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vixstarria · 3 months

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The Sheath of Frontiers

So, in light of the disparity between the amount of Wyll content compared with the other companions, I felt it would be prudent for my Tav and Astarion to seduce him. Enjoy!

AO3

Astarion x F!Tav x Wyll

18+, humour, smut, threesome, soft dom/service top Astarion, sub/bottom Wyll, Tav and Astarion are both little shits, anal etc

This is probably more really lewd and descriptive comedy than erotica, you have been warned.

Approx. 3,400 words (gods, these things just keep getting longer and longer)

Written in 3rd person, and Tav's name is... *drumroll* Tav. Hey, I don't know who you want to relate to here, take your pick.

Tav, Astarion and Wyll occupied a booth at the Elfsong. They were the last ones still up drinking after a long day roaming the city.

“But don’t you ever feel... tempted?” Astarion threw Wyll a sultry look from beneath his eyelashes, circling the rim of his wineglass with one finger.

Tav had been watching the subtle seduction show unfold for the past while. She wasn’t sure whether Wyll was oblivious to Astarion’s flirtation, or impervious to it, but either way, the man would not budge.

“Call me a hopeless romantic, but I want the moment to be special for my one and only. Anticipated. Meaningful. And what could hold more significance than waiting until after marriage vows?” Wyll answered.

“Yes, yes, you are ever the romantic hero and want to make it ‘special’ for your chosen one, blah blah...” Astarion rolled his eyes, sipping his wine spiked with Tav’s blood. “But you’ve admitted you’re no virgin, it’s not as though you’re ‘saving yourself’ for anyone. What about casual no strings encounters? Simple carnal lust, for hells’ sake!”

“You never know when or where you might find true love. Wouldn’t want to accidentally spoil it from the beginning,” Wyll said, with a smile and a head shake.

Astarion threw a quick look of pure vexation at Tav, as she tried to hide her laugh behind her own goblet. She’d told him he wouldn’t be able to crack the ‘Blade of Frontiers’ - something he took as a personal challenge.

“Hmm... You know, you should marry us!” Astarion suddenly exclaimed. “I would make an exemplary spouse for a duke! You should see me entertain at balls. Tav might be found to be acceptable as well, after a good scrub.”

Tav threw a piece of pie crust at Astarion in response.

“We wouldn’t accept your proposal without a test ride, though,” Astarion warned.

“What, marry both of you? ...First of all, polygamy is not legal.” Wyll seemed a bit thrown off by the sudden change in the direction of the conversation.

“So make it legal, the reigns of power are in your hands. Or will be,” Astarion shrugged.

“Astarion, we both know the entire legal system would collapse if polygamy was to be permitted officially. Can you imagine all the complications? Especially all the implications it would bear for noble families and their hereditary lines of succession,” the future Duke Ravengard rambled.

“I see what you’re saying, and I agree, but there could be a provision to allow persons who are unable to produce heirs to marry into the noble families as secondary spouses,” Astarion countered. “And you could always implement obligatory prenuptial agreements to simplify asset division.”

Tav screamed inwardly: once Astarion started talking legalese the only way to get him to shut up was by literally occupying his mouth with something else, one way or another.

Meanwhile, Wyll shook his head.

“That would only serve to provide obligation-free unfair advantage to such persons,” he said. “It is nothing but furthering nepotism.”

“I see nothing wrong with persons gaining unfair advantage, as long as I am those persons,” Astarion parried.

“I could marry Tav and provide you with some kind of concubine status, if you wish,” Wyll suggested.

“Not interested,” Astarion scoffed, sipping his wine. “I’m afraid we’re a package deal.”

Tav groaned in frustration and got up.

“I’ve had enough of this. Wyll, you don’t need to worry about spoiling any 'precious moments’ here - neither Astarion nor I have any interest in letting you make honest people of us anyway.”

“Speak for yourself,” Astarion muttered with a huff, sipping more of his wine.

“Shut up, Astarion,” Tav threw. “I’m going upstairs, and I, for one, intend to fuck this vampire before the night is over. Are you coming with us or not?”

Astarion choked on his drink. If this was all it would take to lure the Blade into their bed – Tav would never let him live it down.

“I uh... I must confess – I have never done that before,” Wyll said, visibly flustered.

“What, fuck a vampire? Most people haven’t.” Tav shrugged.

“Not that either, but what I meant was... be intimate with a man,” Wyll forced out.

He jumped a little as he suddenly found Astarion’s lips a hair’s breadth away from his ear. He hadn’t noticed the vampire inching closer to him.

“Would you like to..?” Astarion purred.

“It’s nothing you haven’t done yourself hundreds of times, what’s so shameful and difficult?” Tav teased.

“That's not true,” Wyll protested.

Tav tilted her head and shot him a look that said ‘oh please’.

“No, I mean that. Ever since I... entered that contract, I’ve hardly ever indulged. Never know when she might be watching. ...Doesn’t your patron ever watch as well..?”

“Sometimes...” Tav mused. “But after a while it’s like fucking with a cat in the room. You learn to ignore it. As long as it doesn’t jump on the bed and sniff your asscrack while you’re in the middle of it, it’s fine.”

“Ahem,” Astarion cleared his throat. “Can we please concentrate on the matter at hand?”

Astarion sat on the edge of the bed in full naked glory as Tav, also in a state of almost total undress, sat behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other stroking his cock.

Meanwhile, Wyll perched on the opposite edge of the bed, trying to look anywhere but at the couple in front of him.

“Eyes down here, darling,” Astarion drawled. “If Miz-”

“Don’t say her name!”

“If that skank decides to show up, she’ll get more than she’s bargained for.”

Wyll finally allowed himself to gape openly at the scene in front of him.

Astarion’s cock was surprisingly thick and veined, and flushed at the tip. Perhaps it was the only part of him that could be flushed with blood. Wyll tried, habitually, to distract himself from his own arousal with thoughts of the workings behind vampire erections, to no avail – his own cock was straining against his pants almost painfully. He observed, almost in a state of a surreal daze, as Tav used her thumb to spread a new bead of precum over the head of Astarion’s cock, and reflexively licked his lips.

She noticed and let out a satisfied hum.

“Why don’t you come help?” she purred.

“Hmm?” Wyll seemed to snap out of his daze. “You want me to take over..?”

“No, like I said, this is hardly something you haven’t done before – try something new.” Tav grinned. “Why don’t you come down here and kneel in front of him?”

Somehow, Wyll’s legs got him down onto the floor between Astarion’s thighs. The vampire himself leaned back against Tav, his head thrown back over her shoulder, with a vague smile on his lips.

“Really...?” Wyll breathed a shaky laugh. “I thought we would start with some baby steps. Maybe a kiss..?”

“No, no darling...” Tav cooed. “Don’t be silly. Kissing is way too intimate. Just lick his balls for now.”

Still not quite believing what was happening, Wyll went ahead and did as he was told. Two things, he noticed immediately. One, the overwhelming scent of Astarion’s musk was making his head spin. He wanted to simply bury his nose in the spot between his shaft and balls and inhale, but he wasn’t sure whether that would be appropriate. And two, his ministrations immediately made Astarion groan, the sound sweet music to his ears.

By then Tav had moved out from behind Astarion’s back and lounged on the bed next to him, her hand still stroking his cock, and watched Wyll’s efforts.

“Good boy,” she purred approvingly.

“Love?” Astarion said.

“Hmm?” Tav hummed.

“You talk too much.”

Wyll watched Astarion push her head, quite unceremoniously, down towards his groin. She let out a somewhat annoyed sound, but went right on, taking his cock in her mouth.

“Finally, some silence,” Astarion groaned.

Once again, Wyll found himself gawking at the display now mere inches before him, as she worked the length of Astarion’s erection with her lips, her cheeks hollowing - obviously a practiced motion for the two, as they entered a familiar rhythm, Astarion’s hips bucking up, his fingers tangled in her hair, as she bobbed her head.

Tav’s eyes met Wyll’s, and she released Astarion’s dick from her mouth, with a loud plopping sound and a sigh. She lifted Wyll’s chin with one finger.

“Now you can take over,” she whispered, getting up.

Wyll hesitated, taking Astarion’s cock in his hand.

‘Huh... Not cold at all,’ he thought.

“Don’t tell me the Blade is intimidated,” Astarion taunted.

Wyll tried to think of a witty retort, but, for once, his mind was blank, and in any event it hardly seemed appropriate to orate and put on heroic airs whilst on his knees between Astarion’s legs. He decided it would be prudent to simply put the dick in his mouth.

Tav had made it look so easy... She slurped that thing up like a horse with a carrot. But Wyll found himself struggling, despite quite enjoying the taste and sensation of tender skin on his tongue.

Astarion sucked his breath in, with a hiss.

“Teeth...” he said. “We keep our teeth behind our lips, darling.”

Wyll tried to mumble an apology without removing Astarion’s cock from his mouth.

“And don’t talk with your mouth full. Gods, you’re from a decent family, haven’t they taught you any manners..? ...There, that’s better.”

“Is he doing a good job?” Wyll heard Tav’s voice somewhere in the room.

“Well...” said Astarion.

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Wyll, honey, you know you can bite him if he’s mean to you, right? You’re the one with the power here, right now.” She got back on the bed, holding something in her hand. “But why are you still dressed?” she laughed.

Wyll released Astarion from his mouth and fumbled with his clothing. Meanwhile, Tav had slid onto Astarion’s lap, and they busied themselves with each other. Their sheer hunger for one another, as they kissed and exchanged caresses, made Wyll feel like a third wheel, but Tav quickly turned her attention back to him.

“My love, I think he’s bored,” she said to Astarion. “Should we wake Halsin up again?”

“Are you trying to educate or traumatise him..?” Astarion murmured in response. “But that reminds me of something...”

Astarion positioned Tav to sit on his lap with her back against him, guiding her onto his cock. She moaned as he entered her, his knees spreading her legs as his hands roamed her body, stroking between her legs as he bucked his hips up into her.

“It was such a breathtaking view, I thought he would enjoy it as well,” he murmured. “Like what you see?” he directed at Wyll.

Nothing in Wyll’s life had prepared him for this. Eyes locked on the spectacle before him, he had at last begun stroking himself, staying in time with Astarion’s movements. He didn’t notice as Astarion went to whisper something in Tav’s ear.

“Do you want to taste her?” Astarion goaded.

“Yes,” Wyll breathed, leaning forward.

“Ah ah! Not like that.” Astarion intercepted him, pulling out of Tav. She got up, returning onto the bed with a giggle. Astarion’s cock glistened with her juices.

“Go ahead now,” Astarion purred.

Wyll eagerly took Astarion into his mouth again. Tav’s taste on Astarion’s cock combined with Astarion’s own precum was absolutely divine, and Wyll greedily lapped up as much as he could.

“Much, much better this time...” Astarion purred approvingly. “Consider that a little treat... But that’s enough now. Come here...” Astarion pulled Wyll up by one of his horns, directing him onto the bed and pushing against his chest until he was on his back.

Tav angled a pillow under his head so his horns wouldn’t get in the way, and laid down on her side near Wyll, and smiled at him, lightly caressing his face with her fingertips. Wyll’s heart beat like a mad thing trying to break out of its cage, as Astarion crawled on top of him, with a predatory look in his eyes.

“So just how... ‘intimate’ were you thinking of getting?” Tav asked, softly.

Wyll swallowed hard as Astarion emitted a soft growl and started kissing down his neck, his hand slowly working its way up the inside of Wyll’s thigh.

“Is this about my blood, or are we now well enough acquainted to kiss..?” Wyll managed.

Astarion lifted his head with a small sigh.

“She’s asking whether the Blade might want to become a sheath for a spell,” he explained.

Wyll found himself at a loss for words again.

“...Can’t the Blade remain a blade?” he asked, finally.

“That’s not on the table today, darling,” Astarion shook his head. “But we can entertain ourselves in other ways.”

“Well then I uh... I think yes maybe..?” Wyll sputtered.

“Yes what..?” Astarion asked, his voice low and husky, rolling over to lay on Wyll’s other side. “Do you want me to fuck you? Say it.”

Any words Wyll might have said died somewhere between his racing heart and his suddenly parched throat, but his cock twitched visibly, jerking up and landing with a resounding thud on his abdomen.

Tav and Astarion both turned their heads at the impressive display.

“Why don’t I take it slow, and you can tell me if you want to stop at any moment..?” Astarion asked, unable to contain a grin.

Wyll did not object to that.

Tav had been trailing her fingertips lower and lower, leaving feather light caresses on Wyll’s skin, until she reached his straining erection. Meanwhile, Astarion had reached for the object she’d retrieved earlier. It turned out to be a vial with some kind of oil.

“You’re in expert hands, you know,” she whispered in his ear. “I’ll admit, I’m actually excited for you.”

Wyll watched Astarion pour some of the oil on his fingers. Lying between Tav and Astarion, he gained the distinct impression of having a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other.

‘Who am I kidding?’ he thought. ‘They’re both devils.’

Tav reached and took his cock in her hand, just as Astarion spread some oil on it, before moving down to cup and gently tug on his balls with his hand.

“Ah, you weren’t kidding about bumps and ridges!” Tav giggled. “My, they look fun!”

“Bring your knees up,” Astarion purred.

Wyll swiftly complied, and the vampire went to nibble on Wyll’s earlobe as his hand slipped lower. His finger circled and teased his puckered hole, while Tav continued to stroke his cock.

“Do you want me to stop?” Astarion whispered in his ear.

“Hnngaa-ah!” said Wyll, bringing his knees higher.

Tav and Astarion exchanged a look.

“I think that meant ‘no, don’t stop’,” said Tav.

“I think so too,” Astarion agreed. “Very well.”

Astarion applied more and more pressure as he teased Wyll’s hole.

“Try to relax,” he purred, working a single finger in. “Breathe... It’s just a finger, for crying out loud.”

Wyll whimpered, his cock twitching again, to Tav’s immediate delight, as Astarion continued to gradually work his digit in further, thrusting in and out, spreading more oil in and around.

“That’s it,” Astarion whispered. “I think we can add one more.”

Astarion’s thrusting had grown more persistent, as he added another finger, all the while watching Wyll’s expression with a lidded gaze.

Wyll was finding himself being reduced to a blushing, mewling mess, throwing his head back as much as his horns would allow, with his eyes shut.

Tav had begun licking and nibbling on his neck.

“Do you like it?” Tav purred, as Wyll nodded. “Think you’re ready for more?”

“Yes,” he whispered, almost inaudibly, rolling his hips in time with Astarion’s fingers now. His cock was leaking obscene amounts of precum onto Tav’s hand as she continued to play with it.

“Get down here then,” Astarion directed him closer to the edge of the bed without pulling his fingers out.

“Do be gentle, Astarion, it’s his first time after all,” Tav called out as Wyll slipped out from her hand, drawn after Astarion. She got up to wet a washcloth in the basin, leaving it within Astarion’s reach.

‘Is that..? Oh. Well, that makes sense.’ Wyll’s scrambled brain thought.

“Well, if I can’t marry into the Ravengard family, I guess I’ll settle for deflowering the heir,” Astarion grinned.

Wyll let out an involuntary whine as Astarion’s fingers left his ass.

“Don’t worry, darling, there’s more on the way,” Astarion drawled.

Wyll watched Astarion spread more oil on his own cock, before falling back again, shutting his eyes and whimpering in anticipation.

Astarion set a torturously slow pace as he worked his cock in, stretching Wyll more and more with slow, shallow thrusts that gradually grew deeper and deeper.

“Good...” Astarion groaned, slowly sliding in and out of Wyll almost fully now. “Who knew you’d be so good...”

He picked up the pace, setting a steady rhythm with his thrusts once it was clear Wyll was comfortable with it.

“So how does it feel to be fucked?” Astarion asked with a devilish grin.

“Oh leave him be, he’s already going through a lot” Tav cut in, reclining near Wyll again.

Wyll looked up at her. She was smiling at him so sweetly... He reached towards her.

“I didn’t say you could touch her,” Astarion warned with a forceful thrust, making Wyll yelp.

“I wouldn’t anger him, if I were you,” Tav whispered, slowly running a finger down between the ridges of his muscles. “He still holds a grudge about your little seduction attempt back in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, you know.”

“What in the hells are you two gossiping about..?” followed from Astarion.

“My heart, he’s doing so well, don’t you think he’s earned another little treat?” Tav asked Astarion, ignoring his question.

“I’m the only one here who’s earned any treats,” Astarion muttered. “But sure.”

He slowly pulled his hard length out of Wyll.

“On your feet!”

Wyll scrambled up, bending over the edge of the bed. Tav stayed on the bed, edging over to sit before him with her legs spread.

“Still want a taste?” she purred with a wicked smile.

Astarion entered him again, with a perhaps slightly too forceful thrust, making Wyll collapse face-first between Tav’s legs. With a groan, he plunged his tongue between her folds, earning a moan from her.

Wyll’s efforts might have been somewhat sloppy, but he made up for it in sheer enthusiasm as he lapped at her, eagerly.

Unbeknown to Wyll, Astarion caught Tav’s eyes and raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She shrugged and waved her fingers in a ‘so-so’ motion back at him. Astarion nodded with a roll of his eyes.

Wyll was caught off-guard when Astarion reached around him to take his neglected cock in his hand.

“Let’s get you off and let you rest, little prince,” Astarion murmured.

His cool hand was firm and practiced in a way that Tav’s simply could not be, its deliberate movements incessantly urging Wyll towards a release.

Wyll completely lost all traces of composure and simply moaned between Tav’s legs as Astarion worked him.

“Can’t multi-task, darling?” Astarion teased. “That’s alright, I’ll finish that job myself later as well.”

Wyll lifted himself on his arms, trying to push his hips back against Astarion’s as Tav slipped out from under him.

“Alright, give him a peck, I know he wants one so desperately...” Astarion said begrudgingly.

Tav returned to lift Wyll’s head and kissed him, tenderly, her tongue swirling and dancing against his, as Astarion continued to fuck and stroke him.

“I said a peck! Gods, woman, offer you a hand – you'll take the whole arm, every time.”

Astarion’s grip on Wyll’s cock tightened, his hand speeding up, until Wyll couldn’t take it anymore and finally erupted, crying out and whimpering into Tav’s mouth, as he spilled a thick and well overdue load onto the sheets as Astarion continued to stroke him.

He was still gasping, trying to catch his breath when Astarion slid out of him, giving Wyll's ass a loud smack, before wiping himself and Wyll down.

At last, Wyll collapsed on the bed next to Tav.

“Gods...” was all he could muster.

Astarion gave him a self-satisfied smirk as he joined them on the bed, kissing his way up Tav’s leg.

“Now shall I show you how to actually satisfy a woman? So you know what to do with your ‘one and only’ later?”

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed, this work is part of a series, check out the rest of it

AO3

~~~~~

Tag list:

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#astarion #wyll #wyll ravengard #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav x wyll #bg3 fanfic #smut #bg3 smut #astarion smut #wyll smut

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delwrites · 3 months

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Hey 😚 i saw you were open to request so here i am haha but totally fine if you wanna skip it tho

Ive been really into friends to secret lover trope lately

Could you write a james x reader were childhood friend and around their sixth year in hogwarts they realized their feeling and they started to secretly dating and no one knows!

The story could focus on how they got caught? Maybe a slip up during an argument? Or that reader looks so beautiful james just couldn’t help it? Or just plain old getting caught making out in the broom closet? 😅

Hey angel, thanks so much for the request! <3

Having been friends with James since your meeting him in your guys’ first year, you pride yourself on knowing all of his little habits, able to read him like a book. So when you were curled up on the sofa, himself sprawled out across the armchair beside you huffing and puffing away, it was more than obvious to you that something was up.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” you ask, turning your body as best you can to fully face him, brows creasing as you do so. He only hums inquisitively at this, refusing to look at you as he appears to find his own hands much more interesting, fidgeting away.

“Seriously, Jamie, what’s up?” At your further questioning, he lets out one big sigh as he swings his legs over from where they had been previously stretched out over the handles of the armchair, now sat how the design permitted.

“Sirius said something to me today, got me thinking…” Realising that that was all he was willing to give you right now, you spin back around with your own huff, hugging one of the common room cushions to your chest. You know James was never too good with words, so a lot of the time you’d appreciate his choosing to stay quiet instead of stumbling over thoughts he could never fully get across.

“Hey, love?” you hum in response, eyes trained on the fire dancing before you. James’ presence always comforted you, and that paired with the warmth emanating before you made your eyes droop more than you’d like to admit.

“Would you like to go to Hogsmead with me this weekend?”

“Oh, sure” you reply, letting a dopey smile overtake your face. “We can invite Frank and Alice, I’ve been meaning to get her back for coffee-”

“No, darling, I meant just us two?” The implication made you suck in a breath, head whipping round to study any change in his features.

“You mean like.. Like a date?”

He smiles at you, a heartwarming grin that makes your stomach flip. You’re not too sure where this sudden taking to you has come from, you’d always thought you’d stay in the friend zone forever, doomed to an unrequited love from the most oblivious man you’ve ever known. Of course, your friends had tried to convince you otherwise. Mary would nudge you gently every time she caught James staring at you, to which you’d always brush her off one way or another, making up excuses so as to not get your hopes up.

Who would’ve guessed that all this time, he was thinking the same about you?

You had both agreed to not tell anyone about your date until you had figured stuff out between the two of you, wanting to be secure in what the other was feeling before going public with anything. It seemed the most sensible thing to do.

But when the day of the date came, you found yourself frustrated at not being able to tell anyone. No one to help pick an outfit out, no one to help you with your hair, no one to talk to. As much as you hated it, you made a promise to James.

There was a close call where he dragged you by your wrist into a dingy alleyway after having spotted Dorcas as she left a quaint bookshop, holding you against a wall with a finger pressed to his lip in a hush motion, hand placed on your hip to keep you still and steady, lest you run out and make yourselves known. To say the whole ordeal made your heart skip a beat would’ve been an understatement, and the sneaking around was absolutely riveting.

So you found that what was even more frustrating, was not being able to tell anyone how good the date went. He had greeted you with a bouquet of flowers, charm placed on them to never wilt as well. He had been a gentleman the whole afternoon (he normally is anyway, but even more so this time). He had held every door open for you, even pulling out your chair for you, and paid for the whole ordeal. You felt so safe with him walking next to you, a certain pride overcoming you knowing that he liked you, and you liked him, and gosh he liked you. It was overwhelming and you longed for someone to share it with. But James had your word, and the last thing you wanted to do was mess things up with him. So, you kept your mouth shut, painful as it was.

The next few weeks consisted of you sneaking around everywhere, and although it started off as exciting, you were really starting to get tired of keeping such a daunting secret from your closest friends. There was a lot of sneaking out after curfew to have midnight picnics on the astronomy tower, consisting of snacks James had nabbed from the Great Hall during dinner. A lot of sneaking off with the promise of the bathroom on your lips to professors, instead meeting up just to get these little snippets of alone time with each other, before any of your friends could catch on, let alone someone like Minnie.

You thought finally going on dates with James Potter would be a good thing, but you came to find that you hated it. Not the dates, they were always amazing. They always made you forget how much you disliked sneaking around, almost making it all worth it. He was amazing, and kind, and funny and gosh you liked him so very much, but the lack of sleep was starting to catch up to you, making you much more irritable than normal.

Every time you’d sit gathered in the common room with all your friends and who you wished to be your boyfriend, all you’d want is to openly hold his hand, openly admire how good he looked in that one quidditch jumper, and oh wow, to openly kiss him.

To be fair, he hadn’t even secretly kissed you yet.

So when you heard Sirius talking to James in the Great Hall about a Hufflepuff girl cheering extra loud for him during their last quidditch match, always staring at him with heart eyes and blushing every time he looked her way, it got on your last nerve.

“James, can I talk to you please?” you practically grit through your teeth, trying to keep your calm as best as you can.

“Hold on a sec, you’ve been stealing him away so much lately, what, you guys fucking or something?” Sirius proclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows at the both of you infuriatingly. To say the least, the comment had struck a soft spot, and you wanted now more than ever for James to lift this silly rule, to be confident enough in your relationship to just admit his feelings for you, right there, in front of everybody.

It was too much to hope, as all he did was turn around and join in on the jesting, not even considering how it might make you feel.

“Gosh no, you know we’re just friends, Pads cmon, don’t be like that.” The words cut through you, hurting more than he realised. You didn’t even know what to do, but you weren’t making the decisions, your body was making them for you. You spun on your feet, tears welling up in your eyes, embarrassment overflowing through your veins like blood. You started to walk away, leaving behind you a stunned Sirius and a very regretful James.

In that moment, all conflicting feelings left him, overtaken by wanting (read: needing) to comfort you, any means necessary. He couldn’t stand to see you upset, especially by his own hand.

When you heard him calling after you, getting up to catch up to you, you could only speed up, trying to get away from him as fast as possible.

“Honey, please, I didn’t mean it, you know I didn’t mean it-”

It’s no surprise that he catches up to you, jogging in front of you to somewhat block your path, pleading with you to hear him out. When your stubbornness dismissed him, there was only one more thing that he could think to do that would get his point across. After all, actions do speak louder than words.

He grabs ahold of your face with both hands, opening his mouth to say something, anything, before cutting himself off by planting his lips firmly to yours.

James Potter really was never very good with words. So it’s a good thing that you could always understand him, words or not.

thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed! i'm always open to constructive criticism and helpful feedback :) a like, comment or reblog goes so far💕

#james potter fluff #james potter #james potter x reader #james x reader #james x you #marauders x reader #marauders fluff #marauders era #marauders x y/n #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter

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abbyromanoff · 2 months

Note

MILF!Reader slowly realizing that her son's BFF/GF, MJ, has been flirting with her for a while now.

A DIRTY FLIRT

PAIRINGS: MJ x reader

WORD COUNT: 1815

WARNINGS: flirting, age gaps, small angst, sexual themes but no sex, MJ being a huge flirt and tease and hot as SHITTT, milf!R, R is married but it’s not cheating…yall will get it, MJ is 19!!, think that’s it :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

You turned as you heard the door creak open and your son yelling out to you, and only seconds later he was in the kitchen with two friends you assumed were from school.

“Hey, mom! I hope it’s okay I brought some friends over, this is Ned as you already know and this is MJ, she’s new to the school.” Peter spoke, and you waved to the other boy when his name was addressed as you had already met him years earlier. He was a regular at your house as Peter was at his, but the girl was fresh. She had long curls that were slightly messy, and her outfit was more laid back like the other two.

“Hello, Ned, it’s great to see you again. And hello, MJ, it’s lovely to meet you, dear.” You felt her eyes follow up and down your body twice before a small grin fell on her face and she nodded to your greeting.

“We have a science project so we were going to go and, well, do that. I’ll be in my room if you need me.” The three began walking towards the room until you called for your son. He stopped in his tracks and told Ned to bring MJ to his room to get started before turning to your direction again.

“Just…have fun and,” You looked to where the two were, hoping they were out of ear shot before finishing your sentence. “Keep the door cracked.”

“Mom!”

“What! I’m just saying, you’re in college now and I know kids your age like to, you know, experiment-”

“Please stop talking about sex, I promise MJ is just a friend, I don’t see her in any weird way.”

“Just keep it open a little, it’s not like I’m going to be standing there stalking you three.” He agreed before rushing off. That was the first time you had met the girl, but it would definitely not be the last. She was there for the next three days until they finished the assignment, and each day you felt her watching you like a hawk. Whenever you called them for dinner or she had to go to the bathroom, her eyes would be stuck to you as if she was glue.

You hoped it was only curious glances seeing as she refused to speak to you, but that came to be proven wrong two weeks later when she arrived again. The two boys were out and you received a knock at the door. Confused, you checked the windows before opening it and spotting the college student standing there with a bag over her shoulder. Her eyes fell to your body and that’s when you remembered the messy apron covering you that you forgot to take off.

“Oh, hey, MJ! Uh, Peter isn’t home right now, if you want I could leave a message or…” You led off, not sure what to offer as she continued to stare at you.

“I’m not here for him, I think I left my jacket here the other day and I wanted to grab it.”

“Oh, of course, yeah. Uh, come in.” You awkwardly suggested, opening the door further as she stepped in, and this marked the first time you’d ever be alone with her.

“You can look for it, I’ll just be in the kitchen.” She nodded and began slowly walking around, and it seemed as though she was examining each space the building had to offer. You continued to mix the dough in the bowl without turning, your mind so set on perfecting the consistency that you jumped when you heard her voice.

“You’re married?” She asked while holding a portrait of you smiling with a man in a wedding dress, him in a suit. You were pregnant at the time, and your bump was visibly noticeable to her and anyone who saw it.

“Uhm, yes. Yes, I am.”

“But you don’t wear a ring?” You glanced at your empty hand with tight lips, refusing to look her way and pouring the unprepped bread into a greased pan.

“No, I do not. Me and Peter’s father aren’t entirely, uh, together if you could say so.” You didn’t understand why you shared the piece of information with the young girl who you barely knew, who your son barely even knew, but you found yourself being able to share the words easily.

“But he lives here, does he not? And Peter tells me you two are together?”

“Why are you asking my son if I’m married?” You avoided the question with one, hoping to remove the pressure from your end.

“That doesn’t matter right now, I asked you first.”

“It does matter.”

“It’ll matter once you answer me.” You sighed, giving up as you set the timer on the stove and began walking towards the sink to clean your doughy hands.

“I got pregnant by a one night stand, he was that one night stand. We tried to make it work knowing we had a son on the way and even when Peter was born we were still trying, but we could never find ourselves being in love with one another. We still love each other, we’re just not in love. So instead of having a divorce, we thought it would be easier to stay together and see other people. He has a girlfriend who is okay with the situation, he often stays there or she’ll stay here, we’re actually pretty close. That way I can stay at home to care for the house and for Peter, Peter won’t need to be too affected by a divorce, and his dad can focus on his career.” MJ nodded in understanding with a hum, and unbeknownst to you, instinctively moved closer while you were still in front of the sink. You had not realized how long you had been washing your hands, being too focused on telling the story she asked for. It was only when you remembered the question you had asked her that you dried your hands and turned, only to have the girl standing only inches from you now.

“Uhm, and why- why were you asking Peter if I was married?” She smirked lowly at the thought, her free hand coming to the counter behind you while the other brushed against your hand. Her bag was gone now, and her jacket was still nowhere to be seen.

“Well, I’m interested in you. I’ve always liked, how do I put it,” She stared at your lips as your breath became uneven. You gulped, following her actions and licking your lips as you glanced upon hers.

“Older women?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. Or you could say I’ve always liked more beautiful, mature women who know what the fuck they’re doing.” A small hint of red came to your cheeks and you cracked a small smile, causing the younger woman to chuckle softly.

“What about you? Have you ever thought about being with a girl?” Her thumb came to tease your lower lip, dragging it down slowly before she grasped your chin in her hold, not allowing you to look down in fear.

“I- I don’t…I don’t know.”

“That’s okay, I’d love to be your first. Do you want that? Do you want me, baby?” You nodded without a thought, fluttering your eyes shut as she leaned in to brush herself against you. You waited for the kiss you were anticipating, but it didn’t come. She was teasing you.

“MJ, please kiss me already.”

“Mm, I like the sound of that.” Before she could complete your request, you both heard the door open and close and jumped from one another. Your husband entered the kitchen with Peter and Ned trailing behind him, the two too engrossed in their conversation to notice the obvious elephant in the room. Your husband wasn’t however, and he hid a chuckle as he placed his suitcase on the counter.

“Hello, MJ, it’s good to see you again.”

“Hey, Mr. Parker.” He rolled his sleeves up and entered the fridge, grabbing the closest beer and taking a swig while Peter looked up at the noise.

“MJ, what are you doing here?” She shot you a glance before clearing her throat quickly, crossing her arms over her chest as she met his gaze as if nothing had ever happened.

“I left my jacket, I was just looking for it.”

“Oh, did you need any help?”

“No, I found it. We’re all good, thanks though.” He didn’t question her lack of holding the said clothing, and you sighed in relief before leading the attention away from her.

“Dinner will be done soon if you boys want to head upstairs and I’ll call you down soon.” MJ was ready to leave before Peter interrupted, a hopeful grin on his face as he held the new Lego set he just purchased.

“Do you want to stay for dinner? Me and Ned were going to work on this together, but with your help it could go by a lot quicker.” You secretly wished she’d say yes seeing as the interaction you two just held was not one to be left in the dirt.

“You two are such nerds, but fine.” The three went upstairs, MJ sharing one last glance with you before turning the corner and leaving you with your husband who had a large, teasing smirk on his face.

“Really? Peter’s friend?”

“How did you know her already?”

“He introduced me to her a few weeks ago when he stopped by Claire’s to grab his binder and I was there, I just never thought she’d try to fuck my wife.” He shrugged, laughing when you groaned in annoyance and rubbed your forehead.

“I don’t know how it happened, it just did.”

“Hey, I’m not judging, I just think you need to be careful.” You bit your lip in thought at his words.

“You don’t think Peter will be mad if he finds out? And the age gap-”

“Hey, stop that. This was your exact problem when we were dating, you worry and think too much, just let it go with the flow and be mindful of him too. If he finds out and doesn’t like it, that’s when things need to end. But if you’re happy and so is she, who cares what people think.” You knew he was right, but you also knew you had always been much too scared to date while having a son. MJ was his age, how would she handle that? And what if he was mad, upset, or worse, hated you for it? You didn’t know, but you also knew you spent that whole night wishing to relive the moment when her lips brushed against yours and imagining the feeling of them touching. You knew it would be so relieving, so why couldn’t you let yourself give in?

#mj x reader angst #mj x reader fluff #mj watson x reader #mj x reader #mj marvel #mj watson #MJ fluff #MJ angst #MJ x reader smut

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junosmindpalace · 1 month

Text

FOR YOU, FOREVER AGO

🎧 take a piece of my heart and make it all your own.

pairing: arthur morgan x gn!reader

wc: 1.7k

synopsis: arthur, and the notes he leaves in the books he gifts you. who could have figured love can transcend time?

content: established relationship, reading, reading and some more reading (together), soft and playful love, fluff with some angst at the end (arthur's death mentioned). reader is briefly said to be wearing a chemise.

a/n: i said i wouldn't write him again and here i am. writing him again. because this game has taken up so much of my writing headspace...

There’s an old saying that Arthur has heard retold in various different ways, and it went along the lines of “an idle mind is the devil’s playground.”

It derived from Proverbs 16:27: “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” something he later found out upon overhearing the phrase from the Reverend’s mouth during one of his rare sermons. Arthur doesn’t believe much in any sort of sacred text, but he could, to an extent, believe in that phrase.

It’s a belief Dutch and Miss Grimshaw hold in especially high regard, and their incessant nagging to do away with him loitering about in the camp proved that. And while he agrees that it is necessary for everybody to do their part, Arthur spends much of his time out involving himself in all kinds of tough and weary business, and like anyone else, sometimes the enforcer needed a break.

Though it seemed so to quite many people, Arthur’s mind was not solely fixated on his life of crime. Like many other people he was a man of love, who enjoyed reveling in Mother Nature’s beauty, and memorializing its likeness in his journal in gorgeous detail, too. He enjoyed lingering in on conversations that took place around him; mundane things like about rumors and town happenings, though they weren’t always pleasant. And above all else, he enjoyed being around you.

Scare was the time to enjoy such leisure with your responsibilities, however. Often, he would return to camp well into the dead of night or during wind down time you had permitted for yourself (because Lord knows Grimshaw wouldn’t) to entertain your mind. Borrowing from the collections of books around camp was one of few forms of amusement you relied upon for some sort of satisfying stimulation.

Arthur couldn’t help but sometimes be jealous of this. To enjoy the leather cover of a book against his fingertips and the patches of sweetgrass and lavender enclosed around him like a makeshift bed was a luxury he could rarely afford. Yet still, he found ways to incorporate his own amusement to look forward to when he did have the off time to enjoy it.

The habit, at first, was a means of compensating for his long absences. It was almost his way of giving you a piece of his heart to hold to your chest, fill your mind, make your own with your wild imagination while he was away for sometimes frightening days at a time.

Arthur provided you with literature of all sorts, from dime novels to hardcover books, when he encountered them on his travels. Mythology retellings, exaggerated tales of the fictionalized Wild West, dramatic historical fiction with royalty, castles, and dragons, and the sort of philosophy books Dutch enjoys reading passages aloud from that critique civilization. Each one, though unique in content, held a message with consistent love that made your heart swell and your lips stretch into a pleasant smile at the intent behind them.

Couldn’t resist.

Thought you’d like this one.

All my love.

Thought of you.

For you to enjoy when I’m away.

To keep you preoccupied while I’m gone.

To make up for lost time.

It's late when Arthur finds time to enjoy the stories with you, propped up on his side in the while his other arm is draped loosely around your waist as you lay in the same position, holding the book the two of you were enamored with in one hand. The firelight illuminates the pages for him to read from over your shoulder, his fingers brushing over your stomach and arms absentmindedly as he immerses himself in the world along with you.

“This gentleman sure is a character.”

“Ain’t he?” you snicker, taking the comment as an indicator to turn to the next page. “Almost reminds me of someone.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he raises a brow at you, observing your expression with a tilt of his head.

“Nothin’ at all.” you hum innocently, pretending to fix your attention back onto the pages. He catches your bluff when he teasingly curls his arm around your waist and presses you closer against his chest, invoking a squeal of laughter from you as he ruffles your chemise.

“Just turn the page.” he chuckles with a slight shake of his head and a roll of his eyes, but when you meet his playful gaze with one of your own, any further teasing dies on his tongue as his breath becomes lodged at the sight of your glow in the firelight.

“Okay.” you tut with a raise of your brows, resituating yourself and leaning further into his grasp, to which he responds by hugging you closer.

When your time wasn't spent under the stars, it was in your tent. Accompanied in your shared bedroll was a book from a marketplace stand you had picked out together when scouting around town. One of Arthur’s hands holds it on his stomach with his fingers at the bottom, while his other holds your shoulder soothingly. You lay your head over his heart, listening to its steady pulsing, and following the small text with tired eyes to lull you to sleep.

Sometimes he read to you, when your eyes grew too heavy to look up at him, and your brain was too exhausted to form coherent enough thoughts, let alone conversation. He'd read with his free hand, voice gradually becoming husky with thick exhaustion of his own the more he read on.

“Why’d you stop?” you murmured to him as you lulled you head up to look at him, briefly slipping into fuller consciousness when taking note of the absence of his voice amidst the evening chill.

“Thought you’d fallen asleep,” he replied, rubbing a hand up and down the side of your arm before planting a kiss on your forehead. You only shook your head.

“A little more?”

Arthur peered outside through a crevice in his tent to the pitch black, redirecting his attention back to you with a sigh. “Alright. But only a little.”

Sometimes you read to him, when he returns to the campsite with his brain scrambled from the hat and madness of his travels, and longs, almost on autopilot, for your presence and an extended period of rest. With his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, legs tangled on your sides and head snug against your stomach, you propped up one of the books you had borrowed from Mary-Beth, a romance that you could always rely on to knock Arthur out, with one hand, while the other carefully threads through his locks of brown hair.

“That sounds like a nice place to live, don’t it? In a house with a white picket fence and a beautiful garden.” You had asked him quietly one of those nights, looking down at his still figure, who merely hummed in response against your stomach. “Maybe outta the country.”

“And go where?” he replied drowsily, peering up at you through small eyes.

“I don’t know…surprise me.” you teased, and Arthur chuckled.

“Maybe someday, sweetheart.” he placed a kiss on the fabric of your night wear, letting out a sigh as he adjusted himself against you again. “Maybe someday we’ll go somewhere real nice.”

Amidst ever changing lives—periods of transition and transformation and hard feelings and new hopes and dreams—you made sure to often revisit his little notes kept in between the first few pages of a book picked out with you in mind and written with all the care you had to offer to one another. Nights apart we’re spent tracing the loving words with your eyes, running a nail through the loopy font. It reminds you that you lay under the same stars, the both of you wishing to reunite sooner than later upon one of the billions that twinkled in the sky.

When Arthur had passed under the dying night sky, the menial, but important, declarations of love became lost to you.

Focusing on anything outside of survival seemed impossible afterward, and the grief was all too fresh and thought consuming. Most of the time was spent rebuilding your life to the best of your ability, something not quite what you had envisioned in hopeful late night conversations with Arthur, but more bare minimum. No beautiful porch with a nice garden, no homey furnishings. Only a simple bungalow with a creaky bed and a bag of few possessions you managed to snag in your abrupt departure.

At the bottom of the bag one day, you find something, no, many things, you had not laid your eyes upon since before the hope of a new dawn was extinguished within you.

It had been the first time you had felt an urge to be productive. For most of your days were spent in melancholy and anxious paralyzing thought that kept asking, what’s next?

You held them in your hands carefully, turning them over before opening them curiously, only to have your breath hitched when your eyes landed on the front.

Couldn’t resist.

You scrambled for another.

Thought you’d like this one.

Another, and then another. All of them until the reminders brought you to tears.

All my love.

Thought of you.

For you to enjoy while I’m away.

To keep you preoccupied while I’m gone.

To make up for lost time.

The rest of the night became dedicated to remembering all that you once had, and that you were once determined to have. Reading stories that always seemed as fantastical as your dreams of a sweeter life, perhaps where they even derived from. The inspiration and hope they fuelled gradually returned with each memory you recounted of your shared dream with Arthur.

He had given it to you in the end. Taken you some place nice, even if he wasn’t there himself to enjoy it with you. He’d given you a piece of his heart all those years ago, and you made it your own. Given you the resources—just enough money and a whole lot of love—to help you realize a life you always wanted. He was there; in the blooming flowers, in the magnificent dawn and dusk, in the pages of books you held carefully between your fingers. And you’d remind yourself of it every night with a trace of your fingers over his scrawled messages of adoration.

return to masterlist.

#i am slowly transitioning to writing more character fics #which you can find on my ao3 #so feel free to follow me there :)#im currently working on two (2) very lengthy rdr fics #one being centred around the women of rdr2 and another basically inserting adult jack into my own fictional 1910s world #with tati helping me a lot with #so look forward to that!#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan oneshot #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan angst #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 fluff #red dead redemption 2 oneshot #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fluff #red dead redemption 2 angst #rdr2 oneshot

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oceanlipgloss · 4 months

Text

27.1.2024

—nsfw + chapter 5 spoilers (+ a dash of dark humour)

*Spongebob narrator voice* ah, Bikini Bottom Leviathan's H-scene. One I've been looking forward to, excitedly so. And since this chapter had a fair slice of tragedy, it was sealed with an H-scene as a treat. That's not going to heal the angsty feelings, but into it I shall dive. Look, it rhymes lots of aquatic vocabulary

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ´ˎ˗

intro: the scene's intro screen shows that Leviathan still has his shirt on. And you know what? WHAT A TURN-ON, THAT'S WHAT

update I: Hades Studios present 'The Sick Chicken' no but I like him SO MUCH. His attitude is a breath of fresh air pun intended but the reasons that played a role in forming it are so sad

update II: MWAHAHAHA GO HARDER ON HER

update III: *clapping like a madwoman* BRAVO, BRAVO! That's really hot of him, you know. Everything about this is sending me to heaven except for the fact that someone like me obviously can't so much as set a toe on the grounds of Paradise because it doesn't exist but I mean, COME. ON. The way he let his hand move from her neck to her chin? 'Glowering at you as though he would burn the mark off with his gaze alone'? HOLY FUCKKKK <3

update IV: GOD NO THIS IS TOO HOT GOD WOOHOOOOOO

update V: man oh man he's so MMMM

update VI: RAAAAAA

update VII: he speaks to me on a spiritual level trying not to inject angst into this by bringing up what caused him to feel this way So, Leviathan. You, me, parking lot, 'who hates people more' contest, 5PM. I'm not hanging anyone tho maybe actually, scratch that. We're hanging horrible people together like we're Harley Quinn and the Joker, baby

update VIII: pfff 'how fair of you' His reaction, though? So confident. So fucking sexy. Yours truly is already a dead girl, but at the moment she's dying, dying, dying beyond death And wdym 'he smirked, but even then he was so beautiful yada yada' like dude, he's more beautiful BECAUSE he's smirking, BECAUSE of his arrogant spite

update IX: I'm really glad she considered his feelings and didn't immediately agree to have sex with him. Truth be told, this came as quite the pleasant surprise, because while she does have moments in which she's considerate, I don't view this particular MC as someone who's truly capable of being sensitive to others that much. Sure, she didn't directly agree to sleep with Belial when he offered because she thought he was still unwell, but here I honestly still expected her to just jump right in and not think twice about Leviathan's feelings, so I was very happy when she said this instead; she didn't focus on the fact that he dislikes her, but rather on not risking hurting him should he not want to do this with her. He's definitely attracted to you though, MC. He's just not on good terms with the concept of expressing his feelings relatable as fuck I know how this may have sounded harsh or mean of me—and it's not meant to be offend anyone—but the truth is that this MC wasn't created with 'gentle and sweet' in mind; the way her brain is hardwired to tirelessly daydream about sexual things has lead her to be insensitive at times (with painfully questionable intelligence to top it off, sorry) as seen in certain instances.

update X: kinda cute. Juuuust a little bit. ...that straightforwardness is edible

update XI: he's brutally honest and his gestures are subtle, and that makes them so sensual. In other words, THIS TICKLES MY FANCY

update XII: he says something like this with an expression like that. YEEEES he looks so sweetly smug too godddd Also: lol @ 'you MAY turn me on' = [access permitted]

update XIII: my point exactly

update XIV: his attitude is so good. SO good. He's domineering and deliberately giving her a hard time lol sufferrrr, MC on a sadder note, he also won't talk about himself because it's really hard for him to give his trust after what happened to him...

update XV: I can stand behind that. I LIKE it. Vibe with it, agree with it. I REALLY DOOO

update XVI: he...really just asked her to hit and choke him, didn't he? [MASOCHISTIC TARGET LOCATED] sometimes physical pain feels nice, Leviathan, I getchu, but being hit and strangled isn't a brand of pain I would, um, choose for myself. Whatever makes u hard happy tho, ig. Rock on, king

update XVII: the jealousyyyyy <3

update XVIII: 'Leviathan thought he was going crazy' You know who's also going to go crazy reading this? ME. My God, this many screenshots and the railing hasn't started yet

update XIX: to be honest, I'm not fond of choking, slapping, spanking, and the like, so I'm most likely not going to like what's coming next much lol but let's move on, shall we now?

update XX: damn, he's provoking her so hard to make her beat the fuck out of him, and lo and behold, he's getting what he wants. She might as well just tear his soul out at this rate or send him to his maker but where the hell is God? jk jk this chapter made it clear that Leviathan can take a shit ton of hits trauma and stay alive good god it's the blackness of my soul my dark humour speaking forgive me omfg it's not me I swear I s—I SAID WHAT I SAID This part is kinda funny so far, what with how MC has gone batshit insane on him. That being said, it's really nice how she cares about Minhyeok so much that it's the foundation of her rage and the reason Satan's wrath burns in her, urging her to harm Leviathan in a frenzy after he said ruthless things about Minhyeok. Meanwhile, Leviathan is so busy trying to get turned on that he's neither jealous nor envious of that lmao

update XXI: this is going to sound weird coming from me when I'm somewhat of a sadist who likes dark themes, loves horror and gore, and enjoys seeing torture in certain scenarios do I sound like the freak I am yet? and when I just made such a fucked up joke with good intentions too, but...MC hurting Leviathan over and over like this summons a feeling of discomfort and remorse in my heart even if I completely put away my dislike for consensual violence in sexual acts. Leviathan's past and the possible psychological implications behind his fondness of undergoing physical harm make this part somewhat painful to read, because perhaps his arousal from being hurt has something to do with what he went through as a child (i.e. it may be a coping mechanism of a sort). When I think of it that way, coupled with the horrific aspects of his childhood—the pain being inflicted on him messes with my emotions. Then again, this could just be his personal preference and not have deeper meanings. Either way, the game holds true to its themes and maintains excellent dark perspectives, and as I always say, I'll never dislike that. In fact, PB better keep these founding concepts intact.

update XXII: oh god DON'T STOMP HIS PP NOT THE PP STAY AWAY FROM PP HE NEEDS IT YOU NEED IT

update XXIII: no but EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS MOSTLY THE DRIPPING HORNS (AS ALWAYS) AND HIM UNBUCKLING HIS OWN PANTS (AS SHE WATCHES TOO LORD MY KINK'S DEVOURING THIS) AND THE PRE AND— GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Why is his horns' liquid not white like the others, though?

update XXIV: THAT EXPRESSION THE CONTRAST WITH HIS NORMAL SELF MC, GIRLLLLLL BITE THAT TONGUE

update XXV: "HOW DARE YOU FEEL PLEASED?!"—MC to Leviathan of Hades, 2024 She's going to choke him to death rip him apart piece after piece, limb by limb, shred upon shred Ronové would back her up nicely oh god it's the dark humour again excuse me But it's so damn sexy how he's the one controlling her, yet she's the one wrecking him

update XXVI: YOOOO I'M GONNA DIE THIS IS SO GOOD THIS IS SO—

update XXVII: PP goes 'fwop'

update XXVIII: he is SUCH a mess YESSSS u should get even messier, Leviathan, you MUST

update XXIX: he insists on making eye contact no matter what. FUCK YES. And the teasing? FUCK YEAHHHHH

update XXX: I LOVE I SAID I LOVE—

update XXXI: so, so hot YAAAAAA

update XXXII: her wrapping her arms around his neck and then both of them just being so dazed out of their minds that the no-more-strangling move is not bothersome anymore...*sigh* pls feed me moreeeeee

update XXXIII: bro 'frantically licked' sent me. MC, slurping on Leviathan's horn like her life depends on it: boy am I thirsty The horns are a blessing, they're everything. And he's so messed up by the lick lick what she's doing that he can't even form a sentence (likely an insult to hide how fucked out of his mind that made him feel)

update XXXIV: THIS JUST FED ME MORE FR FR MY STOMACH HURTSSS HE'S DESPERATE and dang, I didn't know even hearts could reach climax. You learn something new everyday lol nah, I get what they mean So fucking hot how they kept kissing until they couldn't breathe my kind of thing a VERY pleasing display of Leviathan's kink, yes

update XXXV: squelch...squelch...squish squish, slurp slurp, anyone? Guess this writing style wasn't reserved for Tartaros's boys after all :( Bimet and I are fake-crying in the distance

update XXXVI: does he mean the tormenting or the fucking? Because if he's referring to sex, I offer Minhyeok my condolences. MC's never going to fuck you senseless or at all, hon. Sorry, but u should've known better, BFF boy :( I know no mercy

update XXXVII: Leviathan feeling happy because of her reply and him replying with "good. It should stay like that"? So possessiveeee <3 no more images fit Kinda melting over how his envy didn't flare up and anger him like it did in the beginning 'cause the brutality sex softened him for the moment

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ´ˎ˗

+notes: I was violently wishing for a Leviathan's-clothes-are-still-on-during-sex CG, so when the CG came up and there was no MC on top of him, I was disappointed for a short minute short because then I looked at his face and his godly position spread legs and how he's on the ground like that...mmm lol

It's a change of pace, new. For WHB, at least—since it isn't like previous CGs—but it's heart-throbbing in its own way; seeing cold, pretty Leviathan on the floor like that, meek with his red cheeks...slurp a delicacy.

Ahem, anyways. The CG took me down memory lane somewhat, back to my first otome-playing-days from about 10+ years ago. Whenever the 'Happy Ending' CG was of the male lead alone, I always disliked that because I WANTED TO SEE *THE COUPLE* DOING THINGS, DAMMIT (even though the wildest things players saw characters do in CGs back in those days were mostly kisses lol until they got more daring, that is).

So yeah, while I did feel sort of disappointed when I first saw this CG, while I do prefer CGs like those of previous H-scenes, and while I still wish I could've seen Leviathan and MC in action, at the same time this CG is *chef's kiss* for obvious reasons and also due to how I feel like it suits Leviathan very well in a way. He's built walls about his heart and boundaries around himself, so it's as though the game won't let players see him like they did the men before him (in the main story), if that makes sense. I'm also hoping his shirt stayed on during sex

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ´ˎ˗

edit: I just inspected opened the CG in the album for a, um, better view and...MC is grabbing Leviathan's PP? Yeeeeeeaaaaaaaah that's so YESSSS RAAAAAA

#what in “hell” is bad #what in hell is bad #whb #whb leviathan #what in hell is bad diaries

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dragon-kazansky · 7 months

Text

Spirit of the sea

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

You were a member of Blackbeard's crew long ago. Then you became a ghost story. Izzy Hands only sees you in his dreams these days, until he sees you for real when investigating Stede Bonnet. This sets him on a rollercoaster of emotions between you and what his captain is doing.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: Swearing. Izzy likes to swear. Buttons is naked. Also I'm pretty sure Izzy makes heart eyes at you without me actually typing out heart eyes.

Chapter Eight - Captain Hands

♡♡♡

The English came aboard the ship and promptly captured every pirate onboard. They cornered some of the crew and tied them up. A naked Buttons runs past you at one point, everything hanging out. You try to blink the image away.

One of the sailors grabs you from behind and takes your hands behind your back. You're then pushed down to the deck, face against the wood.

Edward and Stede are next to each other, looking at one another.

One by one everyone is taking in for questioning. It's only here you learn that this was about the murder of Badminton. You had totally forgotten about that guy.

This was his twin brother.

You're taken back outside with the rest of the crew and left to sit there. It's only then that you realise who else is here. Someone you thought you wouldnt see again.

"Izzy," you whisper, looking at him.

He's looking right at you.

It feels like all the air has been sucked out if your lungs. You've forgotten how to breathe. You don't even realise a tear has formed until it trails down your cheek. It splashes on the deck below, silent and unnoticed by anyone. Anyone except Izzy.

You turn your eyes away from.

Apparently Stede confessed to killing Nigel Badminton. His punishment was death by firing squad. At least it would be quick, you supposed.

Izzy was watching mostly you as Stede and Blackbeard were being given their sentences. He has missed you.

"In the name of His Majesty King George, this tribunal shall come to order. Edward Teach, or Black Beard."

"It's just Blackbeard. Like, just run it together as one word. 'Blackbeard'. Don't have to put a gap in there." Ed spirals on.

"You face death for general crimes of Piracy against the Crown."

"Yeah." Edward agrees.

"But a friend of the Crown has prevailed upon me to remand you to his custody. You shall be released to Captain Hands in exchange for his service to the King."

You turn slowly to see Izzy give Ed a little wave. Oh, now you get it. Izzy had made a deal with these bastards for Edward's protection.

While the crew of the Revenge boo Izzy, you try and find a way to control your breathing.

"Stede Bonnet. For the wanton murder of Nigel Badminton... your sentence is death by firing squad."

"We'll find a way out of this, OK?" Ed says to him.

"Ed, no. I deserve this. At some point in a man's life, he has to face the music." Stede speaks calmly.

Except, when he's up there with his blindfold on, he's screaming about much he doesn't want to die.

You had been cut free and permitted to stand with Blackbeard. One of Izzy's other demands was that you were safe.

You watch Stede with a sad expression.

"Edward... I know you're upset, but it was the only..." Izzy tried to explain himself, but Ed turns and punches Izzy hard. Izzy falls to the deck harshly. At any other time you would help him up, but not today.

The crew applaud what they just saw.

"Oh... that's fair." Izzy grunts as he stands up and brushes his hair back again. "Remember, though. You said when you made me first mate, 'Above all else is loyalty to your Captain.'"

"Rifles at the ready!" Chauncey orders.

"You're my captain, and I was never gonna stand by and let you destroy yourself for that... twat. And this, this is a humane way of ending it."

"Aim!"

"It's quick. It's clean. Edward you KNOW that." Izzy is basically pleading with him.

"Act of Grace!" Blackbeard calls out.

"No... No."

"Act of Grace!" Edward stands in front of Stede. Izzy looks defeated. "Act of Grace!"

The crew shout for Stede to say it too. "Say it! Act of Grace!"

"What he said!" Stede calls out.

Edward removes the blindfold from Stede.

"Fuck me," Chauncey mutters.

Edward explains the Act of Grace to Stede.

"So, you want to go to war for the King?" Chauncey asks them.

"We'd rather eat our own faces, but, yes." Edward replies to him.

"Two acts of Grace, please." Stede pleads.

"Ah. I'm afraid the offer doesn't extend to you, Bonnet. After, the King was only referring to real pirates. He turns to Edward, "He's from my world, not yours."

"Raise your rifles!"

"June 3rd. An excellent day!" Lucius stands up with Stede's diary in his hands, reading from it. "Raided a commercial vessel after overwhelming the hardy crew. We claimed a prize of lush vegetation in conquest." Lucius turns around to show a drawing of the plant.

Oluwande holds the plant up. "And here's the vegetation in question."

"They'll never forget the Eccentric Pirate Bonnet and his savage, insane, vengeful pirate horde." Lucius closes the book. "See? He's a pirate. a real, proper pirate."

"That man is a fearsome pirate if e'er I seen one." Buttons joins in.

The rest of the crew begin to agree. Stede looks proudly at them.

"Well, rule-of-law-wise, I'd say that settle it." One of the Navy officers says.

"A plant and a drawing?" Chauncey asks. "Settles nothing."

"It's enough for us. Blackbeard renounces piracy to serve the Crown? We'll be dining with Ol' King George himself."

"Why?" Chauncey asks the crew. "Why do you all show such loyalty to this... this... nothing?"

"I'd attribute quite a lot of it to a people-positive management style," Stede says.

Chauncey draws his sword. "Shut up!"

"Stand down, Admiral." He is warned. "Or will be forced to use measures."

"Measures? Against me?! He's the criminal!" Chauncey says, waving his sword about at Stede. "He's the murderer!"

"All right! Calm down, Mr Wavy Blade." Says Stede. "Chauncey! Sometimes, when we get a bit angry, do you know what we like to do? We talk it through."

"As a crew!" The others join in.

You smile from where you stand. Izzy notices.

"Oh, I know. I know what's happened. Yeah, we've somehow drifted south of the equator, and ended up in Backwardsland!"

Chauncey is promptly restrained.

You laugh softly. Izzy can't seem to keep his eyes off of you.

♡♡♡

Edward and Stede are taken into the captain's quarter to sign the contract for the Act of Grace. Izzy is in there with them.

You're sat on deck looking out at the sea.

It isn't long until the Navy retreat, taking Stede and Edward with them. You watch them go. Edward looks at you before leaving the ship.

That's how you know Izzy is standing behind you. You refuse to look at him.

Stede and Edward have gone.

Izzy opens his mouth to speak, but you're already pushing past him to walk away. He calls your name but you don't stop. He sighs as he watches you go.

♡♡♡

While Izzy sets things his way on the Revenge, by getting the crew in order and showing his leadership, you sulk down in his old cabin.

Since he's captain now, he won't want this old room back. You curl up on his bed and hide your face in the crook of your arms. It has been a long day.

You're not sure how much time has passed, but eventually your solitude is interrupted.

"Thought I might find you here."

You don't look up. You don't move an inch.

"You not gonna look at me?"

You remain still.

You hear Izzy sigh and he walks across the small cabin toward the desk. You hear him put something down, the item hiding gently against the wood. You can tell from the light rustling sound that he stands there for a moment before leaving again.

You look up once you're sure he's gone. Your eyes are drawn to the desk. Sitting there, just as you remembered it, was the wooden sparrow you whittled for Izzy.

Another tear escapes your eye.

♡♡♡

Izzy works the crew hard, all while not lifting a finger for himself. He throws round orders and makes sure every man onboard does his job. He states he's tough, but he's also fair

The crew still hate him.

They don't hate you, however.

Lucius finds you sulking away. He was sent to grab something for Izzy, but he decided today least check in on you.

"Dizzy Izzy confining you?" He asks, half joking.

You look up at him and sigh through your nose.

"What's he doing?" You ask.

"Ordering is around."

"Course he is."

Lucius frowns as he looks at you. "Thought you might be glad he was back, despite literally everything else."

"Would be had he not sold us out to the Navy and pushed Ed enough to go serve the King."

"He sucks, for the record."

"Yeah. He's a dick."

Lucius and you share a smile. The moment is only broken by the yell of "SPRIGGS." Lucius bolts out of the cabin to reach Izzy before he gets mad.

You return to sulking.

♡♡♡

As evening draws in and the crew go about their business, you come up to deck for some air. You hold the wooden sparrow in your hand as you rest against the railing of the ship. The breeze is a bit chilly tonight, but you don't mind it much.

You've become aware of when he's nearby. It's like you have a sixth sense for Izzy Hands.

"You'll catch a chill up here."

You do nothing but hum quietly in response, turning the sparrow around in your hand carefully.

"At least talk to me."

You keep twirling the sparrow.

Izzy shifts his weight to one leg as he stares at you. You can't see the pleading look in his eyes, at how desperate he is get you to look at him.

"I did this for us, you know. Edward was never supposed to do what he did. He wasn't even supposed to be on the ship... Jack was meant to take you and Edward with him."

"You sent Calico fucking Jack to get us?" You ask, hissing the question out. You still refuse to look at him.

Happy that you're at least talking to him, Izzy goes on.

"I wanted you safe. Safe with me. We could have had Blackbeard back. We could have been a crew again. No more Bonnet. No more ghosts. Just us and the sea."

You inhale sharply. Izzy realises in that moment that you're upset. He wants so desperately to reach out and hold you.

"Safe? No one is ever safe, Izzy."

You drop the sparrow and it falls down into the waves below. You grip the railing of the ship, knuckles turning white as you lean against it.

"I should have stayed dead. Maybe none of this would have happened," you say softly.

"Don't say that. Don't ever fucking say that." Izzy takes a step forward.

"You left me, Izzy!" You turn sharply and glare at him. "You bastard! You left me behind over some stupid fucking duel and then sold us out!"

You lunge forward and smack Izzy across the chest. He tries to block your attacks, but not with much effort. Izzy wants you to let your anger out on him.

"You bastard! You fucking idiot! Why? Why do any of it? Why did you leave me?" You cry out.

"What choice did I have?" He asks, still blocking your attacks.

"You could have stayed! We could worked something out! Anything. We could have done anything! At least we would have done it together."

"I offered you to come with me," he says softly.

"No!" You yell. You stop hitting him and glare at him. "We belong out at sea. That's our home. We made a promise once, do you remember? A promise to stick together and explore the world. Well, fuck that promise I guess!"

He says your name softly.

"No, Izzy. You betrayed me twice. You left me and then sold us out. How can I ever forgive you?"

He falls silent as he looks at you.

You push past him and walk away again. Izzy is left standing there, looking at the sea.

♡♡♡

Izzy wasn't ready to give up on you. Not now. Not ever.

He waited an hour or so before coming down to the cabin. His old cabin. It warmed his heart to discover you had taken it as your own. He knew you missed him just as much as he missed you.

"Leave me alone," you mumble.

"No."

You sigh as you sit up on the bed. "What do you want from me? Want me to scrub the deck? Shine your boots? Worship you?"

Izzy frowns. "No. None of that."

"Then what?"

"I want... I want us to talk it through."

You look at him silently, and then start to chuckle softly. "Talk it through? Now you want to talk it through. What? Like a crew?"

"Like friends."

"Oh, so we're still friends are we?" You scoff.

"Never stopped, at least on my end."

"Well it did on mine."

Izzy stands there staring at you. His eyes are soft and there is something about this posture that feels wrong. Not in a sense that he would do something to you, but like something that doesn't belong there. He's standing wrong.

"What is it, Izzy?"

"I fucking missed you, ya know."

"Did you?" You ask flatly.

"Yeah, I did."

You take a deep breath and calm your mind. You let most of your anger put on him up on deck, so the least you can do is be civil. Your choices were limited.

"I'm sorry about the sparrow. I, uh, I appreciate that you took it with you."

Izzy almost smiles. "Couldn't leave it behind."

"I'll have to make you a new one."

"Only if you forgive me."

"Maybe not then," you sigh.

"Do you hate me?" He asks.

There's a few moments of silence that pass that make him believe that the answer is probably yes. You have every reason to, he supposes. He left. Then Edward, for a moment.

You have every right to be upset.

"No."

Izzy finds his whole body relaxing from that word alone. Relief floods his heart and his lips actually do curl into a gentle smile for once.

"Good. Pretty sure the crew do, but I can live with that. I can't live with you hating me, though."

You meets his eyes and suddenly feel lighter. You never thought a simple gaze could take away so much heartache and pain.

"Pretty sure they're planning a mutiny. They tried once with Stede."

"Fuck."

"You are a bit of a dick, though, Izzy."

He looks at you with a faux sense of betrayal in his eyes. You chuckle softly, but know that the crew would most likely throw him off the ship.

"I'll see what I can do."

Izzy smiles gratefully before leaving. He has said his peace and for now that's enough. He bids you goodnight as he goes.

"Goodnight, Izzy."

♡♡♡

Yeah, the next morning the crew planned a mutiny. Izzy was promptly tied up.

"You said you'd see what you could do." Izzy looks at you, fire beginning to burn in his eyes. He kind of felt betrayed.

"Yeah, I tried. I talked to them for hours. They are adamant on throwing you off this ship." You tell him, looking at him firmly.

"You're just going to let them?"

You keep your eyes on him. "Yeah."

"If this is about leaving you-"

"Izzy, no, no. It's not like that." You raise your hands. Izzy furrows his brows. There's rope around your wrists.

"What?" He asks softly.

"I said, if they wanted to throw you overboard, they would have to throw me too. Or I'd kill them all in their sleep."

Izzy states at you.

You give a smile

"You...? You told them to banish you too?"

"Yeah. Either you stay, or we both go together."

Izzy is at a loss for words.

The crew come over and picked him up. He pleads with them to change their minds. He will listen and make changes. He will do what they wanted him to.

He wanted to stay on this ship with you. You shouldn't banish yourself for him. He had no idea you would go so far.

Did this mean you had forgiven him?

He looks at you, head bent as far back as it could go to look at you. You stand there and smile at him. God, why are you smiling? You can't be this happy to be mutinied with him.

"One!" The crew start to count.

"No! No! No!" Izzy pleads.

"Two!"

Izzy looks back at you again.

"Three!" "Hold it!" Pete stops them.

Everyone turns to find Blackbeard unexpectedly climbing onboard the ship. You stare at him confused.

"Izzy... I'll take tea in my room." Ed says, walking past everyone.

Everyone just stares.

Izzy is put down.

"What happened to his beard?" Roach asks.

You turn back around to Izzy and bring his attention to you as you work on undoing his restaints. He stares at you as you do so. You look at him and then back at his hands. Once his hands are free he reaches out and gently holds yours.

"You were really gonna do it?" He asks.

"Yeah," you say softly. "I was gonna do it."

Izzy really wanted to kiss you.

"Why?"

"For the same reason Edward protected Stede."

Izzy looks confused.

"Forget it."

All Izzy Hands can do is look at you. He untied your wrists and Olu sees to it both of your feet are intied too.

Izzy's heart was racing.

He wondered, did you mean what he thought you meant?

♡♡♡

@grippleback-galaxy - @askmarinaandothers - @godlikegallagher - @for-fuck-sake-im-alive - @whiskeyswriting - @lxsm2 - @bloody-bunni666 - @the-chocoholic-writer - @bugbugboy - @callmemana -

#izzy hands x reader #spirit of the sea #ofmd #our flag means death #dragon writes

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still-a-morosexual-help · 1 year

Note

Malleus wasn't invited to the meeting where they went over that Twst isn't an otome. He gets even more obvious in the events he's featured in. I'm pretty sure he's invited Yuu to come back to Briar Valley with him in multiple card lines too.

Yeah that seems to be the consensus according to my notes from that post

Yess! I've seen those! Pretty sure one time it was to see the roses he grew back home??????????????????????????

Okay okay but here's the funniest most sad wet cat-esque thing about Malleus he's so desperate but he's trying so hard to act like he's above it all and I'm 100% sure he thinks it's working but it's not

Yes it's quiet in the library. It's a library. This is like saying "the beach is wet and sandy would you like to see it with me?"

"I'll permit you to join us" he says, "aren't I so gracious? Allowing you to join us when you must desperately want to" is what the wording of that sentence implies but then not 5seconds later, he basically follows it up with "please tell me you're joining us"

"If you're free" he says as if he didn't start this sentence with "we" as if if he didn't start this entire conversation fully assuming that he and mc would be hanging out

And look I said in a previous post that Malleus & Mammon are nothing alike but Malleus (who is not a LI apparently??) has been taking some classes from Mammon (who is very much a LI)'s course on "Flirting with the Random Human Who Got Isekaid into Your Magical World & Now Goes to Your School 101" which includes topics like;

"Constructing Roundabout Excuses to get Them to Hangout"

"It's not Like I Care, I'm Absolutely Doing this for Your Benefit"

"Assuming You Always Have Time for Me"

"Lowkey Highkey Wish People Would Leave You Alone. What? No I'm Not Jealous"

"Yes! Of Course I'll Do this for YOU! But Seriously Fuck Anyone Else":

vs Mammon happily agreeing to make balloon animals for MC but basically going "lol no" when Asmo asks for some as well

Malleus also took a class in Lucifer's "Am I Threatening You or Am I Flirting with You: Ways to Make Your Human Scared, Confused & Horny"

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grrrasya · 5 days

Text

My take on Andrew Kreiss

my take on Andrew!

disclaimer: everything stated here is not canon nor do i claim it to be. it's just my interpretation, so if you hate it or don't agree please just keep scrolling, thanks!

When Andrew arrives to the manor he is in his late 20s, around 28-29. He's also a German (maybe mixed) man.

Timeline: Andrew lost his mother at around 16-17, he survived by doing odd jobs, until he heard about Laz cemetery. There, he became obsessed with the idea of afterlife & heaven. He was ready to sacrifice everything to get there, until he crossed the line and had to leave. He moved to the manor, becoming one of the manor's staff.

Appearance + body: He is around 6'1". He's, obviously, albino. His hair is completely white, his skin is kind of a reddish-pink due to occasional exposure to sun, very rough on his hands, face, neck and other parts of his body that received repeated sunburns. He is covered in scars. He also has stretch marks, because of a sudden and intense grow spurt he went through as a teen, mainly on his back. His nose was hooked naturally, but due to lots of beating he received from being bullied, it's also kind of crooked. He has trouble breathing and usually breathes through mouth. Since he moved to the manor and had access to more food, he doesn't appear skinny, although still slim. He is physically strong due to extreme amounts of labor, but that also messed his health quite a bit. He struggles with neck, shoulder and back pains. He tries to take as little space as possible with his frame, so he hunches a lot. He covers his eye due to hypertrophy. His eyesight is terrible. I also hc him as autistic! Not sure if it is canon, tho.

Although Andrew didn't finish even his basic school education, he is interested in learning and by staying in manor he learns a lot. Baking, gardening, reading and writing properly.

Character: My most controversial take - Andrew is not religious. At least, not in a mainstream way. He has his own distorted view of religion, where he can lie, rob graves and still go to heaven just because he had enough money to have his grave at the right place. All Andrew knows about faith is superstitious. He just wants a nice, normal life, normal conditions, not to survive but to live. That's what is Heaven to him, and that's why he craves it. Not because he is a God-fearing man.

He is careful around other people, he is a people pleaser for anyone who takes interest in him, although it's enough to say or do 1 wrong thing for Andrew to abandon the relationship completely. He hates when people try to ask something personal, when they try to bond with him in a meaningful way because it feels like a carefully laid trap. The saddest thing is - he is sentimental to his core. He wants to have intimacy with people (I'm not talking about sexual intimacy here), he wants to be close, but he can't. He is very quick to judge other people, and he kinda hates himself for it, because he is constantly judged too. But judging people only by superficial traits helped him survive as an orphaned teen, so he can't just abandon this habit. He is foul-mouthed, he doesn't seem to control it and is deep down embarrassed about the way he talks, when he talks at all. He thinks of science as something dirty, only crazy people participate in, because his only exposure to it was through grave robbery. He is greedy (at least that's what he thinks). When he got to manor, a place of abundance of food, free space (a room of his own!) and comfort, he felt guilty for constantly taking. He takes a lot, he takes too much, he needs to repay everything tenfold to be forgiven, to be permitted to stay a bit longer. He cleans in community rooms like library, he overworks himself, he tries so hard to be useful. He doesn't want to leave manor. Ever.

Some random hcs:

He enjoys literature, although he prefers when someone else reads to him, so he doesn't have to hurt his eyes.

Andrew enjoys being at the garden, and he enjoys spending time with Emma because she never asks him anything personal and always have interesting stories to tell.

#identity v #andrew kreiss #idv #idv grave keeper

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ofsappho · 3 months

Text

treehouse chapter 31 (tumblr version)

🔞 Dream of the Endless I Lord Morpheus x reader 🔞

Unplanned pregnancy, SMUT. 6.3k words of sin and both Morpheus AND Reader being wet cats.

crossposted to AO3 (want to read the whole story? click here)

Morpheus is not thrilled that Johanna Constantine has swooped in to save you.

please read my statement on Palestine here

tags under the read more

Tags: jealousy, exhibitionism, public (not actually) sex, fucking on the throne, she can't fuck you like I can, cockwarming, orgasm denial, CNC but not really, one sided hate sex (she hates him but wants to fuck him, he loves her and wants to fuck her) THIS IS UNEDITED, DO NOT HATE ME

Morpheus POV

He hates her, this knight in shining armor. Loathes her, even. He hates that she’s touching you, and he hates that you find comfort in it.

But Morpheus has no wish to soil your rooms with what hell he plans to wreak upon Johanna Constantine’s head, so he wraps you and the interloper in threads and transports you both into the throne room, the true seat of his power.

As Dream reclines in his great chair of white marble flickering with streaks of onyx glass, he settles on a form somewhere in between the man you love and the dragon that went against his own kind for you. “On what business do you trespass in my realm for? You were not invited here, Constantine, nor did you petition for an audience. And I certainly did not grant you permission to speak with my bride.” You have laid with him and loved him, and you should know what manner of creature you’ve permitted to lay a claim to your heart.

Does it matter to Dream that you still balk at the thought of marrying him? No, not particularly. It’s semantics - if you agree in the future, that’s functionally the same as you agreeing now.

You face him with fury blazing in your eyes. “What the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with you, Morpheus? I don’t fucking need permission to talk to anyone,” You snap, your cheeks flushed and chest heaving.

You don’t understand yet. Morpheus reminds himself that you’re new to this, new to this world, and how these things are done. “This does not concern you,” He says to you, not dropping the mask of the fierce dragon despite how badly he wants to go and be soft and comfort you.

But you have your rules and so does he. Johanna Constantine has trampled on every one of them through daring to breathe in your direction and she knows it.

You wield your force of will like a knife to his throat. “Yes, the fuck it does.”

Morpheus wants to do selfish, despicable things to you. He wants to kiss you, feel you sigh and tremble in his arms, and make Johanna Constantine watch as you give in every single time.

Constantine cuts in, as impetuous as the rest of her line. “I come here on mortal business, Dream Lord.”

“You have no right-“ He rises to the provocation like a snake in the grass, fangs bared and venom dripping to the ground. Is he not king here? Is Morpheus not the name all must answer to and shake in terror at the sound of it?

“Oh, I very much do. You see, I’ve made a deal. You remember the rules. I represent two humans who are in search of their child, metaphorically. A child I have found here, stolen away by you. I deliver their child safely back to them, where she belongs, and they pay our arranged price. Hell, I even gave them a Friends and Family discount.”

Morpheus tenses as the magic Constantine invokes settles upon him like a yoke, binding him to the ancient rules of hospitality and obligation.

Orpheus invoked such rules in pursuit of his bride. Where did that get him? Nothing much other than his death and Eurydice returned to her master, Aidoneus.

So - he must house this thief and give her the honors due to an invited guest until her quest is done. “Do you intend to take her by force? I did not think a Constantine would be so stupid as to try my might.”

Unwillingly, his gaze is pulled to you. You have that effect on him, a magnetic grip that draws Dream to you with the strength that not even gravity could exert.

It destroys a part of him you brought to life to raise walls of gilded magic around you to keep Constantine from tearing out his heart and soul in taking you. But he must.

Tears glimmer pearlescent in your large, pleading eyes. “Morpheus. Morpheus. What are you doing? Let me go. Stop it. Please.” As he would rather your hatred over your absence, Dream remains unmoved by your cries.

Constantine’s face hardens. “Of course not. She must come willingly. But if this is how you treat her, well, I thank you for doing my job for me.”

Out of sight of either of you, Morpheus’s fist tightens in the sleeve of his dark robe. His fingers dig so deeply into the marble arm rest that he leaves behind fingerprints in the solid stone. Constantine is doing this on purpose. She must be. Reminding him over and over with every word how you’re not meant for him.

What can Johanna give you that he can’t?

Everything.

You’d be safe with her. And Morpheus thinks you might be happier not cut off from the world and the life you love so much. He loves how much you love it and your people, and that you find love growing in places he’d never think to look.

If he had been Nada, he wouldn’t have chosen himself either.

Morpheus can’t even be good enough to let you go. His awful adoration of you traps him as the villain to your maiden, the death of your life, the true evil you must be protected from.

That cult only endangered you because of him. And Morpheus is going against the laws of nature to have you. The sharpened edge of an ax will remain at your lovely throat until the day he finds the strength to look away, or until it ends your life. Whichever happens first.

“Your family has been much favored by me. You have directly benefited from that benevolence. Is this how you seek to repay me?” Morpheus feels your heart beat furiously in your chest, as furiously as your hands on the bars of his cage.

No, he’s not angry with you. He understands your longing for the Waking world like he understands his own longing for you. Like the yearning of blood to rush through one’s veins.

“What can I say? I just work here. Sorry,” Constantine shrugs.

“You cannot have her. Do you understand me? She is mine,” Dream growls, his voice underpinned by the faintest sound of claws against stone.

“Let me go. Let me go. I’m begging you. You said you would be different. You promised. Please. For the love you bear for me-“ You say.

For the love he bears for you.

He’s almost moved to do as you wish. Almost.

Constantine knows better than to rap at the bars of your prison. That could be interpreted as an attack on his realm, giving him ample cause to expel Constantine. Just as he cannot harm a guest, she cannot harm her host. “Release her, Dream of the Endless. Come on. This is horrid. Absolutely horrid. No fucking wonder she doesn’t want you,” The woman spits in her coarse, common accent.

“I’ll let her go once you’re gone,” Morpheus replies, magnanimously ignoring her rudeness.

“And I’m not going, so that unfortunately puts us at an impasse.”

You’ve lapsed into silence and your pretty mouth twists into a furious scowl. There’s a humming in the back of his many sharp teeth, like the electric tension that hangs in the air before lightning strikes, thrumming through his stardust bones when you watch him.

It’s best to get Constantine safely tucked away before your thunder shakes the throne room from ceiling to floor. “Per your deal with the mortal Willow, I shall house you in appropriate state until your mission fails. Go. My Vizier will see to it. This is family business. Stay out of it, and out of my way.”

Reader POV

Your stupid tears have long since dried by the time he frees you. You’ve got half a mind to demand he return Johanna to the throne room so you can go with her. Especially after that display of fucked up posessiveness Morpheus seems incapable of restraining, getting the fuck out is looking more and more appealing by the second.

You don’t have to put up with this. You don’t have to put up with him. You can just leave if you want to. And you do want to.

“Well, Morpheus,” You say in a short clipped tone instead of doing the logical thing of leaving. “That certainly was a display. Are you pleased with yourself?”

He leans back in his throne, unwillingly drawing your attention to the long, lean lines of his chest, his chiseled stomach, his thighs under his close-fitting pants. “That depends, my dear. Which answer would please you?” And his eyes- they flicker and gleam in his godly face, sapphire and aquamarine and onyx.

A warm breeze curls past your cheek and a bead of sweat drips down your neck under the silk robes you wear, kissing your spine as it goes.

You dig your nails into your palms in an attempt to regain control of your breathing, to slow down the desperate, panting rise and fall of your chest. “I am deeply uninterested in your efforts to please me. All you’re capable of is disrespect and humiliation,” You hiss.

The air tastes hot on your tongue as if someone’s stoked a fire in the throne room. The fire burns with smoke and something animalistic, something musky, the scent of bare skin on bare skin.

Morpheus’s gaze darkens as you draw closer. “But I live to please you. Every breath, every gesture, every move I make will bring you pleasure.” You’re not sure if you’re stalking towards him because you want to hit him or kiss him.

When you reach the throne, you grasp the arm rests and lean over him, your hair falling around your face like a veil. “Every breath you take has done nothing but hurt me.” You’re taller than him as long as he stays seated, and you take complete advantage of this, snarling in Morpheus’s face like a lioness.

Morpheus swallows, a movement so sudden and quick like the flapping of a bird wing. It’s one of the few signs that you’re affecting him at all.

But you want more than that. You want to take his frozen heart and dash it on the floor until it shatters. “And if I am to be the Queen you want me to be, what makes you think I’d let your foolishness stand? Did your mom not teach you basic courtesy, oh great paragon of feminism?” Because that’s how you felt when he raised those golden chains around you in a beautiful cage. You felt shattered. Betrayed.

And above all else, stupid. You should’ve known better than to believe Dream.

Just as his hand reaches for your waist, you dance out of reach. “That’s right, you’re a god so you probably don’t even have a mom. My mistake for expecting better from you,” You tell him in a cold and cruel voice, from a very safe distance of a few feet away.

“Do you think insulting me will accomplish anything?” You see his long, razor-sharp teeth shine in the light as he speaks.

A low humming sound registers a little too quietly for you to hear precisely what it is. It sounds like a heartbeat thudding alongside a thousand voices whispering in a dark and sinister melody.

His smoldering, smokey gaze drinks up the aroused flush reddening your cheeks and your half-lidded, languid eyes. “It’s certainly pleasing me,” You murmur after a pause to stop the urge to pull your heavy robes from your limbs and leave them on the ground until the heat kindling between your thighs abates.

“You’re very clever indeed, little darling,” Dream praises you. He takes an odd delight in being insulted, more amused than he is offended, treating you like a kitten that’s learned to roar.

That only eggs you on further. “I can see that mortal niceties are lost on you and you don’t deserve them anyways. So let me speak in a language you’ll understand.”

In a split second, Lucienne’s earlier warnings make sense to you. This is about power and having power, the power to keep the thing Morpheus loves most, sees the most value in. You give him power and he’s afraid to lose it.

He’s afraid to lose you. That he might hurt you in the process is a cost he’s willing to pay.

“You will not put me in a cage, you will not dictate to whom I can speak to and when. I’m not asking. I’m ordering. Every time you disrespect me, you only reveal yourself to be unworthy of me, your kingdom, and of your power.”

Morpheus merely smiles and bows his head. “Hauteur becomes you.” Is he teasing you or being sincere? The bastard has the audacity to have fun at a time like this.

And despite yourself and your convictions, you’re having a little fun, too.

“And it would be very easy for me to find someone worthier. Johanna Constantine, for example.” You toss the suggestion his way as carelessly as you might let a sleeve fall off your shoulder, revealing the bare expanse of your back to ignite Dream’s hunger.

And ignite his hunger your words do.

He sits upright in his throne as rage battles his self-control in the angular confines of his preternaturally-handsome face. When Morpheus blinks, the black of his pupils grow and grow until they swallow the sclera.

Unconsciously, you take a step back.

It seems as though self control is losing.

“That is a dangerous game to be playing, my love,” He says silkily, his mouth twisting into an expression that should be a smirk and comes off more as a snarl.

You can no longer pretend that you don’t care, that this is just a game.

“Oh, so she threatens you? No, you should be fucking threatened by me.” You get louder and louder with each word. “You need to be fucking terrified right now. I swear to God I will bring her back in here and fuck her in front of you if I have to.” He’s as common as the next human man, so obsessed with his possessions. “Don’t test me, Your Grace, lest you find yourself dethroned,” You tell him through your mouth filled with rancor and spite.

And then Morpheus is up on his feet before you can blink. He surmounts the distance between you in only a couple of steps and towers over you, wrapping cool fingers around your wrist with a grasp tighter than a manacle. His dark eyes are filled with a frantic wildness that scares you as much as it attracts you.

Morpheus bends down until his mouth is level with your ear. “You’ve forgotten something,” He whispers.

Your heart beats so loudly in your ears that you can barely hear him over it. “And that is?” You’re trembling. Do you want him closer? Do you want to shove him back? You turn the two outcomes over and over in your head as you try to pick one.

His nose brushes your hair and he swallows, his pale throat bobbing with the effort.

Morpheus’s voice coils in your ears like a snake, his words writhing and twisting as they take the whole of your focus captive. “Who you belong to. I’m out of patience, darling, and I think you need to be reminded of who possesses you, who’s devoted to you above all else.” Burning hot need scorches through your stomach and your breath catches in your lungs.

He drops into a rough, raspy growl. “Who you’ll always come back to. Who adores you. Who worships you.”

You fall into Morpheus’s embrace without a second thought. It’s the most natural thing in the world, giving in to him. His mouth on your mouth, kissing, biting, he lays a palm on the back of your neck and presses his other hand between your collarbones, trapping you where he can devour you.

His sharp nails dig into your skin and his tongue presses between your lips, turning the kiss into a mess of slick saliva and your ragged gasps for air, your high-pitched whines when Dream’s teeth- no, fangs, leave imprints of his love on your bottom lip.

Then you fight him. Not for freedom, like before. For sovereignty. For domination, for hegemony. You wage war, grabbing a fistful of his beautiful black hair and dragging him down to you, and you take control of the kiss, using your tongue wickedly against his before breaking away. Morpheus might have his hand near your throat still, but you’re shoving his face to the side to sink your teeth into his neck.

He groans at the unexpected burst of pain and the pleasure of you doing it again and again, marring his pale skin with glimmering red-gold marks.

“You’re a fucking menace,” You hiss.

The very instant Dream’s had enough, the hand he’s resting on your collarbones moves upwards until it wraps around the base of your throat. He’s careful with the practically-nonexistent pressure, far more careful than you would’ve liked in a time before he got you pregnant, but it’s such an effortless show of control that you release his hair and gasp breathlessly anyways.

“Good girl,” He whispers. “Very good. But this is just the start. You’ll be begging for me before we’re done here.”

He’s kissing you once more. Your nose knocks into his from your enthusiasm and he laughs with his head tilted back, making a bright, happy, human sound. Then Morpheus folds his arms around your waist and lifts you into the air so he can continue to ravage your mouth, softly kiss your cheeks, and occasionally nuzzle your hair while walking backwards without tripping.

Your knees knock into the marble stone of his throne. Morpheus has led you here and his intentions on what he plans to do become clear when he elegantly lowers himself into the seat, keeping one hand cupping the back of your neck while his other hand trails down the neckline of your gown.

There’s enough room on the throne for you to kneel in his lap. Morpheus doesn’t even need to help you; you crawl atop him all on your own with eagerness that almost disgusts you, your body animated by desire as bright as an open flame.

Once you plant your knees solidly on the outsides of his thighs where you can rock your humming clit against his fully-hardened cock, you hear a sharp ripping sound. Cool air chills your exposed breasts and now-naked thighs. Dream’s fucking ripped your beautiful, splendid clothes straight down the front and now the remnants hang from your shoulders in tatters.

“Fuck-“ You exclaim as your cheeks flush from embarrassment. Anyone could… anyone could walk in and see you, see what he’s doing to you.

Then his hand clamps down on your jaw to prevent you from looking around. “Look at me, darling. Come now,” He hisses. This close, you can see scattered flecks of light in the pure black of his eyes, a whole universe in his gaze. Beautiful.

“Someone’s gonna- Morpheus, please, not here,” You whisper shamefully as he teases one of your swollen tits, rolling your nipple between the pads of his fingers. You cut your pleasured moan off by biting down on your lip. “What about Lucienne, ahhh, or Matthew…” He switches to your other breast, massaging your flesh in slow, luxurious circles, and your eyes flutter shut.

Without so much as a warning, Morpheus removes his hands altogether and sits back to look at you, folding his fingers under his chin, arrogantly tilted up. Those fingers would be better served on you, you think grumpily, or between your legs, dealing with the wetness trickling from your cunt.

His expression is remote and utterly heartless. “I told you to look at me.” There’s nothing soft or gentle in that face, a mask of porcelain skin stretched taut over a skull far too severe.

“But,” You start to beg. Doesn’t he realize what he does to you? You can feel the hunger churning viciously in your stomach, like you’ve spent your whole life starving and the embrace Morpheus is denying you is everything you need to sustain yourself, every flavor you crave.

Your mouth twists in a scowl as he bats away your wandering hands tugging at the collar of his cloak. It’s not fair that Morpheus gets to sit there unbothered while you’re practically melting. “A queen, begging for me? I’m honored,” He teases.

The moment before you resort to desperate measures, like clawing open his clothes yourself, he slips his hand in your hair as if holding back was torture for him to. Morpheus licks a hot stripe along the length of your throat, nipping and kissing over your pulse. “Can she make you beg like this?” Your skin muffles the sound of his voice.

You feel him stroke your spine with gentle fingers, counting each vertebrae. Then Morpheus finds his way towards your rounded hips, squishy and soft, and he groans under his breath in appreciation.

“Who…” Truthfully, you’re not listening to him, not even a little bit. Your back arches, encouraging Morpheus to palm your ass. He plays with one of your cheeks, bouncing your flesh in his hand, and when you gaze into his eyes, you see pure adoration warring with pitch-black possessiveness.

His fingers dip down, down between your thighs, and come back shining in the soft light streaming through the stained glass windows. “Johanna fucking Constantine, my love. Does she make you this wet?” Morpheus cleans his fingertips off with his tongue. His eyes shut as he savors you.

The sunlight flickers. One brightly-lit moment, he’s the angel finding heaven in your body. The next shadowed moment, his obsidian claws almost pierce your skin. A wraith from smoke who’s only aim is to make you moan and tremble.

And forget. Morpheus almost succeeded in making you forget why you’re fighting in the first place.

You pin his wrist to the high back of his throne. “Are you fucking for real right now?” A shiver runs through you. You put more of your weight into your grip. Dream could throw you off with just a thought, but he doesn’t.

Fuck talking. It’s so much easier to articulate your feelings through fucking him. “ I was just saying that to- to-“ He leans forward to take one of your hypersensitive, swollen nipples into his sinful mouth. “God, Morpheus, please.” He kisses, then sucks ever-so-carefully.

You no longer hold him away from you - you clutch his wrist for stability as pleasure ripples under your skin straight for your cunt.

Blindly, you grasp for the stone, eventually planting your elbow on the spot next to his head. “Oh, I am being very, ‘for real.’” Morpheus switches to your neglected breast, now mouthing along the heavy curve then kissing along your sternum.

He brings you pleasure. Traps you in a cage. You hate him and he loves you. You’re determined to say no but Morpheus will always tempt you to say yes.

You spread your thighs further, bringing your dripping core closer to his hips. “What are you, five years old? You have to learn how to share, Dream.” As you grind, you gasp and your eyes roll back. Your clit throbs and sensation wraps around your insides like honey, warm and sticky and sweet.

By now your arousal has leaked all over your thighs and his pants.

He lifts his head from your tits and his free hand cups your cheek. “That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Morpheus croons, watching your face shift and slacken as you whine. “Let them watch, let her watch. Why wouldn’t I share such a precious and rare thing as you?”

Everything happens so quickly.

No matter how sweetly you plead or how urgently you nudge him towards your cunt, Morpheus’s hands go literally everywhere else.

You shove the last of your robes onto the ground like they’re burning your skin and they might as well - you can’t stand anything touching your skin that isn’t him.

He slaps your bare ass with a light touch, more of a love tap than a proper blow. A drop of sweat slides between your tits and Morpheus traces its path with his mouth. Murmurs echo in the space between you and him. If you listen closely, you can hear Dream say how much he loves you, how beautiful you are.

You’re perfect. You’re divine. I’m sorry. Don’t leave me.

You don’t say anything in return. You just stop his words with kisses. Those are simple. The taste of him on your tongue. It feels good, so good, and it doesn’t hurt like listening to him does.

Morpheus could beg like that for the next fifty years and it wouldn’t be enough.

When he tries to talk again, you growl and dig your nails into the nape of his neck. None of that shit. His fucking words got you fucked up to begin with.

He rests his forehead against yours. His long eyelashes frame his vulnerable gaze, as delicate as fractured glass. A stray breeze could shatter him.

No. Fuck Dream. You’re not the bad guy. You’re not the villain. He is. He can’t- he shouldn’t make you feel so fucking guilty…

There’s no preparation. He doesn’t warm you up or ease you into it. You blink and in a single, lust-filled moment, you’re turned the other way around where the whole throne room and palace and this plane of reality can see you, naked and aroused and dripping wet for their king. They can all see how much he wants you.

It shouldn’t make you wetter. It does. A fresh trickle of arousal drips from your swollen folds and you hear Morpheus mutter a hushed curse before delicately dragging the tip of his pointer finger through the shining path it took.

He moans as he tastes you.

Morpheus kisses the back of your neck as he shifts under you. He pulls his thick, angrily-hard cock from his pants and you eagerly rock back on your knees, trying to catch the tip between your thighs.

“I thought you didn’t want to be seen,” Dream laughs darkly, holding your hips up with one arm so you can’t sink down on his dick and soothe the hollowness in your stomach that’s devouring your senses, craving to be filled by him.

Frustrated tears gather in your eyes. He’s rubbing the fat head of his cock through your folds, just grazing your clit with every teasing motion. “Just fuck me already.” Your thighs quiver each time he does.

Pain shimmers through your nerves as he bites down on your throat. You arch your back and rake your nails through his thick hair. “Just fuck you already…” Dream’s voice mockingly draws out the last word.

If you weren’t so fucking horny and half-out of your mind, willing to do almost anything, even crawl on your hands and knees for him, you’d be looking for the nearest knife.

“…Please,” You say through gritted teeth, humiliation blooming red in your cheeks and across your chest. Oh, he’s in for it. First he’s going to make you come, and then you’re going to kill-

He slips into your cunt with a harsh curse, the breath in his lungs stuttering from how tight you are around his dick.

“You only had to ask nicely, little darling.”

Your eyes roll back in your head, driven by the feeling of his cock spearing you open inch by inch. Morpheus holds perfectly still. You’re doing all the work as your hips roll against your will, your muscles flexing to suck him deeper and deeper into your cunt, and gravity does the rest. He doesn’t need to do a goddamn thing, the fucker.

He runs his palm over your bare spine over and over, soothing you as you shake and cry out. You’ve never felt more wanted or debauched in your entire life.

Behind you, you hear him gasp when your pussy milks his cock. “Deep breaths, my love.” Your core has almost swallowed him whole. Almost.

In this position, the tip of his dick is angled so that it brushes your most sensitive spots with each movement. It’s torturous. You can feel Dream in your guts, stretching you out so perfectly that you barely register his muttered curses and eloquent praises.

Shhh. Good girl. You can endure it, I know you can. Doesn’t it feel good? Fuck.

“Can you take the rest, sweetheart? For me?” His voice is strangled and stuttered and strung out, as if Morpheus is just seconds away from losing his entire fucking mind. His hands ghost over your hips, his fingers tremble on your skin. He wants to reach out and pull you down onto his cock so badly, you can tell.

You cry out as your inner thighs finally meet his lap. Your back arches, your thigh muscles shiver and ache. The feeling of the full length of his cock buried into the depths of your pussy clenching helplessly over and over, scorches your veins with a pleasure as bright and clean as vodka burning the back of your throat.

When you involuntarily shift to try and find a more comfortable position, one that’s easier on your stretched cunt, your eyes roll back and you whimper hazy little noises between hitched breaths.

“Good girl,” Dream moans. One of his hands grasps you possessively, like his fingers are loathe to leave your skin even for a moment, and he cups your hip, then the soft, squishy curves of your rounded belly.

His breath stutters across the back of your neck, damp with sweat. The entire weight of his focus rests on you. All of it, every giddy dream-feeling and dark night-belief. Morpheus touches you and the baby like you’re his whole world, safely contained in the space between his palms and the span of his arms.

You can almost taste his thoughts

How could he ever look away, Morpheus asks himself when he kisses your shoulder reverently. Why would he ever want to?

You’re soaked, your slick is drooling all over the seat of his dark pants. Your body feels like it’s hanging by a thread, desperate for him to do something.

To move.

“And here I thought you had no need for me.”

You shut your eyes as white light sketches across the backs of your eyelids. “Morpheus… ah…” Your voice trembles and trails off into a sweet, desperate sigh.

You’re just so full in this position, forced by the stillness to think of nothing but Morpheus buried deep inside your belly. Every time you try to rise, to shift and ease the hot, slick pressure between your legs, he keeps you from rocking back and forth and deriving any true pleasure from this with a tight grip on your round hips.

He takes your earlobe between his teeth and the sudden, sharp pain makes you shriek and your cunt spasm. “Control yourself. Let this be a lesson, my love, in discipline.”

The incomprehensible, borderline-Lovecraftian cosmic deity fucking you in his ridiculously grand throne room groans in the same timbre that has haunted your fantasies since that very first night together. It’s so familiar and comforting that it breaks your heart.

Through the foggy haze clouding your mind, you vaguely remember that Dream was talking to you. “What-“ Before you can finish that thought, his hands loosen ever-so-slightly. Your animal hindbrain takes over in an instant, urging you to circle your hips, grinding the tip of his dick against your sweet spot.

“No, my darling. I’m not going to move. Not until you beg,” He says in a voice richer and more intoxicating than blue-gray tobacco smoke lacing the air. The sound clogs up your lungs until you’re groggy and weak and utterly dumb.

You curse under your breath as you cast your bleary gaze about the throne room. Is that a footstep you just heard, or some stray conversation wafting towards you as the speaker momentarily enters to see your lewd display?

Any respect Lucienne has for you would disappear in an instant. Matthew would never be able to look you in the eye again. Desire would merely laugh, their teeth snapping with amusement.

Your body betrays you.

Abstractly, you’re horrified by the thought. But right now, practically driven mad, the need to orgasm wrenching your muscles taut…

And as if Morpheus is reading your fucking mind, “I might not even let you come. Perhaps- I’ll simply leave you alone, wet and wanting. See if Constantine can do half of what I do to you.”

One of his palms moves from your ass and ends up pressed against your belly, right above where he’s buried inside your pussy.

“No, no, please, don’t-“ You sob, batting at his arm as his fingers rub tight, torturous circles into your swollen, aching clit.

With every firm brush, your thighs clench and tears of frustration, pleasure, and terror, all at the same time, run down your flushed cheeks. Morpheus might keep you here for days, playing with you, bringing you to the edge over and over and never giving you release.

“Shall I summon her? You’re so desperate that you’d let me as long as I fucked you? Don’t lie - fuck, I can feel how you tightened up when I said that.”

It’s too much, like pressing your tongue against a hot pan and feeling the sting down to your bones, and not enough at the same time.

“I need to-“

“Beg,” He says, before the sound turns into a choked groan in your ear as your muscles ripple around his length.

His arms coil tighter around your hips and waist. “Please.” One little, tiny word leaks from between your kiss-swollen lips.

You rock back and forth and Morpheus permits it, helpless to his own desires.

He pulls you upright, your back snug to his chest, and you feel him unencumbered by clothing. His skin radiates heat like a furnace. “Who?”

As you shift, he grinds up into your cunt in achingly slow thrusts.

“Morpheus,” You demand, as infuriated as you are close. “Please let me come.”

Your hand grasps behind you until your fingers find his soft hair that’s cool to the touch. You tug and pull on Morpheus’s hair, urging him to meet the rolling, deep pace you’re riding him.

“…I’m sorry,” His voice wisps through the air. And underneath it, something forlorn and horribly lonely.

Later, you’ll tell yourself it was just the feeling of getting fucked within an inch of your life that wiped away your filter, that you didn’t really mean it. “No- Don’t… don’t want anyone else. Just you, my love.” The term of endearment slips off your tongue almost as an afterthought.

“Come for me, my queen.”

Your body shudders on top of him and you let out a long, keening moan. Your eyes stare unseeing at the opulent surroundings, the rich, ornate beauty that pales in comparison to the being bringing you so much pleasure.

There’s a loud roar in your ears. Your insides wrench themselves into knots, tighter and tighter, you can’t breathe, you can’t think. You can only come and keep coming. Your cunt gushes, the slick dripping all the way down his thighs from your stretched core.

Morpheus pants in between fevered kisses and mouths greedily at your shoulder. A burst of warmth flutters against your walls, finally soothing the ragged edges of your orgasm splitting your belly open.

When he tries to kiss your sweat-damp cheek, you turn and meet his mouth with yours.

“We fucked on your throne,” You murmur in a rough, conspiratorial tone.

Morpheus hums his assent as he runs his palm over your baby bump in gentle circles. “You indulge me.” He picks up your hand and kisses it delicately, his scintillatingly blue eyes never leaving your face.

You slump backwards into his solid, comforting embrace. “And if Lucienne had walked in on us, it would’ve been all your fault.”

His chest rumbles with a purr. “After all, I am… a menace.”

He’s smiling. The bastard is smiling. Not a full smile - a half-tilt of the corner of his mouth that fills your stomach with butterflies, a mask resembling the man who lit your cigarette.

Like blinking during a sunset and missing the switch from day to night, the afterglow dissipates in an instant and takes your good humor with it. “Let go of me.” Feeling has returned to your fingers and toes and you have no need for his embrace, or so you tell yourself.

You carefully avoid touching him again as you stand to find the shreds of your clothing reforming into a large cloak that covers your nakedness.

It makes your stomach turn, how easily you give into Morpheus every fucking time, that you find more comfort in his shadows than you do out in the sun.

“By Your Grace’s leave,” He says quietly.

Morpheus has never been small to you. He’s always larger than life, more vibrant than Technicolor, loftier and greater than anyone you could imagine, a presence so grand that he generated his own gravity.

But he seems very small as he sits back in his throne with hunched shoulders. He sits there defeated and you almost- you almost run back to him. You can feel the impulse in the back of your throat, clinging like arsenic and something of the same bitter, regretful taste.

“We can’t go on like this anymore, Morpheus.” Your words exist in parallel universes - the one where all he can do to change your mind is to fuck you, and the one where all you can do is cause as much damage as you can.

It’s a compulsion at this point and you’re so sick of it, so sick of yourself, like poking at a rotten tooth despite instructions to leave it alone.

Maybe it’s a compulsion for him, too. The ashamed tilt of his gaze directed towards the floor tells you that you’re right. The more you fight him, the more lashes he can add to his back.

Faced with the cold account of all of your mistakes, and his, you turn and flee the throne room, tears trickling down your cheeks.

So this was actually supposed to be smuttier but it languished in production hell for months because (writer's block / health issues / disabilities / mental health issues / life events) so I was like. Perfection is the enemy of completion. I will just post it unedited and not fully written to my original plan. Please don't hate me.

#treehouse #the sandman #sandman #the sandman comics #sandman comics #the sandman dc #sandman dc #sandman netflix #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #morpheus #lord morpheus x you #lord morpheus #lord morpheus x reader

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old-school-butch · 2 months

Note

Thank you for having anon on, you must get a lot of hate, but i'm a hidden recently deprogrammed ex-TIF and i appreciate being able to... confess to being a woman without being hung for it. i know that when i come out with this i will lose most of my friends because my detransition will "invalidate" them all. they will push me out so they can remain "gay men".

i wanted to ask what you think about ex-TIFs? and if you've seen how it plays out when we (re)integrate into womanhood, from the side of women. i've only seen it from the side of TRAs and it's an excommunication and violent rejection. i'm going to lose my community, and i have (since i started looking into it) fully agreed with most radfem core beliefs you see here on tumblr.

i took testosterone for years, but i also stopped in 2019 because it made me so angry. i have no breasts and a deepened voice. i wonder how radfems might see me. will i seem like a returned traitor?

will other women be interested in me still? i'm bisexual, but was pushed to mainly date men as a TIF because those relationships were "gay" and dating women was hetero and "lesser" love. i don't want to center men anymore. but i have no breasts, and i have no woman's voice. do women care? i don't know.

i ask you because you are older and maybe you would know. my best wishes to you. thank you.

I keep anon on for just this reason, because I remember how insane I felt when I found the courage to stop pushing aside those thoughts that, surely, everyone knows we're making all this up and just being nice, right?

It's an unfortunate part of human nature that it's easier to con someone than persuade them they've been conned. Once the con is taken up, it's agonizing to admit it and pull away from it. You have to live with the harms you've done along the way, which I admit to and which will eventually weigh on you as well. It's not easy, especially when your immediate friends will be harsh with you. If they don't cast you out, you might find yourself self-isolating to pre-emptively remove yourself and spare yourself the pain.

I'm not going to lie, you will encounter women who regard you as a traitor because they, themselves, have not come to terms with the harms they've done, or they've been lucky enough to not have been tested on this crucible and can't believe that anyone can be turned so upside down as we have.

However, you're not alone. I have no statistics but in meeting younger lesbians I'd guess at least 1 in 3 of them are detransitioners from varying stages of identifying as trans. If you are same-sex attracted or gender non-conforming in any way, today's society will digest that as 'trans?' and without saying a word you will find yourself being they/them without ever asking, and transition will be suggested if you suffer from so much as a bad period cramp or any frustration with your body. As women and as lesbians, we experience so much pain that society ignores, and the most powerful articulation of that anguish in our time is 'this can't be the body I'm meant to be in.' Like anorexia, dissociative identities, cutting and other expressions of female despair, we are permitted to lash out destructively as long as we bring down that rage on our own bodies. We continue to inhabit these scarred battlefields long after the fighting has moved on.

I guess the main thing to know is that you are not alone. In fact, I suspect that the 'part of my story where I was convinced I was trans' is going to be part of the coming-out pantheon for lesbians in the future that is as common as having a crush on a straight friend and have the talk with your parents. I don't think having breasts or a deeper voice will condemn you to loneliness, I don't think anyone can blame you for what's happening or being swept up in it. If they do, you can ask them why they didn't stop you, why their voices didn't reach you when you needed it most, and why - now that you've found your own way home with very little help from anyone around you - they aren't appreciating the courage and effort it took for you to find your way.

Welcome home, sister.

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awaytobeunshaken · 1 year

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“NO!”

Ashton was still trying to get their bearings when they heard Orym’s scream and turned to see him pounding a fist against the rocky ground in front of him, not quite sobbing but certainly getting there, face red and breath hitching.

He ran to Orym and knelt beside him, catching the already bloodied fist before it could finish its next descent, and grabbing hold of the other hand for good measure. “Stop that. You need to hit something, hit me. I can take it, and I’m pretty sure I’m a little softer.” Orym didn’t answer but met Ashton’s eyes briefly before squeezing his own shut.

Ashton had barely released Orym’s hands before he was burying his fists in their jacket, holding on like he was drowning. “Bait,” he muttered. “She was fucking bait! They died for nothing, they died for this bullshit, and none of us ever had a chance! And she might be dead now, too, and it’s just... it’s just...”

“A lot,” Ashton agreed. “I know.” He knew what it was like to have the world be too much, to want to just hide away from it forever. It never really worked out in the long run, even if Ashton was more comfortable with solitude than most. He remembered Orym mentioning that he’d been on his own for a while, and it was clear that he hadn’t taken well to it at all.

“It’s all fucking a lot,” they repeated. “And I get it, if you need to sit with that for a minute. But I’m here, Laudna’s here, and the rest of our people have to be around here somewhere. And the moon’s still there. It’s not over.” And they put an arm around Orym, resting it on his shoulder, not drawing him in but letting him know he could choose how close he wanted to be.

Orym took the gesture for what it was, leaning in and permitting the embrace. “I know this world has been unkind to you,” he muttered into Ashton’s chest. “Why do you care so much about saving it?”

Ashton blinked as the question briefly threw him. Why did anyone care about anything? “Because I know too many people who don’t deserve to see it end like this. And you’re one of ‘em.” Ashton took a look at the desolate landscape surrounding them, his gaze drawn to Ruidus, almost larger than life beyond the horizon. “So when you’re ready, let’s see what we can figure out.”

#critical role #cr3 #ashton greymoore #orym of the air ashari #ashrym #cr spoilers #c3e51 #cr fic #I! miss! them! so! much!#where are my tanks matthew?#bring them back to me

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kiryoutann · 1 year

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Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

I appreciate the likes, replies, and reblogs! Thank you so much. If you like what I do, you can consider donating to my Kofi. Once again, thanks so much!

Amidst the noisy conference room due to the nobles arguing, Childe sat silently letting them debate each other. The subjects they talked about were important, but his thoughts were too heavy for him to follow. Not rarely, one of the lords asked about his thoughts on the subject and received no response.

His brain is somewhere else.

Even though he hadn't shed a tear at the day of death and also the funeral, it was hard for him to go even a second without thinking about what had happened to his father. Emptiness came with many questions that he couldn't fathom.

As if they could read his mind, the topic shifted to the King's death.

“What about the late King's death investigation? Are there any findings yet?” one of the nobles asked, starting a new conversation.

Dmitri, who during the conference acted as Childe's spokesperson, had chosen to remain silent, shaking his head in shame. "Not yet, Your Excellency." He gave an answer.

The whole room expressed their disappointment. Various words that were too soft and fast added an atmosphere that made anyone who felt it impatient. The nobles of Snezhnaya are frustrated and confused.

"Why haven't there been any findings yet? This is important! We must find out who dared to threaten Snezhnaya's land and kill the late king!"

"That's right!"

"Gentlemen, please maintain your composure."

The person's voice miraculously silenced them, leaving only the echoes of the conversation earlier before attention shifted to the man who rose from his seat. Aside from his recognizable handsome face, Duke Maxim emphasized his existence with the determined look he threw at their prince.

Rumors had long been circulating about him being one of the people who were with the late king before the incident occurred, automatically making him the one who witnessed the king's death in person. The nobles wondered if he was here to say anything about it.

“Your Highness, Prince Childe. If I am permitted to testify, I will tell the truth about what occurred that day."

Despite the fact that he mentioned something unexpected again, none of the nobles dared to interrupt him. The ginger-haired man was the center of attention as everyone awaited his approval for Maxim to speak.

There was a pause before Childe said, "Speak."

Now that he has received his permission, and he then began to speak, "On that tragic day, I and His Majesty were sipping tea with Prince Shiva of Liyue and Her Highness Princess (Y/N)."

From the mention of your name, his fingers stiffen.

"Everything seemed fine at first." Maxim took a deep breath, giving a tense pause to those listening. “Everything seemedfine.. until His Majesty took a sip of his tea and suddenly coughed up blood before falling to the floor convulsing.”

Some of the nobles started whispering under their breath. Childe remained frozen in his seat.

"For something so terrible to happen when His Majesty met the Prince... it needs to be looked at more thoroughly."

Childe had already deduced what Maxim was attempting to tell him from his sentence. However, something in his heart was reluctant to believe it so he had the urge to ask and confirm it again.

"What are you implying?" He said, cold and dangerous.

“The possible mastermind behind all this,”—Maxim made sure he looked him in the eyes—“is Prince Shiva.”

Instantly, the room erupted in disbelief. The nobles whispered, some agreed with his assumptions, while the rest were still in doubt. As if the bomb he dropped wasn't enough to blow up the atmosphere, Maxim opened his mouth again.

"And that doesn't rule out the possibility that Princess (Y/N) is involved in it."

Blue eyes shot open. Childe was beside himself in a split second, filled with rage and confusion.

That's impossible.. right?

Childe had no idea where to direct his rage. As for Shiva, he was pretty sure he was the one capable of such dirty ways. But you? He couldn’t imagine you getting into this. However, what if it turns out that he doesn't know you very well and that you truly assisted your older brother in his vile act? Without realizing it, Childe began to be eaten up by doubts which were then followed by feelings of betrayal even though the facts had not been confirmed.

“Duke, are you certain about this?” one of the nobles asked.

"Of course! And I'm not stating this without proof." Maxim took something out of his pocket and put it on the teak table. "On that day, I asked a researcher to examine the tea's composition, and the results showed that a toxic flower called Silence was present,"

A white petalled blossom on a handkerchief completely captured the attention of the entire table.

Maxim glanced at Childe, "Uniquely, this flower only grows in Liyue."

Liyue.

Fingernails dug into palms from how tightly Childe clenched his fists. Molar teeth rubbed against each other from his efforts to hold back the anger that had reached its peak.

Why is this happening?

Not only had he lost his father, now Childe had to accept that there was a possibility that this was all the doing of the Prince of Liyue. When he was ready to give up all his ambitions about destroying it—just for your sake—he was faced with a dilemma in choosing between avenging his father and burying this, as his parents had done with Anton's death.

“If what Duke Maxim said is true, Your Highness, you must quickly take action to imprison Prince Shiva!”

"Are you mad?! Without solid proof, it will only cause diplomatic problems. You must remember that the Emperor will not remain silent!”

One lashed back, splitting the group into two. The sound of chairs being pushed back was heard as the nobles stood up from their seats. The atmosphere became uncontrollably chaotic, as if these people had forgotten that the Crown Prince was still sitting among them.

“What more proof are you waiting for?! That is evident! Liyue has once again waged war on us!” One response followed another.

"In that case, His Highness should also take action on Princess (Y/N)—"

A fist slammed onto the table. The chatter died down as the nobles' attention was drawn to Childe, who stood with pale knuckles. He raised his head, revealing a deadly brilliant blue, his glare as if to warn that anyone who dared to open their mouths one more time would die.

"Talk like that again and I'll line up all of your heads on this table."

Everyone in the room knew that wasn't an empty threat. Even though there was no sword at his side, they knew Childe was more than capable of figuring out how to do that. They resumed their seats in a civilized manner as if the ruckus had never happened. However, in a situation that was conducive again, Childe could no longer see a purpose in it when his mind was so chaotic.

Dmitri watched the man rise from his chair to leave the conference room.

How ironic.

The hallway he took to go to his room resounded with the sound of his shoes hitting the floor. Childe took wide and fast steps, he never stopped to catch his breath. So why didn't the heaviness in his shoulders go away? He felt as though the entire weight of the planet was being placed on his feet.

Childe was about ready to give up everything. He has made many decisions based on his half brain with love. Why did something like this have to happen?

The door to his room was slammed by him after he entered. Childe couldn't decide whether the emptiness or the rage that was suddenly consuming him was worse. Where should he throw this strong emotion? Who should he be angry with? He got the impression that the world tended to intervene in his life just when he was about to experience bliss.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening violently. The blue eyes widened as they landed on your figure. Your chest rose and fell as you ran here. Yet instead of the usual joy, your arrival this time sparked confusion and doubt.

Before Childe asked anything, you had called his name.

“Ajax!”

For the first time, he felt conflicted from seeing you.

Meanwhile, you scan his face and notice how tired he looks. It must be because of the series of emergency meetings held by the nobles who insisted on discussing the succession as soon as possible. You hesitated to say it until the memory of your vision hit you in the head.

“(Y/N)—“

"Don't go to the conference tomorrow."

It was said so suddenly, you know. However, this is all you do for him, only for him.

“..Why?” Childe asked, softly but not timidly.

That gaze didn't leave you as you took a deep breath before saying: “There is someone planning to kill you.”

Instead of furrowing his brows, his blue eyes widened as if he had expected this to happen. Doubt grew thicker in his mind. The chattering of the nobles from the conference earlier buzzed around saying that maybe they were right about you and Shiva.

But, if that was right, wouldn't it be suicide to tell him this?

Childe never realized what an enigma you were until now. Behind that pretty face, what are you hiding? Where are you standing? Is this a ruse to keep him distracted and unprepared for what comes next? Or maybe you really are telling the truth?

“.. What?”

"That's right!" You try to push away the doubts. “They've had poison ready for you. So, please don't go!”

Childe felt his heartbeat quicken. "Who are they'?"

The silence felt strange. Anxiety anchored in his heart from no answer from you. He didn't miss how you bit your trembling lips. Childe clenched his fists at his sides.

Why are you hesitating?

If you are really the mastermind behind all this, can Childe take an oath to destroy the land of Liyue—which, ironically, is your birthplace? And if one day his heart has that urge, the sweet memory he shared with you.. will it burn with it in the end?

You replay your memory of your vision and are back at a dead end when you find the faces are still as blurry as before. Frustration floods over you, and despair has never been so intense.

"I... I don't know." Is the answer you can give him.

However, all that did was add to the chains holding his mind back from thinking clearly. Childe is in tunnel vision. Your answer he concluded as you were protecting someone—Shiva.

A scoff escaped his lips. "You don’t know?" There was anger inside of him and it got stronger in seconds.

"Then, how did you know about this plan, (Y/N)?"

Childe's last question made you freeze.

This is the end of the big secret you've been keeping hidden. You just didn't think you'd reveal it for his sake. How ironic, didn't you vowed that you'd use it to bring him to his doom? In comparison to now, your despair is caused by his hesitation to trust you. Is it possible that humans were created with a short lifetime to make decisions and then watch themselves turn away from them in the blink of an eye?

There is no turning back now. It's pointless to turn back. Out of fear you might have second thoughts, you don't take a breath before saying it.

"I can see the future."

In this moment, time itself felt endless. You watched the expression on his face change, swept away by something—no, it wasn't shock—Childe stared at you in such obvious disbelief that you were sure he had thought you were crazy and delusional.

“What?”

From his intonation, your throat tightens. "I know this is hard to believe." What else can you tell him to convince him to believe you? “But, you have to believe me!”

"You think this is the right time to joke around—"

"No!" You yelled. “I'm serious! I can actually see the future!”

Please,

Please, believe me!

A mocking scoff came out of him, though that didn't dampen the anger that was building up inside him. “You think that crazy talk will be enough to cover up your brother's abominations—!”

“I know your agreement with Duke Maxim!”

Your interruption froze his tongue. Now those blue eyes widened under furrowed brows. He was completely speechless, he had nothing else to do but show the shock on his face.

You swallow. "I know you initially planned to use his weaponry in your attack on Liyue after you ascended to the throne." You continued and Childe felt a chill run down his spine. "However, due to the incident that day at the tea party, you decided to terminate all of that."

Just when he thought that was the most shocking thing you could say, you opened your mouth again to tell him something else.

"The day I was poisoned at my own tea party, I had a vision of someone poisoning Lumine's tea."

Childe's chest ached. "Don't tell me you—“

"That's correct," you cut in, hands clenched at your sides, praying for the strength to utter what comes next. "I switched her tea for mine and drank it."

Anger mixed through his veins and flowed through his blood throughout his body. Childe was in flames. His shoulders had never been so heavy, and he was trembling. He is unsure of which is worse—that you did something so crazy, or that you spoke so casually about your confession, as if you had no concerns about yourself.

"Why?" His voice started in a whisper which then escalated into a yell. “Why?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!”

“Because I know you love her!!”

Was that fact so heartbreaking that you cried after finishing it? Tears fell on the floor. If one collects it in a bottle, it's possible to be able to sink the world with you. Something from your sentence consumes you, eats you alive yet, yet you collected all of your willpower to continue standing in front of him.

A breath you take. "I know you love her so much that I'm afraid it will add to your grudge if something happens to her." You almost whispered, afraid that any louder than that would make your pain more obvious.

The intensity of emotions that once fluctuated like waves returned. Childe felt his head throbbing in pain. However, all of that was eclipsed by a burning sensation in his chest. His heart was filled with guilt and shame, the remainder taken over by doubt—which despite hearing it all—made it hard to believe that you could actually see the future.

“I also know that you intended to kill me from the start.”

Instantly, his airway was blocked by a lump in the back of his throat. Pain coursed through his body along with his limp bones. His tongue had never been this bitter. Those eyes looked as if they were dipped in pain.

Hearing you talk about it in that way makes him wonder if you're really talking about him. Childe realized he had grown too far when he found his former self so foreign. How the world has changed; now, the only thing he wants in the whole world is to keep you safe.

".. Why are you telling me this?" He spoke softly before loudly, "You know I was going to kill you, then why are you telling me all this?!"

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

Because I love you.. because I love you..

It repeated over and over in his mind from the fear it would evaporate away with the changing of the seasons. Jaws gaping open. It was what he had wanted for the longest time—to hear those three words leave your lips and aim at him.

However, with his heart filled with negativity, he couldn't accept anything even if it was to heal him.

You took a new breath in between your sobs. "Because I love you," Your voice is hoarse, breathy full of emotions.

With this love confession, you're letting him know that it's him that you want. It is his hand that you want to cup and place against your cheek. It is his lips that you want to feel on top of yours. But, for now, Childe should know you're saying this because the only thing you want most in this world is his safety.

"So please.. please.." You whispered after a moment. "The only thing I want of you is to keep yourself safe.”

But what good is a love confession if the listener is deafened by endless emotional turmoil? Childe was still silent, biting the inside of his cheek as he tried to keep his hands from taking you into his arms. For now, he is nothing more than a disarranged soul incapable of giving a warm embrace while whispering honeyed words.

So he stepped past you. The silence was filled with the sound of the door opening before closing again. He has left you.

And so, you cry until you choke on your own tears. Your knees gave way, sending you plunging into the cold now that he had left. It hurts, it hurts so much. The weight pressing against your chest feels so heavy that you are suffocating. Despite that, the love you have for him remains in your heart, reminding you that it has nowhere to go.

AbbyBianx, ness

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