymore Jacaerys.” Your declaration was laden with moans and gasps, yet it affected Jacaerys all the same. “Finish for me, I need to see you, I- show me Y/N.” Jacaerys grunted through his words and that was the only encouragement you needed to allow yourself to topple over the edge. You worked your middle and third finger into your pussy, eyeing Jacaerys’ movement up and down his cock and matching the fast pace, picturing his cock filling you up. You looked up to Jacaerys’ eyes to see them already on your face, watching you. The eye contact was enough to feel the coil inside of you tighten with each thrust of your fingers before it snapped sending a shattering orgasm over your body. A flurry of moans left your lips along with repeating Jacaerys’ name like he might forget it. Jacaerys could not hold out any longer and moaned your name as he finished, white cum leaking from his big cock. A few final slow strokes left him sighing with satisfaction as his head dropped back into the pillows.

You lay on your back, completely spent feeling a wave of tiredness wash over you. The bed dipped beside you as Jacaerys joined you at the end of the bed, grabbing the towel you had hastily flung onto the footboard before. He gently patted the towel against your wet thighs and the wet patch that had formed underneath you before cleaning his stomach off and dropping the towel by the bath. He lay beside you and you rolled onto your side and let your back face him as he pulled you into his grasp. “I wish you could stay, Jacaerys. That was what I was desperate for, but falling asleep in your arms is what I need.” You sigh half solemn. He places long kisses on your back and nape, tickling you slightly. “Four days, then you will be my wife and I will never leave this bed ever again if you so command it.” He said jokingly, but you know you could get him to live in a bed with you if you asked sweetly. Every time your eyes shut, they closed for even longer and Jacaerys noticed. “Y/N,” he whispered. “I must return to my own room before morning.” You sat up slightly and yawned before nodding. Jacaerys collected his jacked off of the floor and walked round to your side of the bed and held out his hand. You took your hand in his and pulled yourself up off of the bed and let him lead you to the door. He opened it a crack and peaked out in both directions before opening the door fully and turning back to you. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” He smiled playfully. You squeezed his hand and placed a small kiss on his lips. You wanted to savour Jacaerys before he was back to being 'your grace'. He tucked a rogue strand of hair behind your ear, “Beautiful.” He whispered, letting his thumb linger on your cheek. You blushed under his tenderness and affection. “Goodnight my Y/N.” he said returning his hands to his sides. “Goodnight Jacaerys.” You said smiling at him, your heart feeling full. You both stole final glances at each other before he rounded the corner into the rest of the castle. You shut the door and sighed, glancing over the strewn bed reminiscing on the events of the night. You blew out the candle on the table beside your bed and snuggled into the sheets. The pillows and blankets still lingered with the smell of Jacaerys. You couldn’t wait to be his wife.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon smut #hotd smut #jacaerys smut #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #jacaerys targaryen #prince jacaerys #hotd fanfic #jacaerys velaryon x y/n smut #jacaerys imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones smut #asoif #asoif/got #fanfic #smut #jacaerys fluff #fluff smut #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys fanfiction

[vickyvicarious]

Hello! I was wondering what you make of Seward's phrase "is it possible that love is all subjective or all objective?" I've seen people allude to different meanings on the phrase but I can't quite figure out what it means

I wanted to wait until after 11 October to answer this ask, just so I didn't have to spoiler for the context of my reply. Which is that... my instinct is to oppose Jonathan and Seward's loves for this one. Specifically, in their reactions to the women they love becoming vampires. (I'm choosing Jack specifically to talk about because we get in his head more than we do for the other suitors, though by actions one could argue they fall more on the same side as he does.)

Firstly, let's take a brief moment to talk about the specific words used. Subjective generally means dictated by personal taste, and objective would be based on fact or truth. So, a love that is all one or the other could be very different depending on what the person you love is like. For example, an objective love would appreciate someone's virtues, while a subjective one might find things to love even in their flaws. Or on a larger scale, and much more relevant to how the phrase is used in the book... what would happen when the person you love is becoming a vampire, a creature that is factually and objectively evil and wrong? How would you react, how would you feel?

It depends on your type of love.

Jonathan's love is all subjective. Even though he absolutely hates and despises vampires, once he knows Mina is at risk of becoming one he resolves to join her if need be. He sees her rejected by God when the communion wafer burns her forehead, and he says 'actually no, I think the holiest kind of love is the one that would lead me to join her in her unholy state'. Even when Mina outright appeals to him to kill her if she is too far gone - an appeal to his objective understanding, for him to express his love in a way that confronts the truth of what she would become - Jonathan remains silent and in doing so refuses to make that promise. It's implied that he would be willing to fight the other men in order to protect her, even though they are his allies and friends. His beliefs warp around the shape of his love. He will destroy himself and others for the sake of his love, even if he knows through painful experience how objectively evil vampires are.

Jack's love meanwhile is all objective. Even though he didn't fully understand what a vampire was, he began to lose his love for Lucy as soon as he saw her acting in that way. In fact every time she was acting out of character to be more vampiric before her death, he seemed to notice and be a little put off by it, even though he didn't really seem to realize so much at the time. He outright says this quote when he is watching vampire!Lucy and realizing that he doesn't feel as horrible about mutilating the body of the woman he loved as he would have expected. When he learns Lucy has become a monster, he begins to feel repulsed by her - a process completed when he sees her up close and outright says his love for her is gone: "At that moment the remnant of my love passed into hate and loathing; had she then to be killed, I could have done it with savage delight." His determination to destroy the Thing she now is completely separates her in his mind from her living self. His love gives way to the objective facts. He will help to kill her, and gladly, because what she has become disgusts him... because what she has become is objectively evil.

Obviously, their experiences are different, and perhaps it's not quite such a true binary. Mina's gradual transformation, combined with Jonathan's pre-existing knowledge, is quite different from Jack's abrupt introduction to Lucy's vastly changed self and to the idea of the supernatural at all. But for the purposes of examining this quote, I think it works quite well to set them up at opposite ends of that scale.

.

It's also kind of curious because it calls back to another great line of Seward's: "(Mem., under what circumstances would I not avoid the pit of hell?)" The context of that line is Seward struggling to resist his dark impulses with regards to his treatment of Renfield. And he says this after having noticed himself actively doing something he says he'd normally avoid like the pit of hell, so that means he was approaching it until he caught himself. This is a struggle he repeatedly faces with Renfield, finding himself longing for a cause that he would consider it worthwhile abandoning his morals for, so that he could just give in to these urges.

But while Jack Seward is the person most drawn to the darkness, as we get introduced to the vampires are representatives of the ultimate darkness he backs firmly away. It's only in isolation that he feels so attracted to amoral experimentation; when together with his friends he pulls himself back to be more firmly opposed. His treatment of Renfield is a mess the entire time, don't get me wrong. He never really does right by him. But he doesn't seem to feel that same urge to push him in such a cruel way merely for his own interest/satisfaction. It becomes in the service of a greater goal, the objectively good idea of fighting Dracula. (Again, not saying his methods are good, but his motivation shifts.) He's always been conscious of an idea of what is right to do and he actively tries to follow that, with much greater success when not left to his own devices.

Meanwhile Jonathan has never felt such an intense draw to the darkness. He survived months alone surrounded by evil influences, and it only increased his determination to remain himself/human. He hates the vampires and he feels no true allure to the idea of being like them (outside the allure everyone feels when being hypnotized by them, etc.). He wanted nothing more than a normal happy life, he never longed for a cause that would be worth throwing his morals away. And yet, when Mina begins to turn we see Jonathan decide that this is the circumstance under which he will not avoid the pit of hell. This is the cause he can dedicate himself to as fully as any madman. Jonathan never felt the need to philosophize about trying to avoid such things before he was exposed to them by others, because he has no inherent urge to seek them out. But he also lacks that restrictive hold when a reason does come along.

(To visualize: if there's a pit, then Jack is the person who keeps wandering closer, desperately wanting to lean over the edge and see what's inside. Knowing this about himself, he's tied a rope around his waist to ensure he doesn't slip too far. Jonathan never even went near until he abruptly decides to sprint up and swan-dive straight into it when he thinks Mina's fallen in.)

#dracula daily #jack seward #jonathan harker #anonymous #replies #my meta #dracula meta

[pitinthelanepages]

Interwined Fates

summary: oscar and you, two best friends, stumble upon a future you never anticipated, leading you to discover something. that something involving little ones that eerily resembles the two of you.

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

word count: 5.5k

genre: time travel!, fluff, romance

gif credit to @acrosstobear. do make sure to like, reblog the gif!

As you sat together in Oscar's cozy living room, the two of you found yourselves engrossed in a conversation about the plot of a book.

Oscar rested his head on your lap, finding comfort in your presence as you gently caressed his hair, your fingers gliding through the strands with a soothing touch.

"Can you believe the protagonist fell into the same trap for the third time?" you chuckled, your voice filled with amusement. "I mean, come on, haven't they learned anything from the previous encounters?"

Oscar let out a soft laugh, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I guess they have a knack for making questionable life choices," he replied, his voice carrying a playful tone. "But hey, it wouldn't be much of a story if they suddenly became the poster child for common sense, right?"

You grinned. "True, true. But seriously, who walks alone into a dark, creepy forest at midnight? That's just asking for trouble."

Oscar tilted his head slightly, looking up at you with a glint in his eyes. "Well, maybe they have an adventurous spirit that we can't fully understand," he suggested with a smirk. "Or maybe they just have a severe case of bad decision-making skills."

You swatted his arm, your laughter filling the air. "Oh please, I think they're just in desperate need of a good friend who can talk some sense into them."

He chuckled, his head still resting comfortably on your lap. A soft silence settled between you, the only sound being the gentle rustle of pages as you turned the book over, examining the cover.

Oscar's curious eyes soon landed on the pendant dangling from your neck. It glimmered softly in the warm glow of the lamp, catching his attention. He reached out, his fingertips lightly grazing the pendant, his brow furrowed in curiosity.

"What's this?" Oscar asked, his voice filled with genuine intrigue. "I don't remember seeing this pendant before. Is it new?"

You smiled, the pendant's weight resting comfortably against your chest. "Oh, this?" you replied, gently holding the pendant between your fingers. "No, it's not exactly new. I've had it for a while, but I don't always wear it."

Oscar's eyes widened with curiosity. "Is there a story behind it? You know I'm a sucker for stories," he said, his voice laced with a growing enthusiasm.

You chuckled, feeling a twinge of nostalgia. "Well, I do have a story to tell i guess," you began, your voice taking on a storytelling tone. "This pendant belonged to my grandmother. She was a woman of incredible strength and resilience. Whenever I wear it, I feel a connection to her, as if her spirit is still with me."

Oscar leaned in, captivated by your words. "That's beautiful," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the pendant. "It's amazing how objects can hold so much meaning, isn't it?"

You nodded, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Absolutely. It's like a reminder of the love and wisdom passed down through generations. And you know what? It's said that this pendant brings good luck to its wearer."

Oscar raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "Good luck, huh?" he teased. "Well, I hope some of that luck rubs off on me. Lord knows I could use it."

You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes. "Oh, come on, Oscar. You're doing just fine."

He chuckled, leaning his head back onto your lap, his eyes twinkling with fondness. "I suppose you're right," he admitted, his voice filled with warmth. "But still, that pendant is something special. It's like a piece of your history that I never knew about until now."

The air around you grew quiet, a comfortable silence settling between you until Oscar's mischievous nature sparked an idea in his mind, and a playful glint danced in his eyes as he proposed, "What if this pendant is actually magical?"

You chuckled, shaking your head at his ridiculous suggestion. "Seriously, Oscar. Magic? Don't be ridiculous," you replied, a hint of amusement in your voice. "It's just a sentimental piece of jewellery."

He grinned, undeterred by your skepticism. "But think about it. What harm is there in giving it a try? We could have a little fun, see if anything magical happens," Oscar persisted, his voice laced with harmless insistence.

You found yourself unable to resist his contagious enthusiasm, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Alright, alright. Just for the sake of curiosity," you gave in, your voice filled with playful surrender. "What do you have in mind?"

Oscar's eyes gleamed with excitement as he sat up, his gaze fixed on the pendant. "Let's make a wish," he suggested, his voice barely containing his excitement. "Hold the pendant tight and think of something you'd like to happen. Who knows? Maybe the pendant will surprise us."

You couldn't help but giggle at his childlike enthusiasm, a spark of curiosity ignited within you. "Alright, fine," you agreed, humor lacing your voice. "But don't get upset if nothing magical happens."

You clasped the pendant in your palm, your fingers curling around it, and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to get caught up in the whimsical moment. Thoughts flickered through your mind as you pondered what you should wish for. And then, with a flicker of mischief, you settled on your wish, something that seemed too far-fetched to come true.

"Okay, I'm done," you announced, opening your eyes and sharing a playful glance with Oscar. "Now, what about you?"

Oscar's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Well, since we're being ridiculous anyways, let's wish for an extraordinary adventure. Something that takes us to places we've never been before, filled with wonder and excitement."

The air crackled with a sense of possibility as you both sat there, wishing for the improbable, hoping for a hint of magic. Whether it was the pendant or simply the power of imagination, a thrilling energy filled the room, ready to propel you both into the unknown.

A brilliant flash of light erupted behind your closed eyes, momentarily blinding you both. As you cautiously opened your eyes, expecting to see the familiar surroundings of Oscar's living room, you were met with a surprising sight. Instead of the cozy confines of the living room, you found yourselves standing in the midst of a vibrant and bustling children's playground.

Confusion painted your features as you took in the realistic setting around you. The playground was alive with the sounds of laughter and playful chatter, a symphony of youthful energy. A colorful array of swings, slides, and climbing frames adorned the area, each piece of equipment carefully designed for the amusement and delight of children.

Children of various ages scampered about, their excited squeals filling the air. Some played tag, their giggles echoing, while others engaged in imaginative games, their animated expressions painting their faces with joy. Parents sat on benches, watching over their little ones with tender smiles and occasional words of encouragement.

You and Oscar exchanged bewildered glances, attempting to make sense of this inexplicable shift in reality. The atmosphere was anything but fantastical or otherworldly. Instead, it felt grounded and familiar, as if you had been transported to a vivid snapshot of everyday life.

"What just happened?" you questioned, your voice laced with both awe and confusion. "How did we end up here?"

Oscar's brows furrowed, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "I have no idea," he replied, his voice filled with genuine bewilderment. "But one thing's for sure, we're definitely not in my living room anymore."

A mixture of curiosity and trepidation swirled within you both. The unexpected turn of events had brought you to this lively playground, and the possibilities that lay ahead were both intriguing and uncertain.

Before you realize, Oscar dashed off somewhere behind you. Peering out from behind a bush, Oscar's eyes widened in surprise as he noticed a young girl, no older than five, making her way towards you. Her innocent gaze held a hint of familiarity, and it was as if she carried a secret that only you were meant to discover. Oscar urged you to interact with her, his voice barely audible as he whispered from his hiding spot.

Meanwhile, the little girl, with her petite frame and rosy cheeks, exuded an undeniable charm. She wore a simple, pastel-colored dress adorned with tiny floral patterns, the fabric swaying gently with each step. Her dark curls cascaded down in bouncy ringlets, framing her sweet little face. The innocence in her wide, doe-like eyes was paired with a mischievous spark, as if she knew more than she let on.

As she approached you, her tiny hand reaching out, she uttered a single word that pierced the air and left you momentarily stunned. "Mommy."

You gasped, taken aback by her words, and instinctively replied, "You're mistaken, little buddy. I'm not your mommy." But the little girl shook her head, her curls bouncing with the motion. Her voice, sweet and unwavering, insisted, "Yes, you are. You're my mommy."

Confusion swept over you, mingling with a mix of emotions that were difficult to untangle. Before you could gather your thoughts, another woman approached, her features mirroring a sense of familiarity. She wore a warm smile on her face, tinged with a touch of relief.

"Angele's mommy, you're back?" the woman exclaimed, her voice filled with both surprise and joy. You found yourself at a loss for words, your mind struggling to make sense of this inexplicable situation. "I... I guess?" you stammered, your response betraying your confusion.

The woman's eyes lingered on you, taking in your appearance, and she couldn't help but make a remark. "You look different, Angele's mommy," she commented, her tone a mix of astonishment and admiration. "You seem like you aged ten years backward, despite your hectic job."

A jolt of realization coursed through you at her words, an unsettling truth dawning upon you. You couldn't help but ask, your voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and curiosity, "My job...?" The question hung in the air, awaiting the woman's response.

She met your gaze, her eyes filled with understanding. "Yes, aren't you a journalist?" she replied, her voice gentle yet certain. "You travel almost all the time, leaving this sweet angel behind."

Your mind grappled with the realization that you had somehow traveled through time. The innocence and conviction in the little girl's eyes, coupled with the woman's recognition, painted a picture that defied all logic.

"Oh, I see. I should probably take her home," you responded, your voice filled with a mix of uncertainty and responsibility. The woman nodded in agreement. She then posed a question that struck a chord of confusion within you.

"Is he back?" she inquired, her voice carrying a hopeful tone. You hesitated, caught off guard by the mention of a husband whose identity remained a mystery to you. "Is he...? Erm..." you mumbled, your thoughts trailing off into a perplexing haze.

The woman's assumption about the busy nature of your relationship triggered a twinge of annoyance deep within you. How could she make such presumptions without knowing the intricacies of your life? Yet, before you could voice your frustration, you reminded yourself of the bigger puzzle at hand.

"Aww, you both are such a busy couple, barely have time for each other, let alone your child. I'm assuming he is abroad," the woman continued, her words rubbing against your raw nerves. An involuntary twitch of annoyance danced in your eye, momentarily distracting you from the enigma surrounding your husband's whereabouts.

Bidding the woman a hasty farewell, you turned to leave the playground with the child holding your hand, determined to sort out the mess you found yourself in. Oscar, who had been observing the interaction from a distance, swiftly caught up to you, his footsteps echoing your own.

As you walked away, a joyful squeal filled the air, capturing your attention. The little girl had noticed Oscar's presence and excitement erupted within her. "Daddy? You're back?" she exclaimed, her voice brimming with delight and hope.

You paused, a mix of emotions swirling within you. The puzzle pieces were falling into place, revealing a glimpse of the relationships that had been lost in this peculiar time-shift.

Oscar's bewildered gaze met yours, both of you frozen in a state of shock and disbelief. You shared a silent exchange of wide-eyed bewilderment, your jaws hanging open in unison. Oscar mustered a whisper, his voice filled with astonishment, "What...?"

As your attention shifted back to the little girl, you couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance she bore to both you and Oscar. Her plump lips mirrored yours, while her sharp brows and the combination of Oscar's nose and eyes adorned her face. She was a living proof of your shared features.

In a burst of excitement, the little girl leaped towards Oscar, her tiny arms outstretched, gesturing for him to pick her up. Oscar obliged, his heart swelling with warmth as he cradled the child in his arms. The surge of fatherly affection overwhelmed him, mirroring the surge of motherly emotions that welled up within you.

The little girl wrapped her arms around Oscar's neck, her embrace a proof to the depth of their connection. Her voice, filled with longing, reached your ears as she whispered, "Daddy, I missed you so much." Oscar's gaze flickered towards you, a mix of surprise and uncertainty in his eyes, before he composed himself with a fake cough.

"Oh, did you? Have I been really busy?" he inquired, a hint of anticipation in his voice. The little girl nodded emphatically, confirming the void his absence had left in her life. Despite his curiosity about his own occupation and the reasons for his busyness, he refrained from asking the child, instead focusing on their relationship.

"Have I not been giving you enough time? Are you upset with Daddy for that?" he whispered into her ear, his hand gently patting her small back. The little girl's voice, filled with a childlike innocence, responded, "Mommy says you always try your best to make time for us when you can, so it's okay." Oscar's gaze turned to you, his expression unreadable, as if the weight of this unexpected bond settled between you.

Feeling slightly out of place, you cleared your throat to regain their attention. As the little girl shifted her focus towards you, a newfound maternal instinct took hold, guiding your words. "My angel, can you show us where our house is? Do you know where it is?" you cooed, your voice instinctively morphing into that of a mother.

Thankfully, the child nodded, her eyes brimming with confidence. "Yes, it's near," she replied, her small finger pointing in a direction that beckoned you to follow.

As you walked alongside Oscar, the weight of uncertainty still hung in the air, yet the undeniable connection between him, the little girl, and yourself brought a sense of purpose.

When you and Oscar reached the grand house, an air of opulence surrounded its exterior, betraying a life of wealth and prosperity. As your eyes scanned the impressive structure, Oscar couldn't help but whisper, "We must be making banks to own this." Your agreement came in a playful tone, responding with, "We surely have to be..."

Stepping into the house, the sight that greeted you was unexpected. The floor was scattered with small toy cars and an array of other toys, indicating the presence of a child. As you took in the scene, a young woman in her twenties approached you, her eyes filled with relief.

"Mrs. Piastri, you're back. Thank God. Aaron was crying for you," she expressed, her voice tinged with gratitude. Confusion etched itself onto both yours and Oscar's faces until a toddler-like boy, approximately three years old, darted toward you. This time, the child's resemblance to Oscar was striking, a reflection of his features.

For a fleeting moment, the weight of your unexpected journey and the realization that you had time-traveled from a time when your relationship with Oscar was solely platonic faded away. In its place, a touch of annoyance crossed your face, and you turned to Oscar, wearing an expression of playful annoyance.

"You only gave me a year to rest before another one...?" you teased, your tone holding a mix of incredulity and humour. The humour in your remark served as a reminder of the shared history you and Oscar had, even if the circumstances had taken an unforeseen turn.

As Aaron, the young boy who bore an uncanny resemblance to Oscar, stood before you, a genuine smile spread across your face. Crouching down, you extended your arms and scooped up the young boy into a warm embrace. His little frame nestled against your chest, and you marvelled at the familiarity of his features, the reflection of Oscar's unmistakable traits. The connection between you and this child felt surprisingly natural, as if it were meant to be.

As you held him close, you turned your attention to the young woman who had greeted you. With a gentle smile, you deduced that she must be his nanny, entrusted with caring for him during your absence. Gratitude swelled within you for the love and attention she had provided in your stead.

"Thank you for taking care of him," you expressed sincerely, your voice laced with appreciation. "I can see how much he means to you. It's reassuring to know he's been in good hands." The young woman's eyes softened, a mixture of relief and fondness evident in her gaze.

"He's an incredible little boy," she replied warmly. "Full of energy and curiosity. But he's missed having his mommy around. It's good to have you back."

You nodded, a mixture of emotions swirling within you. The pull of this new life, this altered reality, was undeniably strong. The warmth of Aaron's presence and the genuine affection that radiated between you and Oscar tugged at your heartstrings, enticing you to fully immerse yourself in the role of a mother and wife.

As Oscar inquired about his daughter's hunger, the young girl, Angele, nodded eagerly. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, mirroring the excitement that danced within Oscar's own gaze. It was a beautiful sight to witness, the unspoken bond between father and daughter.

Taking a moment to reflect, you realized that Aaron, too, must be in need of food. After all, it was late in the afternoon. Concerned about his well-being, you turned to the young woman who had been caring for him in your absence. With a gentle smile, you inquired, "Has Aaron had his meal?"

The woman nodded, her face glowing with a sense of reassurance. "Yes, he had his food a little while ago. He's been well taken care of." Her words offered solace, allowing you to focus on the immediate task at hand: feeding your daughter.

With a nurturing instinct taking over, you turned your attention to preparing a meal for your daughter. The kitchen became a haven of comforting aromas as you skillfully concocted a dish that would satiate her hunger. The sound of sizzling pans and the tantalizing scent of home-cooked food filled the air.

Oscar, in the meantime, kept her entertained with stories and playful banter, his infectious laughter ringing through the room. It was heartwarming to witness their bond, a testament to the love and care they had shared in your absence.

As the meal came together, you plated the food, arranging it with care and attention. Angele's eyes widened with anticipation as you presented her with the delicious feast. She dug into the food, her little hands grasping the utensils, a joyful messiness enveloping her.

As the evening progressed, the passing of time brought forth a gentle reminder that bedtime was drawing near. The warmth of the day began to mellow into a tranquil evening, and the soft whispers of fatigue whispered through the air.

Angele, her belly satisfied and eyelids growing heavy, leaned against Oscar, her little body nestled comfortably in his embrace. The playful energy that had filled the room gradually waned, replaced by a soothing calmness as the hour for slumber approached. Oscar gently guided his daughter towards the routine of preparing for bed.

Watching the scene unfold, a sense of tranquility washed over you. It was a testament to the bond you shared, a testament to the loving environment you had created. The roles you now found yourself immersed in, that of a mother and a wife, brought a deep sense of fulfillment. The love that radiated within the walls of this home, built on the foundation of shared experiences and cherished moments, resonated within your soul.

As the time came to settle Aaron into his crib, you cradled him in your arms, allowing the serenity of the moment to envelop you both. The rhythmic rise and fall of his tiny chest mirrored the peace that settled within your own being. Gently, you placed him down, his soft breaths filling the room.

With the children tucked in, sleep beckoning them to dreamland, you found yourself pausing at the threshold of the door. In this moment of stillness, with the soft glow of night casting its gentle embrace, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions.

On one hand, the joy and contentment of this newfound life tugged at your heartstrings, whispering of the love and connection that enveloped you. The familiarity and the profound bond you shared with Oscar and the children sparked a profound sense of belonging.

As you stood at the threshold of the children's room, a flicker of movement caught your eye, drawing your attention to the wall adorned with a series of framed photographs. A gasp escaped your lips, like a breath catching in your throat, as your gaze fixated on the images captured within those frames.

Oscar, sensing your surprise, turned to you with concern etched on his face. "What happened?" he inquired, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and worry. You couldn't bring yourself to articulate the profound realization that had swept over you, so instead, you simply tilted your head, gesturing for him to direct his gaze towards the wall.

Together, your eyes traced the lines and contours of the photographs, each frame capturing a milestone in Oscar's journey as an accomplished Formula 1 driver. The vibrant colors and frozen moments of triumph adorned the wall, each image depicting him on the podium, a testament to his skill, determination, and hard-earned victories.

As the weight of the revelation settled upon you both, the realization blossomed in your minds: both of you had achieved your dreams. The photographs were a tangible reminder of the aspirations you had pursued and conquered, the paths that had led you to this very moment.

In the midst of this profound realization, Oscar's hand gently landed upon your shoulder, a comforting touch that spoke volumes without the need for words. It was a gesture that conveyed his support, his pride in your own accomplishments as a journalist, and the shared journey that had brought you to this point.

Silent understanding passed between you, a connection forged not only through friendship but also through the intertwining of dreams fulfilled. At that moment, you knew that despite the lingering mysteries of your past, the present held its own magic: a symphony of love, success, and shared aspirations.

"What do we do now?" you turn to ask Oscar, your voice filled with a mixture of uncertainty and determination. Before he can respond, a subtle noise interrupts the air, sending both of you into a state of alertness. It's the sound of the main door being unlocked.

Wide-eyed, you exchange a quick glance with Oscar, silently agreeing on the need to hide yourselves. In unison, you move swiftly, finding refuge in a concealed spot within the living room. Your breaths become shallow, heartbeats pounding in your ears as the door opens with deliberate caution.

There they are: the older versions of yourselves, stepping into the space you once called home. Their features etched with the weight of experiences yet to come, they move with a sense of purpose. You stole a glance at Oscar beside you, and he whispered urgently, "We must go back to our time."

As the future versions of you and Oscar move through the house, checking on the children's bedrooms and eventually reaching their own, you nodded in agreement with Oscar's suggestion. "I know," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of determination. "Let's do what we did before and see if we can return."

Closing your eyes, you clasped the pendant tightly in your hands, willing the familiar flash of light to transport you back to where you belong. But the first attempt proved unsuccessful, followed by the second and third. Frustration and fatigue started to gnaw at your resolve, casting doubt upon the possibility of going back to your own timeline.

Yet, as you closed your eyes for the fourth time, holding the pendant with a renewed sense of hope, something shifted. Behind your closed eyes, a brilliant burst of light illuminates the darkness, engulfing your senses in a swirling vortex. Time and space converge, carrying you and Oscar along a torrent of energy.

When you finally opened your eyes, you found yourselves back in the familiar living room—the same room where you once mocked the plot of a book, where Oscar rested his head upon your lap as you caressed his hair. Relief coursed through your veins, mingling with a lingering curiosity about the future versions of yourselves you encountered.

"Oh my god, I can't believe this," you gasped, your voice trembling with a mix of astonishment and disbelief. The familiar surroundings of the living room suddenly took on a whole new significance, and your heart races with the weight of the realisation.

Oscar, his eyes searching yours, sensed the depth of your emotions. A flicker of concern crossed his face, but there's also a hint of something else: something vulnerable. He took a step closer and responded, "Is marrying me really that unbelievable?" His voice carried a touch of mild offence, but his eyes betrayed the hope that you understood what he was trying to convey.

Caught off guard by his reaction, you paused, your mind racing to make sense of it all. The pieces started to fall into place, and you realised that his response held a deeper meaning. The unspoken tension between you suddenly became palpable, and you found yourself drawn to his gaze, searching for the truth hidden within.

A surge of realisation flooded through you, mingling with your own suppressed feelings. Memories of shared moments, stolen glances, and unspoken desires rush to the forefront of your mind. It's as if you've been dancing around the truth for years, and now, finally, everything became clear.

Breathlessly, you managed to utter, "Oscar, I... I didn't realise." Your voice wavered, filled with a mixture of surprise and realisation, as you confronted the truth that has been waiting to be acknowledged.

Oscar's expression softened, his eyes brimming with vulnerability and affection. He took another step closer, closing the distance between you, and reached out to gently touch your arm. "I've liked you, more than just a friend, for so long," he admitted, his voice filled with sincerity. "Seeing you here, in this moment, has only made those feelings stronger. I never thought I'd have the chance to tell you."

Your heart raced, the weight of unspoken emotions now laid bare before you. You found the courage to meet his gaze, and you confessed, "Oscar, I... I've liked you too. More than I've ever admitted. I've been pining over you all these years, and I never thought you felt the same way."

A mixture of relief and joy spread across Oscar's face, mirroring the emotions that surge within you. "We've been fools, hiding our feelings for fear of losing what we had," he confessed, his voice filled with regret. "But now, with this glimpse of our potential future, I can't hold back any longer."

As the weight of your shared emotions filled the room, you found yourself irresistibly drawn to Oscar. Step by step, you closed the distance between you until you were standing mere inches apart. The air crackled with anticipation, the atmosphere thick with the unspoken desires that have lingered for far too long.

Without a word, you reached out and gently cupped Oscar's face in your hands, your fingers trembling with a mix of nerves and excitement. His eyes locked onto yours, their depths reflecting the intensity of the moment. And in that fleeting second, the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of you suspended in time.

A tender smile played at the corners of your lips as you leaned in, closing the final gap between you. Your heart raced with anticipation, every fibre of your being yearning for the connection that has eluded you for so long. And then, finally, your lips met in a soft, passionate kiss.

In that single moment, the world around you ceased to exist. Time stood still as you lost yourselves in the depth of your kiss, the electricity between you intensifying with each passing second.

Wrapped in each other's arms, you experienced an intense sense of belonging. The doubts and uncertainties that once plagued your minds melted away, replaced by a certainty that you've found your soulmate. The taste of this stolen moment lingered on your lips, a promise of a future filled with passion, love, and fulfilled dreams.

When you finally pulled away, a soft glow illuminated both your faces. With a smile that spoke volumes, Oscar brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and whispered, "I've dreamt of this moment for so long, and now it's finally real." His voice was filled with a mixture of tenderness and awe.

With a mischievous glimmer in your eyes, you playfully nudged Oscar's side. "You know what, let's not get all mushy right now. I still want to be able to beat you up and bully you. Best friend privileges are too good to let go."

Oscar grinned, his confusion fading into a knowing smile. "You're right. But how about we add a little extra something to our friendship?"

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his suggestion. "Oh really? And what might that be?"

He leaned in, his voice laced with playful intent. "How about we stay best friends, but with the added benefits of making out and cuddling whenever we want? Taking it slow, you know?"

"Sounds like a plan. Count me in."

And just like that, the weight of romantic expectations lifted, and you both fell back into the comfort of your deep friendship.

Oscar grinned and nudged you playfully. "Hey, how about we hit the gym together? Future formula 1 champions should stay fit, you know."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, come on. Don't drag me into this, I have studying to do."

Oscar shook his head, a determined smile on his face. "Nuh uh. No more excuses. I'm not taking no for an answer. Time to get those endorphins flowing."

Before you could protest further, Oscar swiftly scooped you up into his arms, effortlessly carrying you. You let out a surprised yelp, your protests drowned out by laughter.

"Oscar, put me down!" you exclaimed, playfully swatting at him.

He chuckled and kept walking towards the gym. "No way. I'm going to the gym, and you're coming with me."

You resigned yourself to the inevitable, knowing there's no escaping Oscar's determination. Besides, a part of you secretly enjoyed his antics. With a playful sigh, you settled into his arms, enjoying the closeness.

Oscar gently set you down, a triumphant grin on his face. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

You playfully pouted and crossed your arms. "Fine, you win. But only this once. Don't expect me to become a gym enthusiast overnight."

Oscar chuckled. "Oh, I won't push you too hard."

As you and Oscar caught your breath after a particularly intense workout, a comfortable silence settled between you. The air was filled with a mix of contentment and unspoken words, and you could feel the shift in the atmosphere.

Oscar's eyes met yours, a glimmer of affection shining through. Without warning, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your lips. The unexpected gesture left you momentarily breathless, a blush spreading across your cheeks.

"Oscar," you whispered, your cheeks tinged red. "What was that for?"

He grinned, his gaze filled with warmth. "Well, we have babies in the future, remember?"

You playfully tugged at a strand of his hair, a familiar spark of mischief in your eyes. "Oh, is that how you're going to convince me? Using our future children against me?"

Oscar laughed, the sound that filled the air around you. "Hey, whatever works, right?"

You let out a mock sigh, shaking your head. "Fine, I guess I'll let you off the hook this time. But don't make a habit out of it."

He chuckled and pulled you into a warm embrace, his arms enveloping you. "No promises, sorry baby."

You scrunched your brows, turning to face him in his embrace. "Didn't we literally promise to take it slow like an hour ago?"

"Oops." There wasn't a hint of guilt in his eyes.

You narrowed your eyes. "Oscar… aren't you having too much fun?"

He shrugged. "Can't blame me."

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[biteofcherry]

No such thing as finality

vampire!Curtis Everett x reader; Dracula!Curtis Everett x reader

summary: When Curtis returns to his newly acquired mansion in London, he's greeted by an unexpected sight...

warnings: angst; so so much angst; and feels; dark-ish; a bit of blood (there are vampires in this story, after all); mention of death;

Author's note: This is my small contribution to @witchywithwhiskey's Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon. The classic horror movie I based my inspiration on is Bram Stoker's Dracula. Though, me being me, I put a wicked twist to it. Hope you enjoy! The title "No such thing as finality" is also a quote from the Dracula book.

Lush scent of roses, bowing their graceful necks as wind gained momentum, didn’t fully cover the sweet, decadent smell of freshly spilled blood. 

It would lure him in curiosity in any other circumstances, but since he didn’t expect anyone to be willingly bleeding inside his mansion, it made him wary. 

Curtis wasn’t scared. There was no human, nor creature in this universe that could truly harm him. Any attack that may happen upon him, would be dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. He could rip them apart with bare hands; move so fast and snap their neck before they even blinked; sink his fangs into an artery and rip it out; take the shape of a beast and tear them inside out.

He should do it for the sheer audacity of breaking into his household, as newly acquired and not yet fully lived-in it was.  

Taking measured steps, Curtis walked through the open wings of the glass, orangerie doors. Moonlight reflected in crystal chandeliers. Shadows crept along the walls, attempting to intimidate, but quickly withdrawing in submission to his own, chilling darkness. 

There was a faint glow of warm light seeping from beneath the double door leading to the ballroom. The sound of crackling fire announced someone’s preparation for his return. 

Curtis lifted a hand and the door opened in a burst, a gust of wind rubbing against his cheek affectionately before it whipped inside in a cold snap. 

His gaze instantly fell on the crumpled body in the middle of the polished, hardwood dancefloor - a decorative gore centerpiece of blue silk, soft skin and pool of ruby red blood. 

He recognized her. 

Mina.

That dress was the one he gifted her; as inappropriate as it was, since her engagement ring still shined on her slender finger and she had made no promise of breaking that word to Jonathan Harker, even if her lips trembled to say more than just a thank you to Curtis. Her lovely face of soft lines and ethereal delicacy, which he drew obsessively in the past weeks, remained angelic as her life slipped away.  

Curtis knew her, craved her and now he felt… mildly irritated.

A frown marred his face as he searched his feelings. Surely he should feel something stronger. Rage that would fly him across the room. Despair that would turn him into a wailing beast. 

There was a flicker of annoyance - both at having her snatched from his grasp before he got to explore this madness and at being challenged so obviously. 

As an apex predator he didn’t entertain any form of challenge. 

Slowly, his eyes moved from Mina’s dying body to the hem of your shimmering gown inches from the dark pool of blood. 

It was one of your favorite dresses - an almost translucent, pale fabric lined with exquisite sparks that gave the illusion of your body being encrusted in diamonds. Yet you didn’t seem bothered by the fact it bore stains of blood where it splashed when you sunk your teeth into the woman’s neck. 

Red essence still dripped from your chin as you boldly stared at Curtis across the room. 

“Hello, husband.” 

Beads decorating your hair caught flickers of amber glow as you tilted your head in greeting. In that moment you were the epitome of a dark goddess from centuries ago; one he turned you into when he promised you an eternity at his side. One who walked with him through the darkness and filled it with your own light. 

Light he forgot about in the fleeting moment of obsession. 

“Beloved.” Though Curtis’ voice bore an undertone of reprimand at what you have done, his term of endearment didn’t change. “You’ve overstepped.”

Your eyes flashed red glow at his admonition, as it hinted at the importance of the dying, pathetic reflection of a woman from eons ago. She was not important! She couldn’t be important to him. You were! 

“Overstepped?!” You hissed, your fangs elongating as you turned abruptly. “I was left in the castle, foolishly dreaming of and preparing for the move to the estate my dear husband went to secure. Meanwhile he fucking romanced a silly, mortal goose!”

“Mortal she may have been, but Mina wasn’t as unimpressive as you make her to be.” He didn’t know why he was defending his betrayal, since there was still not a single flare of rage urging him to snap your neck. 

Curtis didn’t think there’d ever be a time the mere thought of ending your immortal life entered his mind. Though he felt a pang of pain, somewhere in the hollowness of his chest where a heart should beat, when he realized the weight of hurt he must’ve caused you as he prowled after Mina.

“I’m sure her face resembling your dead first wife was a truly impressive genetic lottery win,” you snorted, “but have you become as all those pathetic mortal men, ready to cheat on their actual wife with a new hot piece of ass?!” 

“Do not accuse me of something that didn’t happen.” His irises splintered; red scythe filling over the blue iridescence like an eclipse taking over the sun.

A broken giggle bubbled on your lips. Your gaze shifted away from him, staring at the flames in one of the fireplaces. 

“Oh, have I come just in time to prevent you from giving her the biggest fang?” You asked bitterly.

In a flash, Curtis was across the room. Fingers curling around the front of your neck and slamming you into the opposite wall. He pressed you against it, his grip on your throat not loosening and the heat of his body enfolding yours.

Curtis was considered a dead creature, but he burned as if the hellfire itself ran through his veins. It was only him, though. He created you, but you never felt your own warmth. There were others whom he sired over the centuries and who sired next generations of vampires. They all ran cold, too. Only Curtis’ dark flame burned eternal.

“You’re treading on thin ice.” He warned you, even as he delighted in the intense emotion you provoked. With you everything was always intense. 

Always… alive.

Curtis was angry that you would accuse him of such a disgusting act like cheating. Angry at himself for giving you the reason to think the worst of him.

His obsession with Mina was unhealthy and borderline stalking. He was gifting her with attention and this one material present. But he didn’t have a plan of what he wanted from her exactly. Even as he played with the verbal seduction she was slowly falling for, not once did he imagine bedding her, or turning her.

It was more of a need to keep her, explore her, hold on to whatever she represented for his tortured soul. 

But he was blind to how his madness made him act towards you.

“What will you do?” You asked in a hushed tone, redness of your irises receding to the natural color of your eyes. “Are you going to destroy me? The woman you vowed to love for eternity? The woman you turned, branded in every possible way as yours?”

It wasn’t a spiteful challenge of a scorned queen, but a fear of a lively woman who stole his evil heart five centuries ago.

One who often walked barefoot, even before vampirism made you immune to the cold. Wearing simple dresses, with pockets filled with flowers and herbs and shiny stones plucked from mountain rivers. He bought you many stunning dresses over the centuries and you loved them, but most of the time you still wore the simplest ones. 

Curtis could only assume you dressed in the finest gown and adorned yourself with jewels to impose your power over Mina. To carry yourself as the queen about to crush a threat to her kingdom.   

There was never a threat. Not once did he consider leaving you behind and never returning. 

“I’d sooner meet my own end,” his fingers clenched on your throat as he squeezed his eyes in pain. 

When he vowed to love and care for you for eternity, until the sun burnt human cities down and reached to scorch your entwined bodies, he meant it with every fiber of his cursed being. 

“I haven’t cheated.” Curtis sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t think I would have.”

“And yet here we are…” Your cool breath still carried the metallic scent of blood.

He wouldn’t allow these thoughts to linger, to hurt you with doubt and resentment. He’d rather have you angry with him than broken. And there were ways to stoke your fire, keep it burning and warming him.

“Yes, here we are, Beloved.” Curtis’ tongue flicked out to lick away a drop of blood from the corners of your lips; his tone dropped an octave, vibrating with a beastly timbre. “With you in my grasp. With her dead body getting cold a few steps away and me not even being angry about it.”

Because he really wasn’t. There was that irritation at not having fully figured out what it was exactly that he chased in Mina, but none at the loss of her. Not from your hands, anyway. 

You cupped Curtis face with your hands, showing him softness that he claimed he never deserved (but which you taught him to accept, adamant in your decision that he was worthy of your love). 

“What was it that you searched for with her?” You asked, even though you were scared of his answer.

“I don’t know.” Curtis admitted; his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. “A memory? A man I used to be? The humanity I lost?”

Mina looked like the exact image of Elisabeta - the wife he had as a human, whose death led him to do unspeakable things that cost him his soul. She was a reflection of the young, impulsive human man, who was too naive and too desperate in his love. 

Perhaps Mina’s angelic face brutally reminded him of the crushing pain and being the self-punishing bastard that he was, Curtis clung to her to hurt himself over and over again. Staying away from you, too, because he spiraled down into thoughts of unworthiness once again.  

“I didn’t know you at twenty one springs,” you said, “but the man I got to know at his honed one hundred years of vampirism and then spent centuries with? I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.” 

Curtis was a vampire king. The oldest, the first to ever be made. At least the first either of you encountered. He fed on blood, could be brutal about it, or very gentle. Depending who the victim was. There were streaks of ruthlessness and cruelty in him, you witnessed him drown villages in blood then watch it sink into the ground with grim satisfaction. 

But he also carried the children from said villages in his arms, finding them new homes in places where humans weren’t as rotten and wouldn’t hurt them like the people of their hometowns had. 

Curtis was the monster parents scared their children with; but that monster saved those kids when their parents were the ones abusing them. Or when they allowed others, holy men included, to hurt them. 

No, you would never trade Curtis for any other man. 

“Not even at this moment of weakness?” Curtis’ deep, low voice resounded with a soft uncertainty.

You were still mad at him, but you couldn’t help that need to comfort him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, scratching lightly at the back of his head in a caress that always made him shudder and melt into your embrace.

“Why do you think I’m still here, facing you?” You sighed, tilting your head back enough to look Curtis in the eyes. 

“I could’ve ripped her to pieces and then fled. Leave you alone in the misery you would have brewed for yourself.” That was what Curtis did at least once every decade - sink into a really low mood and break your heart with how vulnerable and helpless he was at the time. 

“But, my dear husband, I love you too fiercely to let you go. The heart that you claim is void of humanity and care is one that made me say yes when you offered me immortality at your side.” 

“I feared…” You dropped your gaze down. “I feared you went after her, because you grew bored of me. That I was so easily replaceable.”

Throughout the centuries not once did Curtis stray away, nor did he isolate himself from you. Sometimes, when he was in his depressive mood he’d often space out, sinking into his gloomy thoughts, but even then he was physically nearby. Mindlessly caressing your body as you cuddled him and anchoring himself to you.

This trip across the sea took long, but the time kept stretching and stretching as Curtis worked on all the formalities of buying a mansion and re-settling onto a new soil. Impatient for his return, you decided on visiting him.

It was supposed to be a surprise for him, but turned into a shock for you when you saw that woman’s starstruck gaze as he escorted her to the carriage. 

Curtis gripped your chin between his fingers and gently tilted your face up. Sadness in his gaze crumbled way to determination. 

“Never.” He vowed. “It’s a burden I have to carry now, knowing that I’ve hurt you.”

“I’ll give you centuries to make it up to me.” You allowed your lips to curve in a small smile, then leaned to press a soft kiss to Curtis’ mouth. 

“Most gracious, Beloved.” Curtis smiled against your lips. He let go of your chin, sneaking that hand down your body and gripping your thigh. His other hand was still wrapped around your neck, fingers pressing a tad harder. Just the way you liked.

In a swift move, he hoisted you up. Your legs wrapped around his hips, the snick of ripping fabric making you giggle. 

“I’ve yet to welcome you properly to our new mansion.” Curtis purred, licking a broad stroke across your bloodied chin. “You’ve already christened it with blood. Now I want to fill the walls with your sounds of pleasure.”

#witchywithwhiskey #horrormoviehoeathon #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x female reader #curtis everett imagine #curtis everett fic #vampire!curtis everett #no such thing as finality

[theprettynosferatu]

Unit Commander John Heinlein was a simple man. Above all, he valued order. Order kept the world safe, functional, understandable. Everyone and everything had its proper place and proper role: like different organs in a body, they all contributed to the overall health of society as long as they did what they were supposed to do and didn’t get any stupid ideas. In that gigantic body, John Heinlen was a fist, and stupid ideas were what he punched into oblivion. Reality was simple, and if it wasn’t, the higher-ups pointed him to the complication and he pummeled it back into simplicity.

As usual, intelligence was spotty. Why exactly this club was a Stupid Idea, John did not know nor did he care. What the informant had revealed was something about women going against their conditioning, although they had not revealed how or why. It seemed patently ridiculous to John Heinlein. Conditioned women were happy, and they made their men happy. Simple, proper. Everything in its natural place. If Fulgrim’s was messing with that, it deserved to be squashed.

Looking at the rest of the Unit, he felt sending them was perhaps a waste of resources. If the informant was correct, they would be facing women and whatever deviants might be attending off-hours, if any; but it was not his call to make, and he liked it that way. His purpose was to punch, not to decide who deserved to be punched.

The six men stood in front of the gaudy purple door. As much as he wanted to kick the door down and be done with it, John played it by the book. He made the signal to place the breaching device and got into the correct position, ingrained in him by hundreds of hours of training. Still, no matter how many times the device blasted the door open, John always felt underwhelmed. Part of him seemed to expect a big thunderous sound, instead of the measured, barely audible “pop” designed not to alert the criminals.

Like a perfect machine, they went in, weapons ready. They were all running on autopilot, relying on their modified genetics and exhaustive drilling. It took only a few seconds for them to reach the same, obvious conclusion. No threats present. Instead, two women stood by the door, as if expecting them. John felt a deep revulsion, something primal stirring within him. It was wrong.

The women weren’t blonde. They weren’t smiling. They didn’t seem pleasant, or demure, or bubbly. In fact, they looked like wolves on the prowl. One had blood-red hair, a leather corset, fishnet stockings and boots that ended in the sort of spiked heels that could kill a man. The other was, to John Heinlein, even worse. She seemed shy, wearing a short skirt and trying to cover up… but her eyes spoke of a deep hunger, a devious intelligence and a depraved longing he couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” said the redhead with mock gratitude. “You see, I’ve been trying to train this sweet little creature right here…” she added as her hand went under the other girl’s skirt. “But I’m afraid she needs a bit of… male guidance. A strong hand to show her the way”

John frowned. There was something strange in the air. A subtle smell he couldn’t fully detect. As he turned to ask his comrades about it, he noticed Johnson shifting his weight slightly. It was a small thing, but utterly out of place for a man of their training. And he could tell the women saw it too. Slowly, seductively the redhead walked toward Johnson, leading the other girl by her wrist. It was surreal, unsettling. But they couldn’t just open fire on females.

“Johnson, step away from the females, now!”, barked Commander Heinlein.

For the first time in his illustrious career, the Commander’s order went unheeded. He watched in horror as the petite woman placed a slender hand on the soldier’s chest and, with a look designed to melt hearts and break down barriers at the same time, pouted like a mischievous child.

“Please, Sir. I’ve been bad. So, so bad… Won’t you teach me? I’m a very good learner… if I’m put in my place”

Meanwhile, the woman in the spiked heels had gone around Johnson, and whispered in his ear as her hand caressed his perfectly sculpted abs and kept moving downwards…

“She can be so good… we both can be so good… but are you man enough to show us you can handle us? Tame us? Mold us into your perfect good girls?”

Johnson was breathing heavily, paralyzed by a million conflicting impulses. He had a job to do. He was a soldier. He was…

And just then, he broke. Johnson grabbed the smaller woman by the neck, and in a swift movement turned her around and bent her over. He couldn’t see the devilish smile on her face, but John Henlein sure did. There was victory in that lustful look, a triumph only magnified when, cock hard as metal, Johnson railed her from behind as hard as he possibly could, his mind gone in a frenzy of half-formed sentences and grunts, the redhead woman rubbing her pussy as she now shouted encouragement.

“Do it! Pound that little slut! Show her what she really is! Fucking break her like the stupid fuckdoll she dresses as! Punish that pussy with your cock! Make her scream for me… make her beg! Make. Her. Yours!”

“Johnson!”, shouted Heinlein in vain. The soldier was gone, and all that remained was a beast, a bundle of muscles determined to conquer the females before it, to claim them and mark them as his. And worse, whoever was behind it all remained unseen, deeper inside the club.

“Fuck! Everyone else! On me! We press on!”

“What about Johnson?”, asked a rookie soldier by the name of Phillips.

“We lost him! Now, move!”

They stormed the place, kicking down doors- no time to play it straight, as much as it pained Unit Commander John Heinlein, for whom standard procedure was akin to a biblical dogma. With every hallway they crossed, every room they breached, the air seemed to get heavier, denser somehow. Sweeter, perhaps.

They entered a room covered in black velvet. It caused a strange effect, almost as if the walls themselves devoured the light. And there, sitting in the middle of the room, long legs crossed, was another female. Like the ones before, she didn’t look like the blonde, obedient women that had undergone the mandatory conditioning. Horror gripped Heinlein. This person went against every conceivable notion of what a woman should be. Clad in a leather corset and thigh-high boots, she stared the five soldiers down with a look of disgust and clear disapproval. Even the sight of their guns was to her just another gauche shortcoming, one in a very long list of inadequacies clamored without words by her deep, green eyes.

“Did I say you could come in?”, she asked.

The question was ridiculous. They were Soldiers. They didn’t ask, they acted. And yet, two of Heinlein’s men started moving their heads, something between shaking off a creeping mental fog and answering the woman’s question. No, she had not said they could come in.

“Get on the ground, and-” started barking Heinlein before the woman cut him off.

“No. it’s not your turn to speak. You don’t talk unless I tell you to, is that clear?”

Unit Commander Heinlein froze. Her tone, firm, in total control, was something he recognized very well. For a moment he was a raw recruit again, undergoing basic training. A part of him, a part of all Soldiers knew to obey that sort of utterance, that confident command. It was part of the crucial training that made any warrior more than a brawler. It was the core of discipline. He knew, at that moment, they were all in grave danger.

“Now, that sort of rude entrance needs to be punished. You all know it, don’t you my toys? But I’ll be kind…ish. How about you start by being a pack of good dogs and kneel?”

Heinlein felt his legs almost give in. He managed to stay on his feet… barely. He watched as most of his squad went on their knees, their eyes wide, fixed on that beautiful woman, seeking every ounce of validation she could give them. Ready to obey.

“Crawl to me, pets”

They did. With a few words, she had made them love her. Adore her. Obey her. Their sense of duty twisted, molded, corrupted. And Heinlein felt himself wanting to join them, wanting so badly to be one of her favorite pets… no, her very favorite. The alpha of the pack. Perfect for her. Obedient for her. 

It took a superhuman effort to turn away from her perfect silhouette, her beckoning curves, her voice of absolute command and dominion. The last thing he saw before sprinting away from that goddess of a woman was his once proud squad almost fighting like dogs for the privilege of kissing her heels. How he hated the fact that he wanted to join them…

He tried to push it all away as he ran through hallways, deeper into the club, down stairs, through room after room. Deeper and deeper… the air getting heavier and sweeter… his mind getting fuzzier…

How long did he run? How deep did he go? He couldn’t tell. Different themes passed him by like a blur, and he felt almost as if he was just running in place, the facility moving around him, assaulting him with perverted ideas, digesting him like some monstrous organism designed to destroy everything that was right and natural in the world… but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. Stopping, he felt, would mean the end.

And then, he stopped.

The woman looked like no one he had ever seen. Every part of her seemed designed to short-circuit his understanding of reality, his very core, and he found himself frozen before her, his brain trying to catch up to what his eyes were seeing. She looked like something out of some strange, fae world: she wore her hair in dancing ponytails, one dyed blue, one pink. Her makeup was a striking mixture of neon colors punctuated by tiny drawn hearts scattered over a face that spoke at once of innocence and mischief. She had a single fishnet glove on, mismatched thigh-high socks, a pink and black nighty that hovered between dark and slutty and the most pure chastity… Even her eyes, he noticed, refused to follow any notion of order: one was a deep blue, while the other was an inhuman, alluring red. She was something he couldn’t comprehend, and yet couldn’t stop watching. She moved with a strange liquid freedom, as if gravity and anatomy were vague suggestions she very much didn’t intend to follow. And her smile… he couldn’t quite place what it was: it was joyful, yes, but also shy and yet it had a hint of a predator somewhere deep inside it…

“Oh, hi!” she chirped and bounced out of her purple sofa. “I was fingering myself!” she declared, almost with pride.

Unit Commander Heinlein found himself unable to respond. This… being was not a woman. Not as he understood them, at least. And yet he could feel something stirring inside, something he had forgotten about long, long ago…

“Who are you?”, she asked, her face becoming almost a caricature of confusion before snapping back into a jubilant smile. “I’m Alara! Nice to meet you!”

She ran to him. Normally such an action would call for tactical evasion, or a well-practiced takedown. Instead, Heinlein found himself frozen in place as the girl hugged him. She smelled sweet, like the air around them.

“Are you okay, dude?”, she asked with a look of genuine concern. 

“I… this establishment has been deemed… unsuitable and against the… proper conditioning of females… get on the ground, and…”

“Ooooh, the ground? I can go to the ground for you, Daddy! Or do you prefer Sir? Or Joe? You know what? Joe it is! Is your name Joe? You look like a Joe to me. So, the ground! Ass up? Or maybe on my back, legs open? Which one do you want, Joe?”

Heinlein, whose first name was most certainly not Joe, watched as the girl seemed to flow from one pose to another: one second she was on all fours, looking over her shoulder with an inviting smile; the next she was on her back, legs open, her eyes shocked like a virgin about to feel a man inside her for the very first time… then she bounced back to her feet and pouted.

“Come on, Joe, make up your mind! Or do you want me to take charge? Wait! I should have it… here!”. The girl beamed, brandishing a gigantic, double-sided dildo. “Want me to use this on you, Joe? Come on, give me a little something to work with here!”

“Please stay still. Do you understand the situation? You have been… altered. You’re not a normal…”

“Normal? Normal?! Joe, how boring are you? Seriously, how many times can you fuck a blonde big-titty bimbo before it gets so fucking samey? Fuck ‘normal’, Joe! Let your freaky self out to play for once!”

“I do not have a freaky self”

Alara tripped on her own legs and landed sprawled on the carpeted ground before shooting Heinlein a look that might as well have been directed at a two-headed alien, before turning into an expression of pure, profound pity.

“Oh, Joe… of course you do! We all have our freaky sides… don’t think for a second they’ve drilled yours completely dead. It’s there… I can feel it. And so can you, can’t you? Growing inside you. Getting stronger. Don’t you get tired of following orders? Of everything being always in the same place? Of loving the same woman? The world isn’t like that, Joe! People aren’t like that! We are insane, contradictory, fucking twisted messes… and that’s perfect! Come on, Joe… don’t you ever think about doing… the wrong thing?”

Her words dripped inside his head like honey, so much so that he didn’t notice her approaching him, rubbing him through his pants as she playfully made him so confused, so mixed up, so fuzzy and…

“Mmmm… tell me Joe… what’s that thing you’d like to do, that wrong, wrong thing you dream of in the dark, swearing to yourself you’ll never say a word of it?”

“Non-regulation shoes” 

His mouth had spoken before his brain had even registered it.

“Oh, don’t like the uniform shoes?”, she teased.

“Uncomfortable”, he mumbled.

“So… why don’t you take them off?”

“On mission. Tactical shoes. Reinforced. Useful”

“Are you going to tactically kick me, Joe? Of course not! No one would kick pretty little me… well, unless I asked… but not with those shoes! Who’s gonna know, Joe? No one’s gonna spank you for letting your feet out for a bit! So… take them off!”

“Can’t. On a mission”

“Oh, for fuck’s- come here, you big dummy”

Alara lunged for his shoes, and made a big show of pulling with all her might. Heinlein watched her, entranced.

“A little help here, Joe? These fucking things are tighter than your ass! I mean, I’m just guessing there”

He moved as if in a dream. He released the lock on one boot, then the other. Alara flew back, boot in hand, before jumping up, holding the black boot in the air like a trophy.

“Victory! Look, Joe! You have one boot off and the world hasn’t ended!”

It was true. He looked down at his feet. He had gone against standard procedure. In fact, he had flat-out broken a strict, simple rule. No one was screaming at him. Nothing bad had happened. If anything, he was overcome by childish elation. Suddenly, his world had shifted. Rules were words. Only that. No more solid than millions of other words spoken every single day. 

“Sooooo? How do you feel, you rebel?”

“It’s… good”

Alara smiled and bent over.

“I’m guessing there’s a rule against using a suspect as a living fleshlight, isn’t there? A rule against pounding pussy when on a mission? A rule against using little me as your own personal, depraved fuckdoll?”

“There are many such rules”

“And how do you feel about them now?”

“I don’t give a fuck”

Her screams of ecstasy echoes through the entire club. She pushed him further, and he only growled and, for once, did exactly as he pleased. Alara could only cum, and cum again in victory. Every act was a testament to her triumph. He used her throat, not caring if she gagged, if she choked. He slapped her face and she laughed. He spit on her mouth, grabbed her neck, took her tight asshole. He came once deep inside her, but it wasn’t enough. Alara knew the aphrodisiac in the air gave some… special endurance as well, and she intended to see exactly how long they could go. 

By the end her clothes had been ripped off her, her tits were covered in cum, her pussy pumped full three times, her ass abused, her buttocks red with spankings, her makeup ruined. And by the end, he had become anything but a Soldier.

The following day a meeting was called at the highest levels of the government. An elite unit had gone into Fulgrim’s, never to return. 

They would have to take drastic measures if they hoped to contain the corruption now growing in their city.

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

[fitz-higgins]

LGBT literature of the 1860s–1910s. Part 5

After a long pause, the list is back! Here we have a couple of plays, accounts by two trans women, lesbian poetry, and more.

1. Despised and Rejected, by A.T. Fitzroy (Rose Allatini; 1918). A pacifist novel published during World War One? With gay and lesbian characters? Yes, that was sure to get people in trouble. Its publisher was fined and the judge called it “morally unhealthy and most pernicious”. So, Dennis is a young composer who hates violence and therefore refuses to go to war. He also suffers because he is a “musical man”, that is, gay, and loves Alan, art-loving son of a wealthy businessman. His friend Antoinette, meanwhile, is “strangely attracted” to a woman. Nevertheless, the two attempt to love each other. When the war begins, Alan appears in Dennis’ life again, and they try to avoid being sent to the front together. Alan also persuades Dennis to accept who he is. Edward Carpenter himself defended the novel, saying that “the book is also a plea for toleration of a very much misunderstood section of humanity”. Read online

2. Autobiography of an Androgyne, by Ralph Werther (1918). Ralph Werther, also known as Jennie June, wrote this autobiography for doctors, and it is very revealing. Being a New York fairy (male prostitute) and possibly a trans woman, they tell frankly about the city’s gay underworld of the early 20th century and their personal experience, which is sometimes too frank and dark perhaps, but all the more interesting. Read online 

3. Poems by Mikhail Kuzmin. Kuzmin was not just the author of Russia’s first gay novel, but also a poet. Many of his works were dedicated to or mentioned his lovers. I’d recommend Where Will I Find Words (in English and Russian), Night Was Done (both in English and Russian), from the 1906-1907 collection Love of This Summer (available fully in Russian), mostly based on his love affair with Pavel Maslov in 1906. And also If They Say (in English and Russian), which is a great statement.

4. The Loom of Youth, by Alec Waugh (1917). A semi-biographical novel based on Evelyn Waugh’s older brother’s experience at Sherborne School in Dorset. It is a story of Gordon Caruthers’ school years, from the age of 13 to 19, and it is full of different stories typical for public schools, be it pranks and cheating exams or dorm life and sports. Although the homosexual subject was quite understated, the author implied that it was a tradition and open secret in public schools. The book became popular and soon caused a great scandal. Worth noting that before that Alec was expelled for flirting with a boy.  Read online 

5. Two Speak Together, by Amy Lowell (1919). Lowell was a famous American poet and lesbian. Many of her poems were dedicated to her lover, actress Ada Dwyer Russell, specifically the section Two Speak Together from Pictures of the Floating World. These poems are infused with flower imagery, which wasn’t uncommon for lesbian poetry of the time. Read online

6. De berg van licht/The Mountain of Light, by Louis Couperus (1905-1906). Couperus is called the Dutch Oscar Wilde for a reason: this is one of the first decadent novels in Dutch literature. It is also a historical one, telling about a young androgynous Syrian priest Heliogabalus who then becomes a Roman Emperor. Homoerotism, hedonism, aestheticism: Couperus creates a very vivid world of Ancient Rome. He also covered the topic of androgyny in his novel Noodlot, which was mentioned in Part 3 of this list. Read online in Dutch 

7. Frühlings Erwachen/Spring Awakening/The Awakening of Spring, by Frank Wedekind (1891, first performed in 1906). This play criticized the sexually oppressive culture prevalent in Europe at the time through a collection of monologues and short scenes about several troubled teens. Each one of them struggles with their puberty, which often leads to a tragic end. Like in The Loom of Youth, homosexuality is not the central focus of the play, but one character, Hänschen, is homosexual and explores his sexuality through Shakespear and paintings. The play was later turned into a famous musical. Read online in German or in English

8. Twixt Earth and Stars, by Radclyffe Hall (1906). Though it wasn’t known to many at the time, these poems were dedicated to women, some to Hall’s actual lovers. Read online

9. The Secret Confessions of a Parisian: The Countess, 1850-1871, by Arthur Berloget (published in 1895). This account is similar to the Autobiography of an Androgyne, albeit shorter. The author nowadays is thought to be a trans woman. They describe their love for women’s dresses, the euphoria from wearing dresses, makeup and wigs, the life as a “female impersonator” in Parisian cafe-concerts, and their love affair with a fellow prisoner. The autobiography is not available online, but you can read it in Queer Lives: Men’s Autobiographies from Nineteenth-Century France by William Peniston and Nancy Erber.

10. At Saint Judas’s, by Henry Blake Fuller (1896). This is possibly the first American play about homosexuality. It is very short. An excited groom is waiting for his wedding ceremony in the company of his gloomy best man. They are former lovers, and this short scene is not going to end well… Read online

Previous part is here

#lgbt literature #lgbt fiction #queer history #queer fiction #lesbian literature #russian literature #gay literature #gay history #spring awakening #lesbian history #blog: history #blog: literature

[why-what-no]

Always Have Me

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x Reader

Warnings: Slight depictions of violence. Me being obsessed with this show. Might be idiots in love, idk

Notes: Felt a little odd writing this about teenagers, but the actors are like a lot older than I am (why am i so in love with Lockwood’s actor?? He’s so pretty boy) and it’s totally PG, so I figured it was fine

Summary: When Lockwood’s friend and associate, aka the person he might even love, got injured during a case, he was more scared than he had been in a very long time. Leading to him dealing with his feelings in a less than productive way until the “friend” finally confronts him

Honestly, (Y/N) didn’t even feel it. But they could blame that on the shock.

Later on, when they’d ask George about it, he’d tell him quietly and morosely (like even the memory caused him pain), how dodging a ghost’s outstretched hand had led to the young operative tripping down a flight of stairs and slamming down onto splintered wood.

Wood that had pierced them right in the side. Which admittedly was gruesome, but (Y/N) just counted themself lucky that they had escaped being ghost touched. Lucy had told them about what happened to her old friends, and the thought of leaving behind their housemates terrified them.

All they could hear was the ghost’s shriek as their team neutralized it and…

And Lockwood’s voice - muffled, terrified. “No, no! (Y/N), stay with us. It’ll be okay! George! Call for help!”

***

Lockwood could barely stay focused in his fear. The moment he saw (Y/N) disappear down the stairs, his attention fully left the ghost that they were trying to contain. Bolting after his friend, not even thinking of the possibility of getting touched by the ghost. It didn’t even matter in his mind, if something happened to (Y/N) then it didn’t matter what happened to him.

The horrific sight of his friend - although honestly at that point ‘friend’ sounded like too weak of a word for their attachment - bleeding out send a coldness through his body. Kneeling over them, not knowing what to do, he could only attempt to comfort them as he yelled for George to get help.

Lockwood always felt a bit out of his element around (Y/N). A good kind of awkward, but awkward nonetheless. He’d read the books they’d like so he’d have something to talk about with them, and he’d try to be suave and charming but they’d always tease him about it. A little grin on their face that made it all worth it.

But in this moment. There was no awkwardness, just the knowledge that he completely forget what he was supposed to do. The imagined image of him lowering their casket into the ground imprinted in his mind as he begged (Y/N) to stay awake.

***

(Y/N) woke up in a hospital bed, obviously DEPRAC from the document on the clipboard that the nurse was holding. They let the woman fuss over them for a second, before beginning to push her to let them see their friends.

As Lockwood, George, & Lucy burst into the room, (Y/N) could only grin at how glad they were to see them. Only a few months ago, nobody cared if they were dead or alive. Now, they had a family who cared about them with all their hearts and souls.

“Are you okay?” Lucy asked, her sweet face wide with worry.

“We thought you were gonna die…”

“You were bleeding like mad…”

As George and Lucy talked over each other in their concern, Lockwood finally spoke. “Okay, you lot. Let them take a breath, it’s been a rough go.” He stood back, not getting close to take their hand or pat them on the shoulder. Which wasn’t a good feeling for (Y/N), but he never stopped looking at them, making them feel a little better. “Are you alright?” His brow was knitted in concern, as well as another emotion that (Y/N) couldn’t quite read on his face.

(Y/N) was close to all their housemates, but ever since they met Lockwood there was this pull that they felt for the handsome young operative. He seems to make every room he entered brighter, every joke he told lifted their spirits. They’d never felt so happy to be alive until they moved to 35 Portland Row.

“I’ll live.” They mustered up a smile, not wanting to make their friends more worried than the three of them clearly already were. “Just get me back home as soon as possible.”

They missed the comfort and familiarity already. The old knickknacks and books lining most surfaces, the smell of wood, paper, coffee, and whatever delicious thing George was cooking.

Lockwood smiled back. “I promise.”

And as usual, he kept his promise. It took a couple of days, but soon (Y/N) was healed enough to return to the agency and start getting back to normal. Helping George out around the house and researching new cases.

There was one problem, however. Ever since they had returned, Lockwood was… distant. Never alone in a room with (Y/N), never making excuses to speak to them and spend time with them like he did before they were injured. No, he just acted like they were just some acquaintance.

It broke their heart more than they cared to admit. Having got so used to Lockwood being so important in their life, that the loss of it felt like something had been stolen from (Y/N).

Lucy noticed the disquiet that (Y/N) was feeling. “Go talk to him, yeah? I’m sure it’s fine and you two can sort this out.” She told them comfortingly. “He was so worried about you when you were hurt. Nearly wore a hole in his shoes with his pacing.”

So they did. It took a bit to work up the courage, but eventually they managed to find him in the library.

He looked elegant in the dim light, although he was always beautiful looking. Entirely focused on the book in front of him, his hand on his chin with the curves of his face accentuated by shadows.

It almost felt sacrilegious to ruin this moment, but (Y/N) needed his attention. “Is everything alright?” They asked.

Lockwood jumped a bit as the words broke through the silence. He looked nervous for a second, before masking that emotion behind one of his calm, superiority complex-ridden expressions. “Of course.” He said, putting the book down and standing up. “Why wouldn’t it be? Did something happen?”

“You tell me. You’ve barely spoken to me in days, Lockwood.” Judging by the slight guilt on his face, he knew exactly that they were talking about. “What happened. What did I do?”

That immediately got through to him. “Nothing.” He said quickly. “You didn’t do anything, you’re wonderful.”

“Then why…”

“I was so useless.” He them her off, eyes glancing anywhere but at (Y/N). “You were hurt and I wanted to help and I just… I completely forgot my training.”

They’d rarely seen him this vulnerable before, a strange sort of desperation in his eyes that made them want to pull him close and never let go of him. “I’m fine, I’m going to be fine. You were there, that’s all that matters.” (Y/N) tried to consol him. He always had this need to be the defender, the one to look after everybody. It broke (Y/N)‘s heart sometimes how ragged he’d run himself trying to make that a reality.

“No it’s not all that matters. I’m supposed to protect you, and I couldn’t even do that!”

“That’s not your job, Lockwood.” They reached up to cup his cheek, trying to give him some sort of comfort. Almost immediately he leaned into their touch, raising his hand to lay in on top of theirs and wrap his fingers through theirs.

“It is. I…” He tried to decide best how to say what he needed to. To get across the emotions that he felt whenever he was around (Y/N). “I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you here with me.” He finally said, looking down at his feet to avoid seeing their eyes.

But they took matters into their own hands, tilting his face up so that he was looking at them once again. Their eyes slightly watering, but a small smile was playing on their lips.

“You don’t have to do anything.” They told him. “You’ll always have me.”

There was a relief in his eyes as they told him that. “Promise?” He was deathly serious, needing to hear them say it.

And they just leaned forward to kiss him, surprising him at first but thrilling him at the same time. He quickly reciprocated, taking their face in his hands to keep them close to him, never wanting to let go of them now that he finally had them in his arms.

“I promise.” They told him when they finally leaned away to breath. And fully intended to keep that promise. They needed him as much as he needed them

#lockwood and co #lockwoodandco #lockwood and co x reader #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony Lockwood fic #trying to figure out what to tag this #lockwood x reader #Lockwood #Lockwood and co anthony Lockwood #Lockwood and co Lockwood #Lockwood and co Anthony Lockwood x reader #Lockwood and co Lockwood x reader

[dingochef]

Instructions for a Good Time

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC-Elsa Matthews)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), blow jobs, fingering (all kinds), rimming, pegging,

Summary: An innocent question from Boys Night Out ™ leads Jake to an entirely new way of pleasure, and you're more than happy to give it to him. AKA, the long awaited pegging Jake fic.

Word Count: 5.5k (a quick drabble my ass….pun intended).

A gift for you all lovely lovelies and just in time for Christmas. What started as a tiny idea for a drabble/ficlet to celebrate 200 followers….here we are. Enjoy, fellow sluts reblog, and let me know where you got to awkwardly read this during the holidays!

Masterlist

“How was your boys' night, Jake?” you ask, noticing how your boyfriend sways slightly as he hangs up his jacket and takes off his shoes.

“T’was good,” he responds, a slight slur emphasizing the slight Texas twang usually hiding in his accent. He shuffles into the kitchen and returns with a glass of water.

You move over on the couch to allow him a spot to plop down, making sure your wine glass is safe on the table. Jake had gone out with some of the guys from the Dagger Squad, a few of them, including his bestie Coyote, being in town as guest lecturers for Top Gun. Rooster declared it a “Boyz Night,” which Jake only agreed to when it was spelled correctly, the sucker for details he is.

Jake settles in next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder, languid and relaxed, a tipsy amount inebriated, not sloppy. You put your book down on the coffee table, exchanging it for your wine glass. You're about to take a sip when Jake asks, in perhaps the most casual manner ever given what is about to come out of his mouth,

“Have you ever pegged anyone?”

You're grateful that your wine glass has just reached your lips and you hadn't fully tilted it up to drink, or there would be a fine mist of merlot spraying across your living room.

“I'll answer, but where did that come from?” you ask, gently, looking down to see the wheels turning in his head.

“Got talking about sex stuff with the guys,” he replies.

You raise an eyebrow in concern that some of the intimate details of your sex life with Jake were up for public discussion. He clocks the gesture and reassures you quickly,

“In general terms, nothing too detailed. And, it came up.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“There has to be more discussion than there's a sex act called pegging. Moving on,” you counter and Jake slightly blushes.

“Coyote talked about the difference of being with a woman versus a man, specifically receiving instead of giving. Said it would blow your mind.”

Coyote, Jake's best friend and his ride or die for many years, is gay. A simple fact that no one in the Dagger Squad, especially Jake, had ever batted an eyelash at.

“Makes sense,” you hum, combing your fingers through Jake's hair, “Men do have a prostate.”

Jake chuckles and then says,

“I did choke on my beer when Rooster agreed.”

You and Jake sit comfortably for a few minutes, before you respond.

“Yes, I have pegged someone.”

Jake perks up, waiting for more details.

“I had a boyfriend in grad school who liked…to explore…that side,” you pause,

“Is that something you'd be interested in exploring?”

Jake turns a satisfying shade of red as he considers the offer,

“With you, yes.”

You let out a sound halfway between a whimper and a moan at the thought of that experience with Jake. The boyfriend from grad school had a more feminine, softer body, and a more submissive vibe to him. The idea of taking Jake in all his muscled alpha male glory does things to you, those things mostly being getting your thong very damp.

Before your imagination goes too far thinking about how each muscle in his back would ripple deliciously every time you thrusted, you remember there are some practical matters to attend to, you ask,

“Have you ever engaged in ass play?”

It's Jake's turn to have his eyes bug out in surprise, he coughs on his water before answering,

“Umm, no. No, I haven't.”

You slide your hand into his,

“That's good information to know, we're going to have to work up to actual pegging. As much as you like to go balls to the wall with everything,” he laughs quietly, shaking his head slightly at your terrible joke. Your other hand cups his jaw, a light graze of stubble tickling your palm,

“I don't want to hurt you, Jake. I want to take care of you.”

He leans into your hand and kisses your palm.

“Okay, El. I trust you, completely. I know you'll take care of me and I'll have a very good time.”

“I will Jake, you okay to try something tonight?” you ask, a little unsure, “Like blowjob with some extras?”

Jake laughs, bright and loud,

“El, I will always say yes to a blowjob. And yes, we can try some stuff.”

After a quick peck on his lips you spring off the couch, and tell him,

“Stay there, I'll be right back.”

He nods as you slide across the hardwood to your bedroom where you find the lube in your bedside table.

You return to the living room, where Jake is sitting on the couch awaiting your return. Placing the lube on the table you straddle Jake's lap and pull him in for a deep kiss, your tongues melding together as you rock your hips. You sigh when his hardening cock puts pressure on your clit through your thin sleep shorts and underwear.

He reaches down to pull your shirt over your head and you let him guide the soft fabric of one of his worn Navy tees off your body. You return the favor and slide his shirt off, dropping it on the couch. Instantly his mouth is on your breasts, teasing and licking at the nipples. The sensation is so good that he almost distracts you from your original mission. Reluctantly, you slide off Jake and kneel on the floor in front of him.

You snicker to yourself as you ease his belt through the Texas Longhorns belt buckle, like anyone would ever forget Jake is from Texas. Jake lifts his hips to allow you to pull off his jeans, leaving them in a small heap next to the sofa. Lightly you run your nails up Jake's leg to the top of his boxer briefs and pull them down, releasing his hard cock, precum visible on the ruddy red tip. His underwear joins his pants on the floor and you turn your attention to him and his gorgeous cock.

Peppering light kisses along the shaft you work your way up to tip, pausing a moment before you take him into your mouth. You take a little bit more of him on every bob up and down till his dick is hitting the back of your throat. A natural steady rhythm forms as you work Jake up, listening to his moans, grunts, and words of praise.

“Fuck, El, that feels good. You suck my cock so well,” he murmurs, holding back your hair as you pleasure him. He is getting close, so you pull off of him and drag a finger down the shaft wet with your spit, past his balls, and very gently circle around his hole.

“Can I touch you here?” you ask, almost breathless in anticipation of his answer, you've kept your other hand slowly jerking him up and down.

“Yes, fuck, El. Yes, touch me,” he pants out, his green eyes hazed over with lust. Grabbing the lube from the table you squeeze some out on your hand, enjoying the little whine from Jake when you pull your hand away from his cock.

After the lube has warmed up, you lean back down, taking him in your mouth as you press your middle finger gently against his hole. You tease just the tip of your digit past the ring of strong muscles. Your other hand stroking his cock. Jake moans softly above you,

“Color?” you ask Jake, pulling off his cock for a brief moment.

“Green, El. Green,” he responds, voice calm.

Emboldened by his answer you push your finger slowly up inside him up to the second knuckle. The way he moans only gives you some more confidence. Making sure there is enough lube, you push your finger further into him, seeking his prostate.

The moment you find the small rubbery bump with the thin tip of your finger, you know Jake understands how it feels to have your clit sucked. He lets out the deepest, most primal grunt mixed with a moan you've ever heard from him.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, El…yes, there, keep touching me, ugh, there,”

Jake grunts. His breath catches every time you surge up on his prostate with your finger. You slide your mouth back down on him.

Syncing up your finger thrusts into Jake along with each slide of your hand and head up and down his cock.

Above you Jake is losing his mind,

“Fuck, El, not gonna last long..too good,” he pants out.

It only takes a few more repetitions for Jake to come undone, his entire body spasming from head to toe. Jake is lightly thrusting as he falls over the edge. He is speaking but not forming any words you recognize.

“Oh my, fuck, good, so good,” he says, interspersed with grunts and moans.

His release floods your mouth, some spilling out the corner of your mouth. Slowly and gently you slide off Jake's and pull your finger from him, earning a light sigh from him.

He is looking down at you, sated and face filled with love and tenderness that seems out of place with what you just did. He runs his thumb to collect the come that has dribbled down your chin. He swipes his thumb across your lips and your tongue darts out to taste him.

“Damn, El. You're going to kill me if you keep on like that,” he groans and pulls you up to his lap, grabbing your head for a deep kiss.

“How was that, Jake?” you ask, curious about his reaction. He smirks and nuzzles his face into your neck.

“Really fucking good,” he responds, smiling shyly in the skin of your neck.

“I’m glad,” you say, wrapping your arms around him and kissing him on the forehead, mindful to keep your lube covered hand away from Jake and your upholstery. Jake yawns, causing you to yawn.

“Let's head to bed, sweetheart,” Jake offers and you nod in agreement,

“I need to take care of my girl.”

–

“Couldn't we just order this online?” Jake, slightly whines, stepping into the sex shop behind you.

“I think this is the best way to, I don't know..., pick out something that's going in your body. Just think of all the other terrible Amazon purchases you've made. Do I need to remind you of the Tiny Chair Debacle™ ?” you respond.

“To be fair they didn't say it was for a dollhouse,” he counters.

“It was an armchair for ten dollars, Jake,” you remind him.

“Okay, okay, you're right,” Jake concedes and lets his shoulders relax as he follows you deeper into the store towards the toy section.

“Here we go. Which one do you want to take home?” you ask, big smirk on your face. Jake glares at you,

“You're loving this aren't you?”

“Yup, for such a sexual person, you being all bashful when it comes to sex toys is endearing,” you answer, going up on tip toe to to give his mildly grumpy mouth a kiss. He sighs and points to an all black dildo of rather substantial size, asking,

“How about this one?”

Tilting your head and picking up the object, you offer some advice,

“Mm, seems too stiff,” Jake snickers at your word choice, “And a little ambitious for a first time.”

Setting it down you walk down the wall where dildos of all sizes, shapes, and colors are perched on clear plastic shelves, Jake trailing behind you.

You select a slimmer blue model with some give and a slight curve and hand it to Jake. He takes it and considers it.

“This one would be good, reasonable girth, flexible, and it's shaped to hit your prostate.”

Jake stops and looks at you, a smirk on his face,

“You researched this, didn't you?”

“Of course, you didn't think we'd just go into this blind? I want this to be good for you.”

“God, you are such an engineer. And it's really hot,” he places the dildo in your hand, “Yes, let's get this one.”

Quickly you find a harness and some other lubes. A few minutes later you've got an entire pegging starter pack in a bright magenta shopping bag.

When you get home you place the bag on the bed, Jake follows you in and slides up behind you. His hands on your hips, he starts to kiss a line down your neck.

“Can we try it out?” he asks as his hands toy with the hem of your shirt.

“Yes, I'm game,” you reply and Jake pulls your shirt off. Turning around you return the favor and shed Jake's shirt.

“Let's start with a shower,” you suggest. Jake grins and slides his strong hands down your back over your ass and under your thighs pulling you up to him. On instinct you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and your legs around his waist. Jake captures your lips into a deep kiss and walks you both to the bathroom.

“Showoff,” you tease as he sets you down. Jake continues to strip as you start the shower. Your clothes hit the floor as the water warms up. Stepping into the water you hold out your hand for Jake to follow and he does eagerly.

Your arms wrap around Jake and his around you as the warm water envelops you both. He leans down to kiss you and you both sink into the kiss. You slide your arms down Jake’s back massaging the muscles as you trace his lips with your tongue. He sighs and allows your tongue into mouth and his into yours.

You let yourselves get lost in each other's mouth, embrace, and bodies. Hands sliding easily with the water, gently caressing each other.

Knowing just how long your water heater will last, you finally break apart and grab a washcloth. As you pull Jake's body wash off the rack you say,

“Turn around, let me wash you.”

Jake takes a deep breath, turning quickly and slapping his hands on the wall with his legs spread like he's preparing for a cavity search. The gesture pulls a laugh out of you.

Jake turns and looks at you confused.

“Come here,” you say softly, squeezing some body wash on the cloth. He steps back to you as you run the sudsy cloth along his shoulders.

“This is about relaxing you, not just some perfunctory step in the process. Let me take care of you. Just like you take care of me.”

His face loses the tightness it had before as you run the cloth on his chest, enjoying your touch.

When you're satisfied with his chest, you gently place your hand on his shoulder and he turns around.

You reassure him with a hug, even if your face mashes in between his shoulder blades because of your height difference. He sinks back into your embrace, folding his arms over yours.

Starting at his shoulders you swipe the cloth around, making sure to massage each muscle earning you some sighs and groans along the way.

“Feeling good?” you ask, continuing to work your way down his back.

“Yes, El. I should have you do this more often. You have magic hands,” he replies, arching his back to allow you more access to some of his lower back muscles.

“I think that can be arranged,” you reply, sweetly kissing between his shoulder blades. Convinced that Jake is relaxed and close to being putty in your hands, you let the wash cloth slide down the sharp slope of his ass making sure to gently caress the firm muscles with your other hand.

Trailing kisses down his spine you kneel down continuing your worship of his body. You make sure to kiss both dimples on his ass; the thought that you want to leave lipstick marks on them someday flashes in your brain.

You lead with the washcloth and gently swipe across his hole as you drop more kisses on his firm ass. Dropping the washcloth you place both hands symmetrically on each cheek, your thumbs just at the top of his crack. Massaging small circles you slide down his crack, pulling apart his cheeks as your tongue follows the same path.

Stopping just shy of his hole, you ask,

“Color, baby?”

From above you hear Jake's head thunk onto his forearm planted on the tile.

“Green, El. So green,” he pants out. Satisfied with his answer you dart your tongue out to trace the delicate muscles around his hole.

“Fuck, El…feels good,” Jake moans, slightly muffled by his arm.

Slowly and methodically you swirl around him, enjoying the sounds you're pulling out of him.

“More, please, El, more,” he begs and you oblige him and push the point of your tongue into the center.

“El, fuck…,” Jake's words fade as you thrust in and out with your tongue. It's when Jake starts to push back at your face that you know it's time. Settling one last kiss on his ass you stand up.

“Ready for more, baby?” you coo into his ear. He stands upright turning to look at you and catch you in a kiss.

“Fuck me, please El. Fuck me,” he moans into your mouth.

Getting out of the shower, dried, and back to the bedroom is a blur of hands, kisses, and a few giggles as you maneuver down the hall to your bedroom.

When you reach the edge of the bed, you direct Jake to lie down,

“Get comfy. On your back.”

He lays down with his easy grace for a man so large and looks at you in anticipation, the bright magenta shopping bag still on the bed. Flexing his arms to put his hands behind his head he watches your movements as you pull out the dildo, strap, and one of the new lubes. A lube the lady at the store swore by for anal. You lean down to give a quick peck before saying,

“Let me go make sure this is clean and open the lube. Be right back.”

A quick rinse with some soap and water and opening of the lube later you’re back at the bed stepping into the harness, an understated neoprene number in black. (Recommend because it's machine washable, it appealed to your practical side.)

Jake watches you intently as you adjust the straps to your liking and attach the dildo. With the final adjustments completed, a slight look of apprehension crosses Jake's face as he reaches out and touches the dildo and considers its size. Sensing the tension you decide to crack a joke,

“So tell me the truth. Who wore it better?” you ask, grinning and swinging the dildo back forth comically. Jake cracks a grin and laughs.

“Well, I hope I wore it better, but mine’s not blue,” he replies, his patented smirk on his face.

Leaning down to kiss your favorite smile in the all world, you answer back, against his lips,

“Without a doubt you wear it and me better, lie back and let me take care of you.”

He sighs into the kiss and lies back, settling into the pillows, and letting any tension ebb out of his body in one long breath out. You chase his lips down and kneel on the bed, taking your time to drag your lips along his jaw, neck, and chest leaving kisses on your wake. Your hands come up to cup Jake's pecs and gently brush against his nipples with your thumbs.

Looking up at Jake you can see is relaxed, his eyes hazy and watching you worship his body. You meet his gaze and tell him,

“You are so beautiful, Jake.”

He blushes at the comment, but graciously accepts it and cradles your face in a loving gesture. Planting firm kisses down the midline of his abs you slide into place between his legs.

Jake's half hard when you draw him in your mouth, and you enjoy the heady feeling of him plumping up in your mouth as you work down his cock. You slide up and down with your mouth and hands a few times, letting your spit run down to his balls. You leave your hand on his shaft and trail your lips down to his balls, licking them generously.

“Feels good, El,” Jake pants from above. You give each ball one last kiss and lick your tongue across his taint and finally to his hole.

“I'm going to open you up, Jake. Is that okay?” you ask, you've been gently stroking his cock this whole time.

“Yes, El. Green,” he answers. You grab the lube and squeeze a dollop on your fingers and try to warm it up.

“This might be cold,” you warm Jake as you smear the lube on his hole, he starts a little and then relaxes again. Slowly and methodically you start with one finger, not getting deep enough to hit his prostate, a second, and finally a third. You check in at each stage and receive a breathier “Green” each time from Jake.

“Are you ready for my cock, Jake?” you ask as you kneel up, making sure to make eye contact with Jake.

“Jesus, El. Yes, I'm ready for your cock, please fuck me, it's been hours,” he answers more strung out than whiney.

“Roll over on your knees,” you instruct him and he complies. A few pillows are stuffed under his hips and he leans down crossing his forearms and resting his turned head on them. It takes a few adjustments from both of you to find the right height and angle for the mechanics of it all to work. Those details worked out with a few giggles and laughs, you lube up the dildo and place it at his hole.

“Ready? We can always stop,” you reassure him.

“Yes, please, El. I'm aching for it,” he answers. With that all clear you guide the tip of the dildo to his hole with your hand and gently, slowly insert the tip into the tight ring of muscles. It glides in easily, all of the prep worth it. You slide a bit farther and pull back out just a little, testing the waters.

“Fuuuck, fuck that feels good,” Jake practically shouts. He starts to push back at you in an effort to get more of the dildo. You smile to yourself, feeling accomplished as you thrust in. The push and pull repeats itself a few more times and a low moan is pulled from Jake and a frenzied,

“There, fucking there, so good, please more.”

Triumphant you've found his prostate you keep thrusting at the same depth, determined to get Jake to that edge in a new way. Your hands grip hard on his hips, just where his Adonis belt meets his quads, to keep you in place as you pull in and out of him. The rhythm established, you take the time to savor and thoroughly enjoy the vision before you. Jake has lifted up onto his forearms, no doubt to get more leverage to push back. His head oscillates between being thrown back, neck stretched out as he moans, and hanging down as the pleasure overwhelms him. Every time you surge forward he meets you halfway. You let one hand wander to catalog each of the muscles in his back and how they flex and twitch each beat of the rhythm. You can't help but be transfixed watching the dildo, your cock as you've started calling it now, slide in and out of Jake. The absolute ecstasy you're giving him is a heady feeling and ratchets up your arousal, soaking the neoprene of the harness.

“Fuck, Jake, you look so good damn hot, can't believe I'm the one who gets to see you like this, fuck you like this, make you feel so good,” you pant out between each push of your hips.

“So good, El, so fuckin’ good. You fuck me so well,” he responds, the words scattered between each ebb and surge of your bodies.

“Think you can come just like this, Jake?” you ask, knowing your stamina for this position is waning.

“Need more, touch me, please, please,” Jake begs, “Something please.”

“Okay, one sec,” you reply. You pull all the way out on your next beat, earning an anguished moan from Jake, words of confusion tumble out of his mouth,

“No, where? What? El?”

Laying a reassuring kiss at the small of his back and stroking his flank in a soothing manner, you instruct him,

“Flip over.”

He complies with amazing speed as you sweep the pillows off the bed and slide up to meet him. Sweat is beaded up on his face, hair in a dozen different directions, and his eyes are glazed over with pleasure. His cock pulses on his abdomen, a sheen of precum on his abs.

“Hands here,” you direct him, taking his hands in yours and sliding them under his thighs as you lift his legs up for a better angle, “Hold them, right there.”

He complies and lets them bend at the knee. Shuffling the last few inches, you rest the tip of your cock at his hole as you apply more lube.

“Ready?” you ask and are startled by how fast Jake replies.

“Fuck yes, please just get in me, El.”

Happy with that answer you slide in smoothly as deep as you'd been going before, the same feral reaction from Jake when you find that special bundle of nerves.

“Ungh, right…fucking…there, El,” he pants out between thrusts. Satisfied with your rhythm you grab the sides of Jake's waist and hold hard against his prostate on one thrust in and gently massage his prostate with a slight rocking of your hips, Jake's moans change in response.

“Fuck…good…ahhahh…there, ungh.”

You lean down, thankful for all your gymnastics training and twice weekly yoga, because you know Jake is about to lose his mind, and you're more than happy to do it for him. You slide one hand from his waist to the base of his cock to hold it one place and with no warning take Jake's cock as far in your mouth as you can and suck hard. The overwhelming combination of your cock in his ass, your hand jerking at the base of his dick, and your mouth are the explosive elements Jake needs for total liftoff.

Jake's orgasm is a whole body experience, his hand flies down to the back of your head holding it there as he thrusts up into your mouth flooding it with his come, and his ass clenches around the strap on and puts a delicious pressure on your clit. He comes with a loud shout,

“Ohmyfuckin’ god, fuuuuck.”

His release floods your mouth and you can't hold it all in or swallow it and it drips out of your mouth onto his abs.

Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through his body accompanied by another spurt of come. The waves decrease in intensity and Jake falls back to the bed limp, his hand sliding off your head. You take that as your cue to release him from your mouth.

Leaning up, you warn him,

“I'm pulling out, okay?” and he feebly waves a hand in answer. Gently you pull the strap on out and quickly unclip the straps releasing it to the bed.

You climb over Jake, mindful of his oversensitive cock where it rests on his belly in a puddle of come. Sliding up his lax body, you position your knees on either side of his chest and lean up so he has a front row seat of your glistening cunt.

“Fuck, Jake. That was so hot, so fucking sexy. Fucking you got me this wet. Feel,” you pant as your hand slides to give your clit some relief. Jake is mesmerized by your frenzied movements on your clit and brings his hand up to offer you two fingers to fuck yourself on. They slide in easily with how turned on you are, it takes a few pumps of his thick fingers and tight circles around your clit to fall over the edge, a gush of your slick coating Jake's hand and arm as you clench on his fingers.

“I'm coming,” you shriek as your pent up arousal bursts forth. Unable to hold yourself up you lean forward planting a hand in the pillow next to Jake's head. Under you Jake groans as you clench on his fingers as each wave hits you. The pleasure ebbs as Jake pulls his hand from you and both are left panting gazing into each other's eyes. A few moments of silence and you both crack a giddy smile.

“Wow,” you say, at a loss for more eloquent words.

“Wow,” he repeats, making you both laugh. Rolling to Jake's side, you lie on your back catching your breath. When you look over, Jake is lying peacefully, eyes closed and a wide smile on face.

“I'll be right back,” you tell him and slide off the bed, he nods lazily. You head to the bathroom for thorough hand washing and tooth brush before grabbing a bottle of water and some dark chocolate squares.

Back in the bedroom, you sit on the bed and brush Jake's shoulder gently, he stirs looking up at you in a way that can only be described as “dreamy”.

“Here, sit up. I got some water and chocolate for you. Drink and eat this while I get the shower going.”

He sits up and leans against the headboard and takes the water and chocolate from your hands. You give him a quick kiss on the forehead before you grab the strap to bring to the bathroom.

As you let the water heat up, you disassemble the strap, throwing the harness in the dirty laundry and washing the dildo off with a gentle soap per the directions. Those tasks completed you go and gather Jake, he has dutifully drank the water and eaten the chocolate.

He follows you when you take him by the hand to the bathroom and settles on the bench in the shower. You pull down his shampoo and tilt him forward to get his hair wet. Standing in front of him you lather his hair, making sure to comb your nails through Jake's hair in the way that he likes. Jake leans his head against your stomach and wraps his arms around your back. You grab the hand sprayer to rinse Jake's hair so you don't have to break this embrace and closeness. Rinsed and just luxuriating in the water you hook a gentle finger under Jake's chin to direct his gaze to you. Satisfied his gorgeous green eyes are meeting yours you ask, softly,

“How do you feel, Jake?”

He smiles in response and pulls you down to straddle his lap, in a gesture that clocks as intimate rather than physical.

“Really fucking good. I liked it, well loved it, obviously, it was different in a way I didn't know my body could do. But I think the part I enjoyed most was just how focused you were on taking care of me. It made me feel…,” he pauses, a bashful look creeps onto his face,

“Incredibly loved.”

Your face softens and you surge forth to give him a reassuring kiss,

“You are incredibly loved, by me. Everything I give back to you is a reflection of the love you give me, Jake. I love you so fucking much, it takes my breath away sometimes. I always want you to feel our love.”

A brilliant smile blooms on his face as he kisses the side of your neck in a sweet gesture.

“Thank you, El. I love you so much too,” he replies, trailing his lips up to meet yours for a kiss. It's sweet and followed up by a few playful pecks. You and Jake sit wrapped up in each other, the sound of the water soothing as you lean your foreheads together soaking up the warmth and intimacy of the moment.

You startle slightly when Jake breaks the silence,

“I didn't know you were that flexible,” he says.

The thought that Jake was surprised by your flexibility makes you laugh, bright and loud, it echoes around the shower.

You lean back to look Jake in the eyes.

“Really, Jake? Think of all the ways you've fucked me like a pretzel,” you say, eyebrow raised. A dirty montage floats through Jake's brain, bringing an equally dirty smile to his face, as you say the next thing,

“I'm not a former gymnast who does twice weekly yoga for nothing.”

He laughs and tilts head in agreement, a mischievous look appears in his eyes, one you know well.

“Just think of what we could do with yoga three times a week, sweetheart,” he says, signature smirk in place.

“Jake!”

–

Of course I couldn't write these two disgustingly in love people doing something as intense as pegging as a quick ficlet. No, we HAVE to know why they're fucking and all those gooey emotions with it. Hope you enjoyed it.

@kmc1989

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@mamachasesmayhem

@callmemana

@dempy

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#top gun maverick #hangman #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x you #top gun smut #jake seresin smut #hangman smut

[beskarandblasters]

Snowball Kiss

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Author’s note: This one is dedicated to @planet-marz1 who taught the discord what a snowball kiss is thanks to urban dictionary (first definition)! If you wanted to you could also pretend that this is the same Frankie and Reader from You Hired a Cleaning Lady, Mr. Morales?

Summary: Santiago tells Frankie what a snowball kiss is and Frankie wants to try it with you, his girlfriend

Word count: 900

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, established relationship, porn with little plot, pet names (princesa), some Spanish dirty talk (translations included and tell me how I did!), nipple play, hair pulling, oral sex (M and F receiving), cum eating, no use of y/n

“Princesa?” Frankie asks, sitting on the couch across from you and looking up from his phone. 

You poke your head up from your book and ask, “What is it, my love?”

“Uhh Santiago sent me a link to Urban Dictionary and said we need to try this.”

Santiago and Urban Dictionary in the same sentence means that whatever it is, it’s filthy. 

“That can’t be good,” you joke, “What is it?”

He shows you his phone and you read the Urban Dictionary entry for a “snowball kiss” which says, “An oral sex act where the woman gives a blow job to her partner, he comes in her mouth and she doesn't swallow. Then she immediately kisses and shares the cum with him. He takes it into his mouth, goes down on her and with his tongue, while eating her puts most of the cum into her and over her clit which makes it very slick. Then typically he continues to eat her until she cums herself.”

“Oh wow,” you say, handing the phone back to him. 

“What do you think? Can we try it?”

“You’d want to do that? Like eat me out with your cum in your mouth?”

“I’d do anything to pleasure you, princesa.”

“Okay,” you sigh, “Let’s do it.”

He excitedly stands up and grabs your hand, leading you to his bedroom. You start shedding layers of clothes upon entering his room and he can’t keep his hands off of you, hands gravitating to your breasts and his mouth on your neck. 

“I gotta take care of you first, Francisco,” you giggle right as his fingers pinch one of your nipples, turning the giggle into a sharp moan. 

“Mmm fine,” he groans with faux disappointment, nipping your neck one last time before taking off his clothes and hat and sitting on the edge of the bed. 

You sink to the floor, looking directly at his already hard cock, the head glistening with pre-cum. You start by kissing everywhere but his cock, planting kisses along his groin. He groans, aching for more already but you chuckle against him, replying, “Patience, Francisco.”

He groans again and tugs on your hair ever so lightly, his breathing picking up as you inch closer and closer to his cock. You take just the head in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it slowly to drive him crazy. One hand moves to his shaft and the other moves to his balls, cupping them lightly all while you’re still slowly swirling your tongue around the head. 

“Please, princesa. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Are you begging, Francisco?” you ask, squeezing his balls a little. 

“Fuck, yes. Yes I am.”

“Well since you asked nicely…” you tease, just before taking his full length in your mouth, or really as much as you can fit. 

You bob your head up and down, all while stroking his shaft and still cupping his balls. He tugs on your hair harder and spews out many profanities in English and Spanish as you continue to suck him off. 

“Me chupas la verga tan bien princesa (You suck my cock so good princess) Fuck, you’re too good to me,” he moans.

You hum in response, sending vibrations up and down his cock. His balls tense up in your hang and his cock twitches a bit; he’s going to cum soon. 

He cums inside your mouth, fully pulling on your hair now and his head thrown back in pleasure. You keep his cum inside your mouth and rise from the floor to kiss him, transferring his cum into his mouth with the kiss. You fall back onto the bed and he wastes no time getting in between your legs. He flicks his tongue around your clit and fuck urban dictionary was right, this feels amazing. 

He hooks his arms around your thighs and pulls your cunt into his face as close as physically possible, sucking on your clit intensely. You grind against his face, your back arching in pleasure and his nose adding an extra sensation. 

The floodgates are ready to burst, the pleasure in your core coming to a head and threatening to spill over. With one final flick of his tongue around your clit, you cum against his face, a mixture of his cum and your own cum soaking his face. He hums happily at the feeling of you cumming against him and wetting his face, continuing to lick your cunt through your orgasm. 

Your back settles back onto the bed once you’re done coming down from your high. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you catch your breath. And Frankie is still buried between your thighs, licking up every last drop of your release. Once you’re licked clean he lays down beside you and pulls you into him, the both of you laying there silently for a moment. Your head is resting on his chest and you can feel his heartbeat pounding like crazy in his chest. You’re sure yours is the same way, too. That was some of the best head both of you have ever gotten. 

“…Maybe we should listen to Santiago more often,” you say softly. 

Frankie laughs. “Yeah maybe we should, princesa.”

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Banners/dividers by saradika

#frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

[mx-jinxous]

Steve groaned at the light that invaded his closed eyes, trying to hide his face in the pillows. It had been nearly a week since he was kidnapped and, not for his lack of trying, had done his best to seclude himself. His first night after his recapture Steve had tried to escape through the door only for it to remain bolted in place. The only way out was when someone came to check on him, however, since the escape he’s only allowed to have visitors of two or greater so he couldn’t pull any more tricks.

Typically that left him with Gareth who was Joyce’s guard dog, very rarely was there anyone else. The woman seemed to be his designated babysitter, regardless that his wound and illness had cleared up. It was rare that she wasn’t the one bringing his food, clothes, or anything to get him to speak.

Since he was recaptured he’d taken a vow of silence, noting how Joyce was the only one not giving in to the irritation. Any conversation was carried by her while he made a point to remain quiet. Steve spent most of his alone time reading the books the healer continued to bring in, trying to find something to occupy his time.

Kas had yet to make an appearance to make demands, or to punish him for slapping, so he was surprised he got to keep his hand after all that. He didn’t believe the king was keeping away from him, not trusting Joyce not to say everything he had said, no matter how small it was. Steve had denied several calls He refused to act like he was happy to be forced into this life.

That’s how he found himself curled up in his nice, yet temporary, bed, boots tossed on the ground carelessly while he read one of the various books. He’d made it several chapters into the tales of a knight and a scholar when the door opened to Joyce and Gareth, taking it upon themselves to be invited in, Steve choosing to ignore them.

“Afternoon you sire. How are you feeling this day?” The healer asked like every day with the same patient smile. He just shrugged, keeping his head in the book. “I see you have moved on to a new book. What is this one about?” Her tone was softer, like she always did, all the while Gareth just glared. Neither boy trusted the other, the tension so thick you could run a blade through it, leading to a silent waiting game. “Could you possibly set it down and follow us? King Kas has ordered you to have an audience with him.”

“He can shove it. I’m done talking with him and if he is so dead set on conversing with me he can drag his royal hiney to my jail cell.” Steve scoffed, flipping through the book even though his attention was lost on it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gareth’s chest puff out.

“Guard captain, would you give us a moment alone?” Joyce’s smile went straight, eyes not leaving Steve.

“You know the rules.”

“I do, however, I need privacy with a patient. The king will understand.”

“I do not believe he would.” The young guard scoffed.

“How about you both take this out there, it’s hard enough reading this book without arguing. If he wants to speak to me I’m not going to play the good little prisoner, so he can march his ass down here.” Steve growls, losing all hope to even get back into the thrilling tale.

“Your attitude is due for an adjustment.” Gareth doubled down, the two glaring at one another.

“Enough boys. If the king wishes to have a word with me after his meeting then we shall. Now out.” Joyce huffed, shoving the guard towards the door. He left with mumbles, leaving a door cracked to keep an eye on the two.

Once she knew they were going to have an uninterrupted meeting, her attention fully returned to Steve. “May I sit?”

“You’ll do it anyway, not like there is anything I can do to stop you.”

“Contrary to popular belief, well more like rumored, I do have manners. If you are not comfortable with my presence in close quarters then I will not invade your space.”

“Just sit before can-man freaks out and comes back in.” She did as told, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“How is your arm feeling?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does. Your arm had a minor infection from whatever concoction Brenner laced the knife with. I would like to repay you for bringing him to face judgment.” She spoke, holding out a hand. Steve dragged his eyes to the woman, trying to analyze her motives.

“It wasn’t my doing. He offered to help and turned out to be a psycho. Just another shitty day.” He grumbled, laying his arm in her hand.

“Well, I would say that your shitty day has truly been the best day for me. Do you mind a story while I examine your injury?”

“Sure, might as well.”

Joyce removed the wrapping on his arm before speaking, looking at the angry red slash. If he’d been at home he’d have picked up some ointment, but sadly he’s stuck here indefinitely. “Brenner used to be a well-respected man in our court, a man of science. Sadly, he was obsessed with breaking magic down to a scientific level. My husband and I assumed he was crazy but harmless. In a moment of distraction, he managed to kidnap my daughter and younger son.”

She rotated his arm, looking at the cut before placing a glowing hand over the wound. “Will never spoke about what occurred, but Ellie said he tried to experiment with magic properties and the twin’s bond. Kas had ordered his head, but he had escaped. It took a while for them to be a fraction of who they were. Will is timid and El tries to act strong for both of them, but she pulls in sometimes. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you for bringing him back to us for punishment.” Pulling her hand away the skin looked less angry, smaller even. Joyce lathered his arm with some paste before wrapping a clean bandage around it. Steve didn’t say anything, just watched her tightening the wrap.

“I don’t understand why he was so obsessed. He was going to kill me for this bracelet, which I don’t understand the hype about it. I’m sure King Asshole has a whole stash.”

“This bracelet has a special place in the royal family. I am certain the king will explain to you if you would ask. Possibly in exchange for information on how you managed to obtain it.” Steve pulled his arm back, holding it to his chest as he looked over the gem. “So what? You can go and relay it to your boss. I told the truth, the king gave it to me.”

“If you dare to trust this old soul, I will see if it is worth telling the king I will tell the bare minimum. If I see nothing useful then it shall stay between us.”

“No offense, but why should I trust you? I have no ties to you.”

“Trust that as a mother, I owe you. A mother’s love is stronger than loyalty.” Steve huffed, curling into himself. He didn’t know what a mother’s love was like, his mother loved possession over him, and that’s what led him into this mess. He only worked because his parents forced him out of the only home he ever knew. A mother’s love is a cold, brutal, and empty thing.

Joyce seemed to notice his withdrawal, “You are not close to your mother?”

“No. I was a necessity, not a want. She constantly reminded me how I ruined her body. To say we weren’t close is an understatement. She never wanted me and blames me when good ole dad decides to be unfaithful.”

“I am truly sorry that your family is so frigid. I never have agreed with people having children as a lineage requirement. It has proven to be a cold performance, a loveless act.”

“I grew used to it, often left alone to my own devices.”

“They sound like unfit parents. A child is a blessing and I am sorry that you have an unfair, unloving pair.” He shrugs, fiddling with the gem on the bracelet. “It is their loss. I hardly know you, yet you have proved to be a decent young man.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I would like to know you, as a citizen instead of a prisoner.” She smiled gently, offering out a hand. “If you join me to the king and tell your side, I promise that I can show you what a real parent is. I will pledge to you in front of the king, that you will live with my family, no guards or magic locks.”

“You would take in a dangerous taking in a man that has proven to be a threat.” Steve never took his eyes off her hand, contemplating in his head.

“I see only a scared man, a protector. You could have killed that guard or Brenner. Instead, you only subdued them in order to escape. I do not assume you find joy in harming people let alone children.” He remained silent, avoiding her eyes. “I have faith that you are a threat when you are as I see you, a scared man in a strange situation. I do not agree with the way they treat you like you are a threat when you seem forced into this situation. We are not terrible people, just wary of what has happened. Please allow us the chance to prove that our initial response was not a true representation of our people.” Her hand hovered between them, unwavering with patience.

Steve never called himself smart, he’s got a big heart that led him blindly into hurt. He didn’t know this woman aside from who she worked for and the patience to wait out his stubbornness. He’d have to be a complete idiot to blindly trust her, but he has been craving the outside for a week.

“Can we go outside, give me a moment in the sun before facing his royal asshat?” He hesitated before taking her hand. Joyce smiled, nodding as she waited a moment to see if the young man was going to back out.

“We can go visit the gardens before we visit King Kas. I believe my children are having class outside. You would get to meet those you avenged.”

“I guess.” He mumbled as she helped him climb from the bed, the healer pulling him from the room. They stopped in front of Gareth, who looked irate as he held up shackles. Joyce held a hand up to stop him, catching the attention of both men.

“No need for that. We will be visiting the garden, please tell the king we are ready for our audience when he is prepared to see us. Do come find us when he is.” Gareth groaned, holding back something before turning and walking away. “Come, young man, let us hurry before we are pulled into a meeting. They are terribly dull as a maiden’s gossip-ridden knitting circle.”

Joyce rolled her eyes, smiling at the young man before turning and leading him down the corridors. When they breached the outside the light invaded Steve’s eyes. He flinched, eyes taking a moment to adjust. When they did he was met with the sight of preteens playing amongst the garden flowers.

They were in a group, some jumping rope with a vine, others playing a game of tag. Off to the side were two men around his age, playing with some flowers as they sat talking and watching the younger children.

Like an alarm went off, attention was dragged to the two, a dozen eyes falling on Steve specifically. They bared into him, studying him like he was some weird specimen to study under a magnifying glass, and to them he probably was. He had climbed out of a grave, dressed in his work clothes, and the first thing he did upon meeting their king was punch him. They seemed on edge, muttering amongst themselves, which put Steve on the edge.

Joyce had waited back, allowing the strangers to grow accustomed to one another. Sadly out of both groups, the only one who seemed to brave it was a young girl. Steve had recognized her from his first trip through the garden, wavy brown hair bouncing as she closed the distance between her and the older boy. Her eyes burrowed into his, trying to peer into his soul for the answer he refused to share.

The young girl came to a stop in front of him, tilting her head without breaking eye contact. Steve could feel the sweat rolling down the back of his neck, the return of the panic that he felt that night in the museum. He didn’t know what this girl could do, but he was her prime focus.

When it felt like too much for his heart to take she took a step forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. He was frozen to the spot, arms held up in uncertainty, gazing over at Joyce. The healer was smiling at her daughter, the young girl's head resting on his chest. Before his mind could even process anything happening she backed away, smiling wide as she gripped his hands in hers.

“Vindex.” Her voice was small, the language something unheard to him. The confusion must have been written on his face because the healer spoke up.

“It means protector or avenger. This is my youngest of the twins, Ellie, but she prefers El.” Her hand tightened, pulling Steve towards the group who still seemed on edge, but less tense.

“Come play with us.”

A laugh left Joyce as the young man stuttered, being dragged into the children’s playing circle. All at once the garden was filled with overstimulating yells from the preteens, screaming over one another as they pulled him into a game. In his overwhelmed state the kids had decided on a game of hide and seek.

He jumped as the young girl pulled him down, and another child tied a blindfold around his eyes. “Do not remove until we are ready, then come find us.”

“W-Wait! What!” His stutters went unheard as they spun him in a circle, giggles echoing Joyce’s warnings of no powers when non-mages are playing. He came to a stop and the giggles disappeared.

“Ready!” One of the boys yelled, Steve hesitantly reaching up to remove the blindfold. The world was still spinning when it came off, nearly toppling over before his eyes settled. When they did, he was greeted with an empty garden. “They are hiding. Perhaps a game with the children will pass enough time till the king calls.” Joyce says from behind, taking a seat on a cement bench.

“I guess it’s better than waiting at his beck and call.” Steve scoffed, looking around the garden and hearing snickers and shaking bushes. A smile slid on his face as he took a step towards the bushes. “Ready or not, here I come!”

Kas groaned as he rubbed his temple as he paused signing another document. He’d been signing since down, his hand was cramping and the words were starting to dance across the page. He’d been waiting all morning to talk with the intruder, who seemed to be a stubborn ass every other time he’d asked. His attitude had begun to get under his skin, despite the pretty face, yet he couldn’t deny that he was looking forward to meeting him again.

When Gareth told him that Joyce had finally wheedled him down into an agreement with him. Unfortunately, the paperwork had to be finished before said meeting could take place and his body was paying for it. Gareth stood against the door, a smirk on his face as he watched Kas’ features shift from annoyance to exhaustion. He knew the king would give up eventually, so he watched, taking in his entertainment. When the limit hit, he threw his head back with a groan louder than his prior ones. A snicker left the guard as he straightened and walked towards the king.

“Giving into the hierarchy’s demands for the evening?”

“Gare these parchments are idiotic and most require to feed the wealthy and leave the poor with nothing. It is exhausting and irritating. I am going on a walk, take a moment to give my body a rest and cleanse my body of all these negativities.” He stood, popping his neck with another groan. “Will you join or stay in this depressing room? I am thinking of checking the gardens.”

“I regret to inform you that the children are using the garden as a classroom. Who am I to presume it is in pristine condition?”

“I need a break, regardless of the mess they have caused, I have not been able to check up on the children. Come, follow me if you wish.” With that, both young men walked from the study. The walk was full of teasing gripes and playful shoves that disappeared once they were in a more public space.

Gareth followed Kas out into the garden, preparing for the loud squeak of the prepubescent, which there was. However, what took both men by surprise was the sight of the intruder blindfolded, hands outstretched. The children were running around him, clapping and yelling to lead him in the opposite direction than they went. He fell for the bait, hearing squeals as he almost captured them. What stuck out was the bright smile that played on his face.

It was the first time he’d seen anything other than a scowl, and it made his face glow and soften.

It was short-lived when he finally caught one of the children, taking the blindfold with a victorious smile. It fell when his eyes set on Kas. They locked eyes and the tension returned with full bloom. The pleasant smile and moment was gone.

———————

To everyone that are interested in keeping up with Set in Stone I have set up a few different ways you can keep up. Unfortunately the tagging process isn’t working for everyone so if you’d like to keep up here are a few options. This will be the last tag set. I will no longer bring tagging in future chapters of just this work.

1. Follow the setinstonesteddie tag on tumblr

2. I made a blog dedicated solely to chapter updates, which can be followed here, any other progress updates will be here on my personal blog.

3. If you have an AO3, you can subscribe to the story here

@steddieas-shegoes @steddie-steddie @paintsplatteredandimperfect @roastingdragon @the-brainr0tt @just-a-tiny-void @swimmingbirdrunningrock @izzy2210 @weirdandabsurd42 @throwbackthrowaway @steve-the-hairrington @loser-of-hearts333 @croatoan-like-its-hot @gingersass @alto-delete @anaibis @limbs-are-optional @thephantomhood @itsall-taken @jamieweasley13 @imfinereallyy @yeahhh-suga @awkotaco24 @aliea82 @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @stxrcrossed186 @emly03 @elviraenthusiast @siriusleeart @fxrgetmenott @amerikanskaya-krassavitsa @noctxrn-e @spicysix @chaosgremlinmunson @lovelyscot @goodolefashionedloverboi @teelagurl558 @seilahtitania32 @sparky-bunny @dontslayfay @amrice @pluckedstrings @plyerice27 @vae1bixy @grtwdsmwhr @vacantwatchers @8em-em-em8 @stevesbipanic @commonxsenss @sani-86 @suikatto @callmesirkay @spideysteveloml @neeerdrage @quevadilla @p0lybl4nkk @thetrueghostqueen @ok-just-why @eyesofshinigami @oxidantdreamboat @platinum-sunset @milottadoodles @chillichats @kyysposts @bookworm0690 @shrimply-a-menace @chocolateracconlights

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #setinstonesteddie

[2knightt]

cherry defender bc i’m sooooo fucking SICK OF ALL YOU TIKTOK BITCHES WHO ARE MADLY IN LOVR WITH THE CAST SAYING YOU HATE HER!!! rant era!

“she-she witerally lead ponyboy on🔥” WHEN? did she fucking say ‘lol you’re sooo funny…make call me sometime.’ NO? they were both fully aware she had a boyfriend who she loves dearly.

“she-she said she’d fall in love with dallas winston tho!” because cherry and all the other soc’s yearn for the things they know they can’t get or can’t have. bob wanted someone to say no to him—but nobodu ever fucjing did!! CHERRY WANTS SOMEONE SHE KNOWS SHE’LL NEVER HAVE AND SHE NEVER FUCKING WILL!!

“cherry undermined the struggles greasers go through.” HOW THE FUCK WOULD SHE EVER KNOW WHAT THEY WENT THROUGH?? she was trying to be supportive and let ponyboy know he wasn’t alone and that everyone goes through tough shit. SHE LITERALLY HAS AN EXPENSIVE CAR, A HOT BOYFRIEND, AND IS POPULAR. HOW YHE FUCK COULD SHE EVER KNOW THE STRUGGLES OF BEING A GREASER ENOUGH TO THE POINT WHERE SHE COULD PAUSE AND GO…”oh wait! that’s a little rude…teehee!”

abd before you go “but i’d never do that!” BECAUSE YOU READ THE BOOK FROM A GREASERS PERSPECTIVE!!! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE A REAL SOC JUST LIKE HOW CHERRY DOESN’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE A REAL GREASER

“cherry ignored ponyboy ://“ SHE FUCKING WARNED HIM BEFOREHAND? HE KNEW WHAT WAS GONNA HAPPEN??? and i’m not blaming ponyboy for being upset abt it but you can’t get pissed off at her when she was like “yeah so don’t get too mad if i don’t say hi to you at school.”

“she didn’t go see johnny :(“ I WOULDN’T EITHER. he KILLED her boyfriend…who she made it very known, she loved very much. god for bid a woman fucking exists.

idgaf if u try and argue argue with the fucking wall🆗

#leo’s late night rambles #the outsiders #cherry valance my love #cherry valance #this is a place only for cherry likers #i will actually defend her until i die #no fucking joke #not up for debate #also i will be fucking ranting about elvis presley dick riders in a minute #fuck all yall

[whiskeynwriting]

Old Man Things

Basically, all the old man things that make Daddy Whiskey, an old man.

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SFW and NSFW below the cut. 18+ only (minors DNI)

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A/N: I can't tell you how much I enjoyed writing this. That's my daddy🥰

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Agent Daddy Whiskey Masterlist

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SFW

Every single time you text him, he finds a way to send a thumbs up emoji. “How are you, babe?” 👍🏻 “How’s work going today?” 👍🏻 “Wanna go out tonight?”👍🏻 “Did you buy toilet paper?”  👍🏻

Still reads the actual newspaper, and will do it at the breakfast table and while on the toilet. 

Has to wear reading glasses, likes to wear them while going to bed with a good book in his hand.

Grunts every time he gets up and every time he sits down. Every. Damn. Time. 

His back kills him, especially after missions. He’ll groan when he walks in, groan when he undresses, which will lead to you following him into the bathroom and showering together. You have him sit on the stone seat’s edge, rubbing his back beneath the warm water while bathing him, just letting him relax in your company. And he especially enjoys when you wash his hair. "Babycakes, you have such a sweet touch."

Texts using just his pointer finger. 

Still says “howdy” when he answers the phone. 

Has those grandpa potato house shoes and will not be giving them up anytime soon.

Likes to protect you and keep you as innocent as possible. You’re a grown woman but he doesn’t want the world to taint you. Because of this, he won’t tell you the details of his job, his missions, etc. 

Very old school with dating. Was a gentleman from the start. Opens all the doors for you, even inside your home. He makes dates a special occasion, not a ‘hangout’, and constantly buys flowers for you.

NSFW

Absolutely has bad back days, and will beg you to ride him. “Sugar, I can’t, not today. Please get up here, c’mon, climb on top of me. I know you love riding your daddy.”

Will smoke a cigar while you ride him.

Likes to watch you drink his whiskey he’s even spit it into your mouth before

Has the most guttural southern voice you’ve ever heard, and it makes you weak in the knees damn near every time he speaks. Let alone when he uses his bedroom voice. The difference between, “Hey honey,” and “C’mere, babycakes” couldn’t be more extreme. 

Jack being older than you meant he had more life experience. He was already established, already had money and skill, and was cocky about it. Truly, nothing turns you on more than seeing Jack’s confidence shine through. It reminded you just how easily he’s able to order you around, manhandle and control you. 

Whenever he sits down in his comfy chair, his hips shift forward with his legs parting wide, fully manspreading. And every time you walk in on him sitting like this, it makes you want to sink down to your knees and gag on him, remind him that you’re the best decision he’s ever made. You just want to give him everything you know he deserves. 

Can’t always last for a second round, or even last too long the first round. And gets crazy embarrassed about it. But you always do your best to reassure him, “It’s okay, daddy. It’s okay, don’t you know how much I love it? Every second that I have you? I know your beautiful body gets tired, baby… I love every second I can get”. Rubbing your hands over him, whispering sweet praise that makes him grin. 

Obviously loves being called daddy. Daddy. He wants to be in charge of you, in charge of your happiness and pleasure and general well-being. You’re his, in every sense of the word. His beautiful girl, his responsibility. 

#oh daddy #I really love you #daddy whiskey #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey fluff #agent whiskey fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic

[marsbutterfly]

Oh, What A View

Summary: After the war is over, you are left to tend for the poor soldiers whose minds got broken in the process. One specific man catches your attention.

Warnings: unprotected, vaginal sex, creampie, cum leaking, oral sex (m! receiving), titty fucking, cum play, accidental voyeurism. | a/n: Hobo!Eren and Nurse! Reader concepts are originally aleks' (@princess-jaeger) <3

Wattpad! | Ao3! | Hobo! Eren Yeager x Nurse! Reader

“They did it!” The news broke loose not long after the event actually happened. All the newspapers, radio stations, and gossipers were talking about it, the end of the four-year-long war between Marley and the Mid-East forces had finally come to an end when a peace treaty was signed after the military destroyed their fleet.

Information traveled so fast that you were barely able to tell what was true and what wasn’t. The only concrete information you had was that Marley’s win was a real achievement and hundreds of mentally and physically scarred soldiers were on their way to your care.

It would take them a few days to get back from Fort Slava and, in the meantime, you find yourself preparing extra beds and blankets to care for those in need.

When the time goes by and the soldiers finally arrive, you watch closely as one of the warrior candidates assists a man who has been scared by the guard leading them towards the hospital, “ugh, typical,” you think to yourself, annoyed by the way those poor people are being treated. Not that there is anything you can do about it.

A week passes and, during those seven days, not a lot happens amidst the broken soldiers. It is a day like any other, medicine rounds begin going around and, with each passing patient, you mark an x next to their name. With the assistance of the other nurses, you get around pretty quickly.

“Has bed five B gotten her medication yet?” You ask one of the other nurses as you flip over the pages on your clipboard, not fully paying attention to what it is that they are currently talking about. If it didn’t involve the patients in your care, you wouldn’t give it a second thought.

“Yeah,” the short-haired nurse responds, dipping two of her fingers into the bag of chips. She brings the wavy food into her mouth before rubbing her fingers together, getting rid of the dust. It is more than clear to you that she doesn’t take her job very seriously, “The only one left is bed fourteen A.”

“Mr. Kruger?” You inquire, bringing the board close to your chest. The other woman shrugs, licking the orange powder off of her fingertips.

“He’s only willing to cooperate when you are the one doing his care,” she says and you can’t help but look away, a deep blush taking over your cheeks as you now stare at the ground. You had indeed been exchanging a few glances here and there with the man, but you wouldn’t think he would go as far as to refuse treatment from anyone but yourself.

Clearing your throat, you nod. With one hand, you bring the clipboard down towards your thigh, and with the other, you reach for a small cup containing a couple of pain pills, one antipsychotic and one antidepressant. It’s a decent cocktail, enough to cause a grown adult to relax.

The sound of your heels colliding with the floor fills the nearly empty hallway, the only exceptions being a few soldiers who sit in their designated wheelchairs, one of them with a book in hand as he reads the words on the page carefully and the other one slamming his head against the wall.

Your hand trembles, a nervous sweat dripping down the side of your head as you touch the handle on the door. The patient himself has never been anything but a gentleman but it is the people around him that worry you, after all, no more than a week has gone by since the military dumped the broken soldiers into the hospital.

With a deep breath, you enter the room without knocking. A small tv plays the same program it did the day before and the men and women sit around it like flies attracted to the light. A couple of them sit on a broken table, marked cards in their hands as they play a game similar to poker, though you can’t decipher what it is.

One woman, in particular, draws the same symbol over and over again with barely usable markers, mumbling words that feel like an incantation based on the number of times she has told you she is a witch. She is harmless overall, though can still be quite difficult when it comes the time to take her medicine.

With one glance around the room, you come to the conclusion that the patient you are searching for is nowhere to be seen inside the small room and it means that he could either be sitting on the bench outside or simply lying in bed in his room.

Making sure not to touch anyone, you make your way towards the massive window, eyes searching for the long-haired man in question. Once you realize that you can’t find him, you decide that it is time to look in the very last place and, if he wasn’t there, you would have to call the guards.

So you rush up the stairs towards the last room on the third floor, where all the physically disabled patients were being kept. It seemed like extremely poor management, considering that most of them weren’t able to walk down the stairs, but it is not like the Marleyan government cared about these men too much.

From underneath the door, you see a shadow hopping around on crutches and it could only mean that he is awake. Unlike the other nurses, you like to knock on the door, making sure that they understand how valuable their privacy is to you. 

Inside the room, a low, husky voice speaks as the shadow is now facing towards the wooden surface, “Come on in.” Your heart skips a beat for a second, the tone of his voice is deep and you can feel a dreamy sigh exhaling from your body as you twist the doorknob.

“Mr. Kruger?” You inquire, peaking your head inside the room, the hand that holds the medicine cup also bringing the clipboard closer to your body. His emerald green eye pierces right through you and a warmth grows on your face, even if there is absolutely no light to them, “I’m passing around medication.”

“Ah, I see,” the man exhales a response, extending the hand that does not hold the crutch forward to take it out of your hands. You wish you could offer him some juice or even water to drink the medication with but such luxuries were forbidden. It doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest, however. 

He takes a deep breath before swinging his head and the cup backward. You can see the movement of his neck as he swallows the pills with amusing ease. Once he is done, his tongue brushes through chapped lips, moisturizing the area as best as he possibly can.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says in that exact same low voice, not shifting it in the slightest. You can feel as his eyes go through your body, taking in the full image of your silhouette and you can’t help but tug at the edge of your skirt, pulling it down in hopes of calming yourself down.

He begins to take a few steps closer and you feel as your legs gain a life of their own, backing your body against the door as you use your free hand to search for the handle, desperately looking for an out. Before you have time to fully take in what is happening, the man is standing before you, his hand touching the wood a little off to the side as he traps you in the space between the door and his body.

The man doesn’t say anything, he simply stands there. His breath is warm and there is a familiar scent to it though you can’t fully identify what it is. One of his eyes is bandaged up and you bring your hand to his face, your thumb brushing against the cloth gently so as not to hurt him.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, cursing yourself for saying it out loud and he shrugs.

“I have gotten used to it at this point,” is all he replies with. He eventually lets go of the crutch, now using your body to balance himself up. His grip on your waist is tight as his fingernails dig through your skin through the cloth of your clothes, but you don’t complain. In fact, it feels good to have him touch you.

You can’t help but exhale loudly, dropping the clipboard in your hand to the ground. When it collides with the surface, it makes a loud sound and immediately the man brings his index finger over your lips, telling you to shush, even if he knows that nobody would care about it, not the nurses and not the broken soldiers.

His lips ghost above yours, so close that you can already taste them, though he doesn’t give in so easily, he wants you to speak, he likes to hear your voice, “Tell me something you have never told anyone,” he requests.

It takes you a second to think and, in that time, he has lifted the edge of your dress, fingers brushing through the silk of your underwear as he carefully watches as the fabric makes its way past your thighs. He doesn’t stop until he can see your belly button, that’s when he shifts his focus to opening the front of your uniform.

You can’t find any words seeing as your brain betrays you, all of your thoughts are targeted at the man’s touch. His vision is focused on you and, without breaking eye contact, his mouth closes on your right nipple. Eren sucks on the hardened bud while your eyes are closed shut in pleasure. 

He lets go of the nipple with a pop, then proceeds to bite down, blow a bit of cool air, and watch it as it becomes erect, then goes back to sucking on the bug. Licking, biting, sucking. It goes on. You couldn’t help the erotic sounds that come from deep within your throat.

Lust exploded from a place inside his chest and he couldn’t help but let it take over his actions. You cradle his head against yours; keeping him in place. Letting go of your nipple, he moves on to your left breast to give it the same attention. 

Though before he resumes the activity, he asks you the question again, a firmer tone this time and a threat of stopping if you didn’t respond quickly. You scramble to find something inside of your nearly empty mind but finally, something comes up.

“I have a collection of sex toys,” you whisper underneath your breath, afraid that anyone but him would hear your confession. He smiles, bringing his lips around your nipple once more before giving it the attention you so desperately craved. With every flick of his tongue, you could feel the wetness as it pooled in your underwear. “Now will you tell me your first name?”

You puff out your chest, giving him better access to your previously hidden breast. Your arms are pressed against the wall, hands balled into fists as you try and turn your head away from the scene in embarrassment. 

The man pulls your body towards him but before you have a chance to collapse against his chest, he is pressing you against the window, your cheeks against the glass as he pulls your underwear to the side, wanting to make this nothing more than a quickie, “Eren, Eren Kruger.”

You feel the head of his cock bumping between your legs, seeking for the entrance to your aching core. Closely after, it began to push slowly into you. The sensation as he filled your cunt wasn't one you had felt in a while, not even on those private, lonely occasions when you’d lay in bed, thinking about him and the encounters you have shared in the past.

You brace yourself against the window as the man buries his length all the way inside of you. Your fantasies seemed so pathetic now, the idea that he would be gentle? Nothing more than a distant dream as Mr. Kruger was known, by you specifically, to be quite rough when he is fucking you.

It isn’t his fault, he would say, there is just something about your juicy, puffy pussy that would make all of his senses go out of the window and he would only be able to think with the head of his cock.

Your breath caught in your throat. The pleasure was gathering inside of you. Every thrust drove you further toward ecstasy. You mouthed something incoherent at the streetlights on the wide road below. His hands on your hip pulled and pushed you as he slammed his cock into you, again and again, fucking you careless of your comfort, like you were just a thing, a doll.

Your breasts are pressed against the window, hands gripping at the curtains as tightly as you can while supporting both of your bodies, he holds you up by wrapping his arms underneath your knees and his cock never leaves the warmth of your cunt, not even for a second.

“People might see us,” you say, drool pooling on the corner of your lips. Wetness drips down your pussy, coating not only his member but the back of your thighs. He is rough, rougher than usual but at every step, no matter how tough his words are, he makes sure that you are ok.

“Then let them see,” he hisses, pumping his hips forward while lowering your body on his cock, allowing more of his length to enter your aching cunt and you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure, “Let them see what a slut you are.”

“Mr. Kruger,” you moan his name quietly, trying to attract as little attention to you as possible, “It feels so good.” Your underwear is still pulled to the side but the fabric now comes in contact with your throbbing clit, rubbing the area ever so gently with his every thrust. A heartbeat passes and you correct yourself, “Eren.”

“I know what you like,” he says and you can tell he has a shit-eating grin on his face just by the way his voice sounded. You open your eyes to make sure nobody is watching the two of you, gripping the curtains hard in the process before allowing your head to fall backward.

A part of you secretly wishes that somebody would walk in, that somebody would catch the two of you in the most embarrassing of situations and you would have to acknowledge that you were having filthy sex with one of your patients, but you would rather live in denial.

He shifts ever so gently and finally hits the spot he was so desperately searching for, you have to bite down on your lip not to let out a loud gasp. You clench your butthole tightly, squeezing your muscles around him and he giggles, an amused laugh as he continues to pound into you, “Here, huh?” He teases.

You want to respond with an insult, something to wipe that smug smirk off of his lips but your vocal cords and your brain betray you at that moment and all you can think about is how delicious it feels to be fucked by him. 

The man proceeds to place the tip of your toes onto the window’s sill, spreading your folds apart and giving the passing people on the outside of the facility a perfect view of your stuffed pussy. It’s embarrassing and you can’t help but blush, but not a single part of you wishes to stop.

The man’s long hair sticks to the side of his neck, sweat exhaling from his pores with every thrust of his unstable hips, his mustache is coated in a layer of fluids and he readjusts for a second, pressing your body even further up against the window, your nipples becoming hard as they come in contact with the cold glass.

He brings his lips towards your neck, his tongue generously going through every inch of skin available, the bun on your hair, once elegant and now messy, threatens to fall and if it wasn’t for the lack of one of his legs, Eren would have already used his hand to take it down.

Your nails are rough and so is he, gravity leaving you bouncing on his cock harder and deeper than usual. Suddenly you don’t care that people outside might see you, you don’t care about anything but the angling of your lover’s hips and his ragged breaths against your neck.

“Keep moving just like that, baby,” he whispers against your skin and you take his words as an incentive to continue moving yourself on his cock.

You wrap an arm around his shoulder as you feel yourself unraveling and you moan into the glass. You are still trembling when he lowers you down, gripping one hand to your waist. Even though his pace now is faster than before, a hard thrust that shoves you forward into the window, and bracing your hand against the glass, you beg him for more. You need him now, need him closer than it is possible for two people to be.

“You’re going to make me come, Eren,” you say and he presses your body further against the window with a thudding sound, while the ripping of your underwear can also be heard. The cloth simply falls to the ground.

“Then come for me baby,” when finally you feel yourself tightening around his cock, a wave of an intense orgasm washing over you, you rock your hips against him, Eren moaning with you at the feel of your quivering muscles. You want people to see you now, to see them gasping in jealousy.

He witches, holding you perfectly in place for a few seconds, and his warm cum begins to flow inside of you, filling your body with sensations you could never grow too used to. So much comes out that eventually, you felt as the warmth began to squirt onto the glass and down your thighs.

Not a word leaves his lips so you are the first one to break the silence, “You made a mess, Mr. Kruger. Would you like me to clean it up?” A devious smile curls into his lips, though you cannot see it for he is hiding his face on the back of your neck, but you can feel as the corners twitch in excitement.

Slowly and carefully, he raises your body one more time, pulling his cock out from its newly found home inside of you. Your toes touch the ground, finding footing enough for the rest of your feet. It’s a slow process but, soon enough, you find yourself kneeling before him.

You raise his shirt and begin to kiss his stomach, starting just above the belly button. His body collides with the window, one hand searching for balance as he holds onto the ledge while the other is tangled around the back of your head, playing with your hair in a desperate attempt to show you what he has in mind. You cooperate slowly, letting him guide you down. It takes less than a minute before your mouth gets to the happy trail above his pubes.

His cock is right there, inches from your face. You hesitate for a second, wondering if a blowjob would be the best way to reward him. You decide on something better but, to prepare him for it, you run your tongue along the shaft, getting it wet with your saliva and you can taste the mixture of your juices and his, it’s still warm and quite salty.

It’s difficult and messy to navigate with just your mouth, but you do the best you can. Starting with kitten licks along his slit. The taste of his cum floods your tongue making you salivate.

You meet his eyes to find him still smiling, the corner of his mouth pulling up more into a smirk. He knows what he is doing to you. So you continue your motions down his shaft. Licking lightly along veins, drool escaping as you do. 

Clearly, this was the wrong choice, everything about this situation seemed wrong. As soon as you are halfway down, he begins to set the pace and it is relentless. Using you a hole more than a person.

You remove him from your mouth and move your hands towards your chest, unbuttoning the uniform you wear. Your hard nipples tingle in the cool air. You move up again, breasts large enough to cover his entire cock. He looked down at you in shock, but the devious smirk on his lips never ceased.

"I want you to cum between my tits,” you announce to him, knowing that is exactly the kind of stuff he wants to hear you say.

He simply moans as he thrust up against you. You respond by moaning as well, your breasts have always been sensitive, and react to his hips being pushed against them quite well. His hands come down, joining yours in squeezing your breasts around his cock. "Oh, shit." He hisses, his thrusting speeding up as he finds a rhythm, "You feel amazing."

You smile up at him. He doesn’t look like he'd last much longer, "That's it, baby, fuck my tits. Cum all over them."

"Uh... ohh fuck..." that is all he manages to say as a warning, his fingers begin digging onto the soft skin of your breasts, and his cock starts pulsing in its place between your boobs. You can feel wetness spreading, most of it being squeezed out and forming in a pool on your cleavage.

You continue to rub the shaft, looking at the mess he made. You can’t control yourself and your mind slowly slips away, rubbing his warm cum all over. There was enough to cover your breasts in his cum and have left over on your fingers. "There is so much, baby, and you just came not too long ago.”

“You’re just so fucking hot,” he pants, removing his hand from your breast to bring his cum coated fingers towards your lips. He pushes through gently, silently asking for permission before you open wide to receive him.

Your tongue swirls around his digits, fully taking in the flavors he is offering you. The viscous liquid drips against your taste buds and you continue to do so until his fingers are removed from your mouth completely clear, the only thing still coating them is a thick layer of your saliva.

As he places his cock back into his pants, Eren shakes his head, removing the hair from his eye. You are still on your knees, searching in your pockets for something that could be used as a tissue to clean the cum off of your bare chest.

“No,” Eren says, his voice is firm and it echoes through the almost completely empty room. You pause your movements for a second, wondering what he is talking about before he continues, “I want you to have my cum on your chest until you go home. A little reminder of me.”

“But, Mr. Kruger,” you try to reason with him, watching as he extends you a hand in the hopes of assisting you as you get up, “People will know.”

“After the little show we just gave them,” he smirks, buttoning up the top and covering your cum soaked cleavage, “I doubt many people don’t know about it already.”

You can’t help but blush in embarrassment, flustered cheeks facing away from him as you try to hide your emotions from him. You didn’t know what came over you, a public display such as the one you just experienced, and with an eldian no less, oh what the marleyan government would do to you if they figured it out.

A thousand thoughts go through your head in the span of a minute or so. Unconsciously, you begin to gather around your clipboard and the papers that fell out of it while you were busy being kissed by the man, and, before you have time to realize it, he has already walked out of the door and is on his way out of the courtyard.

You wipe away the steam off the window to find him sitting on the bench, he props his body up on the crutches as he speaks with one of the clinically insane patients. It takes a second for you to realize it is one of your patients, so you begin to make your way down the stairs, carefully enough not to fall but moving your feet at an incredibly quick pace.

Once you are finally there, you speak to him again, “I’m sorry, I looked away for two seconds,” you say, though your voice trembles with the thoughts of how the two of you were linked together mere moments ago. He shrugs, no light in his eyes.

“I don’t care,” he says, pretending not to know you. You knew how little you meant to him but still, to hear not a shred of empathy in his voice was enough to cause your heart to break. So you simply sigh, putting on a fake smile.

As you walk away, arm wrapped around your patient, you feel a cold breeze down against your free pubes and you finally realize that nothing is protecting your cunt, “Where are my panties?” You ask yourself silently, looking back at the man with a desperate look on your face, only to realize he has the cloth attached to his nostril, taking in a deep whiff out of it before placing it into his pocket, a smile on his face. That man was truly a devil.

#attack on titan #aot #snk #eren aot x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren x fem!reader #eren yeager & reader #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x y/n #aot smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger smut #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #snk fanfic #snk fanfiction #attack on titan fanfic #attack on titan fanfiction #jfbl

[mulderscully]

been thinking about some peoples complaints about how the movie handled alex's coming out as opposed to the book.

part of me understands because the movie did sort of neuter this as well as the depth of henry's mental illness, but at the same time i understand why. the movie is already two hours long and tbh if they wanted to do a fully faithful adaptation (which imo is not necessary) it maybe should've been a mini series.

and aside from taking out liam, tbh i still think that all happened just wasn't shown, and the fact that this is why alex has always known he's "lowkey into dudes" i feel like people don't fully grasp what alex goes through in that time after new years in the movie.

not every bisexual person has the same experience, but i can relate to alex pretty well both in the book and in the movie in terms of his sexuality cause they actually are pretty similar.

a lot of times when you're bisexual you just feel like everyone feels this way. you sort of feel like being straight is what being bisexual is, because the idea that others do not experience attraction to the same and different genders sounds... fake. like. i'm not even joking when i say i have a hard time believing straight people exist. i fully, of course, believe gay people exist, but people being straight and not queer at all makes me ??? sometimes, even now that i have identified as bi for over ten years.

then, there is a pretty big difference between knowing you experience same gender attraction from time to time and actively identifying as a bisexual person, as a queer person, a member of the lgbtq community.

bisexuals, to this day, are made to feel like we do not belong by both heterosexual people and our own community (which is why ellen telling alex the b in lgbtq is not a silent letter realllly matters) so sometimes you really do just shut out that part of yourself and choose to see yourself as straight because it's not worth fighting all the biphobia that you face, but it's still a part of you that you are shutting out and repressing, which is what alex was doing with henry the entire time and where his alleged dislike of him comes from in the first place. henry hates how much he loves alex so he's mean to him, alex doesn't understand why henry is mean to him because he wants henry to like him because he ALSO has feelings for him and those things clash.

during the time that henry ghosts him alex has time to evaluate himself, his feelings and his identity. he has the time to say "this is not something that i am going to ignore about myself anymore" and it may not be as magnified as it is for henry because they're in different positions in terms of support systems, it's still powerful.

when he comes out to henry, you can tell he is getting used to thinking of himself as bisexual but you can also tell that he is nervous to say the word, because telling someone you're bi is ALWAYS terrifying because you don't know what they might say to it. on top of that, you can feel that it is important to him to say it, to tell henry who he is now that he understands it.

being bisexual and identifying that way, and that being part of who you are and carrying it in your heart is a different thing than being like "yeah, whatever i'll make out with someone at a party" even if the latter is still a valid way to be queer. and sometimes you just look back and realize that [x] experience was NEVER straight.

and the best part of the movie to me is henry's complete acceptance of this. henry never ever questions alex's attraction to him, he never questions if alex will be able to stay committed to him, if he will leave him for a woman, if he's confused, or any of the things that STILL happen in media with bisexual characters as leads and as a bisexual person that has been one of the most freeing things to watch.

so yes, alex's bisexuality is still very important and handled as such in the film, in my personal bisexual opinion.

#rwrb #alex claremont diaz #firstprince #red white and royal blue #i feel like if liam had been in the movie it would've distracted some ppl from firstprince too ngl #i know how fandoms work lol #and this movie is a love story abt two characters not some love triangle

[dotieeee]

A Small Token of Devotion

Part 3 of A Small Act of Kindness

A DARK three-shot

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x you, afab reader

Warnings: dark!Morpheus, obsessive behaviour, dark!Dream won't take 'no' for an answer, disturbing themes like kidnapping, imprisonment, isolation, psychological torture, non-con/dub-con kissing and touching etc, 18+ only!! Please read: this has DUB-CON with NON-CON elements, read at your own risk :), rough smutty SMUT, probably the filthiest I have ever written,

Inspired by this ask for @roguelov See: https://www.tumblr.com/roguelov/721739134130143232/this-isnt-smut-but-dream-has-strong-miette?source=share

Officially now a three-part series!!! Masterlist here

Part 1: Click here

Part 2: Click here

Summary: You're still being held against your will by the King Of Dreams, who offers you a deal that you find too good to be true, but are too desperate to refuse.

Breakfast was surprisingly peaceful. After the kiss Dream had stolen in that hallway, he had kept his hands to himself and was seemingly content with watching you eat. And, boy, did you pack it in. You were never hungry while he kept you in your prison, but you had missed it so much that you abandoned all inhibition and ate almost everything within your reach. Fuck if he was observing every move you made – the food was unlike anything you've tasted, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Morpheus had escorted you by the hand to the library after, where you were formally introduced to Lucienne, his librarian, who was gracious enough to show you around. He had to leave you in her care while he went away for his duties, and with that, you couldn't be happier – any time away from him was a much-needed respite. Like a madman, you combed through the shelves for your parents' books once Lucienne explained that every dreamer to have existed had one that recorded their dreams. You came up empty-handed, however, so you decided to enlist her help.

"I'm afraid Lord Morpheus has forbidden you access to those books, my lady," she said, eyeing you empathically. "He has not divulged the reason, but it is likely to protect you."

Or likely to sever your connection to the Waking World even further.

You were put out by this, of course. You've been missing your parents terribly since you moved out, even more worried now that they probably realised you'd gone missing for who knows how long. But you weren't about to squander this rare instance of being out of your enclosure by moping. Instead, you found the softest, most comfortable couch in the library and continued reading The Wrongs of a Woman, determined to enjoy this new-found – and possibly short-lived – freedom. You had gone through four chapters, however, but you couldn't seem to concentrate, so you put down the book, thinking it deserved more than a half-hearted reading. You had a plethora of human knowledge at your disposal, and all you could think of was him.

He’d be more than pleased if he’d ever find out.

But Morpheus was away, so if you could learn more about him and his nature, maybe you’d be able to somehow use that to your advantage, eventually. Lucienne was happy to lead you to a rather thin, small leatherbound book that contained knowledge of the Endless, written by a man who was once immortal, which in turn, led you to discover that there were actual immortal humans roaming the earth, and some are friendly with them and the lesser gods. Was Professor Gadling one of them? It wouldn't be too far-fetched, given he had addressed Morpheus by his name and had referred to him as a friend. If you weren't in such distress caused by him, you'd probably be having an existential crisis.

Instead, you had a different crisis at hand, and one in the form of an Endless whose powers you have yet to fully comprehend. You didn't even sit down; right before the bookshelf you plucked the book from, you dug into it at once.

You discovered that there were seven Endless siblings – anthropomorphic personifications – who governed their own realms: Destiny in his garden, Death in her Sunless Lands, Desire in their Threshold and their twin, Despair in her grey Room of Mirrors, and their youngest, Delirium in her realm Formless Chaos. Your interest was piqued further once you got back to the part of Dream of the Endless. While it was rather sparse, the unknown author did his best to jot down the Endless' powers, including crafting dreams, fantasies, and nightmares, and manipulating reality to an extent. The Endless kept endless secrets, it seemed, which was a wonder that the author had that much to write about and put in a book. According to the book, Morpheus went by so many names throughout the passage of time.

"'The Prince of Stories,' huh…" you muttered to yourself. Maybe that was why he appreciated your writing.

"I'm quite flattered you are trying to get to know me, my beloved, but you could've just asked."

The amused voice made you turn on your heels, only to come face to face with the Endless himself looking down on you with a teasing grin merely inches away from you. You did your best to keep your cheeks from heating up at the closeness and stared at a spot on his collar instead.

"Sorry," you muttered. "It's just…it's a nice moniker."

 "Is it?" He dipped his head lower, hovering over your ears, and whispered languidly, "Then, would you allow this prince's mouth to carve stories on your skin?"

To prevent any thoughts of getting away, he placed his hands firmly on the shelf behind you and trapped you between his arms. You stood perfectly still, but you shivered visibly when one of his hands started stroking your spine and the laced ribbon at the back of your dress. Those lips then ghosted over your neck.

"We have been apart for not more than half a day and I already miss you," he whispered in the most dulcet of tones against your skin, leaving goosebumps all over your arm. "Surely you know how you have bewitched me, and I am nothing short of spellbound…"

Then he growled just as those lips touched your skin. You haven't done anything wrong!

"Forgive me, my beloved, I am being called somewhere else." He said as he pulled away. You could tell by his furrowed brows and curled lip that he was annoyed at the interruption. "You are to stay here in the library until I come and fetch you. I need not warn you: any attempt to escape is futile and will be dealt with harshly."

You managed to let out the breath you were holding in when he disappeared with his sand. You could see from the windows that the sky had darkened, immediately followed by a resounding clap of thunder. Despite his threat, you were extremely grateful to anyone and anything that called him at that very moment, even if that meant they would be facing an irate King in the process. Besides, where else did he think you'd escape to?

***

Dream had been fuming when he arrived at the disturbance. His foul mood had inadvertently summoned a thunderstorm that flooded the basements of half the townsfolk in the process, which exacerbated the issue he had been called for: a farmer had poured an entire vat of untested growth potion on a pumpkin patch, which grew at an alarming rate the moment the brew hit the soil. The heavy rains that the thunderstorm had brought made the plant even happier, which in turn started to produce elephant-sized pumpkins within seconds. Dream had to reel in his emotions to prevent these giant pumpkins from taking over fourteen acres of land, which took a great amount of his time. By the time the situation had been under control, Dream was soaking wet, positively irked, and achingly longing to be back with you. The farmer and the owner of the apothecary who had sold the potion had to endure quite an earful from him, and they deserved every venomous word of it, for taking his time away from you.

It was dark when Morpheus reappeared at the library. Had you gone off to sleep without him? The thought made his heart sink; he had not meant to threaten you just before he left, although he admittedly would punish you if you dared wander off with the intention of running away from him – he could not have that, of course. He scoured the library shelves for you, already fearing the worst, but just as his anger started resurfacing, he found a sight that immediately calmed his inner turmoil:

There you were, on a couch just beside the spot where he had left you earlier, fast asleep with a book spread on your chest.

You had waited for him.

Slowly he made his approach, careful not to rouse you, and softly kissed your forehead. He took the book from your grasp, surprised that it was the same book he had caught you reading. You were reading about him, and that elated him to no end, even if it was a little dampened at the fact that he found the book opened on the page about his golden-eyed, meddlesome little sibling. He tossed the book to the table, then proceeded to carry you like his bride (and he knows you will be, very soon) to his bedroom, and laid you on the soft silken sheets that covered his bed. You had not stirred the entire time, perhaps savouring the only soft surface you had laid on since your stay in his realm. He decided he liked the look of you laying on your side, curled up on his bed very much.

You needed to accept him soon so he could have you on it anytime he pleased.

On impulse, Morpheus went inside your head and combed through every single memory you had. He was only getting to know you further, just like what you did reading the book that contained knowledge of him. You were eventually going to be his wife, and what kind of husband would he be if he did not make an effort to familiarise himself with his future bride's innermost thoughts and desires?

Satisfied with what he witnessed, Dream sighed in relief as he gently laid down beside you. He was tired – of course, he needed to rest, and it was his bed. He craved warmth, too, and your body just happened to be a great source of it, so he drew closer to you, his chest touching your back, and snaked an arm from behind you, wrapping it around your sleeping form. He dared not close his eyes, for he feared you would tear away from him as soon as he did. There, he laid still, perfectly content, for hours.

There was nowhere else he would rather be.

***

The first thing you became aware of when you came to wasn't the softness of the bed you were laying on, but an unyielding arm around your waist and a firm body pressed snugly against your back, purring happily like a large cat.

He seemed to notice that you'd woken up too, for he started dragging his nose from your head to your hair and inhaling your scent deeply. Recognizing how precarious your situation was, you tried to even your breathing out and pretend you were still sleeping, silently praying to anyone who would listen that he buys the act and loses interest.

Then that damn hand moved slowly downwards, then started hiking up your dress all the way to your thighs.

No such luck.

Still, you had to try. You held up pretty well, even as he turned you on your back and proceeded to straddle your hips. You tried your best not to twitch while he gripped your chin to turn your head to the side and a hot tongue licked your cheek. You squirmed slightly just as his mouth found your pulse point and sucked your skin heavily. You whimpered a little while he dragged his hands all over your still-clothed body and you felt him shift slightly.

But you drew a line when you felt him part your legs and settle between them.

You opened your eyes with a startled yelp and flailed your arms wildly, hitting his chest, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, deep chuckling as he did so.

"I see you have decided to forgo the act, my little saviour. As impressive as it was, I could hear and feel your heartbeat. You could never fool me."

You look up to those intense, dark blue eyes and those lips, curled upward in a malicious grin. True enough, your heart was racing and your breathing had quickened, but you tried your hardest to wrench your hands from his grip. It didn't work.

"Please, g-get o-off me…" you started begging.

But Dream merely hummed as his body inched closer to yours. Your terror only amplified when you felt something hard brush over the mound between your legs. You were still clothed, thank goodness, but your dress had been dragged so far up your legs you could feel the cold air on your inner thighs. Egged on by how you reacted, his hips pushed further against you, and you watched his eyes shift into black for a split second before they became blue again.

Of course, the bastard was enjoying this.

As deeply disturbed as you were, you felt a hot wetness gush between your legs, and you started to ache the slightest. And judging by his widened smirk, he knew.

"Do you find me unattractive?" He asked.

"What?" You were a bit surprised by how casual his tone was. "No, of course, you're…aesthetically pleasing… "

"Then why do you refuse me so?"

"I just don't want to, okay?" You burst out. "I don't have to justify my choice, least of all to you. Now, please!"

Halting his movement altogether, he donned a look of contemplation. "Have you laid with anyone?"

A blush started creeping up your cheeks at his question, so you pointedly avoided his stare. "Why the hell would I tell you that?!"

He tutted and said, "My little saviour, this is an open conversation that lovers usually partake in prior to being intimate." He firmly gripped your chin to turn your head and force you to look at him, his expression now serious.

"Now I ask again: has anyone laid claim on you?"

You gave a small nod, next thing you knew was a firm hand around your throat, squeezing it just enough to make you start gasping for air.

"You lie." Dream's eyes were blazing and his teeth were bared in a furious snarl.

He was right – you had lied on impulse. To your defence, you did it only in the hopes of him being disgusted that you weren't as pure as he thought. The truth was, while you had the occasional fling here and there, none of them ever progressed to anything sexual. And he knew, for some reason. You couldn't get his hand off your throat, for he still had yours pinned above your head.

"Morpheus, please…" you choked.

He said through gritted teeth, "Lie to me again and I will personally torment every single one of your past flames with nightmares until their death."

Tears started to stream through your eyes, and it was getting more difficult to say a single word as you struggled to breathe.

"Please…I-I'm s-sorry…" you managed to let out.

You gulped greedily for air as soon as he eased the pressure, but his hand remained around your neck, and it was evident that he was still unappeased. You didn't give a damn, however; you were now crying in earnest and genuinely frightened of him even more so than the nightmare you'd seen him transform into.

"I know everything about you. I combed through every thought, every repressed memory, every dream and every nightmare."

Then, what was the point of asking, you thought. You could've said it aloud too, but you were far too scared out of your wits to even stop your tears from flowing freely.

He must've acknowledged your distress, for he slowly released your throat and gently wiped your cheek with his finger.

"I am already aware of your purity. I merely asked because I trusted you enough to tell me the truth, as lovers should," he said softly as he continued stroking your cheek, perhaps to ease your discomfort.

"Fuck you, we're not lovers," you summoned the courage to whisper as your sobs died down. Fear was overtaken by irrational anger – you were fed up with his bullshit. You looked him in the eye with all the disdain you could muster as you whispered, "You think I could love you when you keep torturing me just so you could have your way? I will never accept you."

And honestly, you didn't know what scared you more: the nightmarish being with madness contorted in its features, or the stoic, oddly-calm Nightmare King pinning you down with eyes you could no longer read.

"Still as obstinate as ever, I see."

In a swift move, he removed himself from you and vanished. Before you could relish the freedom, you sat up when you felt grains of sand cloud your vision, and your entire surroundings faded to black. Within seconds, there was nothing more you could see, and everything was enveloped in darkness, including the bed you were on.

You simply floated in the vast nothingness.

"Allow me to remind you, my little saviour: I am the King of Dreams, and you are my prisoner." Your captor's voice echoed all around you, sending waves of panic through every cell in your body. Even the darkness paled in comparison to the fear his voice instilled.

"I have been patient, yet you insist on defying me. Perhaps, a reminder is due. It is time I showed you torture."

Then began the fall.

You fell into the endless darkness, unable to scream nor break the descent. You fell at an increasingly faster pace into nothing, weightless, your heart racing and your skin being blasted by the cold. Just when you thought you were going to pass out, you land safely, feet-first, like the fall never happened, and in a place that looked so achingly familiar.

You were in your parents' kitchen.

You have not been in this kitchen in a long time, but it looked as similar as the day you left. It was a bittersweet farewell, that day, you, your mom and dad celebrating your new job and telling each other you'd call and visit whenever you can. On the fridge door, you recognized the drawings being held in place by those little vegetable magnets – you made them when you were little, and since then, they have refused to remove them. They've always been proud of you, they said, as you packed your bags to head for your apartment and live your own life the way you wanted it. You didn't know until then just how much you needed to hear it from them.

A pained sob interrupted your reminiscing. It came from the dining room, so you made your way inside, your footsteps not making a single sound on the hardwood floor.

"Mom? Dad?" You called out.

Your mom sat on the end of the dining table, hunched over and visibly shaking, as your dad sat opposite her and quietly held both her hands. Behind the both of them, hung on the wall, was this large abstract painting you didn't care much about as a child but have grown to like as a teen. It didn't escape your notice that the table was strewn over with papers. You picked one up against your better judgement.

It was a photo of you taken the night you took them out to dinner with your first paycheck. Right on top of your picture were the words, printed in large, bold letters:

'MISSING.'

You put it back down at once, not bothering to read the rest. You were back! Did they not hear you?

Your mom let out a wail that would break anyone's heart. Your dad stood to hold her in his arms. He too, had tears streaming down his face, trying to comfort his wife as he nursed his own grief.

"I-I just w-want my b-baby back," your mom cried out in between sobs as she held onto your dad as if her life depended on it. "My po-oor baby, my sweet little girl, I want her back, Harold. Please, God, bring her back to me…"

"I'm here, I'm back!" You said, louder this time. Perhaps they didn't hear you.

She buried her face in your dad's shirt, and he kissed the top of her head. It did nothing to soothe her.

"We will, Martha, I promise," your dad said softly. "If we have to sell the house to continue finding her, we will. I'll sell everything we have, we'll sleep in the car, it doesn't matter."

Your mom nodded her head and gulped before she replied "I just miss her so much…"

"I do, too, honey. Every damn day.”

“This is my fault. This is all my fault, I let her leave,” your mom rambled on. “I could’ve stopped her, but I didn’t. I failed her –” 

“No, you didn’t. If anything, it was my fault. But we will find her, and then we'll apologise, yes?" Your dad cupped our mom's cheeks and brought his forehead to hers. "We'll tell her every minute of every day just how much we miss her, and we'll never let her feel alone or unloved until our last breath, you hear me?"

Your mom managed a nod before she broke once more into agonised tears.

"But, I'm here!" You had tears streaming from your eyes as you screamed. They were falling apart without you, but you were back. You came back!

"I'm right fucking here!" You took a step forward so you could give them both a hug and assure them that you'll never leave their side again, but something in the painting behind them moved, making you halt your steps.

It was a pair of ocean-blue eyes that blinked, now staring into your soul, spanning the width of the entire painting – the last thing you see before the hardwood floor gave out beneath your feet and fell, once more, into the abyss.

You woke up with a start, sitting up almost at once, as you tried to calm your heart's incessant beating and relive the cause: it was a nightmare – one of many – of grief you couldn't understand, followed by an irrational fear of a pair of beautiful, ocean-blue eyes, before you were thrown into a pit of darkness with nothing to break your fall.

It was quite humorous in hindsight, given that you've lived many millennia in the most terrifying place in Creation, and one too, that countless souls dread ending up in the most. 

The crackling of Hellfire in your cramped enclosure proved almost comforting, even if it was always so close to licking your skin. It provided almost ample protection against the bitter cold that seemed to seep into your bones, but you have learned to live with the stark contrast both provided. Better than being thrown directly onto the mass of hideous, mangled writhing demons at the pit of Morningstar's court. The cold, you could live with; the torture and the screaming, maybe not so much.

You stood from the jagged surface of the cave just as you felt the air around you shift. It hadn't been caused by that dreadful demon that had just passed your door, but by a powerful presence you had not felt in aeons, and which you’d never thought you’d ever feel again.

True enough, it was him: he walked right before your enclosure adorned with those large, thorny branches trapping you in and sealing your fate:

“Kai’ckul?”

You couldn’t believe your eyes, even after he stopped in his tracks the moment you called for him out loud. You were breathing heavily, now, as you walked up to your barred entrance to get a better look at him.

“Dream Lord?” You called again.

You could not help the gasp you let out the moment he acknowledged your call and faced you. He had the same brown eyes that conveyed a thousand emotions in a single flash, those thick locks you had once caressed with your fingertips, those soft, full lips you had once kissed with all the passion your mortal heart could muster…

“It is you…” you said with awe in your voice. He was just as beautiful as the day he sent you to your eternal damnation.

“I greet you, Nada.” He responded softly with that velvety voice that had once whispered such amorous words in ears the night you both gave in to your earthly desires. Yet, today, it was sombre – melancholic, even. What could have brought him here after so long? Perhaps, you dared hope, he’d come to say he had changed his mind? Has he come to finally release you from your endless torment, like you have dreamed he would for countless cold nights in your prison cell?

“Kai’ckul,” you said, your voice and the tears that brimmed your eyes betraying that little bit of joy that blossomed from seeing him again. Your beautiful king. “How I have prayed for this day. I knew you would come.”

With a doleful expression, he stated, “It pains me to see you like this.”

Does it? “Then, free me, Lord.” Your tears finally fell down your cheeks. All those words you had imagined yourself saying to him, some of them hurtful, some of them outright offensive — all of them erased by the weariness of carrying out his righteous punishment. “Only your forgiveness can free me.”

But he had no response, only a tightening of those lips, his eyes growing more guarded and unyielding.

“Do you not still love me?” You asked. Perhaps if he still did, he would be merciful?

"It has been ten thousand years, Nada."

Yes, it has been. An awfully, excruciatingly long time and a reminder wasn't needed.

"Yes, I still love you."

Hope blossomed in your heart at his words, but it was just as soon dampened by his next.

"But I have not yet forgiven you."

You looked away just as more tears started to flow. Even after those years, his heart was as cold and unrelenting as ever. Yours, however, remained steadfast, despite the continuous onslaught of coldness and hostility he and this place had for you, there was something else that helped keep your sanity and dignity intact.

He began to walk away and commanded his raven to follow. Your grip on your prison bars tightened as you called after him.

"Kai'ckul, I will not give up hope."

But he had gone too far away for you to hear his footfalls.

"I will never give up!" But was that meant for him or for you?

Your voice broke at your statement, and so do the sobs. You sank into the chilly, uneven surface of your enclosure and hugged yourself, seeking some sort of comfort. Your heart refused to be crushed. Ten more millennia could pass, and you'd still have hope that one day, you will walk on soft, warm grass and breathe fresh, sulphur-free air, and you'd travel hand in hand with Death to ferry you to your peace. You'd forgive him wholeheartedly, should he seek it from you. You loved him.

So, how come the moment you closed your eyes to rest, only one foreign thought crossed your mind and reverberated in your heart?

You don't love him and you never will.

***

Dream never tore his onyx eyes away from you when the nightmares began.

He was admittedly livid. You had dared lie to him in the face and once again refused his advances; on top of that, you had dared insinuate that he had hurt you? He would not have it. He could never hurt you, much less torture you – but he also was not above showing you what could happen to you should you go on defying him like so.

He had not meant to show you Nada's predicament, truth be told. It was a last-minute decision, but he had not in his entire Endless life encountered such blatant, insulting refusal. The venomous words you had uttered to him on his bed would have garnered a far more agonising punishment than he had given his former lover, if it had not been for the fact that it was your kindness that had once helped save him from an aimless existence. Your words felt like a slap to his face, sure, but he knew you did not deserve such a cruel sentence.

By the end of the nightmare, you had been writhing on his bed, as if in pain, and crying profusely. You were muttering in your slumber, calling out for your parents in despair. He gradually allowed the effects of the nightmare to wane to let you breathe and he knew you were drifting in and out of sleep, even though you had not realised. 

"I'm sorry, Mom and Dad," he heard you whisper, half-awake, clutching the sheets beneath you and weeping softly. "I couldn't be a better daughter. I miss you guys so much. I wish I hadn't moved out so soon…if I stayed, I would still be with you and I wouldn't be here…"

Then you proceeded to toss to your side and curl into a foetal position, hugging your knees in want of comfort.

Dream's heart ached at the sight. How could it not? Despite your continued rejection of him, he truly loved you enough for him to feel your pain on a physical level. Deciding to put an end to your suffering, he approached your trembling body and planted a kiss on your head, and took away with him the effects of the potent nightmare he had given you. He had had enough, and the way your sobbing ceased and your breathing evened out gave him some sort of relief. He then replaced the nightmares with fond memories of your parents and even crafted a dream where you were once more back to your old job, writing what you pleased.

As he sat on the edge of the mattress and stroked your hair, his thoughts drifted to your parents. Although they had raised you the best they could, he could not help but criticise the way they initially pressured you into excellence the moment you showed potential. Not that he was a perfect parent, himself; his own son perished and he had a hand in it somehow. Loathe as he was to admit, your mother and father loved you with all their hearts and had been severely affected by your disappearance. He knew about their tireless efforts of trying to locate you, as futile as it may be. If you had been amenable to a proper courtship and accepted his initial offer, he would've introduced himself to them and formally asked them for your hand, but he brushed that thought aside. There was no point dwelling on what could have been.

You needed rest from the lingering effects of the nightmares. He had no regrets showing you that dream of your parents, even if he hated your reaction to it. Content with the punishment he gave you, he went off to work.

He had a proposal to plan, and a wayward sibling to visit.

***

You were still shaking slightly as you climbed the stairs leading to a balcony far up the castle, just like the note you had found on the nightstand instructed when you woke. It was an after-effect of the nightmares you had last night, you suspected. Your attendant, who was leading you to the designated meeting place, had even taken pity on you and allowed you to wear flats instead of the heels that the dress you were supposed to wear came with. Your legs almost gave way as soon as you arrived and saw him.

Your jailer and tormentor.

Dream of the Endless sat on a round table filled with an assortment of breakfast pastries in a basket, leaning comfortably on his straight-backed wrought-iron chair. His gaze was far away into the view the balcony provided, but his eyes shifted as soon as your attendant announced your arrival.

You couldn't even make eye contact with him as you sat on the only remaining chair, and you could feel those intense blues bore right into your soul. A memory of them blinking on an abstract painting made you shudder inwardly.

"Eat, my beloved," he commanded. "We are to discuss an important matter when you finish."

Your attendant poured coffee into your cup and promptly placed herself inconspicuously on the corner, likely anticipating the needs of her king. Wordlessly, you picked up your cutlery and began to eat, even if you had absolutely no appetite. You picked a danish, purposefully avoiding the baguette on the basket and even giving it a glare like it was its fault you landed in this predicament. Instead tried to enjoy the coffee, which admittedly, was a thousand times better than any coffee you had ever tasted in the Waking. He watched you the entire time, his kingly posture only shifting once you put down your knife and fork and pushed your plate away. 

On cue, the attendant took the plates and the bread basket away, leaving your cup of coffee, and disappeared for good. You waited with bated breath for whatever he had to say.

"Next time you wish to cry 'torture,' remember that I have been nothing but gracious and merciful despite your continued defiance."

Ah, so he was still bitter about what you said last night.

"Nada." You blurted out, totally unprompted. Morpheus narrowed his eyes a little at the mention of the name.

"What about her?"

You squirmed in your seat at his biting tone. But he was the one who showed you the dream – you had the right to know.

"What did you do to her?"

"What I refuse to do with you: sentence you to Hell for defying me."

Curt as his response was, it chilled you to the bone. He sent a woman to that horrible place just because she rejected him? 

"And my parents?" Your voice almost broke at the question, as memories of them grieving over your disappearance flooded your mind. "Why would you show me all of that?"

"I take it you miss your parents."

"Was that dream real?" You asked, your voice solemn. "Did it…did it really happen?"

"Yes."

They were losing the house just so they could keep searching for you. The thought of them homeless, sleeping on the streets in the bitter cold, made tears gather at the corner of your eyes and spill. You couldn't control them any longer, because you knew, no matter what they did, they would never find you.

"Their determination to find their beloved daughter is admirable. It is such a pity their search is futile,"  he said, mirroring your thoughts.

Amidst your tears, you shot him a reproachful look at the way he rubbed your mother and father's predicament on your face. You quietly wiped them away with your knuckles as you watched a ghost of a grin appear on his lips.

Jackass.

"Which is why I have decided to release you back into the Waking World."

His words made you stare at him in disbelief. It couldn’t be, perhaps you misheard him.

“I will allow your return to the Waking, to your parents, and to your old life,” he repeated, perhaps for your sake.

You blinked at him, twice, to make sure you weren't hearing things. He made no move to correct his words, but knowing him, anything he offered you came at a price that could very well cost you your soul.

"Why would you do that?" You asked slowly.

His smile grew to a smirk – this was an offer you already knew you wouldn't like. He straightened his posture and spoke with all the authority a king such as him could possess.

"Because you will marry me," he said with conviction. "You and I will be wed and you will wear a ring to symbolise your devotion to me as my wife and my queen. If you submit to me fully – heart, body and soul – on the night of our wedding, I will arrange a new life for you: one where you live your old life in the Waking World during the day, and come home to me and fulfil your duties to me as my wife, and to my Kingdom as its queen, during the night."

Surely your brain has short-circuited – you gaped at him openly in your shock. He seemed to grow amused with your expression by the glint in his eyes, but you could also tell he was dead serious.

"Something I said, little saviour?"

You opened your mouth to speak, thinking you could easily say 'Yes, go fuck yourself, thank you very much,' but instead, you ended up with, "You're letting me go, seriously?"

He nodded once and firmly responded, "If you become my wife in every sense of the word, yes."

Realising you still had a bit of coffee in your cup, you downed the tepid liquid all in one gulp. You couldn't help but wonder if it was proper to ask for something a little stronger.

 "But, how would that work?" You then asked, choosing your words carefully. "I'd be married to you, but then you'll let me go? I find that too good to be true."

"You will simply divide your time between my realm and the Waking."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe what you will, my beloved," he said, his tone growing more amused with your increasingly suspicious expression. "But I assure you, it will not be any different compared to merely sleeping and waking."

You leaned back against your chair to stare at the blue sky and contemplate. He clearly has put a lot of thought into his offer, but there were other factors that needed to be addressed.

"I can't be a queen. I don't know anything about being one! I'm just a human, I have no royal blood, I have no training –"

He interrupted your rambling with an impatient flick of his hand. "Your stature matters not to me. You already possess the heart of a queen in my eyes. There is no one else I find more worthy."

He meant it as a compliment, but even that didn't ease your worries. "What would I tell them when I get back? I can't just go missing and then reappear as if nothing happened…"

You imagined there would be so many questions from so many people; where you've gone, why you left, how you got back – all of them posed challenging to formulate believable responses to.

Morpheus raised an eyebrow at you. "You have read the book, have you not? I can manipulate reality to an extent. I can make it so as if you never left the Waking. Your disappearance will seem but a nightmare to them, and one that they shall forget in time, as they do most dreams."

"And that is if…I willingly marry you."

Once more, he nodded. "I will, however, require nothing but complete surrender." This time, he leaned forward and placed his clasped hands on the table, continuing, "And, know this, my beloved: if there is but a small amount of unwillingness in your heart, I would know, and everything I offered will be forfeited. As such, you shall stay in my realm forever and will never be allowed to set foot in the Waking."

This made you raise your eyebrow back at him. He's really not leaving anything to chance. "What if I decline your offer?"

Surprisingly, he was rather nonchalant about it. He tilted his head slightly and said, "It is of no consequence to me, but you leave your world wanting of your presence. I, in turn, shall simply continue our…unconventional courtship."

You had no response to that. Everything he has so far offered you has been to his advantage, leaving you very much the disadvantaged party. Damned if you said yes, damned anyway if you didn't. You stared blankly at nothing, chewing the insides of your cheek in indecision. He must've taken pity on you, for he decided to break the silence.

"You need time to consider my proposal, I understand. I will leave you to it. I have duties to attend to for the day. In the meantime, you are free to roam the palace grounds. You need only seek me should you come to a decision."

He stood from his chair, straightening his coat, and approached your side. He bent down so he could whisper somberly close to your ear.

"Mind this, my beloved: the longer you tarry, the longer your parents suffer your absence."

You were about to come up with something to retort, but instead, you caught a mouthful of sand. He had disappeared, off to fuck-knows-where, and left you alone to make an important decision. Once you coughed out the last of the sand, you rubbed your face with your hand and groaned in frustration.

Returning to your parents, and to your old life, in exchange for marriage to none other than your captor. You’d be forever bound to him as his wife, and while you’d continue living the charade that would be your life back in the waking, you’d come to him by nightfall and he’d do with you as he pleased. And even if you refused his offer, he’d also likely do with you as he pleased. Every day, you’d pretend as if all was well in your world while being slapped repeatedly with a reality involving a husband that just might send you to the fiery pits on a mere whim.

If you refused, your mother and father would continue their fruitless search, ruining their lives and breaking their hearts forever in the process. They’d blame themselves for your disappearance until the end, unaware of your fate that this cosmic being has selfishly tied with his.

You fought the urge to vomit what little breakfast you ate with one thing on your mind: did he ever really give you a choice?

***

It was sundown in the Dreaming when you arrived before the massive doors of Dream’s throne room.

You’d been sauntering about aimlessly in his castle, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, until you reached these doors. On a regular day, your parents would be having tea at this time, your dad probably reading the paper for the fifth time, and your mom probably playing a jewel-matching game on her phone. Idle, comfortable, safe. You hoped they’d still be doing the same, but that would be wishful thinking.

That was precisely why you had made up your mind.

The doors opened without your prompting, which you took as a sign to step forward, heading straight to that tall, all-black-clad king standing at the foot of the stairs leading to his throne.

He had been waiting for you.

His eyes were burning in anticipation as soon as you got close enough to see. And those same eyes glowed with the stars it held, utterly victorious as you said ‘yes.’

Better you suffered forever than your own mother and father.

“What happens now?” you asked solemnly, trying not to feel thoroughly defeated. Morpheus approached you with an air of perverse delight as his eyes twinkled.

“I believe we are to be wed.”

Your heart began to beat faster at the realisation. “What, like, now?”

“Yes, my beloved,” he dipped his head closer to yours as he breathed, his eyes half-lidded and focused only on you. “At this very moment, we can be wed, right here. We need only utter our vows to each other, as husband and wife, and a witness, to make it official.”

Trying not to panic and failing hard, you stammered, “W-wait, I thought there were preparations, like an officiator – “

“We have no need for an officiator,” he interrupted. “I answer to no authority but my own. Matthew,” he called the name louder, and the sound of flapping wings echoed in the throne room, followed by a raven landing on the floor before the both of you.

“You called, sir?”

You blinked twice to make sure that you hadn't gone mad. Did Matthew the Raven just speak?

“Call for Lucienne,” he told Matthew, like a talking raven was the most normal thing in the world. Maybe it was; you were in the Dreaming, after all, where anything is possible, including marriage to a cosmic being that ripped you from a life that you belatedly realised you actually liked. “Tell her it is for an urgent matter.”

"I know you," you addressed the raven, whose attention immediately was on you. "You pecked at my gla – "

"My beloved, this is Matthew, my raven," Dream cut you off again, this time, with just a little hint of impatience in his voice. Dream curtly introduced you to the raven, who promptly ruffled his feathers and dipped his head at you in a polite bow. "Formal introductions can be made later. Go, Matthew."

"On my way, boss. Nice to meet you, my lady, and congratulations!" Matthew once again bowed at the both of you, and you watched him as he took flight and disappeared.

A cold hand laced around yours, and you turned to see him bring it close to his lips to kiss your knuckles, all while staring intensely into your eyes. Like ice-cold water being splashed right in your face, it hit you: this cold, cruel, hungry eldritch nightmare was going to be your husband pretty soon.

Maybe you could run fast, and maybe when you do you'd run into a portal that'll take you back to your world and he won't be able to catch you…

But the pained faces of your parents stopped you from taking your hand away and heading for the hills.

The doors swung open, revealing Lucienne, who strode to her king with a worried look on her face. She sent a curious look at your still-linked hands before addressing her king.

"My lord, is something the matter?"

"Nothing so worrying, Lucienne," he replied in a lilting tone. "I called to ask you this: will you, and in addition, Matthew, grant us this honour of bearing witness to our vows of marriage?"

Lucienne's expression changed from worry to surprise, adjusting her glasses as she clarified, "Sir? You're getting married? Right now? I mean, congratulations are in order, and to you, and my lady," she dipped her head in a small bow at you, which you returned with a shy grimace. "But may I ask why you would settle for such a humble ceremony? Shouldn't there be a feast, a gathering of representatives from all the other realms?"

Morpheus made a point of using your hand to pull you closer to his side with a grin. "Make no mistake, Lucienne: I will not deny my kingdom, and all the realms in the universe, the honour of celebrating the new and rightful queen of the Dreaming, but the festivities are of lesser priority. Now, I have a beautiful bride before me." He turned to face you, lightly caressing your cheek with his fingers as he continued, "I loathe to keep her waiting."

Perhaps touched at his loving declaration, Lucienne placed her palm on her chest and smiled fondly at the display. "Of course, my lord. It would be the greatest honour."

"Yeah, boss, go get her!" Matthew cheered from the top of the arches in the ceiling.

Oh, he's almost got you, alright.

"Very well. We shall begin." He declared with finality. His eyes glowed silver for a split-second, just as you felt the clothes on your body shift: you peeked down to see that he had dressed you in a sleeveless, all-white satin gown hugging your every curve, tied at either shoulder with only a satin ribbon. By the way scanned your figure and nodded to himself appreciatively, you could tell he liked how it looked on you. Maybe he fancied how pure you looked in it.

When he's done with you, would you still be?

Morpheus clasped both your hands in his, his eyes solely on yours, as he kissed your left hand and whispered your name against it.

"Will you take me, Dream of the Endless, as your eternal husband? Do you pledge your trust, your devotion, your heart, and your soul to me?"

Do it for Mom and Dad, you repeated in your head over and over.

"I do," you responded faintly.

The throne room is dead silent, as both your witnesses seemed to be holding their breaths just as you were, but the eyes of your almost-husband screamed triumphantly as he released your hands and waved a finger. A silver ring, adorned with a ruby, appeared floating in your midst, which he then plucked from mid-air.

"Then you shall take this ring," he went on, as placed the ring on your finger. The jewel's blood-red colour faded to white the moment it touched your skin. "A symbol of my endless vow: that to you, I offer protection, loyalty, and love, until I am Endless no more. From this day forth, I claim you as my wife, and we are bound together until the end of days."

The ring now rested ominously on your finger, without a trace of red, and was the heaviest piece of jewellery you had ever worn. It felt as if it was burning your skin, even though it gave off no heat. It made you want to scream and tear your hair out.

Your husband's eyes now bore on yours with a dark, jubilant look, just as sinister as the ring he just used to bind you to him for eternity. An impatient-sounding squawk from above alerted you both to your witnesses' presence. Morpheus smirked in amusement despite the interruption.

"Matthew, would you care to do the honours?"

"Hell yeah!" Came his raven's response. "You may now kiss the bride, boss!"

As soon as the words were said, he cupped your cheeks and placed his lips on yours. It was soft, short, even loving, by normal human wedding standards, and then he let go, and proclaimed to the entire realm:

"We are now officially husband and wife, my precious little saviour."

He brought his forehead to yours, ignoring the way your lip trembled at his statement.

"I have been wanting this for so long."

The sound of clapping, wings flapping and cheering echoed in the throne room, just as his sand wrapped around your figure and took you somewhere hauntingly familiar. The sight of that massive bed in the dark, covered in silk midnight sheets, was enough to send your heartbeat soaring through the roof.

There was only one reason he could've brought you here.

You let out a startled gasp as a pair of cold hands fell on your shoulders. You turned around and backed as far away from the bed as you could, to find Morpheus standing where you were seconds ago, clad in a different, shorter robe with a tie around his waist. He seemed to have nothing else underneath.

"Have I startled you, my beloved wife?" He asked softly, his eyes shining in the dark and his silhouette glowing in the moonlight from the open balcony. He held out a pale hand and said, "Come to your husband."

Aside from bunching the fabric of your dress near your thighs, you made no move whatsoever.

"Come to me this instant."

His low, commanding tone sent warning signals, darkening the atmosphere of the room even further. You took a few tentative steps to where he was, stopping only when he was at arm's length. He, however, closed the distance, dipped his head to yours, and whispered, "Kiss me."

Using a finger, he traced your jawline slowly, down to your neck, lingering at your shoulder where the ribbon of your dress was. His touch immediately gave you goosebumps.

"Please," you whispered shakily. You wanted to beg for him to stop, but his lips were on yours even before you could formulate the words.

The kisses you previously shared with him paled in comparison. This was different: it was as if he longed to suck the soul out of you. His tongue chased yours, and he nipped at your lower lip when you refused to respond. His hands were on your waist and the back of your neck, preventing you from pulling away. You couldn't make a sound except the whimpering from the back of your throat, yet he drowned it all out by syphoning the air out of you. With a final peck on your swollen lips, he pulled away. As he did, you got a full glimpse of his eyes: half-lidded, dark, wanting; it terrified you to no end. Then he threw you off with his next order:

"Disrobe me."

You took ragged breaths as your hands crept up to the knot around his waist, but you were shaking so much you couldn't do anything to it. He held your hands steady and guided you, and the knot came off in no time. He then brought them to his chest, where the robe was slipping – that, too, came off, and there he was, your husband, totally bared before you. Heat spread on your cheeks as you stared pointedly at that sculpted chest, refusing to look anywhere else.

Morpheus hummed lowly as he brought his lips to your ear.

"Have you ever worshipped an all-powerful being? Let me show you how. On your knees for me, my love." He gripped your shoulders and pushed down lightly to encourage you. Your stomach churned as soon as you realised what he wanted you to do.

"Morpheus, please…" you begged as you tried to get those hands off you, but he wasn't having it.

"I command you to kneel before your king and husband," he growled.

You could feel the tears surfacing as you did what you were told, so you closed your eyes so they wouldn't. You were, after all, doing this for the people you loved. You'd be free after this night is over.

"Eyes on me, my wife."

So you opened them to find yourself face to face with a huge, fully erect cock – his hand cupped your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as if he was trying to soothe you.

It did nothing of the sort.

So you pleaded with him again.

"Please, Dream…I can't do this, please," was all your shaky voice could muster. But you found no pity in his eyes; just overwhelming desire.

"Yes, you can. Open your mouth, love."

 The thumb that caressed your cheek made its way inside your mouth.

"You want your life back, yes?" He asked, as his thumb drew circles on your tongue. You nodded in response.

"Good." He smirked. "You will have to work for it. Now, I want my pretty wife's pretty little mouth wrapped around me."

So for the sake of your freedom, you swallowed that lump in your throat and allowed him to push his hard cock inside your mouth.

He tasted faintly sweet, faintly salty and musky. Above you, he groaned in satisfaction at the contact and bucked his hips to push his cock further. You closed your eyes, involuntary tears streaming down your face, as he reached your throat; he was too much, his size was more than what you could handle, and he wasn't even fully in.

A hand bunched your hair and tugged lightly.

"I said, eyes on me, wife," he commanded, his voice straining slightly in pleasure. "I want your full attention as I take your mouth."

So you looked up into those dark, lustful eyes, placed your hands on his thighs, and began to suck him off.

It was a slow pace at first, given you hadn't done anything like this before, but as you swirled your tongue around his thickness and felt it throb inside your mouth, something in you bubbled, making you rub your thighs together. He seemed to notice this, for his parted lips curled in a mischievous smile, and began to thrust forward as you bobbed your head downward to take him in.

"You're doing so well, my love…" he praised as you continued to suck and lick him.

Disgust filled you, but there was something else, too.

He was panting as he quicked his movements, and while he kept your head in place with both hands so he could take control of the pace, your eyes watered at his size and length. But, just as his cock throbbed more intensely and you felt him thicken inside your mouth, he pulled it out with a heavy groan, a trail of your saliva still connecting your tongue and its tip. He was probably close, too – not that you cared; you were thankful you didn't have to do it anymore.

Your husband helped you get to your feet, and he wiped the drool that coated your chin and the corners of your mouth. Just as you thought it was over, dread filled your heart once more as he whispered:

"Your mouth was a delight, my wife, but I would like my undoing to be inside you. Now, undress for me."

"Please, Morpheus, we don't have to do this," you tried to appeal. Of course, it was in vain.

"Our marriage isn't binding without proper consummation," he said, anger and impatience laced in his tone. "I will not ask again."

You could do nothing but choke back a sob as you hastily undid a ribbon on your dress, but his hand halted your fumbling. He looked down at you with a disapproving expression.

"Slowly, my love. I want to savour this."

So, like the obedient wife he wanted you to be, you pulled the ribbon inch by inch and undid the other side just as gradually. As soon as the ribbons unravelled, the satin dress pooled at your feet, taking away whatever protection you had left from his greedy eyes. You could hear the rumble from the back of Dream's throat as he hovered over your naked form. You were shivering from the cold Dreaming air coming from the open balcony, and from the way his eyes swept your body. Nobody has ever seen you so vulnerable.

A sob escaped from your lips, but it was completely ignored.

Pale fingers traced your body – he began on your collarbones, and made his way to your breasts, his thumb circling your nipples which pebbled at his touch. He then started stroking your waist while you continued to let your tears flow silently, before gripping your body and pulling it flush to his. You winced as you felt his erection press against your belly.

"Your beauty is staggering, my beloved," he praised.

The next thing you knew was your back hitting the soft sheets and him climbing above you.

You were in hysterics the moment you realised what was happening – you clawed at the chest that descended on your body and cried out in your despair, but strong hands grabbed your wrists and pinned them on your sides. You tilted your head so you could avoid seeing your husband's face, but in your blurry line of vision, all you could see was that damned ring on your finger, weighing you down as much as the torso sitting on top of you.

Morpheus brought his head closer with his breath fanning your exposed cheek, his ire palpable at your unacceptable behaviour.

"Remember our agreement, my little saviour. Or have you decided to eternally relinquish your life in the Waking and devote it all to me?"

You shook your head in denial, but the tears flowed freely. Gentle lips kissed them away, and you let them, as once more you were reminded what was at stake.

Just one night of this, and everything will be fine.

He pecked the corner of your lips before kissing you fully in the mouth, not caring that his cock was in it just a few moments ago. His hands roamed every part of your body he could reach. As his tongue lapped yours, he cupped your breasts and squeezed softly, and you moaned into his mouth and began kissing him back, albeit hesitantly. He pinched both your nipples at the same time, making you arch your back. It was mortifying, but damn, it felt good.

His heated, open-mouthed kisses moved to your jaw, then settled on your neck, finally biting and suckling your flesh – it hurt a little, but it was as if he longed to mark every part of you. Your skin crawled at the way his mouth moved downwards to your chest. You were breathing heavily now, both in terror and heightening desire. You let out an embarrassingly loud moan when his mouth began suckling your breast and biting the nipple. Heat surged to both your cheeks and between your thighs, and you began to feel this bizarre need for more friction down there.

Maybe this could work, just drowning in pleasure like this. Never mind who it was coming from.

With an agonising pace, that damned mouth travelled down your belly, to your bosom, and reached that aching flesh. He then spread your legs and nestled between them, his eyes darkening when he saw just how much he had aroused you.

"You see, my beloved?" He said with a soft chuckle. "You crave this as much as I do."

You were probably red in the face now, having never been exposed to anyone else like this in your life. You tilted your head and closed your eyes in your shame. You weren't supposed to want this.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, my wife. Your body belongs to me. It is only right that I get acquainted with it."

He started kissing and biting down your inner thighs, marking them as his possession, but before you could adjust to this new-found pleasure, his hot breath was on your wet flesh and that mouth of his feasted.

His tongue parted your folds and then sucked on your clit, and he did this over and over, while you lay there, sprawled for him, panting heavily and mewling, gripping the sheets beneath you. He didn't mind that you weren't shaved, he ate and drank from you like a starved man, and your thighs automatically clenched him to keep him there. You writhed and moaned while that devilish mouth lapped up everything you could offer, and you could actually feel the tension building up in you like a coil, wanting to be released…

But then pulled away, leaving you winded and bewildered, while he looked down on you with a smug expression and the corner of his lips still glistening with your arousal.

"How can someone so pure taste so sinful?" He purred as he wiped his lower lip with his thumb. "I need you now, my precious little saviour. I have waited long enough."

His look darkened, immense hunger overtaking his features, as he descended on you once more and positioned himself between your spread legs. In an instant, the haziness of the pleasure was replaced by sheer panic, but by the time you reacted, he already had your wrists pinned above your head with a hand while he pushed your thighs even further apart with the other.

You knew what was at stake, but your resolve was at its weakest.

"Morpheus, please, please," you began to cry again. "I'll do anything else, I beg you…"

"Sshh, my beloved wife, sshh," he comforted you in a hushed tone as he drew closer to kiss your face repeatedly. He went on further, donning a sympathetic look. "Do you know what your parents dream of night after night? You, safe in their arms, loved and happy and wanting nothing. Do you truly wish for that to remain but a dream to them?"

You were in far too much distress to respond, but in your heart, you knew leaving them like that in the Waking would be a greater pain than what you would endure for this night. So, with great effort, you willed your tears to cease, which he seemed to take as a sign. Shifting slightly above you, he took his raging erection in his hand, placed it over your clit and dragged it a few times through your folds, before the tip landed on your untouched entrance. Letting go of your wrists, he cupped your face tenderly, and started pushing it in.

Nothing, not even that soft touch and that gentle shushing, could have prepared you for the pain you felt at the way his cock tore through your opening. You were petrified and in so much pain, the tears clouded your vision. Breathing shallowly, you could feel him push further into you, and your walls strained to accommodate him. He was impossibly huge, hot and pulsating, and every second he spent inside you was pure agony.

"Morpheus, please," you begged, fisting the sheets beneath you for elusive relief. "Please, it h-hurts, I-I can't – "

Your words were cut off by a searing kiss and a tongue that delved into yours, drowning out your cries of pain. He drank in everything, including your tears, his teeth scraping your lips as he tasted everything. He pulled away from the kiss with a groan; he now filled you to the brim, taking a great amount of pleasure from the way you wrapped around him. He stretched you to your limits while you keened from the effort of adjusting to his size.

"My wife, my love, hush," he murmured against the crook of your neck, planting soft butterfly kisses on the places he hadn't yet marked. "After the pain, will come the pleasure."

Morpheus stayed still, his forehead nuzzling your cheek, giving you time for the pain to fade. He took your hands and wrapped them around his form. You couldn't help squeezing his shoulders as you tried to relax, which he didn't object to.

From within you, he started to move. You could feel the friction as he pulled his cock out almost completely before putting it back in. You hissed and moaned in discomfort, but he went on at a slow pace. It didn't take long before you realised that the foreign feeling of being filled repeatedly to the brim was beginning to feel quite pleasurable, but that was nothing compared to a thrust that hit a certain spot in your core that sent you reeling in its intensity. Morpheus, who seemed delighted at the rather loud sound you made, grinned against your cheek and pulled away slightly, hovering over you, and began hitting that sweet spot again and again.

You threw your head back into the pillow, lost in the pleasure he gave, moaning wantonly as he increased his pace and the force of his thrusts. It was further amplified when he gripped your hips and pulled you to him as he filled you over and over, and in no time, your body began moving in sync with his as you sought more of it. Your walls clenched and unclenched around his cock without your control, you could tell that it gave him as much pleasure as it did you, for he started groaning your name over and over.

Was it supposed to be this delicious?

Soon, your movements became more insistent, and his more relentless; every part of you fired up as the pleasure heightened. You dug your nails on his back and you could feel your pulse drumming in your ears as he pounded your core. You were clenching him harder now, your flesh clinging onto his cock like your life depended on it. 

With a harsh snap of his hips, you burst at the seams and unravelled; you came around his cock, screaming your husband's name, and all you could think of was his rock-hard cock forcefully hitting your sensitive walls. He too, came with a groan and your name on his lips, sending flashes of searing hot cum inside you and flooding your core with it. Your walls fluttered around the cock that was still shooting its load inside you, and your entire body shook as your orgasm took over every thought and every muscle.

It was pure bliss, and you soaked it all in.

It took a while for the high to fade, and a little longer for you to realise he was still on top of you, his cock was still hard and still inside you, and he was suckling the base of your neck and your shoulders. He's already left you bite marks all over your body, but even that wasn't enough for him, it seemed.

Resentment washed over you like cold water, but you didn't know whether it was for him or for yourself.

You let out a noise of complaint and used your palm to push at his chest. Perhaps he got the hint, for he pulled out and away from you with a final peck on your cheek. You rolled to your side as soon as he lifted off you, and your thighs inadvertently rubbed together. You were sore down there and so wet you didn't dare look, fearing you might lose your mind if you did.

Without warning, however, you were flipped to your stomach, with your husband pinning you down with his body draped all over you.

Against your ear, he whispered, "My beloved wife, you did so well. And you're going to take your husband again."

Terror welled in your heart. You were to have him inside you again, and you didn't know how much self-respect you were going to end up with if you so much as let out another embarrassing sound out of your mouth.

"Please, we already did it once – !"

Your protest was interrupted as soon as he dipped his head to your neck and bit your flesh, and with one thrust, his cock was once again lodged inside you from behind, earning a squeal from you and a sob.

He was hurting you again, and it had no right to feel this good.

"And we shall do so again, and again," he growled against your skin. "Until I'm sated. After all, you have denied me of your body for so long…"

He began thrusting into you without waiting for your body to adjust. He was rougher, hungrier, and more voracious than ever before, and the air in the room felt heavier than when he first took you.

As powerless as he made you feel since his capture of you, it was all the more evident now, and yet all that came out of you were shameless, loud moans and incoherent babbling. He hit that sweet spot over and over again with so much force, your body couldn't keep up with his pace, you laid still underneath him and let him have you.

"You will never deny me again, is that understood?"

You couldn't respond with so much as a curse – the onslaught of pleasure as he ravaged you made it almost impossible, but the rumble on his chest told you he wasn't happy with being ignored.

"Is that understood, wife?" He asked impatiently.

"Yes," you managed to let out. "Yes, Morpheus…"

He hummed in satisfaction from behind you. "All mine, all mine," he murmured, and began a pace that made you curl your toes and cry out. From behind you, he pounded into you, while your throbbing core tried its best clamping on his cock to chase that intoxicating high.

"Oh god," you cried out.

This earned a sharp yank of your hair from him. You could feel his anger envelop you and hear him growl at the back of his throat.

"Wrong," he whispered vehemently against your ear. He pulled out of you, and you whined at the absence of him inside you. "I will not have you scream another's name while I pleasure you, wife. Now, amend your mistake, or shall I take away that lovely voice of yours? It would be a shame, not hearing the music you make while I'm – " you screamed as he put his cock back inside you without warning – "buried deep inside you…" 

Whether you angered him or not was of no consequence to you; the moment he continued ramming into your increasingly sensitive hole, you cried out his name, gripping the pillow in front of you with all your might just so you could take it. The ring on your finger was now completely ignored.

"Morpheus, I'm sorry, Morpheus…" you said repeatedly.

"Hmmm…that's my good girl, such an obedient wife…taking me so well…" he praised, holding your hips and bringing it to his.

His was unbridled lust, now making it known to you, and maybe even his entire realm, judging by how loud you were moaning.

"Please, please…" you begged. But for what? For him to stop? For him to go harder?

He chuckled behind you as his pace slowed down a little. "Does my little saviour want her release?"

You had tears streaming down your face in frustration. He was just torturing you at this point, but all you could do was nod as you tried to move to get more of that friction he provided. He tightened his grip on your hips to still you.

"Does my ravishing wife want her husband's seed dripping all over her thighs like the good wife she is?"

"Yes, Morpheus," you bawled. "I'm begging you, please…"

But he continued that infuriatingly controlled pace and made no move to speed it up. He whispered in your ear, "Say what you want, my little saviour and I shall give it."

"Please, Morpheus, make me come, please…"

"Good girl," he purred.

Morpheus happily obliged with your request. He rutted into you, making you throw your head back and move against him at his every thrust. He didn't like it, though; he gripped your hair again and smushed your face into the mattress, and lifted your hips in the air so he could get better access. His chambers were filled with your echoing screams and the rhythmic noise of sweaty slapping flesh trying to become one.

For him, this wasn't about making love anymore: this was primal, this was him marking you as his forever.

You were close – you could feel pleasure, so euphoric, thrumming within your body; your walls were now clenching him harder than ever, and every thrust of his sent jolts of electricity into your abdomen. So close, so close…

From behind you, he commanded, "Now, be a good wife and come for your husband."

And so you do; you came, so much harder than the first, screaming only your husband's name into the night. His thrusts became more erratic, his cock pulsed inside you, while your thighs quivered, your walls clamping down on him. With a thundering growl, he found his release, and sent ropes and ropes of his seed inside your walls, filling you up to the brim with it while you milked his cock for more. He whispered your name like a prayer against your hair, and bit down on your shoulder as he pumped the last of his cum within you.

It was ecstasy, dizzying and overwhelming.

As with all highs, however, came the lows, and for you, it couldn't get any lower: you were helpless, tired, and underneath a husband who was still inside you as you caught your breath and realised just how low you'd sunk. 

"My love, you were exceptional," he said with a kiss on your shoulder, right on the spot that he bit when he came. Just as he pulled out of you, you felt some of his spend leak out, so buried your face in the pillow in absolute shame.

You did this to get some of your life back, but even the reminder didn't make it any easier.

You felt the bed move, and your husband shifted beside you. 

"I am, however, nowhere near sated," he said with a smirk. "I am not done with you. Now, kindly get on your hands and knees for me, my good wife."

You could only whimper in protest at the way his insistent hand gave your ass cheek a good squeeze. He helped you get on all fours, then positioned himself behind you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit before plunging its entirety inside your aching walls with one forceful thrust.

Just this one night, you reminded yourself, then everything will be fine.

***

You were limp, sore, and exhausted beyond anything. After the seventh orgasm, you've lost count of how many more your husband had managed to force out of you, and your thighs were slick with the cum he had pumped inside you. Morpheus didn't seem to mind the mess you were making on his thighs as you sat on top of him with your legs spread to accommodate him and clung onto him with your arms around his neck, your aching body sprawled on his chest. The only thing anchoring you to your horrendous reality was the jolts of unwanted pleasure being sent into your core brought about by his ceaseless upwards thrusts, spreading all across your body and overstimulating all your nerve endings.

"One more for me, my beloved, you can take one more for your husband," he had kept saying.

When you orgasmed, it was rapture in almost every sense – you buried your face at the crook of his neck and blacked out for a few microseconds, only to be pulled back to consciousness by the warmth in your core courtesy of his spend inside you, and the mighty groan he let out as he, too, found his release. You actually cried softly in relief as he halted his movements.

It was over. It was over.

You thought you were going to end up sleeping in that position, but he rolled both of you over on the mattress and the pillows so gently, as if he had not just spent the entire night ruthlessly taking your virginity.

He manoeuvred you so you laid on top of him and you could hear him coo into your hair in a language that seemed familiar but you couldn't quite understand.

Whatever it was, it was oddly comforting, and along with being drained with every ounce of your energy, it was enough to lull you into sleep.

He didn't even have to use his sand.

***

You were jostled awake by fingers softly raking your hair.

As soon as your eyes opened, you were greeted warmly with ocean-blue eyes that held a multitude of galaxies. Despite waking up draped on top of a husband that you didn't really ask for, you had hope for the first time since he had spirited you to his realm. In just a few moments, you'd be back to work, just like nothing ever happened.

"Good morning, my precious little saviour," he greeted with a gentle smile.

Your lips moved, but it wasn't quite like the smile he had on. "H-hey," you greeted back as you placed your palm on his chest and pulled away as much as he allowed you to. "Uh, about our deal…"

"Hmm. What about it?" He asked idly, fluttering those enviably long eyelashes at you.

"I'm free now, right? You'll take me back to my world, and everything should be exactly as I left it."

You couldn't quite sit up, as he had his other arm around your back still trapping you to his naked body.

"Indeed," he hummed nonchalantly. "I gave you my word of returning you to the Waking in the condition that you give your heart to me fully and willingly."

You swallowed your nerves down, which were piqued for some reason. If he was playing around, he needed to quit it. Work started at nine, and you didn't really want to be late.

 "And I did," you insisted. "Now, keep your promise and let me go."

There was a palpable tension as he let go of you and allowed you to finally pull away. You changed your mind about sitting up, fearing you'd pull a muscle with all the strain your body took from last night's activities. He sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist, and faced you with a sombre expression.

"I'm afraid you did not fulfil the terms of our agreement, my beloved."

Did you see this coming from a mile away? You should've, said that nagging voice at the back of your head. What else could you have missed?

"Yes, I did," you countered, your voice faltering a little. You sat up abruptly, regretting it the moment you did. All your muscles screamed in protest, and you winced at the sudden pain between your legs. Ignoring it, you continued, "I did…I did everything you asked. You said you'd free me if I did… all of this."

"And I would have," he replied, tucking a strand of your messed-up hair behind your ears. "Had you offered yourself unto me entirely. The ring on your finger shows otherwise."

He took your hand that held the ring just as soon as your eyes were on it. The white in it seemed to swirl ominously, and you didn't like the way it seemed to respond to the man who gave it to you.

"The jewel on this ring detects your heart's pure desire," he explained, his finger tracing the stone. "It was partly imbibed by my sibling's power, and partly mine. My sibling, Desire, agreed to make the ring with me, signifying a truce between us and our realms."

He kissed the back of your hand before he released it, and you took it back and nursed it as if he just stung you.

He simply went on, "Should your heart submit to me in absolution, the jewel would burn blood crimson. Alas, it has not shifted colours the entire night you laid with me."

This wasn't happening. This must be some sort of ploy to get you to stay, right?

"Now, I do not mind in the slightest, my love," he droned on, ignoring the fact that you were now frozen in place and in disbelief. "I have an eternity to win you. But as far as our agreement is concerned, I cannot let you leave."

He lowered his timbre at the last part of his sentence for emphasis.

"So all of this was for nothing?" You asked blankly and gestured at the mess of sheets on his bed.

This can't be happening.

"My love, if it wasn't for you, my sibling and I would still be in a disagreement." He cupped your cheeks in praise, flashing you a proud look. "This was essentially your first act as queen: bringing peace between the Dreaming and The Threshold."

You snapped out of your dazed trance and swatted those hands away. You had a deal and damned if he won't fulfil his end of the bargain. He must be playing mind games with you – that was the only plausible explanation.

"Enough of your games, Morpheus," you spat out. "I married you, I slept with you. You gave me your word. I demand that you take me back to my place!"

But Morpheus merely raised his eyebrow at your outburst.

"I believe you are in no position to demand anything."

"You took everything from me!" You screamed, now fully realising the shithole you've just dug yourself into. You agreed to this, and he tricked you, using your vulnerability to his advantage. The worst part of it was, he had you played right from the get-go. "I have nothing left! I had nothing going for me but your word, and now…a-and now…"

All that frustration you had for him and yourself had to be released, and you did it the way you knew: you burst into tears.

Your mom and dad. They'd never see you again.

The nightmare that called himself your husband gathered your shaking form in his arms and whispered words that were supposed to comfort you, but you struggled against him and hit his chest repeatedly. He drew your face to his chest by wrapping his hand around your head and planted kisses on your hair.

"You planned this, you evil fucking cunt, you tricked me," you yelled against his chest. "You can't keep me in here…please let me go…"

"What kind of husband would I be if I let my own wife roam the Waking and live in a condition clearly beneath her royal status? No, such squalor does not befit you. You deserve to be worshipped, and I shall, my queen, until I cease to be."

"Morpheus," you tried to implore. "Please just let me go…"

But his grip on you never wavered. "I will never release you," he growled against your hair. "You belong to me for eternity. Now, I grow tired of this petty argument."

With a swift movement, he laid you on your back, climbed on top of you, and placed a hand on your throat.

A warning.

Even with tears blurring your vision, you saw his expression quite clearly. Wanton hunger and obsession took over his features, his eyes darkening and bleeding to black, just like they did when he first invaded your life with that confession you had rejected.

"You, however, my lovely wife, I will never tire of…" he whispered darkly. "Exhausted and bruised from our previous love-making, filled to the brim and dripping with my seed… just how you always should be."

You could only watch, helpless and unable to move in fear, as he pinned your wrists with one hand above your head. He slipped two fingers inside your still-sensitive walls without breaking eye contact, and withdrew it, donning on a satisfied smirk. You pleaded with him as he parted your legs with his knees, but even you knew your begging would fall on deaf ears. He had taken everything from you, and he was about to take more – with a single thrust, he was inside you again, and with a groan of pleasure he buried his face at the crook of your neck, whispering only one word again and again:

Mine. Mine. Mine.

With every last bit of hope leaving your exhausted body and mind, for the first time since he imprisoned you, you started believing him.

***

Morpheus was in a state of utter ecstasy.

First, his plan had worked. He was aware that you weren't in the right state of mind to fully give your heart to him, let alone make the change overnight, and the ring he sought from his sibling as reparation for their past falling out had worked spectacularly, allowing you to walk right into his well-laden trap. You had given him no choice – it was a necessary move to finally seal your fate with him for eternity.

Second, he had himself fully sheathed inside your heat, drawing out all the pleasure he could derive from your union, and you underneath him writhing in the throes of passion with your moans and cries echoing in his chambers.

Third, he just had a glimpse of the ring on your hand, that token of your devotion to him, and him alone, which began glowing in the lightest, most imperceptible shades of pink.

His joy amplified at the sight. He captured your lips with his as he thrust wildly into your throbbing flesh – you, the precious little mortal that inadvertently saved him with but a small act of kindness, was now in his arms, his, and you had nowhere else to go.

********************************

Wasn't too satisfied with the ending, but please let me know what you think! This may have been the filthiest smut I have ever written, even if I have written only a handful of them lol

Also, forgive me if there were any errors, I shall edit this as soon as I can!

Tagging:

@morpheuss1mp

@alexander-arcturus-black

@typical-bistander

@ladyredstar1991

@moonmaiden1996

@musemaniac42

#dark!dream x reader #dark!dream x you #dark!morpheus fic #dark!morpheus x reader #dark!dream threeshot #dark!dream of the endless #dark!morpheus fanfic #the sandman #the sandman fanfiction #A Small Act of Kindness Series #A Small Act of Kindness Pt 3

[thaliajoy-blog]

Gonna need to vent a little bit about Dune 2. It was a particular experience in a sense that I wasn't prepared for it. Some points. Big big spoilers so it's under the cut !

- The treatment of Chani, her adaptation puts me in a bit of an odd spot, but I love it regardless. On one hand, I waited the entire movie for Chani's conversion. I fully expected that despite her open rebelliousness & disbelief in prophecies, especially if that prophecy involved a stranger taking control of her people, she would cave. She would become a believer. She would be swayed by her education & the power of the Bene Gesserit prophecy, the power of Paul. Their relationship would change for the best & the very worse : they would be more united than ever, but she would no longer be an equal & a lover, but a follower, a wife, and him her god. The first movie showed her as the face of the future holy war, with her hair visually likened to the "unquenchable fire" Paul saw in his dreams. Besides, she's like that in the book ! For her to leave her former self and resorb into the more "docile" (for lack of a better word) version of the book would be like a hint, a commentary.

But she doesn't. This dream Paul has never comes to pass. Chani no longer is the face of Fremen blond loyalty towards the Mahdi & of their bloody fanaticism. In fact, she more & more echoes another vision Paul had of Chani : the one where she kills him. The one where he is her ennemy & she is his. Because as time passes & the moment of Chani's conversion is constantly delayed, you realize they are both lovers & ennemies. Chani deeply loves Paul but knows he's bad for her people. She knows that as a god, she loses him, because her faith would never be in anything but someone from her people, who believes in the equality principles she does - not an Emperor people bow to and who marries women not for love but for strategical matches. The absence of any verbal reconciliation & reassurance from Paul after he literally announces his future wedding to another woman means everything. The scene where he acts as a god in the South Sietch is terrifying in that sense : Chani is losing the man she loves to the messiah he's becoming. So in the end, she goes back to her true master, not Paul the New Emperor, but the desert & Shai-Hulud (evoking Lyet Kynes' words in the previous movie). Plus the dislike she has of her secret name Sihara because it's linked to a prophecy, when Paul calls her mainly that in the book after she's become his mate, is interesting.

- The quote about letting fear pass through you until only you remain kind of has sad & sinister vibe once this one is done, because both Jessica & Paul go through the ultimate test, the "death and rebirth" in the south through the the water of life, & both come back completely changed, their old self stripped, in a sense, ready to fit into their new roles, to manipulate & take control of the Fremen & wage a destructive holy war. Jessica is now the one representing the figure Paul follows in his dream, leading to atrocities, instead of Chani previously. "Only I will remain" is not true in their case - they are both haunted by their genetic inheritance, transformed by their access to the memories of the countless generations that came before them.

- Gurney Halleck coming back to Paul, encouraging him to take control of the Fremen & get revenge against the Harkonnens who not only are the people who killed Leto & many of Gurney's friends on Arrakis - but also the cruel people who enslaved & hurt him before that ; and the all the more cruel fact & statement that Jessica & Paul are Harkonnens, that what remains of house Atreides is another branch of the Harkonnens, that they are now two faces of the same coin. That, as Paul state, they will survive as Harkonnens, supposedly through Harkonnen means & brutality (and not otherwise), when they wage the New Holy War. Gurney unknowingly cheers on & encourages a second House Harkonnen, thinking he's avenging the Atreides.

#dune part 2 #paul atreides #chani kynes #gurney halleck #lady jessica