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simping-overload · 2 months

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ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴀᴍɴ ᴅᴇᴇʀ - ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ

a/n: showing my love for my favorite Greek God of all time, Hermes<3 this is a multichapter fanfic.

trigger warnings: animal hunting so animal death. Religious themes and practices

synopsis: You never thought helping out a lost hobo would end up with you in the loving embrace of a god.

『read on ao3』

『prev chapter ⟺ next chapter』

disclaimer: hermes is based on his BOZ, EPIC, and canon mythology. I don't really know how ancient greece actually was or how hunting works so take this with a grain of salt! It is just fanfiction :)

You come from a village that has been long-term worshippers of the goddess, Artemis. Each year, the village holds a festival, Laphria¹. With this festival, of course, comes activities, the most important being the hunt. Where 3 main selected participants, who were allowed to bring at the maximum two others along the hunt with them, they were to hunt down a large stag, whoever was to bring back the largest wins.

The reward would entail being given a large sum of money and being allowed to worship the goddess to the fullest extent, which means you'd get to say your prayers before everyone, including the high elders.

This year, you were finally chosen for the hunt, much to the joy of your family and friends. You were their best hunter and tracker, able to find an animal with ease regardless of how little the evidence that has been left behind.

After passing a familial trail—hunting a snow hare in the middle of snowstorm— you were gifted a beautiful pup who you named Winston². The two of you were jointed at the hip. There wasn't a place you'd go without him. This included the hunt.

You decided to bring two of your beloved friends along, Damian and Agnes. You set off at dawn, racing into the trees on the back of your horses, Winston running ahead as the scout.

Agnes and Damian were chattering away behind you as you looked over the map. You wanted to try and plan out all paths you could safely use.

"So...do you think if I win this, it would get Corinna at the very least interested in me?" Damian questions, fiddling with the horses' reins. He had a crush on Corinna ever since they were teens, spending most of his time trying to impress her— which failed considering he always made a fool of himself.

Agnes, bless her, rolling her eyes as she listens to Damian rant, just as the millions times before. She's been friends with him since they were babies. Both of their mothers were the best of friends, so it makes sense they were too.

You didn't come into the picture until you were about 7 or so, moving here to take care of your grandmother after she got sick.

You met Agnes when your mother invited hers over, and then her mother invited Damian's over. You all were just placed in front of each other and expected you all to click automatically. Thankfully, you did, and you've been friends ever since.

"Probably, but you need to remember Nikolaos is in this competition too, I know he's been desperate to get her hand as well." She pauses as her horse jumps over a fallen tree. She looks back at Damian with a blank stare and continues. "And also this could've been avoided if you just grew a pair of balls and confessed."

"I can't just do that— I need to get her attention first. Maybe we'll find that white stag the elders ramble about." Damian giggles as he pictures Corinna leaping into his arms and saying yes to his proposal. He was such a lovesick fool.

"Or maybe she's already interested and is waiting for you to confess. I've heard its custom in her family for the woman to wait for the man to ask, no matter how long it takes." You chime in, not looking up from your map.

"Wait wh—" Damian is cut off when a large gray wolf jumps from out of the trees, holding a white hare in its mouth.

Your horse, startled, bucks you off its back, sending you to the forest floor. You're now eye level with the wolf, noticing how its eyes are an unnatural golden color.

You and the wolf stared each other down for a moment before it huffed and leaps back into the trees. Agnes drops down from her horse and rushes to your side, while Damian goes off to fetch your horse.

You snapped out of your daze when you felt something wet touched your cheek. It was Winston, licking at you and whining in concern.

You pat his head to calm him, and you lean on Agnes for support as you stand. She brushes the dirt and leaves off your back.

"Hey, you okay?" She questions, her freckled face is laced with concern.

You feel fine, a little sore, but nothing you hadn't been through before. There was something about that wolf that just stuck with you, "Yeah, I'm fine. That wolf, though... its eyes were like pure gold."

"Maybe it's one of Lady Artemis' wolves? It wouldn't be the first time she's watched over the hunts." She suggests, steppingaway from you once you've steady yourself. Damian comes back with your now calm horse, handing you the reins.

"I suppose? Though I never heard of a wolf having pure gold eyes before... Anyway, Winston, did you see anything?

Winston barks in reply, his tail wagging before he runs off. You mount your horse and begin to follow him. You motion the other two to do the same.

Winston leads you to what looks to be a temple, one that seems to have been neglected for years. Nature has taken over, vines have trickled up and wrapped themselves around the columns, and grass and flowers grow from the cracks of the floor. The usual pure white of the marble has faded into a off white tan color with a thin layer of moss across the surface.

"Let's make sure the area is safe for us to set up camp here. Agnes, check out the back of the temple, and Damian, you'll start with the outer perimeter. I'll start with the inside. Regroup to the front once you're sure no one else has been here."

Agnes nods, and Damian gives an alright in response before going back into the forest. You dismount your horse, tying it to a loose fence post. You make your way up the cracked stone steps and into the temple.

The rays of sun lit the inside of the temple, illuminating the illustrations that line the walls and ceilings. Going off of the winged shoes on the god that was illustrated, this was a temple of Hermes. You wonder if there was ever a village that was here before yours that were worshippers of him.

Your search around the temple came up empty, with no human activity. Only animals and plants seemed to have been inside. You leave the temple in time to see with Damian and Anges coming back.

"There doesn't look like there's anyone for miles, only animals. I saw the cutest fox kits." Anges says.

"Same here, though I wasn't blessed with seeing any cute aniamls today." Damian pouts, dismounting his horse, kneeling down next to Winston to ruffle his fur, "Expect for this bugger." Winston barks and licks the man's hand.

You chuckle, "Looks like it's safe to set up camp here, we'll need to find something to eat, so I'll try and find something for us. You two just set up camp and remember to use the horn if anything happens."

They give you mock salutes in response before they begin to take the supplies off the horses and into the temple. You mount yours and whistle for Winston to follow as you trot off into the woods.

It doesn't take you long to hunt something down. After finding some boar tracks, Winston leads the rest of the way to the creature. Upon finding it, you ready your bow, steadying yourself on the moving horse as you focus your aim on the boar.

You suck in a breath, drawing back your arrow and whispering a short prayer to Artemis as you relase. The arrow pierces through the side of the boar, straight to the heart, quick and painless.

Suddenly, you hear a loud scream, and off in the distance, you can see someone running towards you with what looks like a... deer? Chasing after them. Winston stands alert, ears perked, and focused on the person getting closer to you. You hold your reins tight while Winston moves in front of the horse.

The person turned out to be Nikolaos. You spot his signature ginger hair showing from under his hood before he trips over a log and face plants in front of you. He doesn't try to exchange pleasantries as he scrambles up to keep running.

The deer came soon after, gracefully hopping over the log. It glanced at you for a meer moment, giving you enough time to see its golden eyes. The same color from the wolf.

You hop down off your horse, making your way to the boar.

You are for sure this time that it wasn't Artemis. Maybe some other god?

You wrap the boars legs tight with string as you bring it back to your horse, settling it on the rear. Positioned so it won't slip off, you mount your horse once more before going back the direction you came.

As you make your way back. Your mind wanders back to Hermes. It could be him. After all, he's one of the more playful gods known for his pranks and tricks. You'll have to make an offering to him for letting you sleep in the temple, regardless if it's abandoned or not, and so he doesn't prey on your friends like he did Nikolaos.

By the time you made it to camp, it was dusk. Agnes greets you outside, taking the horse reins from you. You take the boar off of the horse, taking off to the side as you make quick work of the animal, cutting off the hide and chopping the pieces of meat you need. You leave whatever is left for Winston and the other forest creatures to feast.

Damian is quick to start cooking. Thankfully, his mother was kind enough to pack spices so your group wouldn't have to suffer tasteless food.

Until the sky went dark, you spent the rest of your time eating and talking. Damian nearly choked on his food when he heard you recant the experience in the woods earlier. He says he wishes he could've seen the look on that bastards face when he was running away. Agnes jokes that Nikolaos probably looked like a scared chicken. Which admittedly, he did, come to think of it, his screams sounded like the human equivalent of one.

As the night went on, it got quiet, Damian was the first to sleep, and Agnes was next. Winston is sprawled out in between them, snoring away. Before you rest, you bring a plate of food and burning incense to the altar.

You whisper, "Please, Hermes. The God of speed and travel grant us permission to make sanctions in your temple. If you disapprove, we will be out as the sun rises. Take this food as a thank you for allowing us to sleep here for the night." You pause. "Also... please refrain from chasing us as a deer or anything else for that matter. While it was funny what you did to Nikolaos, I would rather not soil my pants." You chuckle, placing the food onto the alter and the incense in a dusty holder.

You go back to your original resting place, leaning against the pillar. You feel a soft and comfortable breeze flow through the temple. The sounds of the trees rustling soothe you into a nice slumber.

Still in deer form, Hermes walks through the woods, no set destination just allowing the fates to choose where he will end up. Faintly, he can hear someone whisper a prayer.

"Please, Hermes. The God of speed and travel grant us permission to make sanctions in your temple. If you disapprove, we will be out as the sun rises..."

It was not often that he received prayers, especially not in his sisters park of Greece. He lets the prayer pull him towards the location.

Switching to his human form, he approaches the temple. It was one of his firsts. A gift to him by his father. While unkept, it still stood strong.

He sniffs the air, a familiar smell, boar. Not only did he get a prayer, but he got an offering, too? Just what he needed after chasing the mortals.

He giggles as he makes his way inside, involuntary waking up Winston, who was silenced a quick shush and a pat to the head.

Hermes looks around at the mortals who sleep before him. Wondering who said the prayer, his eyes land on you. Still leaned against the pillar, head thrown back against it. Your hand is tightly wrapped around a dagger. Ready to strike if need be.

He studied your face for a moment, his hand twitched with the desire to trace over your features. You were very attractive for a mortal, and judging from the faint golden aura he could see emitting from you, you're the one who prayed.

He steps away with a grin, making his way to the alter. He picks the plate up, nearly drooling on the food. As much as he'd love to take his time eating, he's a glutton. In seconds, the plate is empty. He holds back a burp as he makes his way back out of the temple, glancing at you as he makes his way out.

Well, he's going to have some fun on this vacation.

#hermes #hermes x reader #greek mythology #greek mythology x reader #boz hermes x reader #boz x reader #blood of zeus #blood of zeus x reader #epic the musical #epic hermes #epic hermes x reader #god x human #god x mortal #fanfiction #greek god x reader #greek gods #greek god #greek gods x reader

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bit-dodgy-innit · 2 years

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Sweet as Honey(moon)

A/N: Okayyy let’s escape away to Greece for some sexin, shall we? Just as a reminder these are all part of my little SHAPE OF YOU AU

The Prompt: The Honeymoon 😈

Requested by: loveliest of lovelies @dawnsutopia

Pairing: Marc x afab!reader, Steven x afab!reader and Jake x afab!reader, Reader is married to the system

Word Count: 9.4k (back to my self-indulgent waysss)

Spice-o-meter: 🌶🌶🌶🌶, Rated Tre Explicit, Minors DNI

CW/TW: This is a...how you say...a fook-est? I mean our couple is on their honeymoon after all. We have fingering (f receiving), indecent things with Marc’s wedding bad, oral sex (f and m receiving), p in v sex, anal sex, pool sex, nipple play, lingerie, the boys being co-conscious during sex, dirty talk, spanking, nipple play, a brief mention of “dumbification” (which this fandom taught me about btw so 😳), light spanking, mucho aftercare, teasing, exhibitionism though it’s not specified if anyone sees or hears them, squirting, multiple orgasms, and fluff!

“On behalf of all of us, welcome to Mykonos,” the polite-to-a-fault receptionist said as he activated your keycards, “and congratulations on your nuptials, Mr. and Mrs. Spector.”

You grinned so widely at the use of your new surname your face could split in half. Despite a turbulent four hour flight from London and being hungover as shit, you were deliriously happy, leaning into Marc’s side —your husband’s side— while you checked into the resort where you’d be spending the next ten days on your honeymoon.

You two had kept the wedding on the smaller side. The ceremony itself had been incredibly private and intimate, just you, your boys, your parents and a trusted rabbi at a local synagogue. This was so that you could exchange vows with Marc, Steven and Jake each individually. Afterwards, you’d booked the Gallery Room at the ever-so-posh Bluebird in Chelsea to host a reception for forty friends and extended family.

The more subdued – though still somehow overwhelming to plan – wedding meant that you and your husband could splash out on the honeymoon, which is exactly what you’d done with the resort you’d booked here in Greece. The stunning beauty of the island didn’t hit you until you were being escorted to your room and could take in the stark white walls, ancient stone, clear blue sky, and even clearer, bluer water for yourself.

Your suite echoed the landscape, eschewing any color or even decor on the walls for crisp white plaster and massive windows that framed picturesque views of the ocean. Everything from the furniture to the linens were warm neutrals and earth hewn materials. The focal point of the space was no doubt the sliders flung wide open led to an ample balcony that boasted a plush daybed and a small private pool. It was a dream come to life as far as you were concerned.

The bellboy unloaded your luggage and after he left with a tip, you and Marc launched yourself at each other. He tackled you back onto the large plush bed.

“This is insane,” you managed to pant in between kisses, “it’s even more beautiful here than I thought it’d be.”

“Good,” Marc grunted, stripping out of his t-shirt and swiftly moving to discard his joggers as well. He was getting right to it then.

Last night seemed to whiz by in a blur of laughter, alcohol, dancing, and toasts to the happy couple. Unlike the romance novels you’d read as an adolescent, your wedding night was not the raucous night of passion that had graced the pages you’d secretly devoured. You and your husband were exhausted. Though between the three of them, Jake was able to get it up and indulge in some soft, sleepy, tipsy sex in missionary before the pair of you conked out.

It felt as if you’d only closed your eyes for a few minutes when the car service woke you with their courtesy call to inform you that they were outside, and you both napped on the plane. Now however, it seemed that Marc was rearing to go.

He rid you of the tacky, but incredibly comfy, bride-themed matching sweats your uni friends had gotten for your hen do as a gag gift and you couldn’t help but giggle while you rolled around together on top of the bed.

“Mr. and Mrs. Spector,” you echoed breathily while Marc nibbled on your ear, grinding his already rock hard erection into your bare leg.

“Has a nice to ring it,” he murmured. Layla hadn’t taken his name when they had wed. It didn’t bother Marc, more and more women were choosing not to, and she had her own reasons for keeping her maiden name. But the fact that you’d wanted to, that you were happy to become a Spector despite all the baggage that name held, made Marc’s heart soar.

“Mmmmhmm,” you agreed. “A good thing since we’ll be using it for quite a while.”

“Forever,” your husband specified, parting your folds with his fingers.

Your eyes were drawn to the platinum band that now encircled his left ring finger. “Forever.”

Marc caught you watching him and a wicked idea formed in his mind. Steven raised the concern if it was sanitary, yet Jake quickly overruled him and told Marc to do it anyway. Those two truly felt like the trope of the devil and angel on his shoulder sometimes.

Instead of easing his index or middle finger inside of you to begin prepping you for his dick, Marc penetrated you with his ring finger. You gasped at the audacious move, letting out a little yelp when you felt the precious metal of the ring breach your entrance, warm from Marc’s skin but still cooler than the heat of your cunt.

Marc’s dark eyes gazed up at you from those ridiculously long eyelashes of his. “That feel good?”

“Yeah,” came your breathless reply. The both of you stared mesmerized as his finger plunged in and out of your pussy, enthralled with how Marc’s wedding band would disappear and re-emerge from your cunt.

Soon your sounds indicated to Marc that you needed more, and he was all too happy to comply. His middle finger joined the other digit, making sure you were stretched enough to take his cock, which currently was so hard he likely could cut glass at this point.

Your husband tugged on your hips, positioning your bum on the edge of bed to lock your legs around him. He took his cock in hand and entered you in a smooth shove of his pelvis. You both moaned at the feeling of becoming one, as if it had been weeks since you’d been together like this and not a matter of hours.

Marc was eager, you could tell from the way he jackrabbited his hips into you. It was the kind of rough fucking that emptied your mind of everything but the stretch of your tight channel around his considerable girth. You were all too happy to succumb to it, you were in Greece, the wedding was over, and all of your responsibilities were thousands of miles away in London.

His hand found your clit quickly and rubbed the bud with harsh strokes. You gasped and dug your heels into the bottom of his back to pull him closer.

“Not going to last long,” Marc revealed while he hammered you, “wanted you since we woke up.”

“That’s okay honey,” you soothed him. After all, you’d gotten some last night. A little shiver ran through through you when you realized this was the first time you and Marc were having sex a married couple. Marc Spector, the man who was so convinced he was unworthy of happiness and did everything he could to push you away, was now making love to you on your honeymoon.

He dropped down lower, his hands covering your breasts, which sent another, more prominent shiver through you as Marc chased his release. The movement of his hips switched, his thrusts became grinds, which allowed your clit to receive some stimulation too.

You studied Marc’s face fondly, enjoying the view of his Adam's apple as it bobbed, the short black hair that was beginning to curl from the sweat gathering at his hairline, and of course, that face, so handsome and contorted in pleasure, only made more beautiful when he spurted his hot seed inside of you.

After he came down, Marc fell onto his forearms to nuzzle your face with his.

“Hi,” he whispered, peppering your face with kisses. You giggled and squirmed at the attention.

He gently took his cock from your pussy, then knelt before your slit at the side of the bed.

“Hun…”

Marc knew that tone of voice of yours, it was the inflection you used when you told him “not to worry about it”. He cursed all the men that’d allowed you to think that your pleasure wasn’t as, if not more important, than his. Marc bit the inside of your thigh playfully to stop you. “Hey, I’m fulfilling my husbandly duties here, okay?”

You surrendered with a shy little grin. He knew tossing a reference to your newly minted marriage would end your protests. Marc got to work, licking a stripe up your folds to taste the two of you before sucking on your clit and inserted two fingers into you to stimulate your g-spot. Whines and shaking legs soon followed as you came on Marc’s thick digits.

Before he could rise fully to grab a cloth for you, you grabbed his wrist and sucked his ring finger into your warm, wet mouth, fellating the band with your tongue. Its metallic taste was new to you and honestly, rather unpleasant, but the way Marc looked at you while you did it was well worth it.

“Fuck baby,” he groaned once you released him. He stood up and ran a hand through his hair sheepishly, “I really pounced on you just now, didn’t I?”

You sat up too. “No complaints here.”

Marc drew you up to standing to kiss you and the both of you tended to yourselves in the bathroom. You took turns relieving yourselves and Marc splashed water on his face. You emerged from the little stall for the toilet with a request. “We should cool off in the pool.”

Your husband cocked a brow. “Bathing suits optional, I’m assuming?”

“What’s the point of having a private pool if you’re not going to skinny dip?”

“And people think I only married you for your beauty,” he joked.

This had to be heaven, you concluded. You and Marc floated in the pool together for a little while, both made speechless by the beauty of the Aegean before you, then toweled off and dozed in the shade together on the daybed.

When you roused, you automatically pecked the dip that ran between your husband’s pecs, just under his chain with the star of David. When your eyes met, you could tell by the softness in them and the little quirk of his lips that it was Steven gazing back at you.

“Well hello Mrs. Grant,” he murmured. Though technically on paper you’d taken the surname Spector, you planned to use Mrs. Grant and Mrs. Lockley respectively when the other boys fronted.

“Hello yourself Doctor Grant,” you beamed back. “Happy honeymoon.”

“Happy honeymoon indeed,” he concurred, “This is the ideal way to wake up, I think…naked, you in my arms, and with ocean views.”

“I can’t help but agree. Come back in the pool with me.”

Steven followed you, both of you luxuriating in the cooling water. Even though it was pretty big for an in-room pool, you two refused to spread out. Steven held you into his arms once again, so close to one another you could distinguish each and every droplet of water that clung to his neck, collarbones, and face.

Your lips drifted together in a liplock that quickly escalated and deepened. Steven’s large hands cupped your ass, giving it a squeeze, lifting you to walk to the edge of the pool. He parted your legs while you procured a towel to sit on.

You continued to trade deep, passionate kisses while Steven stood still half-submerged in the water between your thighs, the sun warming your skin as you got lost in each other. His lips drifted down to your neck and clavicle, and his fingers found your core. He began with gentle touches and strokes between your folds, inserting a finger to feel your wetness and the remnants of his alter’s cum.

“Baby,” you gasped when his thumb pressed into your clit.

“What do you want, darling?” He rasped.

“Your mouth,” you told him without hesitation, “then fuck me Steven.”

He deferred, musing as he descended to your cunt, “We do have to consummate our marriage after all.”

Your clever response was eclipsed by a whimper when Steven began to eat you out. Still sensitive from your lovemaking with Marc from earlier, each lick and swirl of Steven’s tongue had you feeling like a live wire. His mouth had you just on the other side of too much, your husband working his signature magic on your twitching cunt while you leant back on your hands.

“You taste so good,” Steven panted as he briefly pulled away for air. “Could eat this pussy forever Mrs. Grant.”

“Please do,” you exhaled, only half-joking.

He chuckled lowly, returning to your core, his tongue dancing on your clit and pushing into your hole. His nose was pressed perfectly into clit while he tongue-fucked you, so perfectly that you found your orgasm blindsiding you, suddenly snapping in your groin and flooding you with bliss.

When your eyelids at last fluttered open, your climax subsided, Steven gazed at you with adoration. “You’re so bloody gorgeous.”

There was nowhere to hide your blush given that you were stark naked sitting on the poolside tile. “You’re so bloody good at that. Let me take care of you, I bet that big dick is just aching for me, isn’t it?”

Steven agreed by pulling you back in the water, hooking his elbows into the bends of your knees and pressing your back into the wall of the pool. You took a hold of his erection, velvet-covered steel in your hand, and guided your husband inside of you below the water’s surface. Steven groaned when he entered you, and scooted you up the length of the wall so your back arched against the side of the pool. Your head rested on the towel, the position exposing your breasts to the warm air, allowing Steven to tongue your nipples as he pushed inside of you.

The way Steven made love to you couldn’t be more different than how Marc had. Steven was slow, languid, and worshipful feeding his member into your cunt. Even though he was splitting you apart on his fat cock and filled his mouth with your tits, it didn’t feel like you could get close enough. You dug your fingertips, still sporting your wedding manicure, into the tile on either side of your bodies in an attempt to anchor yourself. The universe shrank to just you and your husband, the feel of him — so hot and hard inside of you — and the small rectangle of water you were fucking in.

Steven angled his hips so the head of cock could brush against your g-spot and rub his pelvis against your clit. The combination was devastating but he entreated you, “Go on, love, can you give me one more? Know you can do it….wanna see your pretty face while you come.”

You’d had three orgasms in the last twenty-four hours, but Steven was ruthless in the most tender way possible, cooing into your ear and coaxing yet another release from your quaking, over-stimulated body. The spasming of your pussy around him resulted in his hips picking up pace and frantically suckling on a nipple while his climax crashed over him.

“Wow,” he marveled after you separated.

“That about sums it up,” you giggled, dunking under the water to re-wet your hair, “and to think we have ten days just for us.”

***

The pair of you eventually did unpack and leave your room. You’d never had so much space in your suitcase before, since the majority of what you’d brought were swimsuits, skimpy lingerie and a few sundresses for meals and sightseeing.

You put what you packed to use the next evening when you and your husband went to dinner in town. The night began in a breezy, white satin slip dress. Jake held your hand as you two strolled back to the resort, both of you giddy, inebriated from the wine at dinner and each other’s presence.

Jake began humming some Spanish song you didn’t recognize, twirling you and pulling you under his arm as you navigated the uneven but mostly empty streets of the neighborhood. Marc and Steven were shy about it, but they had a great voice, and you soaked up every moment Jake would sing with unfettered delight.

He ducked down to kiss you, whispering “Eres mi reina” when you broke apart.

“Te amo,” you sighed back.

Jake re-captured your lips, and next thing you knew, your back was against the side of a building as he attacked your mouth. It took a Herculean amount of self-control to withdraw your lips from his, but you had to or else you’d start fucking in the middle of the street. While you two shared a fondness for a bit of exhibitionism, that wasn’t exactly the vibe you were trying to achieve on your honeymoon. “Papi, let’s go inside.”

Your husband ignored you, his hands creeping down to your ass and kissing below your ear.

“I’ll make it worth your while…”

That got his attention. Dark eyes glittered in the street lamplight as they searched yours. “How?”

“Guess you’ll just have to see,” you teased.

From there on, Jake followed you back to your suite like a puppy. Once you’d returned to the privacy of your room, you pushed Jake back on the bed and ordered him to wait, then disappeared into the bathroom to change out of the dress and into a white bustier and panty set that managed to be lacy, sheer, strappy and somewhat tasteful all at once.

You remerged and Jake instantly muttered a “Joder” at the sight of you.

You did a little spin for him to get the full view. “Te gusta? Piensas que yo miro linda?”

“No, eres linda, pero ahora ves tan sexy,” he corrected you in a growl. “Ven aquí.”

“Come get me,” you challenged him.

Jake leapt to his feet and chased you around the suite. You evaded him in a fit of giggles, but you were no match for your ex-military, ex-superhero husband. He circled his arms around your waist, lifted you from the ground, and tossed you onto the bed in one swift move.

“Naughty,” he rumbled, caging you between his meaty thighs and while he rid himself of his shirt, then moved to unbutton and unzip his linen trousers to free his raging erection. Once he’d taken them off, plus palmed himself to take some of the edge off, he began exploring your body with his hands.

“This is too pretty to rip off of you,” he mused, tracing the waistband of your tiny thong. But Marc’s voice had said it.

“Oh, hi babe,” you greeted him, a little startled.

He kissed you hello, grinding against your cloth-covered core, “Hi baby.”

As much as you enjoyed the feel of his length against your soaked panties, you had to ask, “Everything ok with Jake?”

“Yeah, we just thought we’d maybe try being co-conscious tonight, if that’s ok? Be a little more fast and loose with the switches?”

Now there was an idea. In the past, one of the boys may have fronted momentarily while you were intimate with another, you’d never had sex with them fully co-conscious, to your knowledge at least.

“Okay,” you consented. “Just don’t get cross with me if I accidentally call someone by the wrong name.”

Marc fixed you with a warm, lopsided smile, “We’ll take it easy on you…to start.”

“Good,” you pulled him into another kiss. When you two broke apart, Steven was grinning down at you.

“Now this is just darling,” he mused, tugging the cups of your bustier down to free your breasts. He wasted no time attaching his skilled mouth to your left nipple to lavish his attention on your sensitive peak.

You mewled, eyes screwed shut, and your hand shot down to Steven’s boxer-briefs to grope him through the fabric.

Steven switched nipples with a rumble in his chest and once you were face to face again, Jake asked you “Will you suck Papi’s cock in your pretty outfit?”

“Por supuesto Papi.”

You flipped over, reorienting yourselves so Jake was on his back and you were straddling his legs. You discarded his boxers and did your best to make a show of lapping at his tip, mouthing at the head and using your tongue to play with it.

“Joder si, nena,” Jake heaved, trying to keep from bucking into your mouth without warning. “Just like that.”

You worked your mouth down on his length, and you spotted who you thought was Steven craning his neck to watch you swallow his dick down your throat with your tits still out. “Bloody hell.”

You chuckled around his erection, the vibrations sending a shiver through Steven’s spine. Or wait, was that a Marc sound?

“Don’t stop,” Jake urged you. You obeyed happily, licking the circumference of his cock to wet it, then wrapping your palm around the appendage to stroke what couldn’t fit in your mouth while you went to town on him.

You could tell your boys were close by the way their right leg twitched, but before could take them into the home stretch, a hand pulled you off their cock by your hair.

“Jake doesn’t get to come just like that,” Marc growled, wrapping his own hand around the base of his manhood to stave off his orgasm.

“Fuck you,” Jake vollied quickly before Marc reclaimed the body and eased with you a kiss. “Hands and knees, baby.”

You obeyed, wiggling your ass a bit for effect, and whimpered when you felt a palm slap across your right cheek. That was Jake for sure. The drenched crotch of your thong was pushed to the side, then you felt the head of your husband’s cock circle your soaking entrance a few times before it began to breach you, which was a Steven move.

Your husband set a steady pace and confirmed your guess as to who was fronting when Steven raved, “Oh, I see why they like this position…such a lovely view.”

“It’s good isn’t it?” Marc chimed in, increasing the pace of his thrusts some. “First time I fucked you we did it like this, remember baby?”

“Ye-uh…uh-huh,” you could barely formulate words at this point. The idea of your husbands teaming up to fuck you in a slutty little matching lingerie set was melting your brain.

“She takes it so well,” Jake added. His hand pressed in between your shoulder blades and you yielded so that your face and chest were resting on the bed, ass higher in the air.

“Ugh that’s it,” Marc groaned, landing another slap across your rear.

“Doing so well for us, love,” he praised. It was Steven obviously. “You alright?”

You stuttered out a “yes” and began pushing your hips back against his groin as much as you could to drive your point home.

When Jake said “Hmmm, si nena, let us feel that little cunt clench around our cock,” you couldn’t resist anymore, you had to touch yourself.

Jake spotted it right away and spanked you again, “Did I say you could play yourself?”

“Por favor Papi,” you begged. You were beyond dignity at this point, all you could think about was coming. “I need it.”

“Let her Jake,” Steven argued, rubbing the imprint his alter’s hand left to soothe your skin, “she got all dressed up for us.”

“Plus it’s hot as fuck to watch her work her little bud,” Marc pointed out.

“Bien, bien,” Jake let it go.

“Who do you want to make you come?” Steven asked, his hips never faltering as he continued to impale you with the fat member you craved.

“I…um…uh…”

“Aw look Steven, we made her all cockdumb,” Marc cooed at you.

Your current position prevented you from sending a dirty look at your husband. He wasn’t exactly wrong though.

“I got her,” Jake volunteered. A moment later, a wet thumb circled your asshole and edged ever so slightly in. The extra stimulation, combined with your fingers frantically rubbing your clit, caused you to come with a high whine. You bore down on your husband’s big dick as the pleasure wracked you, so profound it was almost painful.

Your husband held your hips steady as you drifted down from your orgasm and he sought his own release. You reflexively tightened around his spent cock when you felt the ribbons of his seed empty inside of you.

You rolled over, lying on the bed sideways to look at them. Marc gazed back at you, examining your face with concern to make sure they hadn’t gone too hard on you, you presumed. Speech hadn’t returned to you just yet, so you sent him a toothy, satisfied smile instead.

“You okay baby?” He asked. You nodded, allowing him to slide off your panties.

Steven cut in quickly to follow up, “You need anything for your bum?”

“I think I’m okay, hun, but thank you,” you assured him. He turned you around to take off your bustier for you as well.

“‘Course,” he replied instantly, slowly standing to walk bow-legged to the bathroom and wipe his cum off of you. “They got a little carried away at the end there.”

“Did not” you heard Jake snipe back.

They reappeared with Marc’s stern expression on their features. “You sure you’re okay? Obviously we loved it, but….“

Jake butted in to finish his question, “Did you like it, nena?”

“Yes,” your tone didn’t leave any room for doubt. Now a little more recovered from your orgasm, you could string together a sentence. “I loved it, it was just intense, and it was our first time being intimate like that.”

“We’re a bit full on, aren’t we?” Steven asked with wry self-deprecation, tossing the used flannel off to the side of the room and getting under the covers.

“I love it,” you said once again, settling into his arms, “I married you after all.”

“Good,” Steven murmured. “You didn’t happen to bring more lingerie like that, did you?”

***

Though the benefits to having a private pool were many…mainly that you and your husband could have pool sex whenever the mood struck, you did make it to the beach. It’d be a sin not to, and the image of Marc emerging form the ocean was one you’d lock in your mind until you died.

He was dripping wet head to toe, dark hair slicked back with water, his trunks clinging to those muscular thighs that drove you wild, and his golden skin had darkened a shade from the sun. Though you knew your husband had once been entangled with an Egyptian deity, you couldn’t help but think that Marc would be quite at home in the Greek pantheon too, with a body and face like that.

“Hey! You gotta get in,” he ran a hand through his hair, “It’s like bathwater.”

“I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” you blurted out.

Marc shot you a wide, unguarded grin. “I already married you, you don’t need to keep flattering me anymore.”

“Shut up,” you tossed at him fondly.

Marc lowered his still dripping body on top of you. You tried to wiggle away from him but Marc locked you in his grasp and attacked you with kisses all over your face, “I think that I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman with a more generous heart. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Marc,” your voice was thick with tears. It was one thing for Marc to be so playful with you, then add in such loving sentiments expressed to you so openly? You couldn’t help but get verklempt. Your husband had come such a long way - partly thanks to the work he did on his own, with his therapist, and of course you two refusing to give up on each other.

“Baby, don’t cry!” He cajoled.

“I’m not, I’m sweaty,” you joked.

“Okay, then I was sweating at the temple,” Marc bantered back, referring to your wedding ceremony. “Will you please come swim with me? The most handsome man you’ve ever seen?”

You shoved playfully Marc and got up to head to the water, “I give you one compliment…”

***

Kate, one of your friends from work, had gifted you a couples massage at the resort for your wedding present. You weren’t sure how the boys decided which one would front for it, but when it was time to leave for the appointment, Jake was the one accompanying you.

It was heavenly to have all of the wedding and travel stress massaged from your muscles, and no one was more deserving of rest & relaxation than your husband. Their body worked three jobs, plus there had been much strategizing and occasional hair-pulling for Marc and Jake about leaving things with their respective jobs in a place so that they wouldn’t come back from Greece to dumpster fires. Steven was mercifully on summer holiday, so his job was slow anyway.

The pair of you left your joint session as pliable noodle-people. Jake took your hand as you ambled back to your suite.

“I’m going to give Kate the biggest thank you,” you vowed.

He seconded you with a content hum and opened the door to your room.

“I’m going to take a shower, get all of this oil off of me,” you announced, padding into the bathroom, “honey, what did you do with my shampoo?”

You routed around in his toiletries bag, thinking you’d found it, but what you produced was definitely not your stolen shampoo.

Jake had followed you in and when he saw that you were holding the bottle of lube he brought, it was one of the very few times you’d ever seen him blush. You had no trouble getting wet, and you hadn’t brought any toys on vacation either, so what had he brought lube for…oh.

All he’d wanted for the past few “special occasions” you two had shared (Hannukah, your anniversary, Daylights Savings Time) was anal sex. You weren’t opposed to the idea, but had required a gradual approach to it. To his credit, Jake had been wonderfully patient, and you’d become comfortable with a few of his thick fingers in your ass.

Jake immediately began to backtrack, “I only brought it in case you wanted to—“

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “I mean I’m open to it, when in Greece on your honeymoon, right?

Jake looked at you with barely contained eagerness. “Bueno, cuando quieres hacerlo?”

He knew that if he wanted a piece of your ass, he had to ask in advance. You were a lady and you had a certain mystique you had to maintain, not to mention preparation you needed to undergo. But, given that you were already pretty relaxed and going to shower anyway, now seemed as good a time as any.

“No time like the present,” you suggested.

“Wait, really?!” Jake reacted similarly to a little boy who’d been given his first bike.

You couldn’t help but chuckle fondly at his response. “Yeah, I’m all loosened up after the massage and I’ll make this shower a thorough one. So while I do, vamos and make things extra romantic in the bedroom.”

“Si Señora Lockley,” he basically road-runnered out of the bathroom.

Jake took your task to heart – when you entered the bedroom, hair damp, lube in hand, towel wrapped around you — candles had been lit, music was playing softly, and he had even managed to get a bottle of champagne up to the room while you’d washed up.

“Not bad Lockley,” you said after surveying the room. You tossed him the lube. “Not bad at all.”

He shot you a grin that was akin to a wolf who just caught sight of a rabbit. Jake gestured to the champagne, “Shall we? Loosen you up un poquito mas?”

“Por favor,” you assented. You weren’t sure exactly what made the popping of a champagne bottle so sexual, but a little thrill zinged through you when your husband ejected the cork from its glass neck.

“Cheers,” you thanked him when he handed you a flute, raising it to toast, “To…new beginnings.”

Jake mimicked your movement, “A tí, mi amor.”

Your glasses clinked and the fizzy alcohol rushed down your throat. Jake's eyes never left your face. He watched you closely, anticipating the moment when he could finally touch you.

You decided sooner was likely better than later, best get the show on the road before you could psych yourself out. Placing your flute down, you crossed to him, “Come here Papi.”

Jake flashed you another predatory grin and followed suit at once. “We don’t need this anymore.” His fingers tucked between the towel covering your skin and pulled it loose so the cloth fell around your feet.

Jake was more intoxicated by the sight of your naked body than any amount of champagne in his system. He wrapped you into a kiss, plundering your mouth, his lips seeking to consume you. His hands, meanwhile, immediately dropped to your rear.

Hoisting you up with a squeeze, he carried you over to the bed, depositing you on the mattress much more gently than a few nights ago. His mouth never left yours while he worked you to an orgasm on his fingers.

Then, and only then, did Jake request you turn over, wedge a pillow under your hips, and leave a line of kisses down the length of your spine.

You couldn’t help but squirm a little when he pulled your cheeks apart. You’d never felt more exposed in your life, but your husband was quick to quell any of your concerns when he asked in an awed whisper, “Nena, can I kiss you here?”

“Mmm…oh-okay,” you consented and jerked again when you felt his hot breath on your most vulnerable spot, followed by a brush of his lips.

Next came the snick of the cap of the bottle being opened, and moments later, Jake massaged lube around your wrinkled skin to coat it thoroughly. He may have been excited, but your husband knew he had to be gentle with you.

Though Jake had gotten you accustomed to much more, you could never stifle the little “ah” you made when the pad of his finger breached your rim. He coaxed more of his digit inside of you, taking ample time to allow you to adjust.

Jake checked in with you. “How does that feel?”

“It’s okay,” you told him, “you can move.”

He proceeded like that, constantly touching base with you as he fed two more fingers into your tight pucker. Your husband’s preparation was a steady stream of “are you okay nena?”, “you feel good? Papi wants you to feel good,” and other praise.

So thorough was Jake in opening you up that he’d lost his erection by the time you’d given him the go-ahead to enter you. He wasn’t exactly miffed by this development, because he knew precisely how he wanted to get it back.

Even more lube was drizzled onto your bum, then Jake slicked up his cock to wedge it between your plush cheeks and began to grind himself between them. There was no way to muffle the rumble in his chest at the feel of your ass smothering his cock, the lube providing the necessary slip, and he was damn near entranced by his cockhead reappearing each time from the cleft of your ass.

You helped him, working your hips back to meet his while he humped you. It felt amazing, and your asshole clenched at the thought that he’d be inside you soon. Fucking your ass cheeks got Jake back to full mast in no time. You were beginning to lose yourself in the rhythmic sliding of your bodies when you husband draped himself over your back to ask in a murmur, “Can I put it in, nena?”

“Uh huh,” you confirmed, “just go slow please.”

“Claro que si,” Jake assured you, placing a kiss behind your ear before he straightened up.

He applied even more lube to your now winking asshole and his dick before he notched the tip at your entrance. “Estas lista?”

“Yes honey, please,” his cockhead at your pucker felt like a promise you were now desperate for him to make good on.

Jake’s tip popped past the ring of muscle and you nearly bit down on the linens below you. It was intense, though not altogether painful like you’d feared. You focused on keeping your breathing even as your husband continued to sink inside of you, becoming lightheaded from the overwhelming feeling of fullness in your ass and the deep pulls of oxygen you were pumping into your lungs.

“Bien?” Jake asked. The strain in his voice was evident.

“Yeah,” was the most you could manage.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I want more,” you told him truthfully. The feeling of having your husband’s dick up your bum was dizzying, deliciously too much, like a scab you weirdly enjoyed picking.

You experimentally fluttered your muscles around his length and even though Jake was a loving, patient man, even he could not resist the thrust and groan that the move prompted. “Feel good, Papi? Like everything you’ve wanted?”

Jake began moving his hips slowly, “And more.”

While the view of the sea outside of your window was stunning, Jake didn’t think he’d ever seen a sight he’d enjoy more than his throbbing cock splitting your ass in half over and over again.

“You…you feel so big like this,” you gasped. “So huge inside me.”

“Joder, mami, you can’t just say things like that,” he cautioned you as he continued to plow you.

“Buh-but I can’t help it,” you confessed, and your mind quickly supplied what to say next to drive him absolutely wild. “Fucking me so deep, Papi.”

“Nnnngnnn,” came Jake’s scintillating reply. By now, most of the burn had faded from your channel and you could focus on the delicious stretch in your rear from his cock.

You honestly couldn’t believe how good it felt. Fingers and fantasies were one thing, plus you were fully prepared to take one for the team, to be a good wife and try it even if you weren't keen on the idea. But now you were the slightest bit ashamed to admit that you kind of loved having a cock in your ass. Or maybe it was the fact it was your husband’s thick erection filling you.

Jake’s brain did nearly explode when you began meeting his thrusts, rocking back on your knees so he could penetrate you deeper. Your ass was absolutely suffocating his cock with its heat and clench around him, he truly believed he could live inside of you forever if you’d let him.

The two of you communicated exclusively in gasps in grunts, the slap of skin on skin reverberating throughout the suite while you drowned each other in pleasure. You knew when Jake picked up the rate of his thrusts and began growling that he was close and oh, it was different to have your ass filled with cum rather than your pussy.

You’d barely recovered from Jake easing his cock out of you when you were flipped onto your back and your husband buried his face between your legs. A high-pitched moan tore out from you when his tongue probed your now slightly gaping asshole to collect his cum.

Jake didn’t stop there, licking around your cleft and spearing his tongue to circle its tip around your sensitive rim. He only relented when you gently pushed his face away from overstimulation. Between your earlier orgasm and the passion of what you had just shared with Jake, you needed to rest.

He rose back to be level with your face, whispering “thank you” non-stop as he collected you in his arms. “I guess I have to be extra good from now on.”

“Mmmm?” you sought clarification with a sleepy hum.

“We need to do that again so I can’t piss you off anymore,” he explained.

You chuckled. “Exactly right, esposo.”

He inhaled deeply, taking a deep whiff of your hair to smell the faint citrusy scent of your shampoo before he left the bed. To his credit, Jake was excellent with the post-anal aftercare. He drew you a bath, ordered everything you wanted from (the heinously expensive in his opinion) room service, rubbed some petroleum jelly on your pucker to soothe it. He cuddled you in bed, long after the sun sank beyond the horizon, until you drifted off later that evening.

***

“Good morning!” the concierge Helena greeted you as you approached her desk.

“Hi there,” you chirped back. The boys slept in this morning, which gave you the opportunity to sneak down to the lobby and square away the details for today’s day trip that you and Steven planned on taking. “Could I please have a copy of the ferry schedule?”

“Of course, Mrs. Spector,” one week in and you still got a little flutter every time someone called you that, “where are you headed?”

“Delos,” you told her.

“A must when visiting Mykonos. We’d be happy to arrange a private tour of the island for you and your husband,” Helena offered, “We have relationships with a few exceptional guides on Delos and–”

“Oh that won’t be necessary,” you tried to turn her down gently. “But thanks for the offer.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “There’s so much history there.”

“My husband’s a professor of ancient civilizations,” you explained as she passed you the little flyer with the ferry timetable, “he’s been researching Delos since we booked this trip months ago.”

“Huh, I thought he said he was a consultant,” Helena’s colleague, a male concierge who’d welcomed you, chimed in.

“He is,” you covered, thinking fast, “He teaches and consults with archaeologists on digs.”

“You’ll be well set then” Helena concluded with a smile.

“Yes,” you agreed, “I won’t be surprised if by the end of the day, I’ll be able to lead a tour of the island.”

Your prediction was more or less correct. Steven’s eyes lit up as Delos came into view from the ferry’s bow. He’d already briefed you on the early history and beginnings of the island on the ride over. Anyone else, it would be pedantic and infuriating, but Steven was so genuinely invested that his urge to share about the island was endearing, his enthusiasm about its lore contagious.

You two meandered through the breathtaking ruins hand-in-hand. Steven’s unofficial tour of the island was so engaging that you clocked a few American tourists loitering near you, eavesdropping to hear all of your husband’s in-depth knowledge of the different statues and remains of the site.

Your husband remained blissfully oblivious, and you didn’t mind the audience. You’d gotten your picture at the Terrace of the Lions, and besides, Steven was at his best like this. You thought back to when you first met and started dating him: his hunched posture, general jumpiness, the way he’d hedge and second-guess himself. Those facets of him had already melted away to an extent now that all four of you had settled into a groove that worked for everyone, but when Steven had a chance to talk about the subjects he was passionate about, he was calm, confident, and charismatic. He shone brighter than the blazing Greek sun and it warmed your heart more than words could ever describe to see your darling husband so effortlessly in his element.

So taken were you by his swagger that you interrupted his latest lecture about Cleopatra or something as you strolled to the Temple of The Delians, walking him back into one of the tall, ancient pillars to kiss him senseless.

“Blimey,” he sighed when you broke apart, “what was that for?”

You cocked your head playfully, “Do I need a reason to kiss my smart, sexy husband?”

“No,” he conceded with a sheepish smile playing across his lips.

You crowded closer to his body, his spine now pressed against the millennia-old, unyielding marble.

“These broad shoulders, all this golden skin…you look like a Greek god, you know,” you informed him while your hands traveled the cotton-covered expanse of his body. You pressed yourself impossibly closer to his body.

“Careful,” he warned you,“because soon this column won’t be the only thing as hard as stone.”

“Oh yeah?” Your tone was a playful challenge as you palmed his hardness through his shorts.

He groaned, “Babe…”

You withdrew your hand from his crotch. “Wanna feel what you do to me? So we’re even?”

He nodded feverishly to accept your offer and slipped his hand under the skirt of your sundress to dip his fingers inside of your lacy panties and feel you.

“So wet,” he observed reverently, playing with your folds and bud, “All this for me?”

“It’s certainly not for the ruins,” you quipped.

He slipped a finger inside you for your cheekiness, and you instantly tightened around him with a little whimper.

“Only you could make me want to cut a trip to Delos short,” he mused, slowly withdrawing his finger from your cunt, wiping your wetness on your panties, so as not to draw any attention.

“I’ll behave myself,” you promised, smoothing down your skirt. “Delos was your only honeymoon request.”

Steven’s hand took yours once again. “This and more lingerie fashion shows.”

You squeezed his hand, “Play your cards right and I'll give you a good one later.”

***

You’d put on quite the naughty fashion show for Steven when you returned to the suite and between the vigorous fucking your little act had resulted in and a day of sightseeing in the sun, you two passed out cold post-coitus.

Marc had woken up with you just as the sun disappeared below the horizon and suggested a dip to cool and rinse you off after your earlier lovemaking. You knew what “a dip in the pool” meant when your husband suggested it, but what you hadn’t expected was to be bent over your balcony in the Grecian twilight in the nude while your husband railed you from behind.

“Now this is a beautiful view,” he remarked as he pounded you. “I have the ocean and your ass jiggling without having to turn my head.”

Words escaped you at the moment. You were bowed over the rail, indescribably full in this position, equal parts thrilled and terrified that people could see your husband using your pussy in the dwindling sun.

Marc pulled your ass cheeks apart to get a better look at his cock as it was sucked in by your cunt. He kept a hand holding you open while the other massaged the wrinkled skin of your pucker, causing you to convulse at the unexpected touch.

“I get your ass next,” he declared, “It was so hot watching Jake take it…fuck, like a porno just for me and Steven. You were so beautiful.”

You mewled. As dirty as Marc liked to be, he could never abandon his adoration of you. You belonged to one another, each of you placing your trust, respect, vulnerability in the other’s hands to have absolutely shameless sex like this.

“Duh-duh-do…do you think anyone can see?” You wondered out loud.

“Dunno,” Marc replied, still thumbing your asshole. “Probably not but I don’t care if they do, because you’re mine. Right, baby?”

“Yeah,” you instantly concurred . “All yours daddy.”

The use of the pet name spurred Marc to spin you around so that your back was up against the crossbeam that made up the railing. He hitched your leg around his thick hips and plunged back into your needy core swiftly.

“So beautiful,” he repeated again now that you were facing each other. “So goddamn gorgeous.”

“Such a slut for you Marc,” you rambled, your breath hitching when his hand dropped between you once more, this time to strum at your clit.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunted. “My wife is a slut for me and only me, you’ve got everyone else fooled.”

“It’s ‘cause you fuck me like this,” you provided, “‘s why I married you, no one else can make me come so hard.”

Marc redoubled his efforts on your little nub, now fully peeking out from its hood. “That’s right, come for me baby.”

Who were you to disobey? You had to bite your lip to muffle your mind as the fire of your orgasm licked through every corner of your body. Your hands gripped the wooden railing for dear life as it spread throughout your limbs.

Marc followed shortly after you, burying his face into your shoulder as he released deep into your heat with a satisfied groan. He brought your lips together once he finished, capturing you in tender liplock, allowing his cock to soften inside you before extracting it.

“Let’s never go back to London,” you proposed.

You could feel Marc’s amused smile against your skin. “Deal.”

Of course you had to, but it was nice to pretend as if you all didn’t have lives to go back to in two and a half days, even if only for a moment.

***

The next morning, your last full day in Greece, you didn’t want to get out of bed. Your airtight, logical reasoning was if you didn’t wake up the day couldn’t start and pass you by. Plus, you were too comfortable to move. Your back and neck were supported by fluffy pillows, your legs were splayed open and damn, there was the most delightful sensation between them.

It took embarrassingly long for your sleep and pleasure-addled brain to realize that your husband was feasting at you. You eyes blinked open to find the covers pushed back and his inky curls at the apex of your thighs. You moaned, and when he flicked his tongue in quick succession over your clit, you knew it was Steven.

“Honey.”

“Oh you’re awake,” he grinned, his chin wet from your slick when he briefly separated himself from your cunt to greet you. “Brilliant.”

…And he went right back to eating you out like a starving man. You gasped, your fingers curled into his locks, and you jolted into a sitting position as Steven continued. Already the steady pulse of pleasure beat through you indicating that your climax was near.

“How long have you been at this, baby?”

“Dunno,” he murmured against your slit, “a while.”

“Yeah?” Your voice was barely more than a rasp. “Woke up hungry for some pussy?”

He moaned and nodded his head with his tongue firmly shoved against your bud and fuck, yep that did it. You came with a keen, your thighs trembling and your fingers clawing at the crisp white sheets.

Steven retreated some while your orgasm wracked your body, then dove right back in. You tried to twist away from him, still so sensitive, but Steven wrapped his muscled arms around your twitching legs to hold you still.

“Baby,” you attempted to protest.

“Need it,” he countered, his voice reedy.

You pet his curls and tried to keep your legs steady as his morning scruff tickled your inner thighs. At least he eased back in to his assault on your cunt, dropping the lightest kisses on the crease where your thighs meet your groin before lapping at you once more.

He was trying to get as much of you wet as he could, it felt like, before he narrowed his target to just licking stripes from your asshole to your clit. Only once he had you dripping to his liking did he return to stick his tongue in your hole, gulping down your taste, moving to your clit shortly thereafter.

By that point it didn’t take much for you to erupt on his tongue, awarding Steven another orgasm that you could feel from the top of your head to the tip of your toes.

You were not proud to admit that you kind of zoned out at that point, Steven’s mouth enshrined you in a haze of pleasure so dense that you just kind of floated atop it. Your husband seemed to be having the time of his life down there, so you were more than content to submit his ministrations.

You couldn’t really remember your name anymore but did it matter? Did you actually need to know your name to receive all of this ecstasy?

He pulled one - wait maybe it was two? - orgasms out of you - solely with his mouth before Steven’s fingers joined in. He performed a variation of your favorite move, sucking on your clit and instead of finger-fucking you, his digits pressed deep inside of your pussy. He stroked your walls, fingertips searching for that special spot. He found it, then your sweet Steven proceeded to abuse the ever-loving fuck out of it.

You could feel the magnitude of the orgasm building rapidly, more rapidly than you were used to, yet nevertheless you canted your hips against Steven’s mouth and fingers as you hurdled toward your peak. Your release arrived with a distinct feeling of letting go, an uncontrollable sensation, but Steven wouldn’t stop worshiping your pussy, which wrenched a pitiful, strained wail from your mouth as you peaked.

It was as if you couldn’t stop coming. You'd never experienced anything like this before, and although it felt magnificent, it scared you some too.

Steven’s voice brought you back. “Fuck, that was hot.”

Your vision returned and you peered down at him to ask, “Did I just squirt?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his face a portrait of sheer wonder. “It was bloody amazing.”

“Ohmygod” you reeled, words coming out on a rush. “I didn’t know I could do that.”

A flash of movement caught your eye. Steven gripped his cock which looked painfully hard, the top purpled and leaking.

“C’mere baby,” you cooed, motioning toward you. “Use my mouth.” You couldn’t do much currently, but you could do this.

Steven didn’t need to be told twice, awkwardly walking on his knees so he was straddling your chest. You gave his erection a few swipes of your tongue before you looked up at your husband, your eyes beckoning him to fuck your mouth like he needed to after denying himself pleasure for so long. You gripped onto his muscled, pillowy ass cheeks while he feverishly pistoned his dick into the warm suction of your mouth, the loveliest little sounds and cries escaping him.

Given the events of this morning, it wasn’t long before you were swallowing down Steven’s cum. The size of his load indicated how pent up he’d been, and you struggled to swallow all of his hot seed down in one gulp. Your husband swung his leg over your body and collapsed next to you, the two of you rendered silent after the intense lovemaking you’d just shared.

“Blimey,” Steven remarked. “You alright, babe? Need anything?”

You nuzzled into his chest. “I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, we both worked up quite the appetite, didn’t we?” he chuckled.

You joined in, amused. “If only we could subsist off each other’s bodily fluids.”

“We definitely wouldn’t have left the room this week if that had been the case,” he pointed out. “I think the restaurant’s still serving breakfast if we hurry.”

“Can’t we get room service? I can’t move.” You pulled the covers over your head in protest.

“But it’s so bloody expensive,” he bemoaned.

You revealed your face to fire back, “Well, you should’ve thought of that before you made me squirt because you’ve rendered my legs useless.”

Steven’s expression became tinged with concern. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” you assuaged him once again, “but four orgasms tends to take it out of you. Plus, baby, it’s our last day here, we should treat ourselves.”

Your husband relented, reaching for the in-room phone, “Want the bowl you had last time?”

You nodded, just absolutely beaming now that you’d gotten your way, and planted a wet kiss on Steven’s cheek as he placed your breakfast order.

He pulled you close to him once more after he hung up, and you pondered as he held you, “I can’t believe I’ll be back at work in forty-eight hours. I’ll be meant to be catching up on emails and all I’ll be able to think about is how well you three fucked me.”

Steven hummed in a mix of agreement and satisfaction. “We certainly made the most of it, didn’t we? It’ll be tough to go back to our usual routine and not shag at least two times a day.”

“How did we even do it?” you giggled.

“No idea,” he played along, then tilted your chin up to kiss you gingerly, sincerely. “I think it’s safe to say our marriage has gotten off to a cracking start however.”

You reconnected your lips, kissing him deeper. “Couldn’t agree more, my love.”

A/N: hopefully this was worth the wait!! thank you again dawnsutopia for requesting and more fills to come soon!

Taglist: @twwcs, @rmoonstoner, @hot-mess-express1, @murdickdocked, @toracainz, @saahmi, @unspokenmoon, @winterbiipp, @avatarofseshat @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6, @harrys-tittie, @ninebluehearts, @lucianadraven32, @dawnsutopia, @strawberry1042 @nikitawolfxo

Translations:

Joder - Fuck

Te gusta? Piensas que yo miro linda? - You like? Do you think I look cute?

No, eres linda, pero ahora ves tan sexy - No, you’re cute but now you look so sexy

Ven aquí - come here

Por supuesto Papi - of course daddy

Joder si, nena - fuck yeah babe

Bien, bien - okay, okay

Bueno, cuando quieres hacerlo? - good, when do you want to do it?

Vamos - let’s go

Por favor - please

Señora - Mrs.

un poquito mas - a little more

A tí, mi amor - to you, my love

Claro que si - of course

Estas lista - are you ready?

esposo - husband

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useless-bulgariafacts · 2 years

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October 26th is Dimìtrovden/Mitrovden (Димитровден), or the Orthodox feast day of St. Demetrius of Thessaloniki. (Bulgarian: Свети Димитър Солунски) He is a 3rd-4th century Christian saint and great martyr (великомъченик) from the city of Thessaloniki in Greece, of which he is the patron saint.

Hagiographies refer to St. Demetrius as a young man of a senatorial family, who became proconsul and was tasked with persecuting Christians in the at the time still pagan Roman Empire. However, being himself Christian, he instead protected them, for which the emperor had him jailed. He was later speared to death as punishment for the defeat of the gladiator Lyaeus at the hands of Demetrius' disciple, Nestor. This marked the beginning of his veneration by Christians in the area, which grew in the following centuries, as he was said to guard the city against raiders.

Albeit not one originally, during the Middle Ages St. Demetrius came to be revered as a warrior saint, and iconography portrays him riding on a red horse, running a spear through various enemies — often Lyaeus, but also whoever was locally perceived as an enemy. In Greek icons, this is sometimes the Bulgarian tsar Kaloyan, while in Bulgarian ones — the Byzantine emperor Basil II The Bulgarslayer, or later on, a Turk. St. Demetrius is also associated with the founding of the Second Bulgarian Tsardom, specifically the uprising of the brothers Petăr and Asen, which broke out on Oct. 26th, 1185. The St. Demetrius church in Veliko Tărnovo (pictured above) was built in commemoration the event, and served as a coronation site of Asen dynasty tsars, who claimed him as their patron.

Traditionally, Dimitrovden marks the end of the seasonal transition from fall to winter, a period which begins on Oct. 14th with Petkovden. Bulgarian folk mythology casts the saints George and Demetrius in the role of twin brothers, whose respective holidays split the year into its warm and cold halves. The latter, elder of the two, ushers in the cold and darkness, as he rides in on his red horse and the winter's first snowflakes sprinkle down onto the earth from his beard. As St. George's opposite and counterpart, he takes on the qualities of a chthonic deity, and thus has connotations to death and the Beyond — under his patronage the so-called Dimitrovska Zadushnica takes place on the Saturday prior to Dimitrovden, one of several such holidays where food is given out in honor of deceased ancestors. Perhaps this is also why, in addition to St. George, folk imagination places him as a brother to Archangel Michael and nephew to St. Paraskeva/Petka.

Dimitrovden is the true end to the year's agrarian cycle — the harvest now over, it's time to put the farm tools away, make sure the animals have shelter and firewood is stocked up. It's also when farmhands and other labourers' contracts expire and they get rehired for the year ahead, which is why the day is also known as Razpust (Разпуст). As with other big holidays, a community-wide celebratory feast is held, and the customary ritual meal (or kurban) is mutton. The biggest ram is chosen, a pair of gold-painted apples are placed onto its horns and those present bow before it, after which it's slaughtered and cooked, and receives a priest's blessing before being served. Festivities are accompanied by music and horo (group dancing), which again has an intended matchmaking function. Namesakes of the saint celebrate the occasion, too — but they're traditionally served a chicken or rooster dish, according to gender. Other foods for Dimitrovden include corn, seasonal fruit and derived dishes, such as apple pita, pestil (a type of plum dessert), rachel (pumpkin syrup), etc.

Another activity which traditionally ends on Dimitrovden is construction work — a new house is supposed to have been completed by then, and the homeowners celebrate by throwing their own feast with a kurban, and inviting friends and relatives to witness the house being blessed by the master mason and the priest. The feast day has therefore been adopted as a career holiday of builders and masons.

The day's connection to the mysterious and otherworldly has inspired various beliefs and rituals of prognostic or divinatory nature, and anything from the weather and moon phases, to the behaviour of farm animals is observed carefully and used to make future predictions. Characteristic is the custom, known as polazvane (полазване), wherein members of the household make note of the first person to visit them, to physically cross the threshold into their home, and interpret them as a portent of things to come. Also, according to old treasure hunting legends, Dimitrovden is when "the sky opens" and buried gold emits a blue-ish flame just above ground.

Dimitrovden is part of the group of holidays, based around the idea of transition and liminality; between fall and winter, between the world of the living and of the dead. The Christian and pre-Christian symbolism intertwine, the martyr death of the saint mirrors the "death" of nature as the earth is covered in snow and daytime engulfed by darkness. And crucially — for a people whose perception of time follows nature's cycles — the coming of winter brings not only a period of calm and rest, but the promise of spring and renewal.

#Bulgaria #Slavic #Balkan #Eastern Europe #Orthodox #folklore #mythology #customs #Dimitrovden #here you go bulgarian halloween pt.2 #I am again sorry it's several days later but it took a while to write ok

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pray4saint · 10 months

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Hello! Currently thinking about dteam and chuckle sammich honeymoon hc's! Where you'd go, what you'd do, how was IT was mm

dteam & chuckle sammy on their honeymoons

dteam masterlist & chuckle sammy masterlist & descrip. pg. 13+. gn!reader.

a/n. omg bae, i've got you! also thoughts like these are gonna be rotting my brain for the next month / nsfw versions: dteam / chuckle sammy

dream

either hawaii or france.. idk what to tell you he's a cheeseball, sticks with the classics OR on the complete opposite, somewhere thailand (but for the sake of my sanity and writing ability we're going with kona, hawaii)

definitely picked a b&b over a hotel, he wanted the privacy for that first night as a wedded couple

leaving around 11am to go to beaches all day or go shopping

when you're out shopping, he always finds a way to not-so-subtly mention that you guys have just gotten married / he thinks he's subtle

standing in a pacsun, the cashier scanned the tags of the clothes you were buying, asking the usual customer service questions, ”how are y'all doing, did you find everything okay?” and you look up at your husband before nodding, but he still spoke up, ”doing good, we just got married, this is spouse, and yeah,” he turns to you, ”i think we found everything okay.” ”mhm.” you smile at his incessant need to announce that you're married.

tbh powerbottom!dream but in an absolutely sfw, fluffy way / how he looks at you with, essentially, heart eyes when he says something begging for your approval but also making it widely known that you're his and that you're married every chance he gets

dream most definitely has that 'nothing can bring me down' mentality while on your honeymoon

also in the evenings when the sun sets and you're sat next to him or on his lap, he thanks any and every higher power he's ever heard of that you came into his life because you're stunning and he loves you so much and can't imagine his life without you

doesn't even register if fans come up and ask for a picture until you point them out, he's just so invested in you

he also doesn't get on any of his social media except to post the occasional instagram story despite how much you told him it was fine and you didn't mind if he checked twitter or updated his snap story

”clay, aren't your fans gonna worry if you go MIA from twitter?” you set your notebook aside, turning to face him. ”no honey i'm gonna spend time with you, they can wait.” he smiles at you. ”yeah i know but-” ”no buts. they can wait.”

also he inevitably gets sick on the last day of your honeymoon, which is fine because you were getting tired of going out every day / you made him soup with the small amount of food you'd bought at the local costco and he finally took to twitter to tell them how wonderful you were being

sapnap

i think he's taking you on 2 honeymoons, the first is for two weeks in texas to spend time with his family, just so you know you can always depend on them when you need them

the other is for three weeks in greece; the people, the culture, the food, he loves it and he wants to surround you in it

probably picked a hotel over a b&b

also on all the flights, during airport security, in taxis/ubers, when waiting for flights, in the hotel, he kept repeating the same words

mrs./mr./mx. armstrong, he just loves saying it, SO MUCH

”i love you, [mrs./mr./mx.] armstrong.” your newlywed husband spins you in his arms, pulling you flush against his chest. ”i know mr. armstrong, and i love you.” you press a kiss to his lips, trying to get out of his arms to get back to unpacking your suitcase

i think for activities, lots of lunches out and dinners in

also a whole lot of museums and art galleries and ancient ruins, spending time talking about greek mythology and your own theories and opinions on it

sap also sometimes calls you bro on accident and you sometimes call him dude still and all you guys can ever say about it is 'it is what it is'

”what are you gonna get, bro?” he asks as he closes his own menu. he didn't even realise what he said, but the waiter did, and he just watched with intent, unsure of what was happening. ”i don't know dude, whatever you're having i guess.” you close your menu. the waiter speaks up, ”i'm sorry i know it's none of my business but uhm- are you two not, married?” he sounds nervous, as if he thinks he's interrupted some secret affair. ”wh- what? we're married. we've been married.” sap is the one to point it out, taking your hand in his. ”ah, it was just how you called each other 'dude', and 'bro'.” the waiter laughs nervously, walking away with the order written down. in unison, ”it is what it is.”

i also think he takes you shopping because he believes the people who gave you the best wedding gifts should also get a gift in return in addition to a thank you card

lots of hand swinging with your left hand to show off your ring, and hugging in lines, and kissing-bordering-on-making-out in public, he just has no reason not to anymore, you're married

george

george couldn't decide where you went for awhile, so he asked of your friends and his friends and ended up at first with iceland (this is george guys remember) but then changed his mind and picked italy and romania, one week in each

b&b >>> hotels with george, he prefers the privacy

he spent months before the wedding trying to learn the basics of the italian and romanian languages despite how widespread english is

definitely takes you out to eat A BUNCH, except for two nights in each country where you and him cooked dinner for yourselves

you can expect lots of late mornings and late nights with george, he just can't get enough of his new spouse

definitely emphasises your last name being davidson whenever there's a reservation or when he feels the staff is being a little too forward

”last name?” the host asked, eyes glued to the kiosk screen in front of him. ”mr. and mx. davidson.” your husband smiled at you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

takes you to a store at the start of the trip so you have food where you're staying / bonus if you convince him to go to a farmers' market

every day of the trip you and him have set aside an hour to talk to your respective friends on the phone (he's louder)

also forgets to tell you that he booked a redeye for the first flight out of italy/romania because when he booked it he forgot he was planning for two people instead of just himself / he apologised a lot for it

”y/n i'm sorry, if i had been paying attention i would've booked it for later in the day tomorrow.” ”george, baby it's fine. i really don't mind. it's not like i'm going anywhere.” you flash him your ring with a smile to emphasise you point, to which he returns the smile before looking at his own ring.

he apologised again when the plane was about to take off

ted

i think ted takes you to japan for your honeymoon, at least for a week to try those capsule hotels that you and him been dying to try for months

i think he wants to go see all sorts of attractions in japan; theme parks, cat cafes, boardwalks, boat tours, and maybe take you to see an anime film (my brain is rotted from wanting to see an anime film in japan im sorry)

he booked a hotel because in the moment, it felt the easiest

even in japan he would get recognised, but not nearly as often as he did in the states and he would kindly turn down any fan who wanted a picture because he was busy on his honeymoon

lots of small kisses; at the end of a boardwalk, right before you sit down at restaurants, when you get back to the hotel room, when he brings you coffee, tea, or water in the morning, just outside the restaurant when you're leaving, when you two depart in a mall for a set time of 20 minutes

i think he likes seeing the trending tags on twitter surrounding your wedding

”what'ya smiling at, like an idiot baby?” you ask him, drying your hair with a towel from your recent shower, as you walk around from where your suitcase was to where he was stood in the mini kitchen. ”'the nivisons,' we're trending honey, that's all. i think it's sweet.” ”you know coming over here and giving me a kiss is even sweeter.” his phone is on the counter and he's encasing himself around you so fast.

he definitely texted his married friends for ideas when he started to run out / also before you left he logged into your pinterest on your computer and looked for anything he could use as an idea

you guys start binge-watching a new show while on your honeymoon and made inside jokes about it (yeah you became that couple)

holds your hand when you're walking around and getting into taxis and doing pretty much anything in public because he's scared he'll lose you in a crowd

he talks to you like he would a child. ”don't let go of my hand.” ”i won't ted, don't worry.” you shake your head at his antics once he turns away.

books a later in the afternoon flight out so that you can sleep in and he can pack for you and wake you up and get you out the door slowly, without a huge rush and stress

charlie

charlie takes you to 2 places, to start, you get 3 weeks in bali plus a week in new zealand (jrr tolkien/hobbit/lotr fans are gonna love this one)

in bali, he rents a whole house, 1 bedroom & 1 bathroom with a rate of $110 (usd) a night

while you're there, he takes you to sightsee places like gunung kawi temple, pura lempuyang luhur, ubud monkey forest, tukad cepung waterfall and holy spring (tirta empul)

of course wherever you go he insists on holding your hand, just to keep you close by

”baby you gotta let go of my hand i wanna take pictures.” your husband huffs a small, ”fine.” he releases your hand, but his hands find perch on your waist while you take pictures of the water, or the shops, or the wildlife, whatever.

definitely asks if he can use some of the pictures you took for his instagram story (it's the most he's ever used his insta story) and you tell him yes but only if you get to pick them / also on the same note, if either of you snap anyone during your honeymoon or just take selfies in general, they're always of you two kissing or giving each other cheek kisses in the house or at a restaurant or at a location you're visiting

he spends a lot of time just looking at your ring and how the ring on your finger looks against his fingers and vice versa with his ring against your fingers

”charlie?” he looks up from your intertwined hands in surprise. ”hm, what?” ”whatcha thinkin' about?” ”mmm, nothin', just admiring you.” he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, making you smile and a small tint to cover your cheeks.

in new zealand it's a hotel but it's a hobbit hole hotel, complete with tours of everything new zealand could offer about the tolkien's lord of the rings/hobbit universe

more eating out here than in bali despite how much more expensive it is

(if you're not a huge tolkien fan:) lots of thank yous from him for putting up with the trip so he could enjoy it // (if you are a huge tolkien fan:) a ton of excitement for both of you during the entire trip, and lots of talking about your own theories as you learn more about the fictional world

also vlogging the new zealand trip with charlie >>>> / and cataloging the film in the airport just before your flight for you to edit when you get home

schlatt

canada. idc, canada, that's where you're going. or iceland. somewhere cold.

i'm kidding, he told you that as a prank and then took you to australia (i apologise if you can't stand the animals there but this is schlatt we're talking about c'mon)

hotel over a b&b because even he, being the big guy that he is, was a little worried about finding a massive spider in the bed

probably quite a bit of alcohol that first night as a married couple

”y'so- god sweets y'so pretty.” schlatt twirled you around with one hand, beer bottle in the other. you giggled, the alcohol affecting your words and actions. you kept one hand tangled with his while the other held a grip on your bottle of beer. ”j..y'so handsome, you know that?” he blushed, and it must've been the alcohol because your boyfriend– husband now, never got flustered over something as small as that.

there's one night where you two go out dancing and when he sees all the prying eyes of the men and women around you, he makes sure to emphasise your ringed hands, keeping one of his hands planted firmly on your side

somehow you ended up going to see some aniaml fight with schlatt and when it got a little.. gory, you'd cover your eyes with your hands and tuck your head into his shoulder or his chest

”you alright baby?” he asked, flicking his eyes between you and the fight, arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer. ”i guess. jus'wanna leave though.” you whispered up into his ear and he nodded, waiting another minute before walking out with you tucked into his side, repeatedly asking you if you're really okay.

schlatt who takes you out to dinner every other night, with the rest of the nights being used to talk to both his and your friends and watch films together

also schlatt who believes in taking turns making lunch; whether it be sandwiches (it usually is), or pasta, a frozen pizza, etc, you take turns, after all you're married now, everything is 50/50

you probably both get sick at the end of the trip from something you ate and at first you were really worried, but he got better after a day and you two days after that

i also one hundred percent believe schlatt wanted to get home as soon as possible and picked an earlier in the morning flight / him plucking you from the bed three hours before your flight so you could shower and get ready, finish repacking, etc

pray4saint© do not copy, translate or repost my work without my express permission.

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literallyjusttoa · 1 year

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I always found it funny that Apollo is said to be 4000 or so years old in ToA, bc while that is really old mortal wise, it seems actually really young all things considered? I mean, he’s tens of thousands of years younger than humans on earth are, and that’s not even mentioning that half of his family was born long before humans came into existence, so they’ve all got at least like 20,000 years of life over him. That’s almost 5 times his whole life.

My fav idea regarding this is that Apollo and Artemis are the first Olympians to be born after mortals were made by Prometheus. This is kind of maybe supported in myth? Athena and Hephaestus are both active in versions of the mortal creation myth, but none of their younger siblings are shown. I like this bc I think that the younger children of Zeus (Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, and Dionysus) are connected to humans in a way that the rest of the gods are not. It’s the difference between living your whole life with mortals around or having them only show up once you’ve already been around for centuries.

I also like the (probably unintentional) implication Rick made about Apollo and Greece. Doing the math, it seems like Apollo is born sometime in the 2590’s B.C.E, tho it’s hard to be certain with the riordanverse’s mess of a time period. Regardless, he was born around the same time we see major civilization pick up in the Cyclades. Some of our first art pieces from Ancient Greece actually come from this exact time period (there are figurines from Syros and Keros that date to 2700-2300 B.C.E. The one from Keros is even a male lyre player!) This implies that Artemis and Apollo’s birth coincided directly with the birth of Greece. Good for them!

This all also adds to my favorite theory that riordanverse Apollo is the world’s most specialist little boy that connects mortals and gods and is super powerful and also awesome and not like other girls and he could totally overthrow his father for funzies and the fates would applaud him for it.

#my blorbo was born alongside the birth of Ancient Greece so your blorbo has nothing on him #trials of apollo #toa apollo #lester papadopoulos #sunny speaks #headcanon #long post

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annymation · 3 months

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The Tale of A Witch and A Prince.

"Kingdom of Wishes- Wish Rewrite" Prequel

It's time to FINALLY talk about Amaya's backstory! AND HOW THE EVIL COUPLE WE LOVE TO HATE MET! WOOOO!

So here's how this will work, this will be ONE chapter, summarizing where Amaya came from and what led her to Rosas, how her and young Magnifico met, and how they started dating. If you think that's interesting, then come along! And I'll tell you their twisted fairytale!

IMPORTANT: This is purely based on Magnifico and Amaya from my rewrite, if you're new here and haven't read it yet... Well this might not be for ya, it's just gonna be kinda confusing, but hey, here's the link for my Wish rewrite.

Also, here’s how everyone in this story looks, thank you @uva124 for drawing these amazing designs!

Part 1- A Provincial Life

Once upon a time, in a simple village in Athens, Greece, there lived a beautiful, kind and generous young girl, called Amaya.

Amaya was hard working, always helping her family with chores such as cleaning, cooking and taking care of farm animals and anything else that they needed her help with.

However, she wanted more for herself than that, not necessarily anything grand. She just didn't find enjoyment in these simple activities, specially taking care of the animals. She hated farm animals.

But those responsibilities were expected of her, she had to be useful in the community, and she wanted to, she wanted to help others and make her family proud, she wanted to fit in more than anything, but she wanted to do that her own way.

One day, Amaya went to explore away from her village, and she found an abandoned temple, that used to preach Circe, the Goddess of sorcery. Amaya was curious, so she went inside, and in there she found many scrolls containing potion recipes for all sorts of things: potions for healing, changing one's appearance, improving in a talent, making someone more fortunate… And even make someone fall in love.

She was fascinated, in that temple she found everything there was to know about potion brewing. Amaya was already a very studious girl, she loved to read, and she also loved gardening, and understanding plants is a big part about making potions.

So she decided to give it a try.

And thus, she discovered her calling. Amaya started out secretly practicing potion making, and as her talent grew, she began to share it with the people.

She could finally be useful in her own way, and fulfill her deepest wish... Make others happy.

Everyone loved it, Amaya shared her potions for free, to aid the ill, give better voices to aspiring singers, make elders feel younger, make the food taste better, her people couldn’t be more thankful.

She gained the respect of her town, and many friends too, everything was wonderful... But... She still felt like there was something missing, yes, the people loved her for her talent, but she couldn't help but feel that the people didn’t love her… For who she was... She was surrounded by people, but she felt alone.

She wondered if she’d ever meet someone that loved her regardless of what she could give them... And sure enough, she did meet someone.

Adonis was Amaya’s first love. She met the handsome lad when she was an young adult, and he loved her deeply for who she was. He never asked her for a potion, no favors, all he wanted was her company, to listen to her talk, and admire her beauty. Amaya was absolutely smitten, and she didn’t want to ever let go of this feeling. The girl felt like she finally found her happily ever after...

But we all know that’s not how her story ends. For that ever after was taken away from her...

There was another girl in the village who also loved Adonis, her name was Harmona. The girl grew jealous, so one day she asked Amaya for a love potion, and Amaya, so naive, made her one with no reservations, after all Harmona was her friend, so she trusted that the potion would be used wisely.

She couldn't have predicted what her "friend" did next.

One day, when she was picking some flowers to her love... She found him and the girl sharing a tender kiss. Amaya could only watch, frozen in her grief and heartbreak, as the girl smiled maliciously at her and handed to Amaya an empty flask of love potion...

Amaya tried to hold her once lover by his arm, begging him to resist the spell... But Adonis didn't even turn to look at her... She was sobbing and he didn't listen.

He was gone.

Amaya spiraled down into depression. Completely lost in her heartbreak and misery.

Days went by with her making no potions for the people in the village. Some friends tried to give her support... But it didn't take long for some of them to ask her when would she prepare the potions they asked for.

... Amaya realized... Those "friends" didn't care about her, no one in that village ever did... Only he did... And now he's gone.

They all just wanted to use her.

The kind hearted girl was gone, her heart turned into stone. She vowed to never let anyone else take advantage of her ever again, and she would make them all feel the same pain that she was feeling, if not worse.

It was the day of the harvest-festival, a day to celebrate the goddess Demeter and share their plentiful crops and fruits, the people joyfully gathered to feast... And then, it began.

The curses.

Some people started aging rapidly, others became depressed, some lost their sanity, their memories and even their sight, but most were turned into animals.

Any other curse you can imagine was casted upon them.

Amaya had poisoned the crops with the most wicked potions she could find in those scrolls. She couldn't stop laughing watching the chaos unfold around her.

"What's the matter?! I thought you all wanted more of my potions!"

The few villagers that managed to resist the curses tried to capture her, but Amaya had already planned everything for her escape. She prepared a boat and left it ashore with food and water, she'd sail off far away from Athens, leave everything she ever knew behind.

Amaya managed to escape. All she could hear as she sailed away were the screams of the people she once called friends, neighbors and even family, all of them calling her:

A witch.

Part 2- The King and The Prince

After months of travel, only stopping by in a few islands to rest, and then sail off farther and farther away, Amaya eventually got lost at sea, and she was caught by a storm that sent her off her course. She was passed out on the boat when she was found... By a fishing boat, with a flag that had a Rose insignia.

When she woke up, she was laying on the most comfortable bed she ever felt... She looked around and realized she was in a lavish room, that could only be fit for a castle.

"Ah, veo que finalmente te despertaste!" A young and cheerful voice said from next to her, speaking in a language she didn't understand.

The girl got startled, and she quickly turned to the sight of a young man wearing royal attire. His hair was shoulder length and black as ebony, his skin white as snow, and his smile was friendly and innocent. The young man was sitting next to the bed on a comfortable chair while reading a book.

He looked sorry for scaring her and seemed to apologize, but Amaya still couldn't understand him

"No entiendes ni una palabra de lo que digo, ¿verdad? Espera, sé qué hacer" He starts to move his hands, and Amaya's eyes widen in shock as she sees blue magic flowing from his fingertips, he looks at her reassuringly that there's nothing to fear before snapping his fingers, making the magic go straight to Amaya's heart and enchant her.

She doesn't feel anything different, until he speaks again.

"There, that should do it!" The sorcerer said joyfully "Now, let's try this again-"

The young man introduced himself as King Florian of Rosas.

The king explained to Amaya that his men found her adrift at sea, and he requested she'd be brought to the castle immediately so he could be of assistance. He told her he was a sorcerer, a wish granting sorcerer, and it was his sworn duty to make sure all the people in his kingdom had their wish granted... That is, unless they felt like they could grant their wish by themselves, which the young king greatly encouraged too.

Amaya thought it was quite odd for a king to be so... Young.

He was younger than her. He was 19, and she was 24. She asked if he had lost his parents too soon or something. The king explained that no, he just so happens to be the heir that was more... Qualified for the job... Florian realized he accidentally spoke too much and asked her to keep that between them, his older brother wouldn't like other people knowing about that.

"Anyway! Enough about me, I’m sure your story is way more interesting, right? Please, do tell! What got you on that boat? Where do you come from?" The king asks curious, crossing his legs and leaning closer to her, excited to hear all the details.

The girl knows very well that she can't tell this king anything about her past... So, she pulls an innocent girl act, which comes naturally to her as not long ago she was an innocent girl herself

"I... I rather not speak about it, your majesty... It's all far too painful to even put into words" Her voice cracks and she looks at him like she's about to cry.

The king's eyes are full of pity "That's alright, all that matters is that you're safe now, far from whatever you had to run away from. You may tell me what that was when you're ready." He comforts her, talking quite maturely for his age.

Amaya gives him a gentle smile, this king is quite adorable... And gullible. If she plays her cards right, and manages to brew some love potion... She just might become the queen of this land.

"You're so kind, your majesty. How may I ever repay you?" She asked giving him an alluring look that could put a siren to shame.

"Oh perish the thought! You have nothing to repay haha I'm just making sure you feel welcomed here in Rosas!" He says gleefully, completely missing that Amaya tried to flirt with him, to her disappointment "Which reminds me, we must get you settled here in the kingdom at once, I can give you a tour an-"

Then, they heard a voice coming from outside of the room, shouting with rage:

"FLORIAN! Now where's that little- How many times must I tell you to NOT get near my half of the study?! I found one of your books in there! DID YOU LOOK THROUGH MY THINGS?!"

The girl was surprised by the yelling, and ponders who'd dare to speak with the king of the nation like that.

The young king just gave her an embarrassed smile and said

"Heh heh please forgive my brother, he has... Uh... A bit of a temper sometimes."

A tall man with dark brown hair wearing royal clothes just like Florian's barged through the door

"There you are! Now explain wh-" The man stops when he sees Amaya laying on the bed.

... Amaya eyes widen when she sees the handsome man at the door... Her heart skips a beat… She felt something... Something she didn't feel in quite a while... But somehow, it was even more intense this time.

The two stare at each other mouth agape for a moment with Florian sitting between them looking side to side awkwardly, so he breaks the silence:

"... *Ahem* Amaya, this is my older brother, Prince Magnus. Magnus, this is Amaya, the girl found by the fisherman that I told you about this morning... Or did you forget?" Florian asks with an eyebrow raised, already used to his brother not listening to him most of the time.

Magnus blinks a few times like he just snapped out of a trance, his previous anger vanished completely and is replaced by an almost shy smile as he bows respectfully to her "It indeed slipped my mind that we'd be in the company of a guest today, so pleased to make your acquaintance."

Florian looks surprised with how polite his brother was, usually he'd just find an excuse to leave the room whenever there were people visiting the castle... He turns to Amaya and sees how she was blushing, her eyes sparkled while she stared at his brother.

... Oh... Florian smiles widely knowing just what to do.

"SAY! Amaya, I just realized, I haven't asked for your wish yet!" The young king says excitedly

"... My wish?" She turns to the king, also snapping out of her love struck trance "Is- Is giving you my wish a requirement to live here?" she asks concerned, knowing that if the king takes a look into her now tainted heart’s truest desires he might get suspicious of her.

"Oooh no! Hahah of course not, it's your own decision. But I have a gut feeling you know just what it is, so I might as well grant it, right?" Florian discreetly gives his brother a wink like he's doing his big brother a huge favor

Said big brother has no clue what that wink was about, so he just looks very confused.

Amaya thinks... She wants to get this king to fall in love with her... But then again, his brother is way more gorgeous, maybe she cou-NO, nononono no she couldn't! She couldn't let herself fall in love again, besides, marrying his brother wouldn't make her a queen... Unless she killed Florian... WHICH WOULD BE AN UNNECESSARY RISK!- NO she had to listen to her head! She had to think what would be the easiest way to get closer to the king and give him a love potion?... Working in the palace.

"I don't think your magic will be required to grant my wish, your highness. All I wish is to show my gratitude for your hospitality, perhaps if I could... Offer my services here in the castle-"

"Done. What can you do?" Florian accepts in a heartbeat.

Amaya is surprised by how quickly he accepted, she thought she'd have to convince him a bit, but okay, she rolls with it "Oh- well, I can... I can..." She thinks for a moment, she really doesn't want to return to those chores she had in her past life, of cleaning and cooking... Would he grow skeptical if she told him she was a potion maker?... He was naive, so maybe "I can brew potions." She says casually.

The two brothers both raise their eyebrows at that, Florian asks in shock "As in... MAGIC potions?"

Amaya realizes she may just have blown her chances, but she continues "Y-yes, but-"

"THAT'S PERFECT!" Florian jumps from the chair, absolutely ecstatic "Potion making was never one of my strengths! It's decided, you shall be my royal alchemist!" He announces enthusiastically, Amaya smiles at that, successfully getting just what she wanted "Did you hear that broth-" Florian turns to where Magnus was standing, but he's no longer there "... Aaaaand he's gone... *sigh*" Florian looks rather disappointed and then turns to Amaya "He always been more of an introvert, ya know? Hehe"

Amaya smiles at the young king, masking her true intentions with the same kindhearted expression she always had before her heart was broken. Now, all she had to do was bind her time, and soon, she’d go from a witch to a queen.

Part 3- In The Woods

Amaya was welcomed to stay in the palace until a new house was prepared just for her, sure, she could stay lodged at some family's house, but Florian insisted for her to stay in the castle in the mean time, she could sleep in the guest room on the west wing of the castle. How could she refuse? It was like the king wanted to make this easier for her.

Days went by, and she'd do everything to gain even more of Florian's trust... Not like that was hard, all she did was stay hours listening to him blabbering about the history of their kingdom, how important wishes are, how much he cared for his people and other stuff that Amaya had to try her hardest not to roll her eyes over.

... Oh, and his older brother was there too, but he mostly stayed silent in the background, only throwing some sarcastic remarks here and there during Florian's enthusiastic speeches, some that even got a chuckle out of Amaya.

He'd often observe Amaya very closely and attentively while she made her potions... She started to wonder if maybe he was on to her plans, after all, he seemed way less naive than his brother... Well, she could deal with him if he ever got in her way, though it would be such a waste to kill his pretty face she wouldn't let anyone get in her way.

After enough time had passed... Amaya started to put her plan into motion.

All she needed was the ingredients to make her love potion. She went into the woods to gather the last ingredients she required.

Amaya was humming sweetly as she gathered some herbs... But she wasn't alone thought, as she hears a voice coming from behind a tree

"Not that I think someone who traveled such a long distance as you did is helpless but..." The charming voice startled Amaya, she turns to the tree and sees Prince Magnus reveal himself, walking from behind it holding a rose "A maiden such as yourself shouldn't be walking all alone in the woods, care for some company?"

"Oh! Prince Magnus, what a surprise!" Amaya says innocently with a smile, hiding that internally she's wondering why would he follow her? Florian mentioned once how his brother never leaves the palace... He's definitely suspicious of her, so she keeps her little act "Of course! I'd be delighted hihihi" She giggles

"I'm glad to hear that, but please, do me a kindness and cut the act." He says it dryly with a knowing smug.

Amaya eyes widen at that, her face turns worried, but she quickly makes it so it looks like she's hurt by the king's comment and not that she just got caught

"Act? W-what do you mean by that, your majesty?" Her voice is filled with confusion

"Heh heh Oh please, you may have fooled my little brother, but you don't fool me... I know what you are." (🏳️‍🌈?) He keeps a distance from her while walking around the trees with his hands behind his back, his tone is casual like this is just some small talk.

Amaya is calculating her next moves in her head, maybe he's bluffing to get a confession out of her "What do you think I am?" she asks, genuinely curious to hear the answer, as she knows there's no way he knows the whole truth

"Weeeeeell allow me to share some deductions" He leans on a tree while looking at the rose on his hand, and starts to explain his thought process "When you arrived here, I noticed you were wearing a chiton, a garment commonly worn in Greece. Which is faaaar away from Rosas. So you made quite the voyage all on your own, as if you were running away from something." He gives her a look like he's very impressed, then he continues "One may think "Oh the poor thing, she must have been desperate to run far far away from some horrible people"... But I believe that, most often than not, the ones seen as wicked are the ones who run away the farthest."

Amaya feels a sweat run down her forehead "Your highness, do you think I'm a bad person?" She sounds heartbroken and places a hand on her chest

"I didn't say that." He smirks at her, still leaning on a tree "I said "SEEN as wicked" heheh but anyway, you're well versed in potion brewing, a talent that isn't exactly frowned upon there, I mean, followers of Circe and Hecate are all about it." Magnus wasn't as much of a bookworm as his brother, but he knew a thing or two about Greek Mythology, after all a king must know about not only their kingdom's culture but also all cultures that may visit the kingdom... Even though he never got to be king "However, it would be very frowned upon if... Used with ill intentions." He starts walking towards her now.

"I- I would never do such a thing! You got it all wrong!" She exclaims, trying her hardest to think of some sob story she can tell him to explain what made her leave her home "I'm- Uh- I just don't want to talk about-"

"My dear, please, I believe you're the one who got this all wrong" He holds her hand gently and kisses it "I just wish to know the real you." His blue eyes gaze at her passionately.

Amaya finally realizes... He's in love with her as well. And like she has been suspecting for a while now, he's not good intentioned like his brother, no, he wants the crown too...

And he wants to USE her to get it, just like they used her in the past.

Amaya finally does drop the act, her face goes cold and irritated as she pulls her hand away from his hold.

"Was that's really all it took for you to figure it out? My dress and the fact I make potions?" She asks, looking at him with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

Magnus actually looks pleased to see her in a different light.

"Actually, what really gave it away was you not giving your wish to my brother, all you wanted was to "work in the palace", pffft yeah right, once I heard that I knew... You want the crown... And so do I." He smiles devilish with that notion "So, since we both desire the same thing, I thou-"

"You want me to kill your brother so you'll be king, and then we get married, correct?" She interrupts him sharply, her eyes narrowed.

"That's right." He confirms with a grin "Now, I know it sounds sordid, but-"

"No." She cuts him off once again and just walks off into the woods to get her ingredients.

Magnus is surprised by that, quickly walking after her "W-why not? You'd get what you want, and you'd marry someone who actually understands you!"

The woman just laughs at that as she walks away from him "HAH! Understands me? You don't even know me!" She starts walking faster deeper into the forest

Magnus has a harder time to moving around, as he hasn't stepped foot in the forest since he was a boy, his mother used to take him there to have picnics.

(Shocker: Magnifico was a mamas boy)

"But I did just read you like an open book, did I not?" He asks confidently while trying to catch up to her "Come on, you feel it too, don't you? We are meant to be! And doesn't this sound like quite the fairytale? A bitter prince and a spellbinding witch-"

Amaya stops on her tracks when she hears that last word... Oh, she's gonna give this prince something worse than the slap in the face he deserves.

"WELL! Since we're reading each other like open books now, I suppose it's my turn." She turns to him with fire in her eyes, Magnus realizes he might've made the wrong choice of words as he locks his mouth shut "For you see "Your highness" I happen to also know EXACTLY what you are: A fraud." His eyes widen and he scrunches his eyebrows at that comment, Amaya smiles now that she finally got a reaction out of him "That's right, I noticed how your brother's hands always sparkle when he uses magic, while yours don't. And the very few times you did use magic to levitate a book or open a door, King Florian was conveniently hiding away, once even behind the thin curtains, from where I could SEE he was the one using magic, just helping create the illusion that it was YOU!" Magnifico cursed his brother internally for his incompetence, even though that was Florian's idea in the first place. "So once again, my answer is NO, I won't help you with your little regicide, just so you can get the crown that "daddy dearest" promised you when you were a little brat. I know your type, you'll throw me away as soon as the deed is done and I'm no longer of use to you!" She says that furious like she's trying to remind herself that this will happen if she follows her heart again.

Magnus looks shocked, no one has ever talked with him with such anger before... But he senses there's something more than anger in there. There is pain.

She was hurt before.

Amaya turns around, thinking maybe now the prince will get the message, but she's stopped by his voice

"Amaya, wait." He didn't call her by her name before... And hearing it come from him made her heart skip a beat for a moment, she's not facing him but she can hear his voice approaching "... Was your heart broken?" His voice is of genuine worry, no hint of malice or second intentions, because for once there are none.

Amaya feels her heart tighten with the question, she looks down as memories of what she once had start flooding back. "... That's none of your business" she says harshly, trying to mask her sadness.

"Alright... But I just need you to know, I would NEVER make you suffer. When I look at you, I don't see a peon to be used, I see the queen I've always dreamed of having by my side, to protect forever." He speaks gently and tries to hold her hand... And Amaya lets him, feeling her heart flutter with every word "... I understand what I propose is a great risk, for both of us... But I have a plan, and if- WHEN we succeed and rule over this land, I promise you, I'll give you the whole world and more!" He declares to her, probably the most honest words he has spoken in years.

Amaya takes in what he just said... There's more passion in his words than anything Adonis ever said to her... And most importantly, he makes her feel loved, for who she is.

Magnus sees her sad expression change into a comfortable smile, he looks at her in the eyes and offers her the rose he had brought with him "So, what do you say, my queen?"

Amaya looks at the rose... She does raise her hand to hold it but she stops herself... Who's to say he's being honest?

She looks at him intrigued "And why should I trust you?... Or rather, why should you trust me?" She inverts the question with a malicious smile now, and threatens him, just to see his reaction "Perhaps, once you're my little husband I might just put some poison in your tea.”

Magnus actually finds the threat quite enticing, and just tries to use it as a way to flirt... Somewhat. "Well, if you were my wife, I'd drink it." He says with a seductive voice.

Amaya's smile drops into a dumbfounded stare, as she doesn't understand what he means by that.

... Magnus realizes what he just said, his confidence vanishes and he awkwardly tries to explain what he meant by that "W-wait no!- I- I don't mean I'd want to DIE if we were married! Hahah- I uh I meant to say that IF you wanted me dead I'd gladly die for you! You know??? Is that cheesy???" He kept trampling over his words trying to explain himself.

Amaya looks at him nervously stutter away, blabbering about how he'd devotedly die for her... She smiles, and even giggles a little, amused by his sudden flustered state. Her eyes sparkle with fondness for the prince as she sighs. She knows now that she can trust him, he's not pretending to love her... And she's done pretending that she doesn't feel the same.

She grabs him by the collar of his royal vest "Shut up and kiss me, you fool."

She kissed him. The man's eyes widen for a moment in surprise but then he melts into her kiss like his bones are now made of jelly.

Once they break the kiss, Amaya looks at him wickedly and grabs the rose from his hand, feeling it's sent before she asks "So... You mentioned you had a plan?"

Magnus recovers from the kiss, and begins to smile just as deviously as they both gaze upon eachother’s eyes.

And 1 year later, they put their plan into motion...

But that's a story for another time.

(And that story is here, here’s how they killed him)

Final Thoughts

MAN! THIS TOOK LONGER THAN I THOUGHT!

Okayyyy so that was Amaya's long awaited backstory! And boy did it go through changes over time, I'm actually glad I took this long to share it because I had time to perfect it.

See, for a long time, Amaya's tale began in a typical fairytale setting, a provincial village like the one Belle lived, however, as I developed her design with @uva124 I realized it made a lot of sense to make her greek, because her story reflects Megara's, a young girl that wants to have nothing to do with love because her heart has been broken before. And her cursing a whole village after her boyfriend broke up with her? That's some vengeful greek goddess attitude, she actually reminds me a lot of Medea, look it up.

But speaking figures from greek mythology, the name Adonis for her ex wasn't random, see, initially I was just gonna make it a disney reference, so I looked up "Megara's ex" to see if he had a name, and sure enough, he does! He appeared in the Hercules TV show, and his name was Adonis. I decided to look up who is Adonis in greek mythology... And what I found could not have been more perfect:

"In Greek mythology, Adonis was the mortal lover of the goddesses Aphrodite and Persephone. Later, the two goddesses began to compete for the boy's company, and had to submit to Zeus' sentence. He stipulated that he would spend a third of the year with each of them, but Adonis, who preferred Aphrodite, also spent the remaining third with her. This myth gives rise to the idea of the annual vegetation cycle, with the seed remaining underground for four months."

... Do you see it??? Adonis got them girls FIGHTING!!! Zeus had to intervene!

Anyway, this mirrors my story so perfectly its hilarious. With Amaya being Persephone, who later married Hades, who happens to be a big inspiration on Magnifico's character (The Disney Hades I mean) it's like it was written in the stars.

Then there's Harmona, the girl who stole Adonis, her name is to reference "Harmony", the daughter of Aphrodite and Ares. And Harmona just sounds like a evil name to me, so it fits.

About Amaya herself though, I love this woman so much, girl really cursed a whole population and then dipped out into the ocean like freakin Moana. Then as soon as she got rescued by a king she was like "Oh I can pull a gold digger scheme here" Like girl is not playing, she's done being a disney princess she wants power, I respect that.

And Florian, this lil OC that I love so much. Poor guy was Magnifico x Amaya (Magaya?) first shipper, all he wanted was to be a good wing man for his big bro, and that got him killed. Tragic.

But in all seriousness, Florian is such an interesting character for me to write, cause in a way, he's a mix of Asha and Aster. He has Asha's ideals of people being allowed to grant their own wishes, which was something that he encouraged people to do, and also Aster's cheerfulness and innocence.

Also he's straight up male Snow White, not just in how he looks but also personality wise... And cause of death wise.

Now, I mentioned a LOOOONG time ago how Asha kinda mirrors Amaya, and how Magnifico kinda mirrors Aster.

Well, now I can finally show what I meant. Asha and Amaya wished for the same thing, to fit in, and to make other's happy.

Amaya in chapter 5 is the one who suggests how they should change Asha's wish, almost like she's eager to destroy it, because it reminds her of herself, she sees a younger version of herself in Asha. She wants Asha to go through the same pain she went through, of facing the reality that in the end, trying to please others in order to fit in is pointless, no matter how many people are around you, you're still all alone.

The word "Alone" is kind of a theme with Amaya in the rewrite

When Amaya confronts Asha in the plaza, she says "But you miscalculated, my dear, for we are mighty, and you? You are all alo-"

Then right before she says the word Aster pushes her away from Asha.

Then near the finale, Amaya is about to strike Asha withe a sword, and she says

"I'm afraid this is where your story ends, with you... All alone"

Then Dahlia kicks her like "SHUT UP WITCH!"

So point is, Asha was never alone, even if Amaya really wanted to make her feel that way, the same way she felt alone all those years ago.

Thing is that maybe Amaya wasn't even alone for real, she's an un-reliable narrator there, not because she's lying but because her mind was so distressed that she THOUGHT her friends didn't care about her, but that was paranoia. Asha did have a whole kingdom thinking she was a weirdo, but she still kept her head high and cherished her friends, that's what makes her different from Amaya.

About Aster and Magnifico though, it's way more simple, as they're both more simple characters when it comes to their backstories honestly.

Aster wanted to prove himself to be just as good as the other stars, but wanted to do things his way, he did, and he got his happy ending because of that

Magnifico wanted to prove himself to be just as good as the kings that came before him, but he wanted to do things his way, by not granting wishes and not learning magic because it was too hard for him... And he didn't get his happy ending because of that, he got replaced by his little brother.

So basically, what differentiates Aster and Magnifico, how the world around them reacted to their actions, and how they reacted to the world.

How a character deals with trauma is what differentiates them from a hero to a villain.

Let's see... Anything elseeee... Oh yeah, the way that Amaya held Adonis arm and cried for him to look at her is a parallel to Amaya and Magnifico's pose when they're turning into statues, she re-lived that exact moment again, with the man that promised to "Never make her suffer". And Aster makes a comment to Magnifico about how "Then you don't love her, all you want is to use her" and that REALLY stings on Mag exactly because he promised to never use her.

So you see, this whole story re-contextualizes a whole lot of stuff in the rewrite... Or not, maybe I'm just losing my mind, anyway, see you guys next time, my job is far from over with these characters! But I'll try to do something Asha x Aster related now because this was A LOT of villain couple for my system.

Thank You For Reading!

#wish rewrite #wish reimagined #disney wish #kingdom of wishes #wish #disney #wish 2023 #wish movie #wish disney #wish star #king magnifico x amaya #king magnifico #amaya x magnifico #queen amaya #magnifico x amaya

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activityholidaysgreece · 1 year

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audible-smiles · 4 months

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So, I think I may have accidentally found the worst book ever written by a human being.

I don't know if you guys have ever heard of Savitri Devi; she was a Hitler stan who moved from Greece to India, got really excited about "Aryan" racial mythology, changed her name, and tried to fuse Nazism with Hinduism. A lot of her ideology is patently absurd (e.g. Hitler is an avatar of Vishnu), but none of it is funny because she spent her entire life actively trying to build a coalition of the most violently racist people you can imagine. Hindutva paramilitary groups, American neo-Nazis, early ecofascists; you name them, she probably went to their meetings and wrote propaganda for them.

So, knowing this, it makes one feel particularly deranged to learn that she also wrote fiction about- and from the POV of- her many cats.

The book in question is called Long-Whiskers and the Two-Legged Goddess, or The True Story of a "most objectionable Nazi" and half-a-dozen Cats.

Published in 1965, this text features a protagonist named "Heliodora", who Devi admits in the introduction is just her lightly fictionalized self-insert. In the beginning Heliodora heroically rescues a stray kitten and its mother, but then the narrative grinds to a halt to explain the weird racial theories that brought her to India, before it picks right back up with the cat fancying. Here is an excerpt that may convey a little of how jarring these transitions can be:

"An unexpected thought crossed Heliodora’s mind, like a flash of lightning: “Had I gone to Europe in 1939, or even in 1940, 1 should not have had this lovely creature, nor, in fact, any of these cats to which I have given a home. They probably all would have been dead, by now — would have died of misery, in some gutter, without love, poor beautiful felines!” And a strange question followed that thought: “Was it for them that I was fated to remain here?” She knew the thought was a nonsensical one and the question too. For of what account was the life and happiness of any creatures, nay, of any human beings, including her own, compared with the Service of the Aryan Reich and of the Cause of truth?

It is all. Fucking. Like This. There are grim descriptions of feline suffering contrasted with long, ecstatic descriptions of her cats learning to trust the only nice human in the world (her). There are passages on the virtue of vegetarianism and the evils of (especially Kosher) slaughterhouses. She thinks it's a great idea to do medical experiments on criminals rather than animals! She thinks kids who throw rocks at cats should have their hands cut off! She starts chapters with direct quotes from Mein Kampf! When her favorite cat runs away she writes the (fully imaginary) story of his adventures on the streets, including him having cat sex. Here is the cat sex:

"The coquettish she-cat jumped up and ran away, only to stop again some twenty yards further and again to roll in the grass, calling for love, — and again to ran away as soon as the lover was about to take her. At last, however, — after many an unsuccessful leap and further and further galloping in the moonshine, Long- whiskers overcame her faked resistance and possessed her. He forgot himself, and she — his black silky panther — forgot herself. Their individualities ceased for a while to exist, and in him, the eternal He-Cat, Creator and Lord of everything, and in her, the co-eternal, sphinx-like, dark Feline Mother, Lady of all Life, once more mingled their opposite polarities and took consciousness of their double Godhead, as they had been doing for millions and millions of years. And once more the divine spark — the Creative Lightning — flashed through their furry bodies, and the daily miracle took place: there was life in the female’s womb."

Sooooo......anyway...........the lost cat finds its way back to her, but has caught feline distemper and dies in her arms, but then he is REINCARNATED IN ENGLAND, as a kitten in a decent (white) home where his family loves him. Heliodora is coincidentally going back to Europe at this time (she lists her religion as "national socialist" on the travel paperwork), which means we get pages and pages of her obsessing over every 'misstep' in the war, and Germany's tragic loss, but more importantly, she meets a random cat and he is (unknown to her), the reincarnation of her beloved Long-whiskers, the Cat Who Fucked. She sees that he's well-fed and happy and is like "I finally understand why Hitler was so nice to the British; they treat cats well so I guess they're Aryan too". I am not making any of this up:

“They have poured streams of fire over Germany; betrayed their own race; identified themselves with its worst enemies ...”

“Prrr, prrr, prrr,” purred back the cat; “that is because they had been (as they are still being) misled, deceived. But one day they shall wake up from their delusion, tum against their bad shepherds, and help the people of their own blood to build up a new Europe — the very Europe of your dreams, in which we creatures will all be happy — for they are good people at heart; good people like Aryans generally are, taken as a whole. Prrr, prrr, prrr . . . The proof of it is that they have taken such good care of me! Prrrrrrrrr . . .”

This version of her cat grows old and dies. Meanwhile, Heliodora is arrested and imprisoned for distributing Nazi propaganda. When she gets out, she meets the reincarnation of a different cat she had left behind in India. (All of her cats want to find her again after death because they love her so very much.) In between her banal, mundane descriptions of caring for this new cat, she describes her various arrests, interrogations, and brief periods of imprisonment. And then she moves, gives that cat away and gets another fucking cat. It is at this point where I completely lose track of which cat is meant to be the reincarnation of which other cat; this woman goes through cats like potato chips. She says she doesn't even love them as individuals, but as one piece of "the intangible Essence of Catdom", so I guess it doesn't fucking matter whether I know their names or not.

This woman's primary thesis is "human suffering doesn't matter, only animal suffering matters" and she beats it into the ground. Her secondary thesis is that national socialism is the one true religion and will save the world. Not only is this a deeply self-obsessed, morally incoherent, grotesque piece of writing, it is also boring as hell. It's half stories about how people who are mean to animals all deserve to get murdered, and half a travelogue where the protagonist goes on screeds about race-mixing every time she visits a new city. While you're reading it you feel as if time has stopped, and you will be stuck reading this terrible book for the rest of your life. All she knows how to do is repeat her two ideas over and over again. Honestly, it reads like heavy-handed satire of a very specific type of white woman. Heliodora wears golden swastika earrings.

I'm exhausted. Never read this book.

#nazi cw #nazis cw #books #just...really terrible books

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smoooothoperator · 10 months

Text

Beautiful Stranger

01: Way To Fall

Driver! Lando Norris x OC (Lily Barton)

Summer love, strangers to friends to lovers, Greece and Greek mythology references

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Lando being Lando, crash, injuries

Masterlist

Official playlist

next part

a/n: here you have the fist chapter of my new story! I hope everyone likes it and welcomes my new character Lily

kalimera: good morning

glykiá: sweety

efkharîsto: thank you

🎮

When the summer break arrives, everyone wants to know where the drivers will go. They ask where their vacations will be, if they'll spend time with their families, go to parties or stay at home to do the activities they couldn't do during the first half of the season.

"So? What are you going to do?" Carlos asked me, a glass of God knows what type of drink on his right hand, and his left arm on the back of the long couch. "You'll go with your family somewhere with that big boat?"

"I don't think so, mate" I sighed. "I just don't feel like that. My brother has to take care of two kids, my sister has summer competitions… I'm not in the mood, actually"

"And what are you going to do? Stay in your apartment and play videogames?" he laughed, making me roll my eyes and look away.

"I don't know, maybe I will do that" I groaned.

"Go somewhere alone" he said, placing the glass on the table and grabbing his phone. "Buy tickets to somewhere far enough of the spotlight and rent an apartment. I bet that would be exciting"

"Yeah, right. That only happens in movies" I scoffed while drinking a little of my beer.

"And you don't want it to happen to you? Come on, I know you are tired of the dating rumors, of being always on tabloids asking about your love life in summer. You should go somewhere alone, far from the media" he said, patting my back.

Maybe he's right. Maybe I should go to a place where no one knows who I am. Maybe I should grab a map and find a place where I can be on my own.

That's how I ended days after searching for a place where I should go.

Portofino? No, even if it's a beautiful place there are a lot of tourists and famous people there.

Somewhere in Spain? No… I was there last summer.

France? The Netherlands… no, they would recognize me.

Greece. That country has many islands. Maybe I can go somewhere and stay there all the break.

There are some islands where communication barely arrives, where you live in a mix of the past and the present and ignore the exterior. Right, that’s what I need.

I tried to find a good place, somewhere not too difficult to access. I shouldn’t rent a car, right? I have to look like a normal guy that casually has lots of money. No big luxury brands to be seen, no expensive watches or jewelry. I have to look like another tourist that wants to be in a village for a few weeks.

Now… How should I go there? Which place should I go? Not Mykonos, not Rhodes or Santorini. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

“Huh? Where are you going?” Max asked, walking behind me and watching the screen of my laptop. “Greece?”

“I want to go alone” I sighed, rubbing my forehead and looking at the screen, the list of all the islands of Greece were shown in front of me. “But I don’t know where to go”

I saw Max sitting next to me, looking at the screen and reading it. I searched in Wikipedia the list of islands just to know the name of them. But then the population was next to the names.

“Tell me a number between 1 and 144” he said, taking the laptop away from me.

“What?” I frowned looking at him. “Mate, it’s not a game, come on…”

“I’m helping you decide where you’ll go. So tell me a number” he frowned.

“God… Okay…” I sighed, closing my eyes and thinking of a number. “32?”

“Well, now you’ll go to Parga” he said.

I sighed. That was easy. It was too easy, and I didn't like it. I needed a place to get lost, my mind wanted to be in somewhere where neither my best friend knew where I was.

"But…" I sighed while brushing my hair with my hand.

"I won't tell anyone" he sighed. "Lando, mate… you need it. I understand. Now with those rumors about you saying things you never said and the girls they say you are dating, you need to be somewhere away from the problems"

I look at him and nod. He's right, of course he's right. Carlos and him know me, they know how bad the hate affects me and how it makes me feel.

"I'll go to that place" I sighed nodding. "But promise me you won't tell anyone"

🖌️

The started great. Everyone in the village started their routine as always, going to their boats, opening their restaurants and starting to cook. The streets smell of food, the women making their traditional dishes just to serve the tourists that came here, kids running and playing on the streets with their friends and the old people talking on the door of their houses.

"Kalimera, Nora" I smiled at the woman that was preparing some breakfast.

"Oh, Lily" she smiled, kissing my cheek. "Today we have a reservation. Someone will come to one of the apartments"

"Oh, really? At what time?" I asked, serving myself a cup of coffee.

"Don't worry about it, Dorien will take care of it" she smiled. "He works for me, glykiá. You can go do your work"

I smile and nod, taking a deep breath and looking at her.

Nora Makris, owner of some of the apartments here in Parga. The day I came she adopted me as one of her kids, taking care of me and helping me with everything I needed.

"What are you going to do today?" she asked, putting a plate of fruit in front of me.

"I think I'll work for a while at the cafeteria and then I'll go to the beach" I smiled at her.

Life here is easy: you wake up, get dressed always with a bikini under the clothes, work for a while and then go to the beach. Do you need more money? You can guide the tourists and help them with everything they need and translate things from the local people.

Three years ago I came with the idea of escape from my life, needing a place to disconnect and forget about my past. And thanks to Nora now I have a place to call home. Working in the cafeteria is always fun. The villagers come and teach me some of their traditions, they teach me their language and how to live like them.

After I finished my breakfast I started to help Nora, making coffee or baking things. I know everyone in this place, so I greet them with their name and make their favorite things the way they like.

"Kalimera, Lily" they smile when I arrive at their table, complimenting my coffee or my outfit.

Everybody wants to know about me. Why would a young woman come here alone for a trip and stay longer than expected? They say I'm mysterious, that I'm a gift from the gods. Maybe that's why they treat me like I was born there, not asking about my origins or about my life, only accepting that I'm one of them.

The morning went quick, the same routine as always. The upstairs neighbor wanted a coffee with a plate of mixed fruit, the old lady that lives two doors away wanted her morning tea with one of the pastries of the day, the mother that lives with her two kids wanted her usual morning coffee and a toast with avocado and cream cheese. Everyone has their story here, and that's what I love about this place.

"Lily, you can leave now" Nora said walking towards me. "I'll for a while for the lunch time and them I'll start preparing some dishes for whoever wants to come"

I nodded and smiled, grabbing my bag and taking off my apron, leaving it on the hanger that is next to the backdoor.

I went to my apartment, going upstairs and opening the door. I have to get changed and make something for lunch, something quick and easy so I can go to the beach soon.

Everything was going great. I was listening to music while cooking, singing on top of it and moving around. Cutting tomatoes, making some bread and making chicken to make a gyro.

I heard noises in the apartment next to mine, like someone talking in English and opening and closing doors, even someone talking dirty English. Walls here are thin, but I won't complain. I prefer having thin walls rather than not having anything.

When I finished making my lunch I grabbed my laptop and went to the balcony, eating everything while watching a show.

"That's Peaky Blinders?" I heard a voice from the other balcony.

I stopped the episode and frowned, looking at the tall wall that separated both balconies. I can't see the face of the person that talks to me, I only can hear him.

"Eh… yeah" I nod, blushing. "How do you know?"

"The accent and that they are always saying Thomas Shelby" he chuckled. "It's a great show"

"Yeah it is" I nodded, smiling. "It's the second time I watch it"

"That's nice" he said, and then silence again.

I continued watching the show, but it was awkward. Nora should have told me that the tourist was going to be my neighbor, that we were going to share walls.

The rest of the lunch time was relaxed. After I finished the lunch I laid on the couch to watch a little more of the show while packing my beach bag and getting changed to go there.

The beach here is some streets away, and on the way to it there are many stores to get the attention of the tourists: souvenirs, ice cream shops, things for the beach, even swimwear and sandals shops.

I grabbed my earphones and started playing some soft music after getting out of the apartment, locking the door and putting the keys on the bag.

I started my way to the beach, smiling at some people that recognized me and even stopping to talk with some of them. The old women always have something to talk about, even some of them try to make me date their grandsons.

"They would settle down with someone like you" they use to say. "You are so responsible and down on Earth!"

It always makes me laugh. I'm mysterious to them, no one knows why I came, only Nora.

I kept walking down the street, hearing music that now wasn't as soft as before. It was some type of rock, making me not hear my surroundings.

Making me not hear the scooter that was driving straight towards me.

"Stop!" the guy screamed, but it was too late for him to break and for me to jump back. "Shit!"

I fell to the floor. It was so fast, making me fall hard. I could feel blood in the plan of my hands and my knees, even a sharp pain on my ankle.

"Shit, are you okay?" he gasped, leaving the scooter on the floor and kneeling in front of me.

"What the hell?" I groaned, but I immediately moaned in pain. "Just pay attention to the road!"

"I did! You were the one that wasn't paying attention!" he exclaimed and it made me gasp, looking at him.

"It's you" I frown, recognizing the voice.

"Me?" he frowned, nervous. "What? You know who I am?"

He looked around, searching for someone or something. I could feel how anxious he was feeling right now.

"Shit, do you know who I am" he groaned.

"Yeah, my neighbor" I said, looking at him.

"What?" he mumbled, frowning. "Oh, you are the one that is watching Peaky Blinders… yeah, sorry"

I frown and look around. Was he searching for someone? No one was around, at this time people are already on the beach or working on their shops.

"Shit, you can walk, right?" he sighed, helping me to get up.

"Yeah… no" I groaned when I stood on my feet. "No, I think I hurt my ankle"

"Ah shit" he sighed. "Is there somewhere I can take you? Like… a medical center?"

"Yeah" I sigh, leaning on him since he was holding me to not stand on my ankle.

"Get on the scooter" he said, holding it and sitting on it, looking at me.

"What? No! You just crashed on me with it! I won't get on it!" I exclaimed, but the pain was worse than my own pride.

"I'll help you, okay? And I'll go slow and pay attention to every corner. Now, please, get on the scooter" he sighed.

I look at him and then at the back of his seat, where I'm supposed to sit. I have to get close to him to fit, wrap my arms on his waist and hold him. God, it will be really awkward.

"Come on" he hurried me.

I sighed, grabbing my bag from the ground and hanging it on my shoulder, standing on my good leg while I watched how he was offering me his hand to hold it. I looked at the palm of my hand, gow scratched and bloody it was, then at my knee. I’m surely going to get his shirt dirty with my blood.

“But the blood…” I sighed looking at his hand.

“I really don’t care, come on” he sighed, moving his hand to hold mine helping me get on the scooter. “It’s just blood, I can wash it away. And if you don’t look that ankle it will get worse”

I sigh and nod, getting on the scooter in a really uncomfortable way. He doesn’t have a spare helmet, so he took his helmet off and put it on my head. He didn’t start the engine, making me believe the vehicle was broken.

“Wrap your arms around me” he said looking back at me.

“What? No!” I exclaimed, raising up my hands, trying to not touch him.

“You’ll fall if you don’t do that!” he sighed, and grabbed both of my hands wrapping my arms around his waist making me blush hard.

This guy has really a strong rizz, he didn’t even flinch when I placed my hands on his abdomen, the dry blood getting on his shirt and my fingers feeling the line of his abs.

I tried to not blush, looking away and making sure he couldn’t see me through the mirrors. He smells good too, I wonder what type of perfume he’s using. And his curls are so good made, just on top of his head and on his sides is kinda shorty.

“It’s on this way, right?” he asked me, pointing to a signal that had a cross on it. “It’s in greek”

“Yeah, it's that way” I said nodding.

He parked the scooter in front of the door of the medical center, getting off of it after holding it with the stand. He took off the helmet from my head and then hung it on the handlebar.

“Do you need help?” he asked, looking at me.

Now I can see his eyes, his face. Well, he's cute.

“I think so, yeah” I sighed after trying to get out of the seat, but it was impossible.

He helped me, holding my arm and then he turned around. He wanted to carry me on his back? Can this be more awkward than it already is and looks? I sighed, sitting with both my legs hanging on the side of the scooter and looking at his back.

I hope no one is around. Because it’ll be the talk of the town.

🎮

I felt bad. Really, really bad. The moment she recognized me I panicked, thinking that she recognized me because of who I was, not because of my voice. She’s the girl next door that when I walked inside the apartment Max rented for me was playing music while cooking. I heard her voice and then I heard the dialogues of the show I watched not long ago.

Her voice was soft, like velvet, and when she talked to me after I crashed into her, her mad voice made me remember Yuki. She was panicking and in pain, andI could feel how nervous she was while we had the ride on the scooter.

When we arrived at the medical center and I carried her inside of it she started talking in greek, making me impressed. She speaks perfect english and a perfect greek, where is she from?

“I have a sprained ankle” she sighed looking at me.

The moment the nurse saw her when we walked inside the local she guided us to a room, so I placed her on the hospital bed and sat next to her on a chair. I’m not an idiot, I know that it’s my fault and I should take care of what happened.

“Oh…” I frowned, looking at how the nurse was rolling a bandage around her right foot. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault”

She sighed and looked away. I still can feel how uncomfortable she is.

“I’ll pay for the medicines you have to take” I said, and she turned her head quickly at me, surprised.

“No, don’t worry about it! I can pay for them” she frowned, like if she was offended that I was offering to pay for the medicines.

She sighed and looked away again, crossing her arms in front of her chest and looking out through the window. I bet she wanted to be on the beach, she was wearing a bikini under her summer dress, and on her bag there was a towel and a book too.

“It’s the least I can do, I ruined your day” I sighed, shrugging my shoulders.

The nurse looked at us and said something that made her blush. I wonder what she said.

“Okay” the girl sighed. “Yeah, okay”

I smiled weakly and nodded at the nurse, watching how she got up to grab something. I grabbed my phone and sighed, searching the dictionary I downloaded.

“How do you say thank you in greek?” I asked the girl, frowning, then I heard her chuckle.

“Efkharîsto” she said chuckling softly. “You came to Greece with no idea of how to say the basic things to survive here?”

“I survive thanks to a dictionary” I said sighing.

“Well, let me tell you that it’s useless” she laughed. “You should learn the basic words, just to not waste time searching them”

“What’s your name?” I asked her suddenly, looking at her and how her face changed. “I crashed into you, at least let me know the name of my first victim”

“Your first victim? I feel honored” she laughed, making me laugh. Good, the tension is now less present here. “Lily”

“That doesn’t sound Greek at all” I frowned, looking at her surprised.

“That’s because I’m not from here” she said shrugging her shoulders. “And what’s your name? In case I have to demand you, you know”

“Oh…” I laugh, but my mind immediately started to panic. Should I tell her my name? What if she discovers who I am? “Logan” lie.

“Well… nice to meet you in a bad way, Logan” she nodded.

Well done, Lando.

taglist

@lestappenloverr @racinggirl @roni-midnights @livster @kakorrhaphiphobia @starkeyellow @celestialpierre @ophcelia @msliz @lorarri @ironmaiden1313 @imsorare @mycenterfold

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gabessquishytum · 9 months

Note

Alpha dream in rut dubcon claiming his mate? 🐈‍⬛ anon, ily.

Dream is an alpha, obviously. He’s going through a rough divorce and so he is already on edge and struggling to keep it together. It’s especially hard because his ex-wife, Calliope is moving for Greece with Orpheus. But losing his family has his hormones screaming and salivating to lay claim someone, anyone to fill the void.

Dream throws himself into work (he is a professor) instead.

The day Calliope moves out, he is especially wired. He’s snappish and hot under the collar. A student knocks into him on the way across the green and he nearly takes their head off. He gets through class with gritted teeth until he can sink into the sanctuary of his office and stew. He doesn’t realize it yet but his body is reacting to the broken mating bond with Calliope and reaching out desperately for a replacement.

And in walks Hob, one of Dream’s students with questions about his final paper. He’s one of Dream’s most active and engaged students, with lots of insightful questions and critiques of Shakespeare. He’s also an omega.

Hob sits down, unaware of what’s happening in Dream’s body, of the red haze taking over his sight, of how Dream can suddenly only smell Hob’s sweet scent, tinged with just a little sex, because Hob is nursing a crush on Dream. It fills his mouth, his mind. He can’t think. Dream’s last coherent thought is that he should tell Hob to run. But Dream knows he’d just chase him.

Dream drags a shocked Hob out of his seat and pins him down on the desk, scenting him desperately, hands clawing at his hips.

Hob is equally alarmed and aroused. Dream snarls if he so much as twitches and can’t seem to hear Hob. But Hob’s body is happy to submit and he can’t help but offer his neck to this gorgeous, overwhelming alpha.

Lost in a rut, Dream fucks his student rough on a pile of his classmates’ papers while Hob cries and writhes, torn between begging for mercy and begging for more. Dream’s frenzy doesn’t end until his new mate is claimed, marked and coming on his knot.

Alsksksfkgkhj yeah, I also haven’t stopped thinking about Dream pulling squirmy, sobbing, sniffling Hob back onto his cock as he tries to escape. And if there’s one great thing about a knot, it’s the fact that Hob can’t get away…

Poor innocent omega Hob comes in in his little tweed jacket and thick rimmed glasses with questions about his essay for his favourite professor… not knowing that he’s just about to walk in and be absolutely railed by the man he’s had a massive crush on for the whole term.

Before he knows what happened to him, he’s face down on the desk having his trousers ripped down. He squeaks and whimpers and tries to get Dream’s attention, but Dream’s attention is very firmly elsewhere: he’s got his big, thin hand between Hob’s legs, shoving long fingers into his dripping hole. He tries to crawl across the desk and at least, ya know, talk about this! But Dream pins him down by the small of his back and holds him there.

Hob goes limp for a moment when Dream first fucks into him, and then he’s back to squirming and kicking. Dream barely seems to hear him or see him beyond the tight wetness of his hole. It’s not until his teeth sink into Hob’s neck and his knot begins to swell that he actually even says anything - and all he says is “mine.”

Hob lies across the desk, having just cum massively all over a pile of essays, knowing that he’s just been claimed by his favourite professor and there’s nothing he can do about it. Maybe he should be more upset, but all he can do is squeeze his hole around Dream’s cock, milking it for all it can give. And Dream is very much still in rut brain, and all he wants to do is lick Hob’s neck and lie on top of him. He’ll go through a whole range of guilty feelings later, but right now he just wants his omega.

When the knot deflates, it’s Hob who kinda scoops Dream up and ends up carrying him back to his accommodation. The rut is still coming and going in waves, and Hob is very concerned about taking care of his alpha. For the next few days they fuck in Hob’s tiny student bed, surviving on protein bars and red bull. When it’s finally over, Dream doesn’t even have time to go into the awful self hated of what he’s done because Hob slaps a hand over his mouth. Tells him to hush, and that all he needs to do is give him a good grade on the next assignment and let him move into Dream’s fancy townhouse and out of this shitty student flat. Also… Dream can be the one to tell the university that they’re mated, now :D

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw dubcon #cw dubious consent #cw omegaverse

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all-mirth-no-matter · 1 year

Text

Time After Time | Chapter Six

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Tommy takes you on an impromptu trip.

Warning: language, smoking, ethnic slur, fluff, tommy is a soft boi, next chapter will have lots of plot dev i promise

ao3 Link | Catch up on tumblr here

Chapter Six: Dismantle. Repair.

Hands, like secrets, are the hardest thing to keep from you. Lines and phrases, like knives, your words can cut me through. — Dismantle. Repair., Anberlin

“A wagon?” Your sleepy brain was still in a haze, and you weren’t even positive what you were looking at was real. “Where did you even— what the hell is this, the Oregon Trail?”

Tommy grabbed your bag and climbed into the seat, securing it in the back before offering his hand to help you up. “Come on now, get in.”

“Is this the part where I ‘go for a ride’ and you leave my body in a ditch somewhere?” You asked sarcastically, taking his hand and letting him pull you up.

If you’d had your wits about you, you would have taken note of how easily he’d lifted you, how tight his hold on you was, and how he’d pulled you right up against his side. But you could only grumble out of sleepiness and revel in the warmth of his body heat.

“Not this time,” he chuckled softly, obviously amused by your less-than-filtered state. “Secure?” He checked to make sure you were seated comfortably next to him before he flicked the reigns. He instructed the horse to walk on. “Not a morning person, eh?”

“Morning?” You scoffed. “This is rolling into bed after a good night out hours.”

It was still dark when you’d heard the knock at your door.

You used to be the deepest sleeper — you could have slept through a hurricane (you had once as a kid, your dad told you). But since you’d woken up here, you hadn’t had one decent nights sleep. Your anxiety levels were always on high and the noise outside was nonstop. The train, the boats, the constant fire balls bursting into the air down the lane.

Most of the time, sleep found you out of exhaustion, when your mind couldn’t run any longer and your body began to shut down from the physical and mental labor of it all.

Last night was no exception.

You spent the rest of the evening in the office. Despite the bookhouse being closed for the day, the house itself was bustling with activity. It was then that you realized something you hadn’t thought about in years.

Family hadn’t exactly been something that you’d had much experience with in your life.

Your father had very little of it — his parents had died before you’d been born, and his younger brother had moved to different parts of America some time after he’d enlisted. Your uncle had found himself on a different life path than your father, always finding himself in trouble one way or another. It wasn’t until your father died that you even heard from him — a weird and uncomfortable phone call from a family member you’d never met, crying over guilt. After that, you never heard from him again.

Your mother, on the other hand, had no family. At all. She refused to talk about it with you, even as you got older. The only reason you knew the fact you had about her blood line stretching across Europe but possibly starting in Greece was after you begged insistently so that you wouldn’t fail a genealogy assignment for class.

After your mother’s death, you fell into a bit of a spiral — isolating yourself from the friends you’d made over the years. Eventually, the only people you’d started interacting with were people you met through work.

But every night, even when you were seeing someone at the time, you felt a sense of isolation, of loneliness, of non-belonging.

The feeling only intensified when you woke up in 1918, obviously accompanied with newer feelings of confusion and anger and feeling completely out of control of your life.

After meeting Ada and Harry, you were surprised when you realized that those feelings had started to lesson. It was still prevalent, but gradually, as you started spending more time at the Shelby household and with the patrons at the Garrison, you began to feel a deeper sense of camaraderie and acceptance.

Even if you were still keeping the fact that you were a time traveler from the future a secret. That was just, ya’know, details.

As you wrapped up your (second) first day with the Shelby business, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like growing up in the Shelby family. All those siblings, their parents, their aunt, and what sounded like loads of friends of the family that you still hadn’t met. Their bond seemed iron clad, especially with the defensive way Arthur acted when he felt that stronghold was being invaded by an outsider.

You didn’t blame him, either brother really, even if they had been hugely rude and sexist. It was nothing you didn’t hear at the pub on the daily.

The sad part (or the only child, people pleaser, desperate for family love part) was that you really wanted John and Arthur to like you, in the same way you’d been hellbent on gaining Polly’s respect and affection.

Arthur spent the day completely avoiding you. When your paths did cross, like when you went to find Polly to ask a clerical question, he simply grunted at you. But you took that as an improvement from calling you a whore, so you took it.

John was running around with his kids, apparently his wife was feeling a little sick lately. He actually stopped and talked to you for a little bit when you asked how she was doing. He seemed concerned, but Polly reassured that the doctors were taking good care of her and she’d be back on her feet in no time.

In the evening, Ada brought you some stew Polly had made and sat with you at the table as you both ate. It felt like old times — well, old in the sense of like a month ago.

The first thing you made sure to ask was about Freddie. You were careful not to use names, even after she shut the door to give the two of you more privacy. She’d happily informed you that the two of them had reconnected successfully — that while he wasn’t the same Freddie that had left Birmingham, they were learning how to be each other again.

You asked how long they were planning to keep things a secret, to which she didn’t have a solid answer.

“He thinks it’s for the best for now,” she’d added, hinting that there was some disconnect between his friendship with Tommy.

He’d gotten into politics, Ada had told you, sort of shrugging it off and claiming that it was just fun listening to him talk so passionately about something. That it made her want to be passionate about something too.

“So, you and my brother,” she’d suggested after finally catching you up.

You rose your brow as a counter. “And what exactly are you implying?”

“You keep surprising me, is all. I thought for sure Harry was going to toss you on your ass, but you got that job. Good thing I didn’t bet on this as well, ‘wise I’d lose again!”

Your mouth dropped dramatically as you gave her a playful shove. “Hey! I thought you liked me?”

“I do!” She laughed as she shoved you back. “I got you this job, remember? It’s just—“ her face fell as she looked down at her spoon, “you remember how the boys our age were before the war.”

You didn’t.

“Tommy was just like the lot of ‘em. Protective and determined as hell, but still, he used to laugh — used to make us laugh.” Her eyes shined a little at the memories behind them, but then dropped. “Since he’s been back, he hasn’t— he just— it’s like he’s been a stone. Out of all of ‘em, he’s been the one Pol and I ‘ave been worried about the most.”

Ada closed her mouth quickly, obviously not completely comfortable sharing this more intimate family discussion. You remained silent, not pushing the subject but not dismissing her either. She cleared her throat before she went on, managing a smile in the process.

“All that to say, you’ve managed to charm him,” her brow rose as her smile turned into a smirk.

“Nothing is going on,” you insisted, rolling your eyes at her.

She feigned insult, “Did I say there was?”

“Your face did,” you countered, pointing at her in emphasis.

Ada waved you off, “Fine. I’m just saying, it’s nice to see this side of Tommy again.”

She dropped the topic and left you to finish your work. Apparently she’d been warned by Tommy as well not to take up too much of your time.

As you were making your way out at the end of the day, you were trying to ignore the pang in your chest of not seeing Tommy again since he’d left that afternoon. You know what he’d said, but part of you hoped he’d come back. Maybe walk you home again.

Maybe give you another chance to ask him the question you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about, but for the life of you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him that morning.

You had no idea why you’d been so nervous about it. He’d told you he’d dreamed about you, obviously he wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t expected you to have some follow up questions, right?

So why did the thought of actually asking him about it terrify you enough to act like it’d never happened?

Part of you knew you were scared of his answer. That him having this weird connection meant that this whole crazy, time travel, vision nonsense extended outside of just yourself — and to be honest, you weren’t sure if you were ready to live in that kind of reality just yet.

Apparently, your brain had a fantastic capacity for denial and compartmentalizing than you’d ever realized.

Again, that night you only got a couple hours of sleep before the knock at your door. You’d been suspicious and surprised to see Tommy on the other side, and then annoyed and cranky when he let himself in and began packing you a bag. Too tired to physically fight him on it, you let him do whatever it was he wanted, hoping he’d leave soon so you could go back to sleep.

But when he was done, he instructed you to follow and lock up behind you, throwing his coat to you.

And that’s how you ended up here, still half asleep, riding in a wagon next to a Peaky Blinder before sunrise.

“I’ve never been in a wagon before,” you mused, your brain still catching up with what was going on. “I’ve never been in a carriage before, actually. Not even one of those cute, kitschy ones that they have in some tourist cities.”

Tommy’s brow creased as he kept his gaze forward, letting you continue.

“I rode a horse once, but it was in the mountains and they were trained.” You chuckled, letting the memory come back, “They told us not to let the horses deviate from the trail and eat the plants on the edges. That if we gave the reigns a slight tug it would keep them from doing it. But my horse — Ginger Spice was her name, which was great because I loved the Spice Girls — I’m pretty sure she could sense that I was a pushover because she would not stop eating no matter how much I tried to direct her not to.”

Your eyes were still heavy as you chuckled to yourself, the scene playing like a movie behind your eyes.

“And then finally, when I could get her to fall in line with the others, she’d run me into tree branches or push me up against the other horses. She was such an ass.” You shook your head, still laughing at the memory. “But then at the end of the ride, she let me pet her and feed her carrots. My dad teased me that Ginger wanted me to take her home just so she could live a spoiled life with me.”

Your memory grew somber as you got to the end of the memory.

“That trip was the last time I remember my parents being happy with each other. Mum had laughed so hard at me trying to get the horse to turn around — it might have been the hardest I’d ever seen her laugh in my entire life.”

Tommy chanced a glance toward you, but you were still staring forward at the horse, your smile falling.

“Sorry,” you cleared your throat, the sleep fog starting to finally lift. “I ramble and mutter when I’m cranky. You should have seen me in school when I had to study for exams. My schoolmates made me isolate myself because I talked too much.”

“Don’t mind,” Tommy shrugged. “We’ve got a long trip.”

“Where are we going?” Your brow creased as you finally looked into the wagon behind you.

“It’s a surprise.”

You huffed, “I don’t like surprises.”

Tommy hummed in amusement. “No, I didn’t suppose you would.”

“Tommy—“

“I made you a promise, didn’t I?”

You swallowed, “We’re going to see the Delphi family?”

“Aye, if they want to see us, that is.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “I got in touch with an old friend yesterday who was going to work on tracking ‘em down.”

Your brow rose, “Wow, that was fast.”

“I’m highly motivated.”

“Hmm,” you mused as you leaned back against the rest, “and it would be naive of me to believe that you’re motivated out of the kindness of your heart, yeah?”

He turned to you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since you’d gotten in the wagon. The sun was still making it’s way above the horizon, but you could see the softness in his eyes consider you, then harden before turning forward.

“Yes, it would.” He cleared his throat. “If you recall, you also made a promise to me. You find the answers you seek, and then you tell me everything.”

You mimicked his motion and also faced the front, wrapping the coat around yourself as the cool air finally began to get to you. “I’m not sure if you want to know everything.”

“There’s that naivety again.”

You huffed again, “I’m serious. You don’t know what you’re asking. You’ll put me in the nut house.”

You both sat in silence for a beat, watching as the city began to slowly transition into countryside.

“Why do you want to know everything, anyhow?” you asked finally.

“I don’t like surprises.”

He repeated your words, his eyes giving you a quick scan as you took a deep breath.

“Touché,” you replied reluctantly. “Then why are we in a wagon? Wouldn’t a car get us wherever it is you’re taking me faster?”

“Aye, but I’m not certain exactly where we need to go and we’re too low on petrol for guessin’. We can sleep in the wagon if we need to, dependin’ on how cold it’ll get. Brought extra blankets just in case.”

“Sleeping?” Your brow creased again. “How long will this take?”

Tommy shrugged, “A day. A week. Not certain.”

“A we—“ you took a deep breath. “Harry is gonna kill me, Tommy. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m tellin’ ya now. And I already informed Harry—”

You rolled your eyes. “Dammit, Tommy. Harry is my boss, working at the pub is my job, a job that I like!”

“Y/N—“

“I get that Harry also works for you or pays you, or whatever the hell kind of set up it is — but you can’t keep taking my agency away from me like this,” you pushed on, ignoring his attempt to pause you. “Harry will lose respect for me, hell he might even fire me, replace me — and I wouldn’t blame him!”

“Would it matter?” Tommy’s voice rose back at you. “You work for me now, eh?! You go wherever the fuck I tell you to go. And I don’t pay you to fight me on things!”

Your mouth snapped shut. This was the first time Tommy had spoken to you like that. You’d seen it yesterday with his brothers, but it’d never been directed at you.

Tommy took a deep breath, lifting his hand to press his fingers against his forehead. “I thought this is what you wanted,” his voice softer than it’d been before.

You took a deep breath, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands before looking back toward him. Tommy was already looking at you, his face hardened as he waited for your reply.

“What I want… I want to stop feeling like I don’t have any control over my life,” you said, your voice quiet and vulnerable with the weight of just how much you meant your words.

His face began to soften slightly as his eyes searched your face for a lie, but found none.

“I appreciate your help with this, and the urgency. But you could have just told me what you had planned. I could have gone to Harry myself. I could have lied, I could have told him whatever it is you want me to tell him. Just— if you could please stop blindsiding me with things, that’d be great.” You gave a small smile, trying to lighten back the mood while still staying serious. “Communication, ya’know? They say it’s the foundation for any relationship. Even in business.”

His eyes never left yours as you spoke. His tongue ran across his lips before he looked away again. You waited a beat for his response.

“You’re like two different people,” he finally said, his position still forward. You swallowed as he went on. “The words you use, the oddities you say. It makes me feel like there’s this entire person who I haven’t met, who I don’t know if I can trust, no matter how much I watched or how much we talk.”

You stayed silent, unsure how to explain yourself. When you didn’t, he went on.

“When I first realized who you were, when I first began to watch you, I half expected to find some rich girl stumblin’ her way around pretending to be a barmaid. Maybe you’d been a runaway, maybe you’d gotten yourself in trouble — why else would a pretty, educated girl like you be in Birmingham.”

His gaze held yours as he continued.

“The first day, I watched you work your shift from the shadows of the pub and watched you pour a pint like you’ve been doin’ it for years, so obviously you weren’t lying there. But,” his gaze dropped then, shaking his head as he inhaled a breath, “you speak like someone whose afraid of what they’re goin’ to say, so you don’t say much. You’re friendly, and can match anyone in conversation when prompted, but the depth of your words were shallow with the strangers around you. Even with Harry. Which surprised me, considerin’ the woman I met by the Cut had been one of the most intriguing souls I’d ever encountered.”

You found yourself holding your breath as he spoke, surprised that he was being this open with you.

“I like the way you speak to me,” he continued, his eyes finding yours again. “You’re unafraid, of me and yourself, it seems. There’s no air of frivolous pleasantries or polite small talk. You’re blunt and unapologetic. Probably why Polly likes you so much — you remind me of her sometimes. It makes me feel real, like something I thought I lost.”

You still couldn’t find your voice, unsure what to say and partially nervous of scaring him away from continuing if you did.

“I want you to fight me on things,” he said, his voice growing softer than you’d ever heard it. “I need you to.”

“Good. Because I wouldn’t know how to turn that filter off even if I could,” a smile pulled at the corner of your mouth.

His cheek rose in amusement as he lifted his free hand up to your face. He lightly ran his knuckles against your cheek softly as he took a deep breath. “But I still don’t trust you, no matter how much my gut wants to. And my patience has limits.”

Your smile fell, but you nodded, understanding and empathizing with his point of you.

“I don’t want to keep secrets from you,” you found yourself saying out loud.

His jaw clenched as he took in your words, “I believe you. I look forward to the day you don’t.”

He resumed his driving position as the two of you road in silence for a while longer. Your mind contemplated whether you should just tell him the whole story — maybe he wouldn’t think you claiming to be from the future was crazy?

How would you even begin to explain it? Even the idea of time travel wasn’t a common thing in today’s world. Sure, it’d been like 20 years since The Time Machine by HG Wells had come out, but you highly doubted Tommy had read it, much less even heard of it.

And how could you prove it to him? Warn him about the prohibition? The Irish Revolution? The stock market crash? The Second World War?

No. He’d definitely think you were crazy.

Even if this trip was a long shot, maybe there was something with this gypsy family that could answer enough for you to explain yourself.

Maybe…

You were surprised when he announced that you had made it to your first stop, it being just mid-morning. Approaching another caravan, Tommy explained that this was his contact with the gypsy family, and if all went well, he’ll be able to lead you to their camp.

“Johnny Dogs!” Tommy greeted as he exited the car.

“Tommy! How the hell are ya?” A shorter man hustled to meet him, arms extended wide as he pulled Tommy in for a bear hug.

“All the better for views of green pastures and getting city smoke outta my lungs,” Tommy replied, taking a deep breath through his nose.

You took that opportunity to take in a similar appreciation. In the last few months you’d been in Birmingham, you hadn’t even left the city. You forgot how green the grass and blue the sky could be. You began to wonder if there’d ever be a time again when you weren’t living in the smoke of the city…

“This your first time out here since France?” Johnny asked.

“What do you know of France you war-shy gypsy bastard.”

He chuckled, obviously not offended by Tommy’s comment. “Bastard I am. And is this your girl?”

The two men finally turned their attention to you. Tommy made the introductions.

“Johnny Dogs, this is Y/N L/N. Y/N, this is Johnny.”

“Hi,” you greeted with a smile and a surprisingly shy voice. Whoever this was, Tommy obviously trusted. You hadn’t seen him this relaxed before, not even with his own family. The thought made you feel nervous for some reason.

“Lovely to meet ya,” Johnny welcomed enthusiastically, taking off his hat in a chivalrous attempt that made you chuckle.

“You riding alone nowadays, Johnny?” Tommy asked, pulling his friends attention back.

“Aye, for now.”

Tommy blew some smoke. “Tell me, you still close with the Lee family?”

“Oi, I’m friendly. Haven’t ridden with them in a long while.”

Tommy nodded, “Heard they were startin’ to cause real trouble for Billy Kimber and his boys.”

Billy Kimber — you’d heard that name before. Your brain scrambled to pinpoint the reference.

“Think so,” Johnny replied. His brow rose, “Why, you wantin’ to start nabbin’ at his winnings too?”

Winnings — was he a bookkeeper as well? Horse racing?

“No. I want to nab his entire bloody kingdom.”

“Tommy—“

“I have a plan, Johnny. I’m startin’ one, anyway. I won’t involve you until I absolutely have to.”

Johnny took a deep breath, “Life of a Peaky Blinder never grows old, eh?”

“They don’t get the chance to,” Tommy took a final drag before throwing the bud to the ground. “More on this ‘nother time. We’re here for ‘nother reason.”

“Aye, that’s right.” And then Johnny Dogs began speaking in another language, looking to you like he expected you to understand.

You knew quite a few languages — Spanish, French, a little bit of Italian, and you could even stumble your way around some Latin. But this — you had no idea. Your mouth opened, then closed as you looked to Tommy, who was watching you.

“You don’t understand Romani?” Johnny asked, back in English, before turning toward Tommy. “Thought you said she was gypsy?”

He pulled out another cigarette. “I said she was of gypsy blood. She was bred anything but.”

“I see, my apologies, Miss.”

“It’s okay,” you assured, offering Johnny a smile. “Just something new for me to learn, is all.”

Tommy’s cheek flinched.

Johnny went on, “I got confirmation from a cousin of the Delphi. They’re camped outside of Wales. We can make it by dusk if we get a move on.”

Tommy nodded, “Aye, you lead the way.”

You loaded back into the caravan, you and Tommy following Johnny Dogs.

——

“Want to give it a go?”

You both hadn’t said much since starting this next part of the journey. Traveling this way was starting to grow tiresome for you — you really missed modern day cars and their gas tank sizes. At least those seats were cushioned, your butt had fallen asleep hours ago.

Part of the reason you’d been so silent was that you were trying to figure something out.

Ever since you’d heard Tommy say the name Delphi the other night, you couldn’t help but feel as if you’d heard it from somewhere. You were trying to comb through for the millionth time everything your mother had ever said about your gift or her family background. But everything brought you back to the same place.

You really wish you could talk to your mother again. Get some answers — some real answers.

And if you didn’t know the Delphi name through your mother, why was it setting off some kind of bell in your head?

“Y/N?” Tommy nudged your arm to get your attention.

“What?” you asked, being pulled from your thoughts.

“I asked if you wanted to give it a go,” he repeated, holding up the horse’s reigns. “You said you’d never been in a carriage before, which is really hard to believe. Want to try driving for a bit?”

“Okay,” you answered excitedly, your previous thoughts on pause as you excitedly sat up straighter in your seat.

Tommy pulled you closer to the middle of the bench, right up against his side. This time, your brain wasn’t too tired to notice, but you tried to keep it focused on the task at hand.

He handed you the reigns, but kept his arms around yours, his hands wrapping around your own to show you how to hold them. He had you move the straps between your index and middle finger for a sturdier grip and explained how that’d be more ideal if there were more than one horse. He showed you to make the horse turn left and right, what noises and commands to make it go faster and slower.

You tried your damndest to pay attention to his instruction. Not only did you want to impress him, but you genuinely wanted to be good at this new skill. Especially if this trip were to take days to travel, it was only fair you take your turn at driving. Road trip rules still apply, even if the road was dirt and the vehicle was horse and wagon.

But everything about this little lesson was making you grow weaker for this damn asshole. Your arms underneath his, your chin against his shoulder, his hands around yours, and his leg pressed against your leg were all one thing…

But his voice.

It was slowly becoming one of your favorite sounds in the world. You could listen to Tommy Shelby speak absolute nonsense for hours and never grow tired. His deep voice remained soft as he gave his instructions, patient when you needed it and supportive when you accomplished the lesson.

“You’re a natural,” he complimented, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Next you’ll be riding Midnight bareback.”

“Next lesson, yeah?” you giggled, biting your lip out of genuine giddiness over the potential.

He peered down at you, his eyes hooded but still brilliantly bright in the late afternoon sun.

God, he was beautiful. He felt otherworldly when you looked at him this closely.

“So, what did you tell Harry, then?” you asked softly, your eyes moving down to his full lips.

His brow creased slightly then, obviously caught off guard by your change in subject. “Umm. That I was takin’ you on a trip out of the city, possibly visiting the fairgrounds.”

“There’s a fairgrounds?” your voice went up, eyes snapping back up to his, genuinely surprised and slightly hopeful of one day actually going to said fairgrounds.

He chuckled, “Aye.”

You considered him, bitting your lip as you dared to ask the follow-up, “So he thinks we’re together?”

Tommy’s grip tightened around your hands, still holding the reigns, “If that’s the conclusion he came to, I suppose.”

“That doesn’t bother you?” you asked, tilting your head slightly as you felt yourself turn your body toward him more. “Local pub owner spreading dating gossip on the town gangster.”

“I prefer to think of myself as a businessman,” Tommy replied with a hint of mirth. He shrugged as he responded to your point, “The town of Birmingham has been tellin’ tales of the Shelby family my entire life.”

He rose his brow, giving you that familiar look again before asking his follow-up.

“Does it bother you?”

Your eyes met his again. “No.”

“Good,” he said, softer than ever as his eyes finally looked down at your own lips.

Your heart was racing as you realized how close you were to him. You’d chicken out the other night, missing your chance to lean in and connect your lips in the way you’d been fantasizing about since that first night by the Cut.

A wave of bravado overtook you, your hand lifting on its own accord toward his cheek before you could think your way out of this. Tommy’s face flashed in a moment of unsureness before he leaned down as you stretched up. You guessed whatever reservation he’d been fighting with himself had been sidelined as well for the moment, as he peered into your eyes one final time as his forehead met yours.

Smiling despite yourself, you closed the gap between you.

The world around you stopped for a moment. You didn’t feel Midnight pulling the wagon forward, the bumpy gravel beneath the wheels — all you felt was the gentle push and pull of Tommy’s lips against your own.

You’d honestly been a bit surprised with the gentleness of his kiss. He kissed you softly, then politely began to pull away before the hand that’d caressed his cheek found its way toward his neck, then through the back of his hair as you pulled his head back and your lips met his again.

Later you would over analyze this moment, think about how the women of today were proper, polite, and shy young ladies who didn’t kiss boys first. Who played hard to get and left the men wanting more.

But in that moment, you were 21st century you. A girl who kissed boys when she wanted and didn’t hold back. You kissed Tommy with all the passion that’d you’d been feeling the past few days, feeling him respond in kind when his mouth began to move in sync with yours. A mix between a groan and a growl left his throat as your mouth opened for him, a sound that made you whimper at the thought of getting him to repeat it. Your nails began to scratch lightly at his scalp as his hands finally began moving to wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him —

Midnight neighed loudly, the sudden movement of his reigns and distraction of his riders causing him to ride too close to Johnny Dog’s caravan.

His second cry caused him to lift his front two hooves in the air and stumble around frantically.

Tommy jumped from the seat of the wagon and grabbed Midnight’s reigns, pulling his face down to his as he began to whisper to the horse, calming him down. He pet the side of his face, apologizing and comforting him enough for the horse to stop.

Johnny paused his own horse and wagon, jumping out as well and running back toward you two.

“Everythin’ alright? Horse get spooked, did he?”

“Aye,” Tommy replied, sending you a quick look and smirked. “He’s calmed now. Ready to continue on.”

“Good,” Johnny nodded. “‘Cause we’re almost there! Get ready, Miss! These gypsies are not to be trifled with and don’t take kind to strangers. Best to be on your guard. If rumors are to be believed, they’ll know why you’ve come before you tell ‘em.”

You chuckled, taking a deep breath to slow your heart beat. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

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promise the next chapter is going to develop the plot along! had to stop this one here, but the next is in the works! hopefully i didn’t miss anyone who wanted to be tagged, give me a shout if i did or if you want to be added. you guys have been AMAZING with your comments and response, im so glad you’re enjoying and am so not worthy, but appreciate you all anyhow!

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nerdraging4point0 · 2 months

Text

Blood of Eden // Part Eight // Noah Sebastian Urban Fantasy AU Fic

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

CW: 18+ only minors DNI. Urban Fantasy romance, Smut. Angst. Fluff (ish), Story includes D/S themes, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of drug use and distribution, mentions of prostitution, unprotected sex, male receiving oral sex, female receiving oral sex, cuckolding, P/A sex, P/V sex.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

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Jolly strode into the grand council chamber, adjusting the lapels of his suit and surveying the scene before him. Fellow mages mingled in small groups, their hushed conversations echoing off the circular walls and intricately carved marble pillars. His gaze swept down the stairs to the center of the room, where the massive, oaken table of the Head Magistrate sat, its surface polished to a gleaming shine and inlaid with intricate sigils and runes. Flanking it were the four smaller tables of the Council Elders, simple and unadorned in contrast. Off to the side, almost as an afterthought, were the utilitarian desks of the Secretary, Scribe, and Guardsman, stacked high with parchment and quills. Jolly slumped into his seat at one of the Elders' tables, crossing one leg lazily over the other and leaning back with a sigh. Another mind-numbing meeting awaited him, just like all the others this month. These interminable gatherings were the bane of his workday existence. He often found himself zoning out as the Magistrate droned on, his imagination drifting to literally anything else - magical experiments in his workshop, reading in the archives, even watching paint dry. Today would be no exception, he mused, stifling a yawn and steeling himself for the boredom ahead.

Jolly's mind wanders to Rosa as he waits for the meeting to start. He thinks back to this morning at the breakfast table, when he caught a brief glimpse of the intensity simmering behind her eyes. For just a moment, he saw the aurora glow of her irises - greens, blues and purples swirling together like a cosmic storm.

As Jolly poured himself another cup of coffee in the kitchen, he overheard Rosa telling Noah about the victims of the disease she called The Rage. But it wasn't really a disease at all- just uncontrolled magic consuming Unclaimed Mages from within.

Jolly shudders at the thought. Where would he be now if his own magic had spiraled out of control like that? He feels a swell of gratitude for his mentor, who helped him harness and master his abilities.

His family was a lineage of mages with a magic that spanned generations, each adept at wielding the immense power of water. He had a cousin who made her home right on the tumultuous waves of the Aegean Sea in Greece - open her back door and the ocean spray hits you in the face. Another cousin was an Olympic swimmer - clearly the family gifts gave him an advantage in the pool. It was no coincidence they hailed from the icy north, where snow covered the ground most of the year. His parents were in their element among the glaciers and snowdrifts. They never understood why he felt compelled to head west to the sweltering city.

The simplicity of it resonated within him. Blood. The one common thread that bound humans, mages, and hunters together as one. Its rhythmic flow coursed through every living being, connecting them in an intimate dance of life. As he stood among the pulsing thrum of bodies, feeling their sanguine energy swirl around him, he found peace. In that moment, all differences faded away, and there was only the blood - the vital, crimson river that made them all one.

As she sits down next to him, he can't help but notice her defeated sigh, though her appearance exudes anything but. Maria's dark caramel locks cascade in perfect curls down to the middle of her back, effortlessly framing her sweet mocha skin. While her heather grey suit accentuates her figure, her aura commands the room. He knows Maria to be a confident, successful woman who carries herself with poise and grace, yet in this moment she seems weary. Though she looks as put together as ever, her sigh betrays her, hinting at an exhaustion or worry she tries hard not to show. He wonders what could be weighing on her mind to make her shoulders slump ever so slightly under that perfectly fitted jacket.

Jolly's lips curl into a playful smile as he asks, "What is it this time, Maria dear?" The two have been best friends ever since his arrival from Sweden. Maria herself was born and raised in Brazil - two foreigners who found companionship in one another.

"What isn't the matter?" she exclaims, throwing her head back in defeat. "My experiments are failing left and right. And my herbal farm in the west? It got hit with an unexpected frost. Half our stock is dead and the rest are in shock." Poor Maria lets out an exaggerated sigh, hands slapping her face as her fresh red manicure slides down pulling her skin with it.

With a warm smile, Jolly noticed the sparkling diamond ring on Maria’s finger. "So how's Oliver handling his new promotion?" he asked.

Maria sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "About as well as can be expected. He's determined to support the hunters and make me proud, but I can tell his mind has been preoccupied." A frown tugged at her lips as she absentmindedly twisted the ring. "I just hope all the added responsibilities aren't weighing too heavily on him."

Jolly nodded in understanding, giving her arm a reassuring pat. "I'm sure he'll get the hang of it. Oliver's got a good head on his shoulders." He offered an encouraging grin. "And if he needs any advice, tell him to give me a call. I'd be happy to help however I can."

The magistrate's presence silenced the room as all eyes fell upon him. His receding dark hair and heavy-lidded eyes, now dulled by age, did nothing to diminish the air of authority he exuded. With shoulders squared, he strode in with the confidence of a man accustomed to commanding obedience. Though time had etched its marks on his face, the magistrate's piercing gaze and imposing stature ensured that he remained an intimidating, powerful figure that few would dare defy. Flanked by armed guards with hands ready at their weapons and fierce hunters prowling in his wake, he exuded power. The assembled mages and council members watched with bated breath as he took his place at the head of the room. His piercing gaze swept over the crowd; with but a look, he could end any man's life. When he spoke, his deep voice echoed off the stone walls, steel underlying his every word. This was not a man to be trifled with. All knew that to defy him meant certain death. His will would be done, one way or another.

The magistrate called the meeting to order, his gravelly voice booming through the crowded hall. As the magistrate continued explaining the agenda for their meeting, Jolly listened intently, waiting for the right moment to make his case with passion and conviction. Jolly had been concerned about laboratory finances being off for months now, although it was only slight loss each month he wanted to propose more access to the financial bracket in order to ensure the funding was being spent appropriately. As the head researcher at the biotech firm, Jolly took pride in running an efficient and productive lab. He had assembled a top-notch team of scientists who were making great strides in genetic research that could lead to new disease treatments. However, Jolly had noticed some peculiarities in the monthly budgets that left him scratching his head. Each month, there seemed to be a small but consistent discrepancy between the approved funding for equipment, materials, and salaries and the actual spending. The differences were not huge - usually just a few thousand dollars - but they bothered Jolly, who liked to have full transparency and understanding of his lab's finances. He began to wonder if the discrepancies were a sign of innocent accounting errors or something more concerning like misconduct or fraud.

The council chamber erupted into a tumultuous debate as the mages representing the western territories voiced their strong objections to the proposed expansion plans. The western mages were incensed, but controlled in their anger, as they argued against the council's designs to push westward, establishing new laboratories, research facilities, and magical institutions on their lands. They fretted that such development would tax their resources, both material and magical, to a breaking point. More than that, the mages worried how the humans living in the west would react. So much of the mages' livelihood and profits depended on providing services to the non-magical humans there.

The western mages implored the council to reconsider the westward expansion, lest they lose the faith and business of the humans and thereby undermine the prosperity of mage and human alike. But not even ten minutes had passed when Jolly's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pressed it between his palm and thigh, silencing it until the buzzing stopped. A minute later, it buzzed again. Maria turned to him, concern swimming in her soft brown eyes. Jolly never got calls during meetings, especially not with the High Council of Mages. He was always diligent about turning his phone off beforehand. Yet here it was, buzzing insistently in his pocket, disrupting the solemn proceedings. Jolly shifted in his seat, ignoring Maria's worried glance. The phone vibrated again, persistently. Noah knew better than to call during High Council meetings, but after the third buzz, Jolly discreetly slid his phone out from his deep pocket and tapped back a quick message: "In a meeting."

The phone hummed once more against his leg. He offered Maria an apologetic nod before slipping to the back of the room. He could feel the eyes of the other Mages following him, their curiosity mingled with annoyance at the disruption. What could be so urgent that Noah would risk the ire of the High Council? Jolly's grip tightened on his phone as he stepped into the shadowed recesses of the hall.

"Noah, what's going on?" he whispered.

Before Jolly could even finish the question, Noah blurted out: "It's Rosa. She's been sick all morning, shaking and sobbing. I think she's having trouble breathing." Jolly could hear Rosa whimpering and choking back sobs in the background. His heart sank with worry.

Jolly ended the call and quietly returned to his seat beside Maria. Crouching down, he saw her eyes widen as she took in the evident concern on his face.

"Go," she whispered. "I'll check in after the meeting."

NOAH’S POV

He glances down at Rosa's small, trembling body curled up in his lap. Her fever still rages even as she finally drifts into a fitful sleep. He gently rubs circles on her back, hoping to provide some small comfort as they huddle near the warming fire. Jolly has been on the phone with Maria all day, both of them racking their brains trying to figure out how to make Rosa feel better. They've tried everything - bland foods, rest, warm baths, piles of blankets - but nothing seems to break this persistent fever. He feels so helpless watching his young mistress suffer. His heart aches to see her so miserable and weak. If only there was something more he could do to ease her discomfort. He continues rubbing her back, wishing he could absorb her illness into himself and spare her this torment.

Late into the night, the apartment was dark and still. Noah's eyes peered through the shadows, his night vision sharp. In the next room, Jolly tapped away at his keyboard, the occasional thud against the desk revealing his frustration. They were all on edge.

Before the knock came at the door, Noah caught their scent on the air - the earthy musk of Oli mixed with his wife's exotic floral perfume. Hushed voices murmured as Nick let them in, arms laden with bags. The commotion stirred Rosa from her sleep. She groaned, turning her head in Noah's lap as the visitors carried in their chaotic noise. He stroked her hair, hoping to soothe her back to rest, even as his own nerves remained taut.

Noah gently scoops her up, cradling her in his strong arms as if she were the most delicate porcelain doll. Carrying her down the hall to the room she shares with Jolly. His face softens as he gazes down at her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Oli and Nick follow closely behind, ever-watchful guardians ready to protect their cherished friend.

Oli takes up his post by the tall windows, his tall, lean frame leaning casually against the glass as he keeps a close eye on the surroundings below. Nick stations himself firmly by the door, arms crossed, prepared to ward off any disturbance.

Noah lays Rosa down tenderly on the bed, tucking the blankets snugly around her resting form. His touch is feather-light, yet secure and comforting. Oli and Nick exchange a quick glance, reassured by the care Noah takes with his vulnerable mistress.

Noah stops tucking her in, looking up at Oli with a questioning gaze. "She's different now," Oli said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Since that night. Something's changed."

Nick chimed in, sounding puzzled. "She's sick, right?" But he had never even seen Rosa before. How could he know?

Oli hesitated, sensing there was more to it. "No, it's...something else. Something more." His tone was laced with curiosity and unease.

Noah gazed upon his mistress' sleeping form, a knot of unease twisting in his gut. She was his to protect, yet he sensed a power within her that gave him pause. As she shifted in slumber, a lock of hair fell across her face. But as his fingers grazed her cheek, her eyes flashed open, swirling with the cosmic colors of the morning sky.

He whimpered, feeling her gaze pierce his soul. His body shuddered, dropping to all fours in supplication before her might. With but a glance, she commanded the room. Oli and Nick, too, succumbed, bowing as beasts before her.

Though uncertainty gripped him, Noah felt no fear. He would surrender all to keep her safe. There was power here, yes, but no evil. Only light.

JOLLY’S POV

Jolly's leg bounced impatiently as he watched Maria pore over the results for the fifth time. "Well?" he finally burst out, unable to contain himself any longer.

Maria glanced up, one eyebrow raised. "This is unbelievable," she murmured. "Nightshade serum? Created in someone's home lab? Preposterous."

She turned back to the email, reading through it again with pursed lips. Jolly groaned and leaned his head against the back of the couch.

"I just can't wrap my mind around it," Maria said after another minute. "This Rosa woman managed to synthesize a complex biochemical compound using makeshift equipment? And achieved these kind of results?"

He sits casually on the couch, legs crossed, as he considers the situation. "Seems like it," he muses. "She's been getting nightshade from some garden shop over on the east side."

Maria thinks quietly to herself. "Well, I don't own that shop. And I certainly don't sell deadly nightshade here." She shakes her head slightly.

Jolly sat up, placing both feet firmly on the ground as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His hands clasped together tightly as he looked at Maria expectantly.

"Well, will any of that mumbo jumbo you brought actually help or not?" he asked, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. He needed something real, something tangible to help Rosa get through this.

Maria just leaned back in the office chair, clicking her tongue thoughtfully. "I might be able to whip something up, but it may only provide temporary relief. She may just have to ride this thing out."

Jolly shook his head, countering firmly but not unkindly, "She needs strength, real medicine, if she's going to recover and get back on her feet. Something to help her keep food and water down, not just take the edge off."

Maria nodded contemplatively, eyes glazing over as she turned ideas over in her head. "Let me see what I can do. Oh, and when she's better, I'd love to be able to pick her brain a bit." At Jolly's confused look, she continued, "My experiments keep failing, but with a brilliant mind like hers, maybe I can finally achieve what I'm looking for."

Jolly sighed, but had to admit her skills could help. "We'll see when she's back on her feet. For now, let's just focus on getting her well."

Maria spins out of the chair, gliding across the room before she rummages through her bags with eager hands, searching for the ingredients she needs. Maria finds them and gets to work, pouring and mixing with practiced motions. Several syringes are filled with a murky green concoction. She tidies her workspace, then picks up one of the syringes. gives it a flick, making sure there are no bubbles, before securing the needle. Her eyes gleam as she admires the fruits of her labor.

Jolly scrambles to his feet as she catwalks out of the room, her words trailing behind her. "Let's see if it works." He hurries after her, struggling to keep up with her long strides. They make their way down the hall to his room. As he opens the door, they both freeze, startled by the sight before them.

Between the soft cotton sheets and warm down blankets, Rosa rests peacefully, her head propped up on the plush pillows. Next to her, Noah, rests his furry head on her belly, his legs twitching occasionally as he sleeps curled up close to Rosa, ever watchful and protective. At her feet, paws crossed over her legs, lies Nick, snoring softly in tranquil slumber. And there, curled perfectly at Rosa's thighs, eyes open and alert, is Oli, the vigilant comander.

Jolly leans against the door frame, crossing his arms as he watches the faithful guardians wake and look at Maria with curious yet cautious eyes. They have locked onto the syringe in her hand. Noah turns to Jolly, who offers a reassuring nod as Maria approaches slowly. The protective canine companions follow her every move, never leaving their posts at Rosa's side. Jolly looks on calmly from the doorway as Maria grasps Rosa's arm, finding the right spot and delivering the medicine from the syringe. When the syringe is empty, Maria walks away, and the devoted guardians snuggle into Rosa even tighter, continuing their vigil watch.

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