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therhythmafterthesummer · 8 months

Note

IBDIJEUIDJBEYAI

I JUST HAD A BIG BRAIN MOMENT!!

Kitten surprising Min with her old school uniform and a lil role play. His mind is racing from the skirt and the memories and he can like touch her how he always imagined her

-🥝

you're so absolutely right, kiwi. this was a humongous brain moment.

i've had this ask in my inbox since mid-august bc i just had to write something I HAD TO since it stirred something within me. thankfully, i recently figured out how i wanted to go about this, and finally got to writing it💜

Pairing: Werewolf!Minho x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series, but you probably don’t really need to read any of the other instalments to understand this one, although it's highly recommended!). | Word Count: ~3k | Themes & Warnings: Supernatural/Fantasy AU · Smut · Fluff · Established Relationship · role-playing as high schoolers (disclaimer: they’re both consenting adults fulfilling fantasies of their past, neither are genuinely attracted to minors in any way) · nipple play · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is on birth control] · a smidge of a breeding kink · cumshot · barely proof-read as it usually is with these “drabbles”...

minors do not interact.

“Min–Minho…”

Oh, how sweet you sounded when you said his name like that… It was just how he’d dreamt it’d be. He’d heard you before, of course. But not in this situation, in this particular setting…

“My dad could be home anytime now–Oh, shit…” Your words got caught in your throat the second he bit one of your nipples. How could he not, when you were on his lap, with your uniform shirt open, and your bra just down enough for him to play with your chest.

“Shh, it’ll be fine, kitten”, Minho mumbled against the swell of your breast, leaving a love bite that he hoped would be visible when you wore one of your low tops. “If he were to come home, you know he doesn’t bother us when we’re doing our homework…”

You whined as soon as his mouth reattached to your nipple, as he gently rolled the other between his thumb and index finger… Your hands buried in his hair, keeping him close while you rolled your hips to find some friction against his crotch. The pressure had his mouth salivating further, borderline drooling all over your nipple like the dog he’d recently become.

Or, at least, in this fantasy, he had probably been turned a few years prior…

When you and Minho had come to your father’s house today to help him clean up some of your old stuff from your childhood room, Minho certainly hadn’t expected for the afternoon to take him right here. To him sitting on the edge of your bed, dressed in his school uniform, with you sitting on his lap, and dressed in your school uniform.

It had been such an impromptu thing… You found the pieces of clothing at the bottom of your dresser, forgotten from the last time you wore them in your final year. Back then, you always kept a spare change of Minho’s uniform for those nights when he unexpectedly stayed over.

‘Ohhhh, you should put it on. I used to love how the uniform looked on you’, you’d told him as you handed him the dress shirt with the school’s logo on it, and the white vest top he used to wear under it.

‘Alright, but only if you put on yours. The whole thing. I also loved how you looked in that uniform’, he’d told you immediately, because it was the truth. That plaid skirt and the white button-up used to make stellar appearances in his teenage-hormones-driven wet dreams.

He used to feel embarrassed about it. You were his best friend in this world, and the fact that he found himself daydreaming of how it’d look like if he took a peek under your skirt, or how it’d feel if he buried his face in your cleavage, certainly made him feel guilty.

Now, as an adult well into his twenties, after you both shared your affections, he no longer felt as guilty about it. Especially after learning that you yourself had those thoughts about him back then, too.

When you put on that uniform shy of fifteen minutes ago, Minho was reminded of all those thoughts he used to have, of all the sleepless nights and hidden chubs at school… It hit him then that maybe this was exactly why he loved seeing you in skirts so much in present day. A result of his teenage-self’s never fulfilled desires.

Sure, he couldn’t button his shirt since his shoulders and arms had broadened with age, and your skirt was certainly much shorter than it used to be, but that didn’t stop either of you from falling into your roles.

‘Mmm… It’s almost like we have just come back from school and are getting ready to get some work done’, you chuckled as you looked at yourself in the mirror and adjusted your thigh high socks.

That sentence alone lit up the bulb in his head, it sparked a naughty little idea that he knew you’d either entertain or laugh about. Either result was fine by him, so he had no qualms when he walked behind you, and looked at you through the mirror.

Calling your name as he placed his hands on your waist, Minho had asked you to turn around to face him. ‘There’s… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for so long… Please don’t be mad…’

Minho feigned nervousness, like he was once again that boy that had seemingly unrequited feelings for his best friend.

‘I really, really like you… Can’t stop thinking about you. How’d it be like to kiss you, to feel you close in ways other than platonic. You’re my best friend, and I cherish that deeply, but I just… I like you so much’, funny thing, how those were pretty much the same words he’d wanted to say to you back then. Words he had practised in front of the mirror a few times, but he was always too much of a coward to actually tell you.

You looked at him in what Minho figured was feigned shock. Oh, how he loved you… You just knew him so well, and knew exactly what he was doing without saying a single word. ‘I… I like you, too. Have liked you for so long, Minho…’

Minho had cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. He kissed you as if he’d never done it before, desperately, hungrily, no time for being tender and soft when all he’d wanted was to devour you whole. And you had retaliated, of course. You’d pulled him close by the collar of his shirt and pressed your chest to his, kissing him with fervour.

‘Even if I’m… If I’m now…’ A beast, was what he wanted to say as he spoke between kisses. Minho had maybe fallen a little too well into this role of his younger self. He could still remember how insecure he used to be about his condition, how he looked down on himself after being infected with this goddamn lycanthropy… Those were feelings that no longer existed within him, he had now long since accepted this was part of him. If anything, with time, he’d embraced it.

‘I’d like you even if… Even if you were a worm’, you replied simply, making him giggle, which in turn made you giggle.

Minho scooped you into his arms after that, and he walked the remaining steps to your childhood bed so he could sit on it with you on his lap. In no time, he was groping you over your shirt, under your skirt, and you had started to beg for him to touch you more.

His instincts were stunted, you knew that, he knew that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have this animal side to him. Sometimes, especially when he was horny, that animalistic side of him took over his logical mind, and, back when he was a teen, he could recall having a harder time with certain feelings and emotions like these. So, he let them cloud his reason a bit as he fulfilled this little fantasy of his…

Minho ripped your shirt open, the buttons flew all over your room, and you gasped when he buried his head between your breasts. The thing was also a bit too tight on you, so he was sure you wouldn’t miss the garment if it got ripped a bit in the process.

You scrambled to take a hold of his hands, bringing them to your chest so he could fondle you over your bra, once again begging him to touch you. To ‘Please, please, Minho, touch me. I need it. I need you…’

And he was sure his cock was about to pop out of his jeans with how hard it got at your desperation.

So here you were, grinding into each other, on your childhood bed while Minho feasted on your tits.

“Fuck, that feels so good, baby. Harder. Do it harder…”

How could he deny you when you sounded so needy? When he’d wanted to do this for so long?

He bit harder, pinched harder, pulling strangled sounds of pleasure out of your lips. The more attention he gave to your chest, the more you rolled your hips against him, effectively pulling sounds of pleasure out of his lips.

His senses were flooded by you. The smell of your arousal on your lavender scent, your weight of him, the taste of your skin on his tongue, all combined had him almost delirious, especially when his free hand found its way under that godforsaken skirt of yours to tightly grope one of your buttocks.

“Baby, I think I’m… I might…”

Fuck, if you came just from him playing with your chest and you grinding your cunt on the tent in his jeans, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to contain himself. Although, he supposed coming in his underwear would’ve been a very accurate representation of what would’ve happened if his teenage self had ever had the opportunity to have you on him like this…

Minho couldn’t help but groan when you tightened your grip on his hair, when you started to roll your hips faster, harder… God, all he wanted right now was for the girl of his dreams to come, he needed to feel you trembling in his hold, to drown in your scent so he could convince himself this was happening.

Seeing you come, holding you tight while you did, was just absolutely delightful. You bit on your fist to keep your moans contained, while your whole body shook with your release.

Minho had to make the conscious effort not to blow right then and there. He was sure that if this had happened back when you were still that young, he would’ve certainly done so. He imagined that this would’ve probably been your first sexual experience together, that you’d laugh about how he soiled his underwear and how needy you’d been, before you laid down and cuddled for a bit…

Maybe you would’ve had sex a different time, on a different day where you were sure your dad wouldn’t come back home… But this wasn’t about being fully realistic, this was about having fun while fulfilling a shared fantasy.

“Fuck, Minho, baby, stop… I’m sore…”

Minho finally pulled himself away from your chest, mumbling a very unconvincing ‘Sorry’ before he attached his lips to the pulse point on your neck, relishing how fast your blood was pumping in your veins.

“You’re so fucking hot, my kitten. I’ve been dreaming of this moment, y’know?” He mumbled in your ear, taking one of your breasts in his hand to fondle the flesh, with special care to not stimulate your nipple too much.

“Me too, baby…” You were still trembling occasionally within his arms, taking deep breaths to get your racing heart to slow down inside your chest. “I’ve wanted this so bad… Even… Even touched myself thinking about it”.

“Mmm, fuck…” Minho started sucking love bites on your neck, following this faint need in his gut to leave his mark on you. “Have you?”

“I have… Sometimes, I did it while we slept in the same room”.

Minho wasn’t sure if this was you playing your fantasy, or if this was a real thing that happened, but, being honest, it didn’t matter. It made his mind disconnect completely as soon as the words came out of your mouth regardless.

Before he could even register it himself, he had stood up and thrown you on the bed, eliciting a shaky, surprised gasp from your lips. In a second, he was on you, kissing you hard, messily, even desperately. Your limbs wrapped around him, your arms around his neck, and your legs around his middle, bringing him further down to lay flush against you in your heated kiss.

He was dizzy, lightheaded, and for a second, he almost believed he was in the past, that he was making out with you on your bed after school, that he was about to lose his virginity to his best friend.

“Fuck, I need to put it in…” Minho barely detached his lips from yours while he spoke, just kept messily kissing you between words as he ground his hips to your core. “Please, please let me put it in… Need you…”

“We–we need a condom, Min”, your hands found their way under his top, where they settled to caress his back, making him shiver. “I don’t have any here”.

“Fuck, I don’t have any, either”, Minho left your lips to instead attach his own to your collarbones, to nibble on the sensitive skin, making you whine. “I’ll pull out. I got quick reflexes, it’ll be fine, please…”

He certainly was playing into this horny-teenage-boy thing all too well. Although, he was sure his younger self wouldn’t have been this stupid to believe just ‘pulling out’ would be an effective contraceptive, and surely neither would you. After all, back then, your dad made sure you both knew about being safe, which Minho was grateful for to this day.

Regardless, the very real implant you had in your arm made it so he could play like this, so you both could play like this.

“Shit, you’ll pull out?” Your hands trembled when they found his backside and squeezed him. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Promise, kitten. Cross my heart”.

One of your hands left his bum to move to his crotch, where you cupped and squeezed him and overall felt him over the fabric of his jeans. He couldn’t help but buck his hips to let you feel as much as you could of him. “Fuck, okay. But Min… I’m not sure this will fit…”

“It will. I’m sure it will. It has to. You trust me, no?”

With a deep breath, biting your lip, you nodded. “Trust you with my life”.

When Minho pulled himself away from your hold, he just had to tell you how fucking gorgeous you looked with your hair all messy, your tits out, your ripped shirt, and that fucking skirt… The hem pooled on your belly, exposing your underwear and the mouth-watering wet-patch on them.

God, he wanted a taste… But there wasn’t enough time for that right now.

Minho hastily unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them and his underwear down just enough to free his length. You swore under your breath, taking him into your hand and spreading the pre-cum that had beaded at the tip so you could easily stroke him.

“Baby, please…” You guided him to your core. With your free hand, you pulled your underwear to the side, and dragged the tip of his cock all over your folds. “Need it. Need you, Minho…”

One day you’d be the death of him, he was sure.

Under normal circumstances, Minho would’ve stretched you open with his fingers, he would’ve made sure you were absolutely ready to take that annoyingly big alpha cock of his. But he figured skipping the step would be a bit more… in character.

“Oh, fuck, fuck…” Minho pushed himself into your heat slowly, letting your walls adjust to his length with what he hoped wasn’t much discomfort. He knew that if there had been any, you would’ve said the word that would immediately stop everything you were doing. “That’s so fucking tight…”

You whined, not necessarily in discomfort, but in that way that made him know you were feeling impatient. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you tried to push on his backside to get him to get in already. “Please, I need it all. Now”.

“Shit–!” As soon as Minho bottomed out and had propped himself on his forearms, you took a hold of his hair and pulled him down for a messy kiss.

There was just so much spit. Everything was so sloppy and messy and he was honestly enjoying it way more than he ever thought he would.

“Fuck, you’re so hard… Can’t believe you fit”, you mumbled breathlessly against his lips, releasing his hair to place your hands on his back.

“Didn’t doubt–Shit, if you keep clenching like that I’ll come, kitten… Didn’t doubt I’d fit right in. Isn’t this cunt for me? Hm? Hasn’t it always been?” Minho didn’t even give you time to respond, he just started to thrust, a borderline animalistic pace that had you biting on his shoulder to muffle your moans.

There was nothing but heavy breaths and desperate groans and whines and moans… Nothing but the sound of skin slapping against skin and the headboard hitting the wall and your nails sinking on his clothed back…

Minho vaguely realised he was growling with each thrust. Like an animal. He was making all these sounds like the animal he was. And every time he did, your body just immediately reacted. Either by clawing at his back, or biting harder on his shoulder, or clamping hard around his length…

It was honestly driving him crazy. It reminded him that, ultimately, you accepted him, that you loved him just as he was. What an odd, but pleasant reflexion to make when you both were fucking, and pretending to be your teenage selves at that.

“It–It is”, you meekly mumbled after a while, and Minho, a bit puzzled, pulled himself away from your neck to look you in the eyes. “It’s yours. Has always been. I’ve always been”.

Minho swore loudly, throwing his head back once your words registered properly in his hazy mind. Your cunt was his, you were his. You’ve always been…

That reassurance, coupled with the vice grip of your walls, got him so incredibly close…

“Fuck, kitten, gonna come. Need to–need to pull out”, Minho was panting, drunk on the pleasure he was feeling and the fog clouding his reason.

Your legs tightened around his frame, keeping him as close as you could while he kept thrusting into you. “What if–What if you don’t?”

“Oh, God… Don’t say that…”

“Why? What if I want your puppies? Hm?”

He was going to die. Minho was sure he was seeing the gates of heaven open up right in front of him.

“C–can’t. We can’t…” Shaking his head, Minho tried his best to hold back, a titanic effort with how fucking good you were making him feel, with how fucking in love with you he was.

“Can’t…?” There was a pout on your lips, highlighted by your blown pupils, and Minho, once again, shook his head in response.

Minho just desperately shook his head. “Kitten, baby, please…”

The hold of your legs relented. Minho immediately straightened himself and pulled out of your warmth to take his cock in one of his hands while the other gripped your hip tightly. One, two pumps and he was groaning deeply, coming all over your underwear, over your mound and your now only partially exposed folds.

The sight was nothing short of exquisite. Your wrinkled, open shirt, your tits still falling out of your bra, with your nipples slightly puffy after all the attention Minho had given them, the skirt hunched at your waist, and your underwear drenched in his cum…

Minho felt light, satisfied, and, as he tried to catch his breath, he just took you in.

After a few moments of silence–silence, save for the sound of your heavy breathing and the ringing in his ears–a grin made its way to your face, and, a second after, you broke into laughter. It made him laugh, too. Maybe uncontrollably so.

“Oh, that was awesome”, you chuckled, wiping the tears that had collected in your eyes at your outburst. “So good”.

“Totally agree”, Minho leaned into you to press a brief kiss on your lips before he left the bed to find a face towel from your dresser to clean up the stupid amounts of cum that had come out of his stupid monster cock off of your body.

“‘Suppose it was a good thing that my dad isn’t coming until very late today. It would’ve been seriously awkward to explain what was going on if he found us… Well, like this”, you started shrugging your shirt off as soon as Minho had finished cleaning you up, and proceeded to work the couple of buttons on your skirt.

“I don’t think he would’ve appreciated the sight, to be honest”, Minho chuckled, getting out of his shirt and vest top as well to put his t-shirt back on and do his jeans.

As soon as you two were dressed properly and in clean clothes, you both laid back down, unbothered by the soiled sheets. Minho simply pulled you into his arms, and pressed a brief kiss on your forehead before he hugged you close.

“Kitten…” Minho mumbled against your hair after a while, dragging his hand up and down your back in a gentle caress. “Was that true?”

You absentmindedly traced patterns on his chest, shapes that he could’ve sworn were hearts and stars. “Was what true?”

“Y’know… that thing about… About you touching yourself while I was in the same room…”

You pulled yourself away from his hold a bit so you could look him in the eyes. A smile came to your lips, right before you started opening your mouth to speak.

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nateezfics · 1 year

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ATEEZ REACTION: BOUDOIR PHOTOGRAPHY

AUTHOR’S NOTES — this is random, and unrequested ahshs. but i did get a lot of supportive responses when i posted about this idea the other day, so i decided i should post it! if you don’t know what boudoir photography is, i highly recommend you look it up so you can understand this post a lot better! ;)

hongjoong; is confused when you give him a large velvet wrapped book, but his eyes immediately go wide when he sees the pictures of you within. in every photograph you are posed so sensually, your curves highlighted so beautifully he has to keep himself from groaning at the sight of you. he’s hardening in his pants more and more with every photo he sees, and it all gets too much when he pushes the book aside to beckon you to sit on his lap.

“these pictures are all for me? i feel so honored to be the only one who gets to see you like that, and the only one who gets to have you.”

seonghwa; he’s shocked. he’s never seen you so seductive, the pictures capturing you with your body bent and stretched in ways that have his blood rushing south. every photo has him floored, and he just looks at you repeatedly with nothing but adoration in his eyes. sits in silence after seeing all the photos before he groans as he feels how constricted his pants have gotten.

“oh my god…baby, you…you are so fucking beautiful. look what you’ve done to me, i’m so hard right now, just from these pictures alone.”

yunho; he’s aware that you had these photos done beforehand, but that doesn’t prepare him in the slightest, his jaw going slack the moment he sets his gaze on the first photo. he’s convinced you put the most provocative picture first, and he’s cursing under his breath at the sight. the picture of you with your legs spread and nothing but a black thong to cover you has him throbbing. he’s not even concerned about the other photos, just stares at that one for a moment before his lust filled eyes find yours.

“you knew exactly what you were doing with this. fuck, baby, you’re so fucking hot. how am i supposed to handle the rest of the photos when i’m already about to bust just from the first one?”

yeosang; looks over all the pictures in silence, his face stoic and giving away no hint to how he’s feeling. when he’s done, he smirks as his eyes linger over your body, the pictures of you playing through his mind. lifts an eyebrow while he uses a finger to motion you closer to him. you aren’t even aware of how hard he is until you straddle his lap, his erection brushing against your inner thighs.

“i love these pictures of you; you look incredible, love. but you know what i’d love more? if you’d pose for me like you did in the pictures right here, right now. show me all the positions, and let me see every angle.”

san; is curious when you tell him you have a surprise for him, and his curiosity grows when his phone dings with a message from you. he’s pressing the link immediately, and the moment the online gallery loads he’s inhaling and gripping the phone tightly. within his screen is a multitude of pictures of you, scantily clad in red lingerie, and your body in so many sensual positions. he’s whispering explicit words after each photo, and turning the phone to show you as if he really can’t believe that it was you in the photos.

“fuck, look at you. you’re so sexy, baby. how am i supposed to control myself when you show me pictures of you like this? god damn it, baby, what the fuck are you doing to me?”

mingi; he’s gripping his erection the whole time he’s looking through the photos, applying pressure to ease the ache. he’s so incredibly turned on by you, and by the way you look in the photos, your body bare and your intimate areas covered by a mere blanket. once he’s seen them all he’s begging you to touch him, to fuck him.

“baby, these pictures of you have me so fucking hard right now. please, i need you. need you right now.”

wooyoung; he’s impressed before he’s aroused. he’s gushing with compliments, zooming in on each photo to highlight his favorite parts, to praise you for how gorgeous you look or how beautiful your back arch is, or even how the shadows across your skin accentuate your curves. his eyes are going between the pictures and you, and every time his eyes land on you they’re filled with so much passion it makes you blush. he kisses you once he’s done, and the effect of the photos finally settle in. he’s laying you down on the bed and leaving a trail of kisses down your neck in the next moment.

“you are the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen. you’re stunning, you’re sexy, and all mine. i’m so fucking in love with you, baby.”

jongho; he’s not sure what kind of portraits you said you were getting done, but pictures of you in lingerie and splayed out across a bed aren’t what he was expecting. he’s flabbergasted every time you show him a new photo, and he’s constantly stopping you to ask how in the world you came up with the idea to have these kinds of pictures taken. by the last photo he’s beginning to react, his blood rushing south until his pants start to feel too tight for comfort. he just stares at the photos before him, taking in the sight of you.

“i wasn’t prepared for this. i wasn’t expecting these photos of you. you’ve really surprised me, but god damn, i love it. makes me want to take photos of you like this myself.”

#ateez smut #ateez smut drabbles #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong smut #seonghwa smut #yunho smut #yeosang smut #san smut #mingi smut #wooyoung smut #jongho smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios

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softpascalito · 6 months

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Pedro Pascal Kinktober Day Twentytwo

Washing hair - Oberyn Martell/F!Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Oberyn begin to try conceiving and days before he leaves for Kings Landing, he finds you cooling down in the baths during a hot day.

Relationships: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader

WC: 1700

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Mild Smut, Bathing/Washing, Hair Washing, Established Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mentions of Pregnancy, Kissing, Female Reader, Oberyn Martell Lives, this turned into a fix it fic along the way

AO3 LINK

notes: this is a direct continuation of kinktober day eight - breeding. highly recommend reading that one first! :)

_________________________________________

It had been a few weeks since that night, since she had first tasted the red tea leaves that were supposedly going to help her conceive, that Oberyn had had shipped to Dorne for that sole reason. It hadn't been until the next day that he had admitted to her that he had ordered a large quantity of them and that, if she chose to, there would be enough for several months.

So, every night, next to her dinner, a steaming mug sat waiting for her.

Most nights, it was followed by Oberyn waiting for her in their chambers afterwards. Though there had been several occasions where he hadn't waited on their bed or balcony or even the baths. He had waited at the table in the dining quarters, sitting next to her, his hand on her thigh and his gaze fixed on her movements. He watched, ready to pounce, just like a viper. And he did.

As soon as she would get up, he would be there, by her side, leading her out of the dining room. She felt his gaze on him in those moments and they were both thinking the same way, causing them, more than once, to not even make it back to their chambers before giving it another try.

He had taken their conversation to heart, the way she had mentioned that it was a lot of pressure to “ be his ” and so he had made a point to not bring it up too much, never asking if it had taken or if she felt any different.

Still, the man had noticed that she hadn't mentioned bleeding in a while and maybe, just maybe, he hoped it could mean something had shifted.

Oberyn found himself wandering the palace on a hot summer midday. The sun had been shining relentlessly on Dorne for days now and despite the Southerners being used to heat, even they had started hiding from the sun in the afternoon, not wanting to get burned. While nothing compared to the water gardens with its many chances for one to cool down and wade through the shallow pools, there was a small, closed-in pool at the palace in Sunspear as well. The outer wall was missing, replaced by thick columns and a beautifully crafted balustrade. One could bathe while overlooking the sea but without being burned by the sun. Over the years, plants had grown up the walls and columns and spread over the once open beams of the ceiling. Now, the greenery served as protection from the heat, only occasionally letting one or two rays of direct sunshine filter into the small pool.

Oberyn could smell the spices that hung in the air, the scent mixing with that of the salty sea as he stepped into the shade around the pool. And there she was.

He smiled as he watched her. Her back towards him, her hair tied up on her head, her naked body glistening under the water that was completely still around her. He stood for a moment, simply admiring the scene before he approached, silently letting his shawl and pants fall to the floor. The prince let himself glide into the water and reached out to touch her. Just then, feeling the ripple from him moving behind her, she turned her head towards him. A small smile formed on her face, matching his own.

“Greetings.” She mumbled as he closed the distance between them, ”What is my little sun doing out here, all by herself?”

“Hiding from the big sun.” That earned her a small laughter from Oberyn, ”I see.” His arms came to lay around her waist, his lips quickly finding that spot on her neck that made her whimper softly.

“Tell me, are you teasing your prince?” It was her turn to smirk, ”I would not dream of it, your highness. I am quite sure that would be a rather … unhonorary offense in Dorne.”

“That is right.” Teeth scratched over her neck lightly and she let out a surprised gasp as Oberyn continued, ”I should have them lock you up for such an offense. Or at the very least, I should tie you up.”

She smiled again but this time, it didn't quite reach her eyes. Oberyn sighed at that, stopping the assault on her neck and he let her head fall back against his broad chest. She watched the sea they were facing, the waves far below them building and crashing in a never ending circle. How powerless the water must feel, she thought.

Oberyn's gaze was trained on her, watching the slight crease between her eyebrows that told him something was off.

“What is it, my love?” He asked quietly. He did not care for small talk or for sneakily trying to get something out of her. He wanted her trust. And if something was wrong, he expected to know.

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, ”I would rather not speak about it.” Her voice was quiet and soft and Oberyn felt like there was a small tremor in it.

One of his hands came up to her face, caressing her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, ”And I would rather you did. Please tell me, my love.”

She opened her eyes again at that, slowly turning so that she was facing Oberyn. Almost automatically, he brought one strong arm under her to support her in the water, her legs wrapping around his hips. Their sexes were touching and at any other moment, the red viper would have made his move, slipped a hand onto her bundle of nerves or squeezed her round behind- but not now. He could feel that this was important to her and therefore, by extension, to him.

The woman took a deep breath, working up the nerve to say what she had not wanted to yet reveal, ”You're leaving for Kings Landing tomorrow.”

He gave a small nod, ”I am. It will be a rather boring trip, truly. A few council meetings, a wedding. Two events where every minute spent with the Lannisters will feel like one minute too much.”

Her gaze shifted slightly at that and he fell silent, sensing that this was not what she was referring to. She opened her mouth to speak but he was faster, ”You do not wish for me to leave.”

Oberyn's gaze softened slightly, ”Do you?”

Her mouth closed again as her gaze fell and she gave a small shake of her head, confirming his guess, ”No. I wish you would stay here.”

The viper took her face in for a moment, his free hand still gently caressing her cheek, ”I asked you a while back. You said it was alright with you if I left for a few weeks.”

He had had doubts too, never having been separated from her for so long. Even knowing that he left her in a safe place like Sunspear could not cancel out all the doubts he carried about leaving her alone.

“I thought-” He started once more but she cut him off.

“I think I'm pregnant.”

Oberyn stared at her, his eyes softening as a smile played around his lips, ”My sun, you-”

The legends that would speak of the Red Viper, of the prince of Dorne, of Oberyn Martell years and years later, would claim that he had never been speechless. They were wrong.

He was speechless now.

It took him a few moments to gather the words, his own voice now shaking slightly as he spoke, ”Are you certain?”

“I think so. I mean, I have never been before but- I have not bled in two moons,” she said quietly. His expression changed slightly, his smile faltering, ”Why do you not sound happy about it?”

“I am,” she quickly reassured him, ”I am, it is just-” Finally, she let the strong facade fall and as her shoulders slumped, tears sprang into her eyes, ”I am just so scared, Oberyn.”

His heart broke at the sight in front of him, her round eyes looking up at him with so much uncertainty in them, “Is that why you did not tell me before?”

Her look was confirmation enough and he quickly pulled her closer, hugging her naked body. “Oh, my sun,” he whispered, ”You do not have to be afraid. I will take care of you. Of both of you. You are not alone in this nor will you ever be.”

She hiccuped softly, ”But you said-”

Oberyn shook his head softly, ”I will not go. I will stay here. With you.” His hand left her cheek and wandered to her stomach, gently caressing the curve of it, ” And with our little Martell. ”

She looked at him, her lip quivering slightly, ”Oberyn, you said it was important that you go to King's Landing. You said that because of Elia-”

“Shhhh,” he mumbled, his hand rubbing small circles into her skin, ”That was before. Besides, Elia would want me to stay. To take care of you.”

It became clear to her then, that Oberyn had lost a child before- two, in fact. Despite them not having been his own, they had been his sisters and that had meant they had been as good as his. He was never going to let the same thing happen to his little sun.

She nodded softly, raising her head to get a better look at him and Oberyn kissed her gently, using his hand to push a strand of dark hair behind her ears as he smiled at her, “Come here. Let me take care of you.”

He reached for the soap bar that was resting on a small plate at the side of the pool, rubbing it over her hair for a moment before he placed it back in its spot and brought both hands to her head, massaging it gently.

Oberyn washed her hair and told her about his plans for the future. The things he would buy for the baby before it even saw the light of day, the things he had already ordered to hopefully lessen her discomfort during the pregnancy, the things he wanted to teach their child, the books he wanted to read to them to put them to sleep.

She smiled, listening to his plans for their future as he rinsed her hair.

It didn't seem so scary anymore.

#kinktober #fanfic #pedro pascal #light smut #oberyn martell x you #prince oberyn #oberyn martell / you #oberyn martell / reader #oberyn martell x reader #game of thrones #pregnancy #hurt/comfort

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stealingyourbones · 2 years

Text

Something that I feel isn’t talked about or written enough with anything that talks about Superman is when you press on Superman’s skin it doesn’t give.

Sure, there are dozens of panels in comics where Clark gets punched in the face and the attacker breaks their hand, but there is so much more that can be explored because this man’s skin has the tensile strength of a fucking moon. You touch him and it feels like you’re pressing up against a flesh heated wall. Imagine touching Superman’s elbow and getting cut because it’s so sharp.

Superman has probably never actually experienced touch the way we do. There is no comforting hug with a firm grip, there is no hand gently resting on the shoulder, there is no nothing. This man doesn’t feel any pressure when being touched.

Superman would have to avoid contact as much as possible when he is in his Clark Kent identity. The average person would raise some questions about when they touch this man that it feels like touching solid steel. You can chalk up the firm skin to working out and it being muscle but that can only go so far and Clark really doesn’t talk about working out.

I’m the comic “Kingdom Come”, which I highly recommend; it’s a wonderful critique of 90s comics and just how making characters grittier and grittier will only lead to the characters downfall. Anyways, Superman shares a “passionless kiss” with Wonder Woman and it describes the sound of it as “Granite against Steel.”

Superman is more susceptible to magic. I think that the superhero’s that embody and are made of magic are really the only people that Superman can touch and actually feel.

#writing prompt #prompt #Superman #DC comics #it’s used as a joke so much but imagine how it effects his everyday life #please let me know what y’all think #bones speaks

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wannabemurdock · 1 year

Note

the casual transition of fwb rough sex w frank castle to him genuinely caring about reader and making love to them

idk idk just the thought of those big hands that are capable of so much violence being so soft and gentle

5 + 1, Frank Castle (Part 1)

masterlist | series masterlist (coming soon)

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

Summary: the five times it was just sex and the one time it wasn’t

Word count: 916 words

Contains: rough smut. use of vibrator. spanking. minimal aftercare.

Notes: I want this to be a series inspired by the format and style like @tuiccim’s topping Steve Rogers series. Tuiccim is an amazing writer and I highly recommend their work. I tried really hard with this but i'm hoping my writing will improve as the series goes on so please be patient with me.

Minors do not interact

Requests are open

not my gif but damn do i love it

Your wrists twist and pull against the binds tying them to the head of your bed. Rope burn starting to set it from your constant movements. Frank’s large frame looms over you from the end of the bed as he marvels at the sight out you.

The hunger in his eyes has you wondering what you signed up for. But no matter what, you come back every time. The light of the city softly creeps into your apartment as your eyes rake over him. The cut and curve of his muscles are only accentuated by the dim lighting. His scars shine with every movement and breathe. The positioning of your head doesn't allow you to look any lower. Something in you is grateful for that.

“Keep starin’ at me like that and I’ll blindfold ya’. I'm not a piece of meat.” Your chest heaves at the joking threat. You analyse his face for any sort of lie but you know better. You know him. “Behave.”

“Yes, sir.” He trails the tip of the vibrator along the length of your legs. The smooth silicon leaves a path of goosebumps in its wake. Swatting your legs apart, he positions himself between them. Placing the wand next to you, his hands gripping your hips. His calloused hands rub small circles before flipping you onto your stomach. The ropes attaching you to the bed head twist, leaving you with even less movement.

A harsh hand lands on the curve of your ass, a yelp escapes you.

"Colour?" His hand soothes the quickly reddening path of skin.

"Green." Another slap lands, sending you forward on the bed slightly.

"Colour." You can hear the irritation rising in his voice at your disrespect.

"Green, sir."

"Atta girl." The slight praise has you keening for his touch. Too lost in your anticipation you don't hear him grab and turn on the wand. You jolt as he presses the head to your core before quickly pulling it away. You whine at the loss.

"You're going to take what I give you, and you're going to be grateful for it. Understand?" A third slap echoes throughout the room. Frank traces the red handprint radiating on your ass. Pride growing in his chest.

He presses the vibrator against you once again. Tracing the tip up and down, just not enough pressure to give you any real pleasure. Biting your lip, you wouldn't dare make a noise. He grabs your hips, hoisting then till you're on your knees. Your pussy glistening in the glow of the city has Frank feeling weak in the knees.

Showing some mercy, he pressed the round head of wand flat against your clit. A low moan emits from your chest as you relax into the mattress. You feel your end nearing quickly, the anticipation of earlier mixed with the constant buzzing has a heat starting to build in your stomach. The muscle in your thighs are starting to burn, knees shaking when Frank pulls it away. He watches you clench around nothing at the loss. Not a sound leaves you.

"Good girl. Doing the bare minimum that I ask for. Do you think you deserve a reward?"

"No, sir. Not for the bare minimum, sir."

"Look at you learning. I think that deserves a reward." Before you can say anything, he leans down, licking a flat stripe up your folds before pressing the wand back to you.

It doesn't take long for you get back to where you had left off. Knees shaking, chest heaving. Your body feels like its on fire as it tips over the edge. Spiralling head first into pure euphoria. You would've collapsed if Frank didn't think to grab your hip with he free hand as wave after wave come crashing over you.

Frank continues to hold the wand against you. Your nerves on end as you come down from one orgasm, straight into a second. Overstimulation already settling deep into your bones and 2 highs turn into 3, then 4. You don't know how long its been or how many times you've came but suddenly it all stops.

Frank discards the wand somewhere on the bed.

"Colour?"

"Green, sir."

"Can you give me one more?" He asks, pressing the tip against you. Time drags as he waits for your answer.

"Y-yeah, sir. I can." That's all he needs before letting go. He sets a brutal pace, hips slapping against you. The hand print still glowing as he ruins you further.

Reaching down, he touches your already too sensitive clit, sending you into a high like no other. Vision going white as a suffocating heat engulfs you. Pulling out, hot white spirts of come covers your back as you collapse onto the bed.

He’s quick to untie you. Checking your face for any signals that you’re not alright before heading into your bathroom. Coming back with a damp wash cloth and a bottle of lotion he found under your sink.

He takes his time, cleaning you up and massaging your sore wrists. Rubbing lotion into the fresh red marks across your body before grabbing his clothes and disappearing into the bathroom once again. He emerges fully dressed with a glass of water in his hand. Helping you sit up, he rubs your back as you finish the glass.

“We should do that again.” Mumbling, he gets up and leaves. Shutting the bedroom door behind him. Leaving you in the silence of your apartment.

Not like its the first time.

#wannabemurdock's asks #marvel #marvel smut #marvel fandom #marvel fic #frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader smut #frank castle x reader #punisher x reader #punisher smut #punisher x reader smut #punisher

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1moreff-creator · 6 months

Text

DRDT + Milgram AU: Undercover (Introduction)

Finally succumbed to the Urges and came up with ideas for a full Danganronpa Despair Time - Milgram AU, and now I feel like sharing. This means giving each character a MV + VD concept (not a full VD though I ain’t writing that much dialogue, and not a full MV because who do you think I am), plus this Undercover post! I’m not sure if I’ll commit to this for a full three trials, or I’ll just drop it after just one, but I can guarantee I’ll do this trial in full. Feel free to make analysis posts (no pressure obvs), but also obvs don't expect this to be that good, I'm doing this for fun.

And if you come from the Milgram side, uh... have fun? I am curious about what people with no prior conceptions of these characters would think, but I do recommend DRDT if you haven't watched it (the overlap between the fandoms is non-trivial, I imagine you'll like it). If not, you should probably look up the character designs at least, but be wary that there will be DRDT spoilers.

As an obvious disclaimer just in case, I am not affiliated with either DRDT or Milgram in any way, this is just a fanmade AU done entirely for fun.

Basic Concept

Pretty simple. What if the 16 students of DRDT were prisoners in Milgram? This means they're all "murderers" by some loose definition of the word, implying most of their backstories must be changed to acommodate for that. For the prisoner pairs, I just paired them based on the Chapter 1 recap. The rest is pretty self-explanatory provided you know how Milgram works; three trials, vote Forgiven/Unforgiven, etc. I won't repeat it all here. You can go to the official Milgram YT channel for more information if you're not familiar.

Meet Es

Although they are of unspecified adult age, this universe’s Es is very similar to canon Es from the main series, at least in appearance. The only differences are red highlights in their hair, as well as sharp yellow eyes and taller height. They also wear arm sleeves on both their arms, being particularly adverse to people touching the left one, and their voice is slightly higher pitch. As for their personality… well, you’ll have to wait for the VDs, right? But as a heads up, they’re quite a bit nicer than canon Es, though they can still get pretty strict with the prisoners.

(Can you tell who they’re connected to yet?)

Their uniform is the same as canon, including the band thing which in Milgram runes reads “reciffO eciloP”. The only difference is that their other band thing is longer and has the following runes:

(As a heads up, since there's no rune for 'q' I just used the rune for 'c/k' in its place. You probably don't need to translate it all to know what this says if you're familiar with DRDT lore)

Jackalope is replaced by DRDT canon MonoTV, no big changes to its personality. It still breaks the fourth wall and talks to an audience,which is odd for the prisoners (and Es) seeing as there is no audience in-universe (at least, that's what it claims).

*Es’ VD is mostly the same, besides changes in dialogue caused by the difference in personalities. The only real difference is that there is no ‘extra cell.’

*Cover is still Hibana.

Alright, let's get to the fun stuff.

Undercover

(It is highly recommended you know what the canon Undercover looks like before reading this, since a lot of it is pretty similar)

The opening is still the same minus Es' different appearance and MonoTV replacing Jackalope, and only starts changing when the prisoners begin showing up.

(Don’t- Don’t expect this to actually work as a song btw. I’m not insane enough to make that work)

UNDER Split in between decisions, my conscious is made up of torn stitches

Levi (01) holds a mostly neutral expression as he holds up his prisoner card, which displays his face alongside an image of an alleyway. His pose keeps changing slightly in smash cuts. Levi’s face darkens right before there’s a switch to the next prisoner.

(Note: I won’t mention the pose switching and the face on the card all the time, since that’s part of canon Undercover. Just assume it always repeats)

UNDER The beauty in simplicity, wilting with rising complexities

Arturo (02) has his chin up arrogantly at first, showing a prisoner card with a picture of a bathroom. He scoffs and turns around before the switch.

UNDER A liar? No, that’s wrong! My honesty shines like a star in the night

David (03) (speaker persona) smiles nervously, rubbing at his cheek with a finger. His card shows a bedroom. He covers his face with his free hand, sighing before the switch.

UNDER A sinner? No, you’re kidding! I’m innocent as can be, just don’t mind the gaps

Whit (04) throws a cheeky grin to the camera, doing a finger gun with his free hand. His card shows a park. He nervously rubs the back of his neck before the switch.

(Note: Yes I gave him 04 because of the tetraphobia thing sue me-)

UNDER With a fury and a passion, unstoppable, show them your fangs

Ace (05) snarls at the camera. His card shows a city street. He throws it to the floor angrily before the switch.

(Note: Sometimes I wasn't quite able to tie their talent to their murder, so it's either tangential to their story or has been replaced with something similar. I am mentioning this with Ace for... no reason in particular, sure, you'll believe that)

UNDER Your fears and anxieties, Respond to the stress, show me fight or flight

Nico (06) hides under the part of their cloak which looks like a scarf, peeking out nervously. Their card shows a locker room. They take a step back as the scene switches.

INSERT CHORUS HERE

UNDER Each existence is like no other, Lucky, unlucky, showtime reaches all

J (07) holds up her card with an unsatisfied expression. It shows a bridge surrounded by camera equipment. She rolls her eyes as the scene switches.

UNDER And yet, it’s all the same In the end, this wretched still life goes on

Rose (08) yawns as she holds up her card lazily. It shows a large dining room. The card slips from her hand as she falls asleep.

UNDER It’s too much, too much, I’m high strung, please forgive my sins

Hu (09) looks nervous, glancing around as if to find a place to hide. Her card shows a zither in a non-descript room. She drops her card, and closes her eyes with a pained expression, a hand on her chest.

UNDER Please do condemn me, Bloodletting, the horror inside us is what makes me feel.

Veronika (10) spins and gives the camera a bright smile as she pulls out her card. It shows a rooftop. She throws the card in the air dramatically, laughing as it spins around and falls beside her. Her eyes fall back on the camera, and she smirks menacingly.

UNDER Unopposable, incontestable Merry kings, life’s queens, for me they bow down.

Arei (11) is sticking out her tongue and looking to the side dismissively. Her card shows a bowling alley. She laughs into her hand before the scene switch.

UNDER My weakness haunts me, Alarm bells are ringing, there's no going back.

Eden (12) fidgets with her hands, shaking nervously. She hides her face behind her card as she shows it, but her teary eyes are still visible over it. The card shows a bedroom full of clocks. She cries into her hands before the switch.

INSERT CHORUS HERE

[The music winds down, a bridge of sorts. As it plays, a few scenes are shown, where only the characters’ silhouettes are visible, white noise covering them]

[01: A steaming kettle covers most of the foreground. In the background, Levi is seen sitting at a table, head slumped forward. Most of the table is visible, but no one else is in the frame]

[02: Arturo is seen to the left, holding a white turtle neck shirt in his hands. Behind him, an open suitcase sits on a bed, clothes splayed haphazardly around it]

[03: David stands alone on an empty stage, arms wide out. The spotlights are all on him. The entire stage and some of the front row seats are visible, with David’s silhouette only covering a small part in the center of the frame]

[04: A computer monitor covers almost the entire frame. There are countless photos and words, but they’re all too blurry to see, with the exception of a small message on top which reads “Analyzing profiles…” Whit is reflected on the screen, resting his head on one of his fists]

[05: Ace sits on a motorcycle, looking up and admiring the night sky which takes up most of the frame]

[06: Nico is crouched beside a cat, holding out a pink mouse toy for it to play with. Only their legs are visible, but there is a puddle of water under Nico]

[07: J has her palm spread out all over the screen, as if blocking the camera. There are flashes of light behind her, but the source is impossible to see]

[08: Rose sits slumped in a chair, hands on her face. All around her, dozens of canvases can be seen, painted entirely in black. Small bits of color poke out at the bottom, but no full paintings are visible]

[09: The camera is entirely focused on the top of a zither. Hu’s hand is visible, touching the strings with her plectra]

[10: Only Veronika’s footwear is visible over a dark floor. The rest of the scene is filled entirely by blood]

[11: Arei stands in front of a bathroom mirror. She’s holding the right side of her hair, the only part that’s visible. It looks very unevenly cut]

[12: Eden is holding her head in her hands, slumped over a work desk full of small machinery. Behind her are a multitude of analog clocks of various designs, all showing the same time; 6:00]

[13: Min is sitting on a chair, slumped forward and apparently collapsed over a notebook. A pen sits just beside her right hand. A bit of the writing can be seen, showing this:]

[The brown part being Min's hair. Don't make fun of me I'm using Paint and have zero art skills]

[14: Xander, the focus of the shot, stands in front of a crowd, standing on a simple chair. His fist is in the air, and so are the fists of everyone in the crowd]

[15: Charles is kneeling over a grave, the name on it hidden behind the silhouette. Charles is pulling at his hair with his hands. Other graves are visible around him, but the edges of the screen are darkened and it’s impossible to see them well]

[16: Teruko’s hand is reaching out to a black figure, this one without white noise. The figure is completely non-descript, more a simple shadow than a proper silhouette. Blinding white light surrounds this figure]

UNDER No mistakes, no corrections, 100% Perfection, results shall not vary.

Min (13) wears a neutral expression, and she holds her card perfectly upright. Her pose changes only to match the exact angles actual mugshots use. Her card shows an untidy bedroom. Before the switch, she lowers her hand, and looks briefly to the side, before turning back to the camera. When she does, her left eye flashes magenta behind her hair.

UNDER Fighting for true justice, Stand strong, a reflection of the will of the many

Xander (14) is glaring at the camera, moving his card around flippantly. Said card shows a window overlooking an entire city. Xander throws the card away before throwing a punch at the screen.

UNDER Leave no room to hide, No hesitation, a chain reaction of truth unfolds

Charles (15) looks serious, if a bit annoyed as he holds up his card. It shows a laboratory table with several test tubes. He turns his back to the camera, adjusting his goggles, but gives one last, softer look behind him as the scene switches.

UNDER Or shall the secrets remain? What lies beyond the lies, armageddon untold

Teruko (16) looks at the camera with cold eyes, but a hint of a frown on her lips. Her pose never changes; unlike everyone else, her segment is one continuous shot. It starts with her holding her card at an angle such that only her face is visible on it. She closes her eyes solemnly, before finally flipping her card around so only the backside is shown. It has the Milgram logo combined with the DRDT logo. She never shows the rest of the front of the card, as the scene switches moments after.

[Pre-chorus, as the prisoners hold their hands to their mouths before a scene of them smiling plays. At the end, for a few frames, a white camellia blooms, before there’s a sudden shift in scenery as we hit the final chorus. All the prisoners’ silhouettes have a still shot each with Es, with a blood splatter always under the latter. The scene starts to focus on each individually]

[Levi’s punching Es in the face, Es thrown to the floor from the impact. Brass knuckles are barely visible on his hand. Levi’s shouting, as are all the other prisoners]

[Arturo is kneeling, facing away from Es. The latter is laying on the floor behind him in what would be a pretty uncomfortable position. Arturo is holding his head in his hands, his mouth visible from the side and open in a shout. One of Es’ shoes is off]

[David is holding Es by the neck of their shirt, shouting at their face (from now on I’ll stop clarifying that they’re shouting). The following symbol appears over where his eyes would be, glowing yellow: 正] EDIT: I forgot to mention one of Es’ shoes is off. RIP to the theorists I’m so sorry-

[Whit is pointing what looks to be a gun at Es, who is recoiling as if they’ve been shot in the heart]

[Ace is seen running, Es’ body falling to the ground beside him and twisting as if they’d been bumped into]

[Nico sits on top of Es’ back. With one of their hands, they’re grabbing onto Es’ hair and apparently pushing it forward. With the other they’re holding two ends of a wire firmly planted on Es’ neck]

[J stands normally, pointing what seems to be a remote control at Es. The latter is face-up on the floor, their limbs contorted in unnatural angles]

[Rose is standing, facing away from Es, who is kneeling and grabbing at their throat. A small jar sits beside them, the cap taken off]

[While standing, Hu is grabbing Es by the throat with both hands, blood coming from the Warden’s throat]

[Veronika is kneeling besides Es’ face-up body. Her hands are on her chest, and there is blood under her as well as the Warden. Meanwhile, Es’ limbs are contorted in unnatural ways, and one of their shoes is off]

[Arei is violently swinging a bowling ball at Es’ head, causing their body to twist around as it falls]

[Eden is standing, covering her eyes. Her right hand has a Ⅵ symbol glowing bright yellow. Es is uncomfortably laying face-up on the floor]

[Min is standing with her back turned to Es, who is kneeling on the floor and grasping at their neck. Min is shouting into a landline phone. Along her arm, an equation glows bright yellow:

ln(x³ - 2 . 13) = 0]

[Xander is grabbing Es’ shoulder, plunging a knife into their stomach]

[Es is standing neutrally, but there is still blood on the floor. A glowing yellow question mark floats above them. Charles is nowhere to be seen]

[Teruko is kneeling calmly besides Es, who is lying face-up with their hands crossed over their chest as if in a coffin. A question mark glows on Teruko's left hand. Teruko is the only prisoner besides Charles who is not screaming]

[The song winds down while a sped up and translucent version of the video plays in the background. A shadow begins growing in the middle, and for just a moment, two sharp yellow eyes stare at the camera from the center of the screen. The finale simply has Es exiting to the left as they do in canon Undercover]

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And there's Undercover! How we feeling? Hope you enjoyed! Take care!

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wepsi · 2 years

Text

Please forgive me for I have sinned-Simeon(smut)

Please check out their art it's so pretty

This was inspired by ch 3-4 of hardcore vanilla (I highly recommend)

Gender neutral reader, dom sadist reader/sub masochistic Simeon

Cw: whipping, masochism, sadism, eating out, masturbation

(Be warned this is pretty kinky, everything is consensual ofc)

Scenario: You weren't sure what was going on either, Simeon asked to come to your room at 2AM and now, he is kneeling in front of you.

"Please forgive me for I have sinned."

"Simeon I'm not sure what you are apologizing for, especially to me."

He blushes and turns his head to the side, averting his gaze while fidgeting with his hands. Oh? What is this, now your curious leaning forward waiting for his next words.

"I've been doing ungodly things while thinking inappropriately about you..."

"Well sex in itself isn't a sin simeon."

"That is true, however lust is."

"Were you LUSTING after me Simeon?"

"..."

Looking down from his face, you see that he is getting a raging hard on. Is he getting off on this? Is Simeon a ..... masochist? Smirking, you step on his cock, making sure not to hurt him but applying a decent amount of pressure. His face flushes deeper, and you heard a small moan almost too quiet to hear.

"Then what is it that you are seeking Simeon coming to my room at such a ungodly hour."

"Please! Punish me for the sins I have committed upon you."

You offer him a hand, which he confusingly took and stood up. You with one hand on his chest back him against the wall.

"H.h..hhh.how are you going to punish me?"

"With this of course, and take off the rest of your clothes."

You slide off his belt, and try it out in your hand, nice and sturdy. You watch in amusement when he shyly strips in front of you, exposing his incredibly toned body, who could not lust after such a beautiful looking man.

"Who said you could look at me? After confessing such sins?"

You take off the stockings you happen to be wearing, which causes him to twitch. You wrap the stockings around his eyes, and definitely saw him inhale harder, what a pervert you chuckle to yourself.

"Turn around and put your hands on the wall, it's punishment time."

He obediently follows like a well trained puppy. You trace your hands on his toned back, it was such a beautiful sight, it would be even prettier with markings. Raising the belt you slash a red mark across his back, earning a half moan half pained noise. He definitely is a masochist, raising the belt again and again you decorate his back with your markings.

Tracing your finger down his back once again like before, though this time through the red marks. Seeing him wince every time your finger entered a red zone, you wondered if he was crying and how cute that would look. Grabbing onto your stocking and pulling him down to you, you whisper into his ear,

"Do you like this?Is this what you wanted Simeon? Just look at your cock, it's practically weeping precum."

You take off the stocking, he turns to you, tears decorating the corners of his eye. He looked so delicious right now you wanted to devour him right this moment, but not yet. You reach around and touch the tip of his cock, which made him hiss.

"Do you imagine me doing this to you? What else do you think of hmm?"

"Show me how you please yourself while thinking of me."

You wrap the belt around his neck in a makeshift collar, and lead him to the spot he previously was in front of your bed.

"Kneel."

Obeying (get it?) once again, Simeon kneels but looks a little flustered, hands hesitate to be demonstrating such a lewd image to you.

"Come on, don't keep me waiting now that you've come to repent your sins."

Simeon keeps his eyes fixed on the floor, not daring to look at you. His hand wraps around his cock that is probably so hard it hurts now. From his movements he definitely has done this many times now. You observe intensely, your hand snaking down to your own sex. How could you not get turned on, the hottest angel was masturbating in front of you, and whats more he's moaning your name. How lewd.

Collecting your own fluids, you walk up to Simeon. At this point he was frantically trying to chase his own high. With your other hand you grab onto his neck and force him to look you in the eye, shoving your fingers in his mouth. He eagerly sucks at them, cherishing your flavors he instantly cums.

"What a pervert, so desperate for your own release? What about me?"

You walk back to the bed to sit, and open your legs inviting him. He frantically comes forward, and takes off your panties. Worshiping your sex he begins pleasing you with his mouth and hands, though lacking in experience he definitely did not lack in in enthusiasm. Hungrily devouring every part of you, already turned on by the whole situation you were already close. Grabbing onto his hair and pulling his face closer you cream all over his face, which he made sure to consume every drop like holy water.

Patting the bed for him to join you, you begin applying ointment to his marks. Simeon could've healed it with magic, but having you touch him was much more desirable. Turning around to give you a shy smile he said,

"you're my favorite sin~"

..............................................................................................................................

Check out my master list for more <3

Check out my kinktober list!

#obeyme #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #obey me kinktober #kinktober 2022 #kinktober #smut #obey me simeon #simeon om #simeon x reader #obey me gender neutral mc #simeon smut #obey me simeon smut

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writingquestionsanswered · 8 months

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I wrote an outline for a chapter I haven't finished but I still can't get around to writing the said chapter. Any advice/tips for that?

Chapter Outlined But Still Can't Write It

I'm not sure if you mean you haven't finished the outline or the chapter, so we'll tackle it both ways. :)

Chapter Outline Isn't Finished - If you're struggling to finish the chapter outline, start by looking at the conflict of the scene/s that make up the chapter. What does the character want in the scene? Are they trying to solve a problem? Are they trying to obtain something? (Like information, improvement of a skill, an object, agreement from someone to do something?) What tactic do they use in an attempt to get the thing? What obstacles do they face, and how do their tactics escalate? Do they succeed or fail in getting the thing? Are there consequences of getting the thing or not getting the thing? Understanding the purpose of your scene/scenes/chapter helps greatly in figuring out what needs to happen from beginning to end. You can also look at scene structure, which I tackle in my post Easy Scene/Chapter Structure.

Chapter Outline Is Finished - If your chapter outline is finished but you're still struggling to write the chapter, it could be because although you know where it needs to begin and what needs to happen, you may not know specifically how to start it. In other words, it's one thing to know that the chapter needs to start with Katniss preparing to go hunting with Gale, but that doesn't tell us exactly how the scene needs to begin. Try analyzing what needs to happen at the beginning and visualizing where your character is at the first point you know.

In the THG example, we know Katniss will walk out the door to meet Gale to go hunting. So, we can imagine her poised at the door getting ready to walk outside... now we rewind it. What was she doing in the moments before she got to the door? What did she need do in order to get ready? What room was she in? Who or what did she interact with? What was she thinking about? These can give you clues to specifically where you can start. Remember, it helps to start with movement, or in other words, something happening. Like, "My feet touch the ice cold floor..." or "Wooden bowls clatter to the floor when I open our tiny cupboard." Or, in the case of THG: When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim's warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress.

You want the opening image of the chapter to be a hook, either a dynamic moment that asks a question ("Where's Prim?") or dynamic imagery: Nothing about the woman sitting across from me suggested she was a private investigator, much less one who came so highly recommended by Hollywood's rich and famous.

Other things that could be going on... I can think of some other potential issues which are worth considering if the above advice doesn't help you move forward:

1 - You're not sure where the story is going - You may have a full or partial outline for your chapter, but if you're not sure what happens in the next chapter or later on in the story, that can create a sort of mental block that makes it more difficult to get started. It's almost like your brain can see the road is washed out up ahead and doesn't want to start moving until the road is repaired. So, make sure you have a good idea of what needs to happen next and where the overall story is going. You can head over to my Plot & Story Structure master list of posts if you need help plotting.

2 - You've stressed yourself out about it - When we put a lot of pressure on ourselves to start something or finish something, we end up creating an association of stress with the thought of that activity. In other words, when we think of doing the thing it stresses us out, and since our brains are programed to avoid stress, it makes us not want to do the thing. We can think we want to do the thing... we can be motivated and have things ready to go, but if that little bit of stress bubbles up, our brains can say, "Nope! Uh-uh... that way lies danger," and we just can't get going. So, see what you can do to resolve any stress you may be feeling about the chapter. Do some fun activities related to the chapter, like try story boarding it with cute doodles or images from the internet. Make an aesthetic for the chapter, or make a chapter playlist. Try doing a little meditation, yoga, or take a walk before you sit down to work on the chapter. And don't give yourself a hard time when you try but it doesn't go anywhere.

3 - You're not ready to write the chapter - Sometimes there's something blocking you from writing the chapter and it's not something you can necessarily figure out. On a subconscious level, maybe your brain realizes you don't know the characters well enough to give this chapter justice. Maybe something about the chapter isn't working. Or maybe you're just more excited to write another chapter. Remember it's ok to skip chapters and come back to them later. Sometimes that's all you need in order to make it work.

I hope something here helps for you!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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trashpidgeon48 · 4 months

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Little Things I immensely enjoy from the 2023 Sweeney Revival

Annaleigh as Lovett just sticking her tongue out, she goes like 😝 and I’m like me too girly

The beard scritches

Honestly any of the Sweenett touches, it just drives me crazy. (The almost—kiss, a little priest scoop, all the suspender stuff) There’s too many to list.

Anthony asking for Sweeney’s permission to bring Johanna there and kinda just bouncing nervously while waiting for him to answer

Johanna picking at her nails

Johanna like putting pressure on her head, she puts her fingers together and like beats on it.

Pirelli waving the shaving cream around wildly

Pirelli like grinding on the man’s lap who he was shaving

I do love the Beadle’s gay Disney villain sidekick swag

The whole laughing and rolling on the floor thing during a little priest never ceases to bring me to tears.

THE LIGHTING, I’ve seen the revival twice now and it never ceases to amaze me!

City on fire, just city on fire!

You never really see Lucy’s face until her death, the wig constantly covers it and I love that

Mrs. Lovett actively trying to escape, she knows she’s doomed and that theirs no hope to persuade him or too escape and yet she tries anyway because it’s human nature and that’s just heartbreaking.

I saw Toby’s shadow in the corner of the room during the final scene

I’m forever in love with Toby’s final breakdown in this revival, it just makes me go wild

The ensemble just bring so much life to the stage every time and I love them

Josh Groban’s voice is silky smooth baritone is great

And I saw Nicholas Christopher as Sweeney back in March and I would highly recommend seeing him in between Josh Groban and Aaron Tveit, he is fantastic.

#sweeney todd #I’ve seen the revival twice but most of these are from seeing it recently rather than previews back in march #I did however notice some staging differences

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my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction · 21 days

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The Taming of Man: chapter Seven - Dragon Shifting!Katsuki Bakugou x F!reader

Ok, ok, I know I said I don't normally write chapters this long, But the creative juices were flowing! Don't expect this all the time though, I'm only writing so much because you're so cute. much love, hope you enjoy this chapter, it's a doozey!

Words: 3,825

This is incredibly based on the song The Willow Maid by Erutan, I highly recommend giving it a listen for the best experience.

Warnings: Cursing, reader is She/Her and will be AFAB in later chapters, Katsuki is practically naked for a sec, reader has mommy issues, Kat is trying his best

"Turn around," Katsuki ordered, his face getting redder and redder as he realized his own nakedness. If he wanted to turn into a dragon, he'd have to take off the only shred of clothing he had left, and he sure as hell wasn't doing that in front of you.

You obliged him, sighing and facing the wall. "Take this too," he huffed, not giving you a singular second before the satchel he wore hit your back. "Hey," you shouted, kneeling and doing your best not to turn around, grabbing the satchel and holding it. The strap broke when Katsuki transformed last, so you had to just keep it under your arm.

The sounds you could hear from Katsuki were unfamiliar, like popping and glimmering and something else entirely. You could feel his presence grow larger, his form expanding. You turned around at the sound of giant feet planting on the ground, and what you saw...he was majestic.

His body took all available space, each ruby colored scale no doubt the size of your face, His piercing red eyes even more capturing as he glared down at you. His wings expanded outward, above the nearby buildings, albeit short ones...if you didn't know any better, you'd say he was showing off.

You stepped closer, you hand gingerly resting on his snake-like underbelly, looking up and squinting to see. You could stand on one of his big black claws no doubt, each of his scaled legs like the base of a tree trunk, his form solid and his stance proud.

He leaned downward, causing you to take several steps to the side so you wouldn't be crushed. His massive head nearly touched the ground, and he let out a low rumbling sound. He was telling you to get on.

Slowly and with a lot of struggle, you clambered up his side, situating yourself between a couple of the giant gold spikes that ran down his spine at an angle. As he sat back up and prepared for take off, you began to realize what exactly you were doing.

You've never ridden a dragon before, what if you fell? Katsuki wouldn't let you get hurt, you were sure of it. Shaking your head and taking a deep breath, you watched as his wings began to slowly flap, his body rising with each beat. You gripped onto one of the spikes, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. Wind was being generated all around you, your hair flying as he began to go up, and up, and up, and up.

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself, but when you opened your eyes after only a few seconds, you found that you were already far above the market. Everyone looked like ants from here, ants that were slowly disappearing into the horizon as you soared forward.

You could feel the wind in your hair, your eyes forced shut from the pressure, but you also felt weightless. Your anxiety subsided, left with the awe of being so high in the air. If there were clouds, you'd certainly be above them. You've never been this high in the air before, even when riding a Pegasus, nor have you moved so fast.

You could already see the palace ahead, and when you were able to see just past the wall surrounding it, you could feel Katsuki begin to descend.

He ended up veering to the right of the palace, landing around the area you came out of.

Of course, when you got off he made you turn around, poking you gently with his tail to remind you he'd be rather naked. You yet again obliged him, Listening to the sounds of his transformation, before you were graced with the sound of his voice.

"Give me my bag, It has that cloak in it," he ordered, his voice as gruff as ever.

You aimlessly tossed it behind your shoulder after taking your dress out of it, wanting to get him back for hitting you with it earlier, although from the sounds of it he caught the thing.

After the rustling of fabric, he told you you could turn around, and once again the cloak was wrapped around his waist.

He had you go through all the motions of sneaking into the palace grounds, although of course he made you go first up the wall, given his...current predicament.

Keeping you once again in Versengen's den, he left to get clothes. You took the opportunity to change back into your green dress, although you felt weirdly self conscious changing in front of the currently sleeping dragon.

Katsuki returned after about 10 minutes, wearing clothes nearly identical to the ones he had on before, and he seemed visibly disappointed for a second after seeing you out of that red dress. "What's even the point of buying you a dress if you're not going to wear it," he grumbled, pulling you out of the barn.

"Well, If I showed up back home wearing a brand new dress I think that'd raise suspicion," you laughed, watching Katsuki scan the area out of the barn before pulling you farther along. All this sneaking around and climbing and hiding was getting pretty repetitive.

Eventually, you reached the edges of the forest once more, and Katsuki wasted no time holding you by the shoulders like a shield. He hated how stupidly easy traversing the forest was for you, after all the time he spent dodging every danger it had.

The acrimony trees pressed their roots into the ground so you could make it through with no trouble, even going as far as to whip away the little pebbles you nearly trip on.

The trees in Eisen, densely packed and thick, separated for you, bending their trunks out of the way and allowing you to step through.

The trees in Schatz dropped their leaves behind you, showering you in golden flakes as you walked.

In Leben, vines extended towards you, offering you blooming flowers.

In Nebel, the little mushrooms glowed as you walked past, almost bending towards you...

Entering the center ring you knew so well, Katsuki released you and watched as you happily walked toward the giant tree trunk, standing atop it and stretching out towards the setting sun.

"Thanks for doing this for me, I had a lot of fun," you said, smiling as you watched him from afar. He didn't get any closer than the outskirts of the ring, he had to make the walk home and he didn't want to do more than he had to.

"Yeah yeah," he scoffed loudly, waving you off as you made your way to the water so you could go home. Going your separate ways, you couldn't help but feel giddy for next time.

When you got home, Ochako was there waiting for you, ready to help you get into bed. You greeted each other, and as she silently combed through your hair, she seemed to be thinking about something.

"What's the matter," you asked nervously, worried she might be on to you.

"Nothing," she said sweetly, bringing your hair into a loose braid. "It's just..."

"What," you asked softly, turning to face her after she finished. She sighed and looked to the side, closing her eyes. "Look, I don't know what you've been doing when you go out there, but...You seem happier. So whatever it is, keep doing it."

You were surprised, eyes wide and blinking. "Oh...well, uh...thank you." You smile at her, moving to your bed to lay down. "And for the love of god, don't tell me what it is, because I already know the queen won't approve," she sighs, meriting a laugh from you.

You settled into bed, and Ochako began to leave. You stared at the ceiling, pulling the covers to your chin. Did you really seem that much happier? Did he make you more happy...?

"Uhm, Ochako," you called out, your voice cracking.

"Yeah," she responded, turning to face you.

"Have you ever...liked a person? Like, really liked them?"

"I...can't say that I have," she admitted nervously, giving you an apologetic smile. "Why? Do you like someone," she asked quickly, her mood immediately lifting.

"N-no," you shot back, sitting upright with warm cheeks. If Katsuki were here he'd call you a shitty liar.

Ururaka sighed, giggling a little as she moved to leave again. "Well...If you did...I'm sure he'd be more than happy to have you."

"T-thank you," you mumbled, your heartbeat slowing as you calmed back down.

"Don't worry about it! I mean, with your status, any duke would jump at the chance," she laughed, leaving you with that as she shut the door.

right. You were supposed to like a duke, one of the many you met with. Your eyes hit the ceiling once more, brows furrowed as you blinked back a couple tears. What was wrong with you? You never cried, and all of a sudden you're crying about nothing?

So what if you couldn't be with Katsuki? So what if you had no say in your future? Tears kept spilling down your face, rolling onto your silken pillows and staining your cheeks in the process. Why can't you be happy with what you have, you're a princess, your life was handed to you on a silver platter...

You shouldn't yearn after something you can't have...and yet...

A life outside of this, a life with him...was it worth risking it for a chance?

Katsuki didn't make it home until late, like usual, but thankfully he didn't bump into anyone while traversing the halls of his palace. He really didn't feel like talking to extras. Making it to his bedroom, he immediately collapsed onto the bed, tired from the day he's had. Unfortunately for him, Kirishima poked his head through the door, looking at him with a giddy smile.

"What," Katsuki grumbled through gritted teeth, one arm behind his head with his eyes closed.

"C'monnnn dude, tell me about her!" Kirishima walked into the room quickly, shutting the door and practically flying over to Katsuki.

"Like I said, there's nothing to tell." Katsuki opened one eye, looking up at Kirishima while he stared him down.

He finally sighed, shaking his head and pouting. "Alright, I get it..."

Finally, he was going to leave.

"You're just grumpy because you can't pull her," Kirishima sighed, turning around and walking away so Katsuki couldn't see the shit eating grin on his face.

"Wha- Who said I can't," Katsuki shouted, sitting upright and staring daggers at Kiri. That really hit a nerve, not only because of his pride, but also because he was pretty sure he actually couldn't.

"You did, with you're eyes," Kirishima announced, being completely serious, as he turned back around to face him again.

"Shut up! If I wanted her I'd have her already, I'm the damn prince of the Dragonborne," Katsuki barked, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Just 'cause you're a prince doesn't mean she likes you," Kirishima responded, sitting next to Katsuki.

Now all Kat could do was stutter and stumble, unable to come up with an argument. "W- uh- you-"

Alright, now it was time to actually help him out. With a sigh, Kirishima smiled kindly at Katsuki. "Listen, dude, whoever this girl is, she's important enough to you to fight for, so I say go for it!"

Katsuki looked to the floor, his jaw clenched. "...if I hypothetically had feelings for someone, how do I know?" Katsuki knows Kiri's been in love before, or at least liked a couple girls enough to pursue them.

"well..." Kirishima paused in thought, looking to the ceiling to try and give him an answer.

"For starters, your heart feels like it's gonna explode out of your chest, but like, in a good way..."

check.

"your hands get all sweaty..."

check.

"your always feel breathless, even if you can breath just fine..."

Fucking check.

"There's some other stuff, but it all depends on the person," Kiri finished, shrugging. From the look on Katsuki's face, his words rang true to him. "I'm goin' to bed," Katsuki announced suddenly.

"What about Pajamas," Kiri asked, given the fact Katsuki never changed out of his day clothes. "What about 'em? Just get the hell outa here," Katsuki grumbled, laying in bed and angrily pulling the blankets over himself.

With a chuckle, Kirishima got up and blew out all the candles, moving to the door and leaving him be.

Katsuki stared at his ceiling, intent on figuring this out. He liked you? Did he really...? He did. Good, got that out of the way. So, now what? Was he going to court you? Was he able to...

Of course he was! He was motherfucking Katsuki Bakugou, prince of the Dragonborne! He'd court the hell out of you, He'd court you so well you'll be weak in the knees! It was decided then. You won't know what hit you.

For the past two weeks, as in to say two weeks after going out to the market, you've noticed some weird things about Katsuki. First of all, He's started wearing more intense colors...if you could say that. His clothing, originally consisting of beiges and muted reds, now contained mainly black and deep, vibrant reds, not to mention his animal tooth necklace was now accompanied by golden rings and bangles.

He's also been bringing more things for lessons, like drac coins to teach you about his currency, little glass figurines to teach you about his culture's history with glassblowing, and different bits of jewelry with different gems inlaid to teach you about the stones' meaning historically. It was all interesting, and you appreciated his consideration when teaching you, but all this stuff was getting harder to hide when you went home.

Lastly, and this might be your imagination, but you swear his arm scales are turning a deeper orange and becoming more prominent.

Eventually, you just chalked it all up to the coming spring. Some animals changed their behaviors and appearances in the spring, and maybe Dragonborne were no different.

"Hey, you listening," Katsuki asked, his tone accusatory as he nudged your side.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry." You were lost in thought about it, despite the fact it really wasn't that important.

"You beg me to teach you things and don't even listen when I do," he huffed, leaning back on the stump and looking up at the pale pink sky. An orange butterfly floated right past him, catching his attention and leading his gaze to you as it landed in your hair and sat like a broach.

You didn't lean back with him, but your gaze was locked on the clouds drifting past lazily, the sounds of the babbling brook filling your ears.

All Katsuki could look at right now was you. Why wouldn't you accept his advances? He was clearly flirting with you, doing practically everything necessary to signify he wanted you as his mate. He gave you treasures, he sat as close to you as possible, he wore more eye-catching things when he went to see you. Hell, he's been doing this so long even his body started reacting.

When dragons, usually male, want to begin looking for a mate, they intensify their colors and release pheromones. Once they find the mate they want, they bring said mate treasures, spent as much time around them as possible, and dance for them. Of course, this is all for full-blooded dragons, but some things remained for Dragonborne people.

Genetically, he's still wired to change colors and release pheromones when he's entered the mating stage, and he's been doing just that. What else did you want from him?! You should be love-drunk off of his pheromones, at the bare minimum. Did he need to dance for you? It wasn't something people did anymore, the kind of thing some geezer on life support would suggest, but maybe you were old fashioned.

"What's up with you," you asked him, this time it was your turn to be annoyed.

"Do you want me to dance," Katsuki asked gruffly, looking into your eyes with complete seriousness.

"Wh- huh," you asked, a smile on your face as you processed what he could possibly mean by that. "Why," you giggled.

"Well you don't like anything else I do," He grumbled, brows furrowing. How dare you laugh, he was trying to be sincere!

"What are you talking about right now," you asked, laughing even more. You were so confused, completely lost.

He sat straight up, scowling at you. "Don't pretend like you don't know, There's no way in hell you...don't...know..." He started, yelling before tapering into mumbling.

You don't know.

How could he be so dense? You weren't a Dragonborne, you probably had some other dumb mating ritual. He should have done some research on faerie mating.

"Know what? Katsuki, Just tell me what you want to tell-"

he grabbed your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks a little as he looked deep into your eyes. He wasn't going to let you get confused, he was going to make this loud and clear.

"I. Like. You."

You froze, lashes fluttering nearly as fast as your heart. Was he serious? No way, he couldn't be...

"Like...Like-like?" You said "like" too many times. You were just so nervous.

"Well...yeah..." he mumbled, his initial confidence and bravery dwindling as he became more and more aware of how ballsy this was. He quickly released your face, turning to stare at the water as his cheeks got redder by the second.

"Just forget about it, 's not that big of a deal, so go ahead and shut up already-"

Now it was your turn to interrupt him. you brought your hand to his cheek, gently turning him to face you as you leaned in close. Without skipping a beat, you pressed your lips to his, eyes squeezed shut from how embarrassed you made yourself. The kiss was sweet and chaste, his lips warm and ever so slightly chapped as he sat there frozen in shock.

Like hell he'd let you just kiss him like that, not without fighting back.

He brought one hand to your waist, the other to the back of your neck, pulling you into him as he took a sharp breath in from his nose to calm himself. He was practically vibrating with satisfaction, with happiness that you reciprocated his feelings. He spent all that time refusing to believe that he was admiring you, wishing that he could feel you closer, wanting more than anything to experience your affection, when he could have had all of that so much sooner.

You could feel him breath out against your face, the air hot, almost like steam. Every part of you was on fire, flames fueled by the raw passion Katsuki emitted from simply being. His hands, his lips, his lashes, all of them felt on your skin and all of them making you feel weak in the knees.

Slowly and reluctantly, the two of you pulled away. Katsuki could hear your heart pounding. You could feel the heat around Katsuki. All you did was stare at each other, his eyes slightly lidded and intense in every sense of the word.

you were the first to break the silence, swallowing deeply as you said, "I-I've never done that before." He could hear how shaky your voice was, it made him proud to know he had such an effect on you.

"M-me neither." Damn it. Stupid body, giving away how you made him feel, you weren't supposed to know you effected him that much too!

"Uh...for the record, I like-like you too," you laughed, trying to play off your nerves with a joke.

Katsuki smiled, snickering. You were so cute. He was glad he could say that now, without feeling delusional. "I can't believe I spent the last two weeks trying to court you when I coulda just told you," Katsuki groaned, shaking his head at his own idiocy.

"You've been trying to court me," you asked, astonished. Katsuki burst out laughing, and after lots of begging from you and the swallowing of his pride from him, he explained it all.

"Ohhhhh...that...makes a lot of sense," you giggled, the lingering high from that kiss making you feel bold enough to rest your head on his shoulder. He allowed it, inching his hand closer to yours until your pinkies touched. You smiled to yourself, looking up at the sky as you interlaced your fingers with his. The beautiful deep orange hue, transitioning into a dark blue as nightfall was encroaching-

crap.

You pulled away from Katsuki, standing straight up and causing him to give you a confused scowl.

"I gotta go," you announced, your voice thick with apology. "I'll come back tomorrow though, promise," you supplemented quickly, brows quirked as you looked to Katsuki for acceptance to these terms.

"Fine, yeah, don't get in trouble," he grumbled, looking away from you with pink cheeks.

You grabbed your stuff, cheekily giving him one final peck on the lips before you left. "Hey, get back here," Katsuki shouted, grabbing you by the arm as he stood. He took your chin in his fingers, kissing you again. "Can't have you giving more kisses than I do," he mumbled, releasing you.

You looked up at him, surprised at first, but gave him a love-struck smile. "That's fair," you giggled, waving him a quick goodbye as you hopped into the underwater portal. He watched as you left, a stoic expression on his face, but the second you left for good he let out a breath he had no idea he was holding. "Holy shit," he mused, practically clutching his chest.

You were practically glowing as you walked home, making your way through the forest and to the palace walls. "Katsuki Bakugou, prince of the Dragonborne, my boyfriend," you muttered to yourself, smiling as you skipped along. A little bunny hopped into your path, looking up at you with round black eyes, contrasting it's pure white fur.

"I have a boyfriend," you squealed to it blithely, picking it up and spinning it around, before releasing it to continue hopping.

You greeted everyone you saw sweetly as you walked through the palace back to your room, which was a surprising large amount considering the time. 10...15...20 people you saw in total as you walked to your room? Everyone seemed so busy, you wondered what it was for.

You walked into your room, bright and happy, before you saw your Mother sitting on your bed. The queen of the Fae. Her deep blue dress made her stand out in your room, the white and pastels paling even further in her presence. "(Y/N) dear, take a seat," she urged, patting the space next to her on your bed, her voice and smile sickeningly sweet. Your stomach twisted in knots, your demeanor wilting.

"Let's have a little chat."

oooooo scary. Let me know if you liked this chapter in the comments, each one means so much to me!

Taglist: @sky-angel101 @the-galaxy-fiend @chixkadee @ssplague @sappho-the-kitten-tamer @andysdrafts @daria-rona @tanjirofan63 @aizawaslut09 @tsukiiomii @me1297

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rottenraccoons · 8 months

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How do you go about writing witty characters or funny banter, for example between Vesper and Keir? I find comedy to be very hard to nail, and I'd like to hear dear raccoons' advice!

Aw, thank you! This got a touch lengthy so the rest is under a readmore.

I've been sitting on this for a while to think about it, and I think the short answer is that we write banter as an extension of the characters' personal feelings and relationships, and Vesper is a banter-friendly character. They're talkative, they're a fast thinker, and they enjoy being sarcastic. Those are useful traits for writing fun dialogues, in my opinion.

My mindset when writing a dialogue exchange that's supposed to be especially fun or engaging is to treat it as a fight for power. For Vesper and Keir, particularly at the end of the chapter, that fight is play-fighting, but it's still a contest or a sport they want to "win". Sometimes they escalate their rhetoric against each other, sometimes they shift the topic of discussion a bit to get an edge, but they're fighting to win the conversation. And because Keir and Vesper don't actually hate each other they're not fighting to hurt each other, which keeps the atmosphere light and fun. (And bonus! If one of them did hurt the other in their banter, it comes across as more shocking and dramatic, highlighting the hurt.)

There's a lot of things a writer can do to make dialogue and banter more fun and engaging, though, and honestly I think the best way to learn is just to actively watch/listen to media that does it well, and when you find something that hits so good, think about why it hits so good. Pick it apart, find the rhythm of the dialogue, look at how characters choose their words (especially repeating specific words in a dialogue, or from a previous dialogue), when do the power dynamics shift, how do the characters enter and leave an exchange, what is it about this joke that's so funny. It can take away a touch of the ~magic~ to examine a piece of dialogue mechanically like this, but I think there's a second kind of appreciation that comes from seeing the mechanics behind something and seeing how well they fit together.

For me, that thing was the radio programme Cabin Pressure by John Finnemore (who also co-wrote season 2 of Good Omens), so I can highly recommend listening to that. Here's a short clip of two characters meeting up for a date, as a taster. And here's me analysing a very short bit of it like I'm back in high school doing line-by-line readings of the Odyssey again:

(dog enters scene, barking) Carolyn: Hello, darling! Did you hear the silly late man? [Carolyn is continuing a previous argument, asserting her dominance by emphasising Herc is late.] Herc: Oh, hello. What a ridiculous dog. [Herc knows he can't win on the late argument, so shifts the point of discussion. By calling the dog ridiculous, he is poking at Carolyn's pride while staying within acceptable boundaries.] Carolyn: I'm sorry? [Daring Herc to repeat his statement, attempting the intimidation she uses when insulted in other circumstances.] Herc: I said you have a ridiculous dog. [Herc will not be intimidated, repeats his point plainly to assert it as fact. Not "I think the dog is ridiculous" but "The dog is ridiculous".] Carolyn: My dog is not ridiculous. [Continuing to push back on Herc, emphasis on "my dog" to tie the dog to her and she's not ridiculous, is she?] Herc: Then whose dog is this? [Big laugh line, Herc has clearly won the point in this volley. He continues the conversation about the dog (who is, in fairness, delightful but quite a silly creature) because he is winning the "Carolyn's dog is ridiculous" fight, but shifts to the dog's breed for new ground to compete over.]

You definitely don't have to write things out like this (I don't recommend it unless you already find it fun), but being able to look at lines of dialogue and see what they're for in an exchange, both in-character and out of character as a structural element, can help when writing to know exactly what each line is for, and for me it helps me keep power dynamics and rhythm in mind. I hope that helps, nonny!

#obscura vn #rotten raccoons #asks #about us #(by which i mean our process)

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lilpunkrock · 1 year

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where you go (i will go)—part xiv

Summary: You are reminded that love invites vulnerability—for better and for worse.

AN: This is really the chapter and song that started this entire journey. Highly recommend listening to Taylor Acorn’s acoustic cover of Jamie All Over before reading the first half of this chapter. As for the second half—please don’t hate me.

masterlist

. . .

“Hey, please don’t tell me that I’m dreamin’,

When all I ever wanted was to dream another sunset with you.”

Jamie All Over (Acoustic), Taylor Acorn

. . .

Part xiv

‘Love can be scary. But that’s a good thing. Means you’ve got something worth being afraid of losing.’

‘You deserve to be protected.’

‘I remember you.’

When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by a sky full of stars. High above your head hangs a full moon, pale as a bowl of cream, bathing the beach in soft twilight. The tide is quiet tonight, its whisper no louder than the shuffling of the sand as you rise to your feet.

Your eyes track the dark path of the Milky Way overhead, a dappled stream of black, purple, and pinprick stars that trickles above you. When you turn around to follow its trail, you find that it arches down to meet a very familiar silhouette standing several paces away.

A soft huff of amusement escapes you at the sight. Funny how all paths are leading to him as of late.

Fake Dream watches quietly as you approach from where you came to on the beach. The light of the moon turns his skin luminescent, every beloved feature of his face set aglow. His blue eyes reflect the starry sky back at you. Though they lack the dark gravity that you witnessed in his gallery earlier today, something in those eyes still captures your attention, pulling you in. There’s a quality to them that you can’t quite place, an emotion within them that your mind struggles to put into words. A certain measure of tenderness.

‘Something within you was known to me from the moment we met.’

His words echo in your mind as you come to a stop before him. Oh, how that realization had cut you to the bone. A cure and an affliction, all in one. Keeping yourself from him in that moment had been almost impossible. Here in your unconscious, the compulsion to go to him is even more powerful. The knowledge that this is all an illusion wears on your resolve.

“Did you mean it? When you said that I deserve to be protected?” The question hardly feels real as it slips from your lips, a ghost in the saltwater air.

Fake Dream’s eyes watch you with an intensity that’s almost palpable. His gaze on you feels physical, a soft touch to your cheek. “Yes,” he breathes into the night air.

The sigh that escapes you is one of relief. “I’ve never had someone to protect me before,” you admit, your voice small and hesitant.

Fake Dream’s throat bobs at your words, a nonverbal response. You take one step closer to him, watch his eyes track your shift in position.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to submit, you think. To give in, just for a little while. To pretend that this was real, to pretend he wasn’t fake. To pretend that this was your Dream.

And if it did hurt…well, the only one you’d have to blame was yourself.

Your hands find his with tentative fingers. His skin is soft as silk as your thumbs trace the lines of his palms. Hands that had created, hands that had destroyed. When it came to you, all they had ever done was support, uplift, cultivate. You loved these hands.

The shift in the air when you touch him is tangible. A crescendo in energy, a symphony building. Coiled like a spring, and yet you know he won’t make the first move. He’ll entrust you with that decision.

“I’m tired of running, Dream,” you say, drawing a step nearer to him. Close enough that you can bring his hands to your chest, that when you raise your head to look at him, your nose nearly brushes his skin.

Dream’s voice is soft, betraying nothing of the pressure building within. “Then don’t.”

For a long moment, you don’t dare move. Not out of fear, but because the simple pleasure of allowing yourself to be this close to him, of allowing your guard to finally fall, is utterly intoxicating. Up close, Dream’s eyes are seas you could drown in. Happily, you might add. The warmth of his skin radiates from him, drawing a flush into your cheeks. His breath dances across your skin, a piece of him that you inhale, exhale. Your heart pounds in your ribcage like a bird’s wings, about to take flight. You wonder if he can hear it, too.

Breathing his borrowed breath is almost too sacred, too intimate to sustain. He could set your soul aflame at will. He could rip the air straight from your lungs and fill his own. He could crumple your paper heart in the palm of his hand. And yet, the fear of these fates is minuscule compared to your fear of the next moment never happening at all.

You had thought you’d been in love before. That was nothing compared to this.

When you lean forward, the universe sighs, ‘Yes.’

When you press your lips to his, it feels like, finally.

The two of you release a bated breath through your noses simultaneously, as if with the same pair of lungs. With the exhalation, the world around you stills. A moment frozen in time. Suspended within it, you’re not sure there was ever a world outside of him at all.

After a long moment, Dream moves. The glide of his lips against your own is soft as cashmere, smooth as silk. The pressure is sure and gentle. His bottom lip is full and round as it slips between yours, just as plush as you’d imagined. With each slow, savoring movement, a fuzzy warmth seeps into your toes, curling up into your stomach, unfurling in your chest. It feels like every attachment you’ve ever fostered–no, better.

What does it taste like to kiss dreams and stars? It tastes like milk and honey.

Only when your lungs burn for air do you reluctantly pull away. When your lashes flutter open, heavy with bliss, you find Dream’s eyes brimming with stars. Pouty lips parted and flushed red from your affection, he looks at you like a beautiful dream, a well-crafted nightmare. Like every ounce of gravity in the universe is pulling him toward you—a celestial body entangled in your gravitational pull.

He looks at you as if he doesn’t fear the inevitable collision. In spite of all that he now knows, he doesn’t look at you as if you’ll break on impact. He looks at you with awe, with reverence. It’s transcending and grounding, all at once. A rush of adrenaline pours through you, frazzling your thoughts, making you giddy.

When you press your lips to his again, it’s with fervor and a grin. Emboldened, your curious hands slide up his arms, fingers tightening around the sinewy strength beneath his cloak. Dream’s features were often so poised, so perfect, that one might expect him to be cold and stiff, like a statue. But the column of his throat is anything but inanimate as your fingers glide over it, eager and exploratory. His jugular tightens under your touch, his skin warm, his steady heartbeat thrumming into your palm.

As satisfying as this particular piece of him is, there’s something you’re even more eager to explore. Dream’s hair is lush and thick as your hand cards through it, the strands soft as cornsilk between your fingers. When they curl into the wild tresses at the back of his head, giving a soft pull, a delicious sound pours from Dream’s mouth into yours. You swallow it greedily, your bones turning to jelly. You want to pull that sound from him, again and again.

Your eagerness sparks a flame in him like steel to flint. In an instant, Dream is all around you—his chest pressed to yours, one hand drawing you into him from the small of your back, the other a cradle for your cheek.

You aren’t sure what you expected his touch to feel like. Dream was one of the most powerful beings in the universe, after all. Perhaps you expected a dominance in his touch, or a sense of power lurking beneath the surface of his skin. But this is neither. The press of his hand to your back is firm, but not forceful. His palm cups your cheek like a treasure, like a masterpiece. When his hands begin to move, searching, mirroring your own curiosity, every touch feels like worship, every nerve set aflame.

The press of his lips against yours, gentle and insistent, is everything. What need do you have of oxygen, of food, of water? None. All you require to remain is this.

“I’ve dreamt of this for so long,” you whisper as your back falls against the sand. Dream’s lithe form hovers over you, all long limbs and draping cloak. Grabbing him by the lapels, you draw him down toward you, unappreciative of the empty space between you.

Dream’s lips find your ear, a brush that sends a mind-bending shiver down your spine. His disheveled hair sweeps over your face, tickling your nose and cheeks. ‘’Dreamt?’” he echoes, lips upturned against your skin.

Your heart swells three sizes at the amused lilt in his tone. Maker, you didn’t know that love could feel like this. Like fire and ice, like a suckerpunch and the sweetest embrace, like a first and final breath, all at once. Your chest feels too small to hold it, and yet all you crave is more.

“You know what I mean,” you laugh, tilting your face to steal his lips again.

Time slips from your grasp as you lose yourself in each other. You had always known Dream to be attentive, a perfectionist, meticulous to a fault. You had spent countless days watching him observe dreams and nightmares in silence, making miniscule adjustments until each was just as he pleased. He shows the same attention to detail here–no curiosity left unsatisfied, no quiet gasp of yours left without follow-through. To be the sole focus of his attention is intoxicating, almost maddening.

You have spent your entire existence pouring love into others. For the first time, you understand how it feels to open your soul to another, to have them open their own in return. To see into the core of another and to be seen. To be thoroughly treasured, entirely engulfed, utterly loved.

You never want it to stop.

As Dream’s fingers drift over your skin, leaving fire in their wake, the rational part of you, the part you’ve been trying desperately to silence, reminds you that this is only a fantasy. You don’t know if the real Dream’s fingers would linger along the dip of your hips and the curve of your spine. Would the tip of his nose fit perfectly into the hollow under your ear, just as it did here? Would his lips quirk upwards each time his affections coaxed a soft hum from your throat, a smile you could feel, but could not see?

“I wish this was real,” you breathe when your lips part for air, leaning your cheek into the palm of his hand. Your fingers trail through the feather-soft hair at the back of his head, already eager to pull him back toward you.

Dream stills slowly above you. When he draws back, ever so slightly, his eyes are so clear you can almost see your reflection in them.

A confession shines in those blue irises, bright and earnest. Of what, you don’t know.

For several moments, all is still save for the rise and fall of your chests as you regain your breath. Then, slowly, Dream weaves his fingers through your hair, drawing your face into the crook of his neck. You press yourself deeper into his lean, slender form, burrowing closer, searching for more places to touch, more places to connect. Yearning to melt together until you can’t be distinguished apart. Until there is no place where he ends and you begin. Nothing less will do.

You remain that way for a long time.

Finally, Dream draws his lips to your ear. “May I?” he asks, barely more than a whisper.

You turn your face to his, nestling your nose into his unruly mop of hair, placing a tender kiss into the hollow under his ear. “Please.”

. . .

“Do we have to leave?”

There is a shift at the back of your head as Dream’s lips quirk against your hair. Damn that smile, elusive as ever. “I’m afraid so,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your scalp.

You heave a soft sigh, pressing closer to him. Dream’s chest is warm and solid against your back, his arms and legs encircling you as you sit together on the beach, watching the moon coax in the tide. Dream’s cloak is draped over you, shielding you from the seabreeze that skims off the waves. You draw it tighter around your neck as a new breath of wind tickles your cheeks.

“What if I just stay forever?” you ask, only half-joking.

Dream’s thumbs stroke your knuckles, his touch slow, thoughtful. “I suspect the world would become a very dismal, lonely place.”

Warmth blooms in your chest, turning you soft and sentimental. You lean your head back against his shoulder, peering up at his face. Mortal and divine vocabulary alike fail to describe the way he looks at you, to capture the feeling his gaze places in your chest. Like having your heart torn apart and sewn together over and over again. It’s a sweet kind of pain, an agony you know you’re blessed to carry.

“What I’d give to see the real you look at me this way,” you say quietly. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Dream watches you in silence for several moments. Finally, he draws one hand out of his cloak, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the wrinkle in your brow. Any sense of sorrow and bittersweetness fades at his touch, replaced by warm contentment.

“Do not urge me to leave you, or to turn back from you.” The words slip from his lips like a prayer, as familiar to you as the blue of his eyes. Instantly, they transport you back in time–back to Cathedral Grove, to the wedding you attended under the green and gold leaves, to the vows that were exchanged there.

That was months ago. Though you’ve heard these words countless times, even recited them to yourself, hearing them in his voice takes your breath away. “Where you go, I will go,” he continues, his voice soft.

The lump in your throat feels insurmountable. When you find your voice, it’s scarcely more than a whisper. “And where you stay, I will stay.”

Dream’s thumb trails down your cheek, favoring the curve of your jaw. “Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried,” he murmurs, eyes bright with stars.

You can still remember the moment you looked up from the young couple’s glowing attachments, still remember the way he looked at you across that clearing. Was that the moment you’d started to love him? Or had it come sooner, later?

You honestly weren’t sure. It felt as if he’d always been yours. Life before him seemed like a strange and distant memory now. You didn’t even want to think of it.

“May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if even death separates you and me,” you finish quietly, eyes fluttering shut.

As you lean into him, savoring this moment, this togetherness, for as long as you can, you feel his warm breath over your skin. “What more could one want than to not go through this life alone?”

. . .

As you make your way toward Cliff’s coffee shop, you’re convinced that you’ve never seen so many mortals smiling on a Monday morning in the dead of winter.

Normally, Monday morning coffee runs are filled with tired eyes, whispers of plans for the Friday ahead, and faces glued to phones as everyone scrambles to organize their lives for the week. But today’s walk is filled with bright eyes, refreshed faces, and contented smiles. For once, everyone’s faces are turned up to the sky, or steeped in conversation with a friend. You barely see a phone in sight.

Must be something in the water, you muse with a grin of your own as you step into Cliff’s coffee shop. When the white-haired man affixes you with a toothy smile from behind the counter, you grin even wider.

“‘Morning, Cliff. The usual, please,” you say as you fish the cash out of your pocket, placing it into his waiting hand. “And add an earl grey to go, please.”

“Of course, miss.” Cliff is already pulling the container of milk from the fridge below the counter as he deposits the money into the cash register.

You can’t help the lopsided grin that warms your face as you watch Cliff set to work tamping the grounds, foaming the milk, brewing the tea. He’s always seemed agile for his years, but the way he moves this morning looks downright youthful.

When he twirls the long-handled spoon between his fingers before stirring the earl grey, you can’t help but laugh. “You’re in a good mood this morning.”

Cliff’s white beard frames his smile perfectly as he places the to-go cups before you, slipping lids onto them with nimble fingers. “Indeed, miss. ‘Suppose I got an extra good night of sleep,” he says.

Heat creeps up your neck as your own activities from last night come to mind. You hide a cheeky grin behind the rim of your coffee cup. “Glad to hear it.”

A mixture of excitement and nerves makes you impervious to the cold as you walk back to your townhome. Mind racing, you mull over possible phrases for the thousandth time since you awoke.

Hey, Dream. Do you mind if we talk in private for a moment?

That was as good a place to start as any. But what next?

Dream, what I’m about to say sounds crazy—

My unconscious mind is so enamored with you that it’s created a fake you that I’ve been hanging out with every night—

And we’re actually soulmates. Like, romantic soulmates—

You huff with dissatisfaction, taking a long drink of your coffee. That wouldn’t do. He’d think Matthew had fried your brain with a bad joke or something.

Dream, there’s something I need to tell you.

Balancing one to-go cup precariously atop the other, you dig through your pocket for the keys to your front door. Perhaps you could just wing it from there. Or perhaps you’d totally lose your nerve once you saw him in person. Right now, you were riding the high of your time with Fake Dream, drunk off the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his skin. Would you be able to speak the truth when everything was real, when you were face-to-face? You weren’t really sure. After last night, all you knew was that you were tired of running, tired of hiding. Tired of not letting him know how you felt.

You were ready to make the leap. You could only hope and pray that you’d make it to the other side.

Your key slips into the lock with a resolute click. Warmth creeps into your cheeks as you step inside, locking the door behind you. When you turn to take your cups to the kitchen, the sight of someone sitting on the counter nearly makes you jump out of your skin.

“Maker, what is wrong with you Endless? Are you completely incapable of making a normal entrance? Is knocking a foreign concept to you?”

Desire of the Endless grins at you from their place on the kitchen counter, legs crossed, eyes flashing. “You sure know how to make a guest feel welcome, don’t you, darling?” they coo, all blood-red lips and bone-white teeth.

You shoot Desire a pointed glare, placing your to-go cups on the end of the counter furthest from them. “The term guest implies that someone is welcome, which you are most definitely not.”

Desire’s eyebrows perk up, making their golden eyes even wider. “So touchy these days. You used to cower in my presence. I must say, this is much more entertaining.”

Your jaw sets tightly as you drape your coat over a dining table chair. As much as it pains you to admit it, Desire was right. The helplessness you had felt in their presence had seemed inescapable once. The shift from fear to annoyance had been subtle. Looking back, you suppose that as your power had grown over the past few months, so too had your confidence, your willingness to stand up for yourself. In the past, your fear had stemmed from a lack of control over your circumstances. Now, you felt like you had a say in your future, a way to combat Desire’s interferences. Another blessing of Dream entering your life.

Desire’s gaze darts to the second to-go cup resting on the counter. ‘Earl grey’ is scrawled across the side in Cliff’s cursive handwriting.’ “Who might that be for?” they ask, voice sickeningly sweet.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, itching to snatch the cup from their sight. You settle for crossing your arms, instead. “That’s none of your business. Did you just come here to make idle chit-chat? If so, I really have better things to do.”

“Like what? Get back to your darling Dream?”

Something about the sense of knowing in Desire’s voice chills the blood in your veins.

Desire grins widely, leaning forward. “How was your night? Very eventful, I presume.”

Dread trickles down your spine, numbness creeping forth from the cracks it sews. You try your best to keep your expression neutral. When Desire licks their lips like a predator eager to feast, you suspect you’re failing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie through clenched teeth.

Desire rolls their eyes, irritation pinching their feline features. “Come now, little goddess. You’re a terrible liar. Did you forget that all beings fall under my domain of desire? When I sensed your connection to the Threshold last night, I could hardly believe it. I thought, ‘Could she really be such a fool to place herself within my grasp again? Surely not.’”

The walls of your townhome pull away as darkness encroaches on your vision. One hand steadies yourself against the counter as numbness grips your knees.

The soft purr of Desire’s laughter meets your ears, followed by the sound of two feet hitting the floor. “That’s when I went to your quaint little realm to investigate. Imagine my surprise when I found that you and my darling brother share a soulmate attachment. And not only that, but eros, erotoropia, and pragma, as well. I swear upon my eldest sibling, you truly are a fool.”

Eros, erotoropia, and pragma? You hadn’t even known about those. The last time you’d been to the Realm of Attachment, only the philia had been present. Had the others formed last night? you wonder, mind racing.

“I must say, you did an admirable job of keeping it from me at first. A ‘B’ for effort if I ever saw one. But nothing could conceal what I felt last night.”

The feeling of hot breath on your face jerks you back to your senses. With a shake of your head, the darkness clears from your vision, revealing Desire’s grinning face mere inches from yours. “When I killed you all those years ago, I couldn’t have dreamt of the ramifications I’d see today. That toying with a mortal would lead to my brother’s undoing. I must say, you’ve surprised me, Love. And for that, I am quite pleased.”

Your fingernails grind against the countertop as you brace yourself against it. You fight the urge to run, force yourself to stand your ground. “What do you mean, ‘undoing?’” you ask coldly, trying to sound more assertive than you feel.

Desire takes a step closer, pressing in on you. Their close proximity, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the dread weighing down your bones–it’s all too much. When Desire’s fingers cup your chin, you want to crawl out of your skin. You fight the urge to push them away, unsure of what they’d do if you did.

“Though it might be hard to believe, my brother Dream is quite the romantic. That lonely heart of his has gotten him into all sorts of trouble, caused him all sorts of pain. Some of it my doing, some of it not.” Desire flashes you a cheek-splitting grin. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, darling. Nor was my somber, solitary sibling. ”

You clench your eyes closed, repulsed by the sweet malice in Desire’s expression. Killala. Nada. Calliope. You can still remember the sight of their names in Dream’s book in your library. You can still picture how he’d looked at you when you’d asked what happened with them that night on the dock. ‘I am not entirely sure. Perhaps that is why the process continues to repeat itself,’ he’d said, his voice soft and sad.

Now, the truth dawns on you. The realization that, while he wasn’t entirely excused of blame for the outcome of his past relationships, their demise hadn’t entirely been his fault, either. How many times had Desire interfered with Dream’s relationships, and in what ways? How many times had they been responsible for Dream’s sadness, his loneliness, his broken, distrustful heart?

The thought makes you want to run to Dream, to throw your arms around him. It makes you want to tell him everything.

Your feet move beneath you as you resolve to follow through. However, just as you start to pull away, Desire’s voice makes you halt. “Dream’s falling out with Calliope left a nasty scar. Made him impassioned, turned him into a recluse. He’s walled himself off for a long, long time. But with you here, I finally have a way in.”

The world around you goes very, very still.

“My brother’s heart has always been his greatest weakness.” The feeling of fingernails pressing into your skin spurs your eyes open. Desire tilts your chin to meet their gaze with an agonizing slowness. When you lock eyes, you’re met not with malice, or anger, or annoyance. Only cold, hollow contempt.

The next words they say will haunt you forever. “Perhaps you really were made for each other.”

For a long moment, there is nothing. And then, like a loose thread, the world you know begins to unravel.

It’s a strange feeling, having the foundation of your life crumble beneath you. A war between emptiness and overstimulation, between immobility and urgency, between desperation and surrender. Sense of control slips through your fingers like tears. Surety flees with it, like a rug ripped out from beneath your feet. Your stomach bottoms out as you freefall, down, down, down, with no end in sight.

When would you hit the bottom? Was there a bottom to hit?

You had thought you held your life in your own hands. You had thought that the future was yours to create. You had thought you’d known what that future might hold.

You were wrong.

Your palms hit the trash can by the fridge with enough force to bruise. The acidic burn of bile and coffee floods your mouth as the sad truth crashes through you, again and again. As you realize what your future now holds.

Your gaze, hot and blurry with tears, rises to the cup of earl grey sitting on the counter just a few feet away. The one you’d bought for him. The one you wouldn’t be able to give him, now that your sorry heart had ruined everything.

The salt of your tears reminds you of the Dreaming’s sea. You heave into the trash can again.

Desire’s fingers rest on your shoulder in mock sympathy. You can’t bring yourself to pull away. “I told you I’d find what you loved and squeeze, darling. You should have listened.”

The trash can’s steel lid is cool and smooth against your cheek. You blink past the tears in your eyes, watching as Desire saunters toward the door. “You’ll regret this,” you choke past the vice that grips your throat.

Desire unlocks the door, then pauses. Slowly, they turn to look at you over their shoulder. For once, their lips are not pulled into a devilish grin. Their expression is devoid of emotion, their gold eyes hard with disdain. “Funny, the only one who looks like they have any regrets here is you.”

And without another word, they slip out the door.

. . .

You don’t go to the Dreaming that day, or the next day, or the next.

. . .

Once, spending your days alone had come easily to you. Though lonely, it had been preferable, really, to the painful possibility of having your trust betrayed. The painful possibility of losing something–or someone–you cared about.

Oh, what you’d give to return to those days now.

The Realm of Attachment starts to lose its beauty after so many days spent there without reprieve. The rainbow tapestry of the sky seems duller in color, the attachments between mortals glowing with less fervor than they used to. You’re not sure if it’s simply your imagination, or if your Realm is siphoning off the negative energy of its creator. You’re not sure you have the strength to care.

In spite of your homesickness for the mortal world, you spend as much time in your Realm as possible. You know the Dream Lord can’t reach you there. Only yourself and Desire are capable of traversing the realm freely.

Out of an abundance of caution, you don’t allow yourself to rest, either. Not out of fear of Dream finding you. You’re well aware that you can’t dream, that him contacting you in such a way is impossible. Rather, you don’t trust your unconscious to resist conjuring Fake Dream if you were to give in. You’re not sure what you would do if you saw him there. Fear that it would crumble your resolve keeps you alert at all hours, in spite of your mind’s pleas for rest.

It’s only when you need to grab your list of daily assignments from the Fates that you depart your Realm for the mortal world. Just enough time to grab your list, and nothing more.

It’s on one of these brief outings that he finally finds you.

When you walk through the front door of your townhome, you’re intent on grabbing your assignments from the kitchen and finding the nearest mortal to pass through without delay. At the sight of Dream standing in the center of your living room, however, all plans and intentions are thrown out the door.

Nothing could have prepared you for seeing him again. After so many days parted from him, it feels like it’s for the first time. The force of his presence, of how much you’ve missed him, of how badly you want to run to him, hits you all at once, knocking the breath from your lungs.

The realization that he must have been waiting for you here comes after.

Your mouth hangs agape, any semblance of coherent thought far from your reach. In spite of your mind’s protests, your body carries you forward, through the doorway. The front door closes behind you with a resolute click.

Silence.

“You have been avoiding me,” Dream finally says, his voice matter-of-fact, measured.

You draw in a breath to speak, only to come up at a loss. What is there to say? Any possible response feels like both too much and too little. You settle for closing your mouth, hands fisting anxiously at your sides.

Your silence is answer enough for him. “Why?” Dream asks, his dark brows furrowing.

Again, words seem to fail you. Your eyes slowly drift to the to-go cup sitting on your kitchen counter, still filled with earl grey tea. You haven’t touched it since that day, haven’t garnered the willpower to throw it away.

“I’m sorry,” you finally croak, barely more than a whisper.

Something in Dream’s expression shifts at the sound of your voice. He takes a step toward you, his long cloak sweeping the floor. However, when you step in the opposite direction, maintaining the distance between you, he stops. Confusion pinches his handsome features, darkening his eyes, forming new wrinkles in his brow. Knowing that you placed them there makes you want to tear your heart out and stomp on it.

“What is going on, Love?” he asks quietly, his voice softening around your name.

This is it. The moment you’ve been dreading. The moment you’ve been desperately trying to avoid.

You swallow thickly, steeling yourself for what’s to come. “I can’t see you anymore, Dream.”

Your words hang in the air, suspended in time. Perhaps they’ll never leave. Perhaps they’ll remain here even after you're gone, a permanent blemish upon this place you call home, like a scuffed wall, or faulty wiring.

When the weight of the silence becomes too great, you add a strained, “I’m sorry.”

Dream studies your face for a long time, his troubled gaze lingering on the furrow in your brow, the reluctance in your eyes. Finally, he shakes his head, just once. “What is the reason for this?”

A shaky breath slips from you. You’ve planned for this conversation for days, rehearsed it in your head over and over. Even still, you can’t conceal the hesitation in your tone as you answer, “I can’t tell you.”

Dream’s lips tighten in displeasure. Maker, how you’ve missed those lips. “You must.”

“I can’t.”

Dream’s mouth opens, then closes, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly.

You draw in another inhale, release another breath. Though it goes against every fiber of your being, against everything you want, you have to stick to your decision. That day in the gallery, you had told Dream that the war between you and Desire was yours to wage. In your heart, the sentiment still rings true. A battle between two Endless was sure to be catastrophic in ways you couldn’t even fathom. It would certainly rock the foundation of mortals’ lives as they knew it. Who knew how it would impact the universe at large. The only way to protect them was to wage it alone.

And then there was Dream. As long as you were with him, as long as the soul tie between you had the chance to fulfill itself, Desire would have a way into Dream’s heart. Dream would be vulnerable.

The only way to protect him was to keep him from you. You had accepted that now. Making yourself his villain was the price you’d have to pay.

Dream shakes his head again, a flicker of resolve flashing in his eyes. He begins to approach you again, each step swift, purposeful. When you begin to step backward, he opens his mouth to protest. Just as he does, your back collides with the wall, stopping you in your tracks. Though only a few feet stand between you, it feels like miles.

“I don’t understand,” he says again, his voice tight with an emotion you can’t quite place. “You told me that you were tired of running.You told me that you wished it was real.” He pauses, a thick swallow working down the column of his throat. “You told me that you wanted to stay.”

For a moment, there is nothing but the shallow hush of his breathing, a soft rush of air as the breath is pulled from your lungs.

And then, it all clicks.

‘I wish this was real,’ you’d breathed into Fake Dream’s skin beneath the star-lit sky on that honey-gold beach.

And he’d paused.

“Dream.”

At the sound of his name on your lips, Dream surges forward, closing the distance between you. He stops shy of touching you, instead clenching his hands at his sides. You wonder if he suspects that you’d run if he did. If only you could tell him just how desperately you wanted to do the opposite.

You shake your head, searching his eyes for answers. “How?” you ask, brow furrowed in confusion. “You said it yourself. Gods and goddesses don’t dream.”

“You are right,” he says, his voice gentle. “The divine do not dream. But you do possess an unconscious.” He pauses, considering his words, then dips his chin toward you. “I once told you that I contain the entire collective unconscious of the universe. Though I had never traversed the plane of a deity’s, I suspected that I could. I only needed a way to get there.”

Your hand slips into the pocket of your coat with a mind of its own. The cloth of Dream’s pouch of sand is soft and familiar against your palm. You’d carried it with you each day since he’d given it to you. Even now, when you’d been avoiding him, you couldn’t bear to part with it. It was a piece of him you carried everywhere you went.

It all made sense now.

As you hold Dream’s pale blue gaze, liquid warmth bubbles up in your chest. Slowly at first, and then spilling forth, overflowing, flooding everything.

It had been your Dream, all along. It was his fingers that had caressed the dip of your hips and the curve of your spine. It was his nose that had fit so perfectly into the hollow under your ear. It was his lips that had upturned into your kiss.

He had vowed to go where you went, to stay where you stayed. He felt the same.

He feels the same.

You almost wish you didn’t know. It makes what has to come so much harder.

With a shuddering breath, you steal your nerves, gathering courage. You close your eyes, unsure if you can find the strength to press on if you look at him. “Dream, you have to listen to me. You have to let me go. Please.”

“No.” His voice is firm, absolute.

You swallow, hard. “Then I’ll have to go,” you say, moving to step around him.

The touch on your elbow is immediate. “Wait,” he insists, stepping with you. In spite of the urgency in his tone, his touch is gentle, entreating. It makes you want to cry.

“Is that truly what you want?” he asks, his voice imploring. Asking you to open your eyes, asking you to look at him.

With reluctance, you do. Dream’s ocean eyes–always full of stars, full of thoughtfulness, full of intrigue–are soft, their edges red, their surface wet. They cut straight through to your soul as he holds your gaze, waiting for your answer.

It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him, this moment when you’re breaking his heart. The realization that you’ve brought him to tears before you’ve ever brought him to laughter hits you like a ton of bricks. The thought of it is suffocating.

In this moment, you hate yourself more than anything on this earth, or any realm beyond. Breaking his heart is the worst thing you’ve ever done. The worst thing you’ll ever do.

You ache to take him in your arms, to card your fingers through that wild hair, to cradle his face in the crook of your neck. One day, I hope I can explain everything, you long to say.

The bitter taste of copper fills your mouth as you bite your tongue. You don’t trust yourself to speak, or even breathe. Though you have a plan for what’s next, you’re unsure if you have any chance at succeeding. It’s entirely possible that you and Desire are doomed to maintain this cruel dance between you for the remainder of time. If that’s the case, you can’t bear to give Dream false hope.

Still, you can’t help but picture the bond between you, imagine it glowing white, vigorous, and radiant. You hope beyond all hope that he can feel it too, that he can hear the whisper of your heart against his, that he can sense your intentions.

Let me fix this, you think, holding his gaze as tears sting in your own. You drink in each thread of blue, each dark lash that frames those eyes you love, committing each detail to memory. Wondering if it’s for the last time. Let me protect you.

Dream takes your hands in his ever so gently. His thumbs skim across your knuckles, just as they had days ago on the beach. You can feel the request behind them, one last attempt to convince you. Please, they seem to say with each stroke.

You close your eyes as your heart cracks in two.

“As you wish,” he concedes quietly.

And in a breath, his touch is gone.

When you open your eyes, you’re alone. Your hands are outstretched in front of you, fingers still curled from where he’d held them. You can still feel the ghost of his touch against your skin.

Completely, utterly alone.

The first scream is torn from somewhere deep within you, a black, cavernous space you didn’t even know you held. Adrenaline rips through you, bright and painful, as you storm into the kitchen, throwing your arm at the pile of assignments sitting on the kitchen counter. The papers scatter in a flurry of white, flying across the floor, twirling in the air like snow.

The second shout is guttural, more animal than human. A howl of pain, a howl of longing. Your coat is ripped from your shoulders in rage and flung across the room. Other items follow–throw pillows, blankets, shoes, novels. Whatever is in sight.

It’s only when the cup of earl grey tea enters your vision that you finally stop. Chest heaving, skin slick with sweat, muscles caught between exhaustion and exhilaration. When your eyes settle on the cup, everything else fades away.

It’s only then that the tears finally fall.

As the sound of wet, choked sobs echoes through the room, you look at the wreckage around you. All of it mirrors the destruction you feel within–the pain, the chaos. None of it fills the gaping void that his departure leaves in your soul.

As the last vestige of your adrenaline slips away, you crumple to the floor, knowing that you, too, belong to the ruin.

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