#i know i messed up his arm shhhh

[wimsiecal]

I started working at Amazon! My first day was yesterday and it's been pretty cool so far! They gave me this ugly orange vest so i drew DP's reaction hdhdhdj

They are very accepting and inclusive, there's so much pride stuff everywhere with all these different pride flags and information on them and posters with information on historical lgbtq+ figures which is also awesome! I haven't actually started doing anything yet but ya boy is about to be forklift certified 😈

[steveseddie]

i’ll save you a seat

steddie | rating: t | cw: none | wc: 3,5k | tags: eddie has a crush on steve, pining, eddie sits on steve’s lap as a joke, but steve turns the joke on him, twice

a/n: inspired by this post from @rogueddie (hi hello big fan of your headcanons)

click here to read on ao3

By the time Eddie comes back to the living room, carrying two bowls of popcorn, his friends have taken every available spot on the couch and on the floor.

It’s a full house tonight at the Harrington residence with El, Will and Jonathan visiting from California plus the local pipsqueaks, Wheeler, Buckley, Eddie and the host himself. 

Eddie spots Steve on the couch and he marches over to him, ignoring the grunts and grumbles from the kids as he steps over them where they sit on the assortment of pillows and blankets laid on the floor. On his way over, Eddie hands one of the bowls to Mini Byers and the other one to El, knowing that out of everyone on the floor, they’re the most likely to actually share it. Meanwhile, Buckley and Jonathan are already holding their own bowl each, meant to be shared among the grown-ups piled on the couch. 

Usually two bowls are enough, but given that there’s more of them tonight, Steve had to bring out two more JiffyPop and he asked Eddie to bring them back while he got everyone settled in the living room. 

Which means it’s Steve’s fault that there’s no room left for Eddie to sit.  

Okay. Maybe there’s actually room for him to sit. Maybe Eddie could take the free spot on one of the blankets right next to Max. Maybe he could steal one of the many pillows that Henderson is hoarding and comfortably enjoy the movie. 

The thing is he doesn’t want to. He always sits next to Steve when there’s fewer of them and he’d hope tonight would be the same, but that spot is currently occupied by Buckley, who isn’t going to move no matter how nicely Eddie asks, and since Steve’s other side is squished against the arm of the couch to make enough room for four people to sit on the otherwise three-people couch, Eddie can’t ask him to scoot over.

And before Eddie sucks it up and sits on the floor, he’s going to whine about it. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t save me a seat, Stevie,” Eddie pouts, standing between his legs.

Steve’s big Bambi eyes blink up at him. “I tried, Eds, but Robs threatened me so I would give her your spot.” 

And oh- Eddie didn’t actually expect Steve to try and save him a seat, he was just messing with him. The fact that he apparently did makes Eddie’s stomach flutter. 

Next to Steve, Robin smiles smugly at him.

“You’ve fought monsters from another dimension and you’re afraid of Birdie?” Eddie asks, huffing indignantly. Buckley flips him off. 

“She threatened to bite me, man!” 

Eddie tsks. “You survived several bites from hell bats, you could’ve let her bite you.” 

“You let her bite you then!” Steve counters, lightly kicking Eddie’s leg. 

“I don’t want to bite either of you,” Robin says, her nose scrunched up. “I want to watch the movie. Dustin, hit play,” she says, throwing a kernel at Henderson’s head, who grumbles and crawls over to the VHS. “Eddie, sit down,” she says, throwing one at him too. 

Eddie gets an idea and he grins maliciously.

“As you wish, my lady,” he says with a flourish of his hand.  

Then Eddie turns around and flops down on Steve’s lap.

Steve lets out a yelp. “Jesus, what are you doing?” 

“Buckley said to sit down,” Eddie shrugs, glancing at Steve over his shoulder. “And since there’s no room, thanks to you, I’m taking the last available seat.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “My lap?” Eddie nods smugly. “Eddie, there’s plenty of room on the floor.” 

“But this is more comfortable, Stevie.”

“For you, maybe,” Steve snorts, pinching Eddie’s side. “Your tailbone is digging into my leg, Munson.”

“Well, Harrington, this wouldn’t have happened if you’d save me a seat!” 

“Shhhh!” 

Eddie flips Buckley off for shushing them. She glares at him for bickering when the movie already started playing.  

Okay. Maybe Steve was right to be afraid of her- she has a very mean glare.

“Fine,” Eddie concedes before Buckley actually bites him. He sighs dramatically, “I guess I’ll sit on the floor like a dog-”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally everyone else is sitting there and no one is complaining-”

Eddie ignores him. “And here I thought you liked me, Stevie, cared about me. I thought we were friends-” he says, clutching his chest.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters in exasperation.

But when Eddie tries to stand up, Steve’s hands grab his hips, pulling him back into his lap. He flails and almost topples over onto Robin and Steve’s grip on his hips tightens. 

“Dude, stop moving.” 

“I’m trying to get up!” Eddie says, throwing his arms up.

Steve sighs. “Just-” He trails off, instead manhandling Eddie until he’s properly sitting on his lap and not sliding off of it, and wrapping his arms around his waist, trapping Eddie against his chest. 

Eddie lets out an entirely involuntary, undignified squawk. Blood starts rushing to his cheeks alarmingly fast. “Um, Steve, what are you doing?” 

“Getting comfortable,” Steve says, his cheek squished against Eddie’s shoulder. 

A nearly hysterical laugh tumbles over Eddie’s lips. “Dude, I was fucking around, I can sit on the floor-”

“And spend the rest of the movie whining and pouting? No, thanks. Just don’t move too much, okay? Your ass is boney.”

Unable to help himself, Eddie gives a tee-hee giggle. “So many dirty jokes I could make.”

Steve squeezes his side. “Don’t-”

“Shhhhh!” 

This time, it’s not just Buckley shutting them up, everyone else joins in.

“Just watch the movie, Eddie,” Steve whispers into his ear so he doesn’t disturb the others.

Eddie has to bite his bottom lip to keep quiet when he feels Steve’s warm breath tickling his neck. “Okay,” he says, his voice coming out a little squeaky.

But Steve doesn’t comment on it, simply tightens his arms around Eddie’s waist and leans back against the couch, bringing Eddie with him so they’re basically spooning. 

Eddie nervously glances around the living room, but no one is paying attention to them. Well, no one except Robin, who’s staring at them, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Eddie ignores her and the knowing smile that stretches over her lips, trying to focus on the movie.

But try as he might, he can’t pay attention to it- not when he can feel Steve’s breath against his neck, his arms around his waist, his chin hooked on his shoulder and his solid body underneath him. 

Being so close to Steve- on top of him, makes Eddie jittery and restless. But he can’t move, Steve told him not to, so he tries to sit still. 

He lasts, approximately, five minutes.

Soon, he starts wringing his fingers together on his lap, playing with his rings. 

Steve notices, and with a huff that sends shivers down Eddie’s spine when his breath tickles his neck, he grabs Eddie’s hands and traps them against his stomach. 

Eddie’s eyes fall to their hands, and his breath catches in his throat at the way their fingers rest intertwined against his stomach. He can’t look away- not when Steve’s fingers start drawing patterns over his skin, tracing the veins in his wrists, playing with his rings, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. 

Eddie has to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from squealing. It only gets harder to keep quiet when something funny happens on screen- not that Eddie knows what is going on at all- and Steve laughs right in Eddie’s ear, squeezing his middle.

This time Eddie does let out a squeak which he hopes passes off as a laugh. 

It doesn’t.

“You okay?” Steve asks, and Eddie doesn’t know how he expects him to give a coherent answer when he can feel Steve’s nose poking his cheek.

Their faces are so close that if Eddie turned his head to the side his lips would brush against Steve’s, he would only need to lean in an inch or two and he’d be kissing him-

“Eds?” 

“Mhm, I’m great, Stevie boy!” Eddie says with a slightly strangled voice, but it’s enough for Steve, who turns his attention back to the movie. 

Eddie still has no idea of what’s going on, but he tries his damnedest to focus on that instead of focusing on all the ways Steve is touching him right now. 

He didn’t plan for this- he just wanted to mess with Steve a little and now he’s the one being messed with. 

Not that Steve knows what he’s doing. He would never fuck with Eddie like this if he knew about his big crush on him. He’s just oblivious- and incredibly touchy when it comes to Eddie. 

Which makes the remaining forty minutes spent in Steve’s arms both Eddie’s personal heaven and his personal hell.

That’s why when the credits starts to roll, Eddie lets out a relieved sigh. He expects Steve to push him off right away, but he doesn’t, not even when little by little everyone starts to clear out. Buckley jumps to her feet and clumsily sprints towards the bathroom, the kids all rush to the kitchen to raid Steve’s pantry while ignoring his protests and Nancy and Jonathan start gathering the pillows and the blankets scattered on the floor. 

Meanwhile, Steve squeezes Eddie’s side again and asks right into his ear- 

“You’re spending the night, right, Eds?” 

He knows Steve means to sleep. They talked about it when they realized that with Nancy and Jonathan both coming to movie night, Eddie wouldn’t need to drop the kids off afterwards so he could sleep over. It’s nothing new- they’ve been doing it for months. It’s just the way he’s asking right now, quietly and right into Eddie’s ear, his arms wrapped around Eddie’s middle- all of it makes Eddie’s stomach flutter wildly. 

“Y-yeah, sure thing, Stevie.”

“Okay, good,” Steve says, giving Eddie’s waist one last squeeze before finally pushing him off him and onto the couch gently so he can deal with whatever mess the kids can be heard making in the kitchen. 

Eddie slumps against the couch, sighing wistfully. Despite everything, he already misses the way Steve felt under him, how his arms felt around him, how his fingers felt playing with his own. 

“You good, man?” Jonathan asks, pausing as he folds one of the blankets to raise an eyebrow at him.

Eddie gives him two thumbs up that Jonathan accepts with a nod before he goes back to the task at hand, chatting with Nancy about the movie. Eddie is lucky that they don’t ask for his opinion on it- he doesn’t know if he’d be able to lie convincingly. 

Soon enough everyone is saying goodbye to Eddie and Steve before some of them climb into Nancy’s car and the rest do the same in Jonathan’s. They don’t question that Eddie is staying- the only one who acknowledges it is Robin, who gives Eddie that same knowing smile from before. And just like he did before, Eddie ignores it. 

Once it’s just the two of them, Steve starts guiding them to his bedroom. 

Eddie stopped sleeping in a guest room a long time ago after one night when a particularly awful nightmare had him knocking on Steve’s door and crawling into his bed. 

The next day, they both admitted it was the best sleep they’d had in weeks. 

The next time Eddie spent the night, Steve had led them both to his bedroom right away- just like every night after that.

“What did you think of the movie?” Steve asks, digging through his closet for sleeping clothes. 

“Um,” Eddie starts, trying to remember at least one thing about the movie he can comment on but coming up blank. “I, uh, didn’t pay much attention to it.”

Oblivious to the reason why Eddie didn’t pay attention, Steve hums. “Not your thing, huh? Next movie night you can be the one to pick.” He turns around and tosses some clothes at Eddie, who fumbles to catch them- and fails. Steve sniggers at him before he starts looking for clothes for himself. 

Eddie picks his up- a pair of Steve’s old basketball shorts and one of Eddie’s own band t-shirts that he must’ve left here at some point. Or Steve might’ve grabbed from his trailer. Beds aren’t the only thing they share these days. 

“Will you save me a seat next movie night?”

Steve glances at Eddie over his shoulder, his lips tugging up into a smirk. “Maybe I’ll just have you sit on my lap again,” he says with a wink. Good lord.

Eddie makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat at the thought of another movie night spent on Steve’s lap. Then, before Steve can ask if he’s okay, he gestures to the bathroom and locks himself there to change.

When he comes back out, Steve is starfished on his bed, wearing his own pair of basketball shorts and an old swim meet shirt.

Eddie takes a moment to stare at him- the way the shorts ride up on his legs, the way his arms bulge even when he isn’t flexing them, the way his hair fans across his pillow.

Then he impulsively sprints towards the bed and launches himself on top of Steve. 

He lets out a pained noise when Eddie lands on him, knocking the wind out of him, but his hands come up to grab Eddie’s arms, holding him in place and not letting him slide off him and onto the bed like he intended to.

“Seriously, dude?” Steve asks, slightly out of breath. 

Eddie laughs into his shoulder. “Sorry, Stevie, I couldn’t help myself.” 

Steve huffs. “I’m starting to think you like being on top of me.”

Eddie shrugs. “Actually, I usually picture you on top.”

Steve snorts out a startled sort of chuckle, eyebrows raised in amusement, and Eddie’s cheeks blaze red as he belatedly realizes what he just blurted out. 

He doesn’t know what to do next. If he should play it off as a joke or climb off of Steve and run out of the house- 

He thinks Steve is making the decision for him when he adjusts the grip he has on his arms. He thinks he’s about to shove Eddie off, tell him that it’s never gonna happen, Eds. 

Eddie starts to push himself up, feeling embarrassed already-

But then Steve digs his fingers into his arms, and in one swift movement, he flips them over so it’s Eddie laying flat on his back on the bed with Steve hovering over him, smirking playfully. “Like this?” 

Eddie blinks at him, waiting for his brain to restart after completely shutting down from how effortlessly Steve flipped them over. 

“I- huh? Steve- what-” 

“You said you like to picture me on top,” Steve says, shrugging casually. Their hips are pressed together and their faces are only inches apart- Eddie doesn’t understand how Steve can act casual about anything right now. “Personally, I don’t have a preference. I also liked being under you.” 

Eddie splutters. “S- Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve asks innocently, tilting his head like a confused puppy. His hips shift and Eddie realizes just how thin the material of their shorts is. Jesus H. Christ.

“What the fuck?” Eddie mutters. 

“What the fuck what?” 

Steve can’t be this oblivious, for fuck’s sake. 

Eddie covers his face with his hands, taking a deep breath. “Jesus fuck, okay. Steve, when I said- I didn’t mean it as a joke, okay? I didn’t mean to say it at all, but I- our crotches are basically pressed together right now and I can’t not say it. I have a fucking- honestly a fucking embarrassing crush on you so when I said I think about you on top of me, I meant it, and I meant it in like, a sexual way and a- a romantic way and I know you’re joking right now, but this- well, this is about to get reeeally awkward really fast if you don’t get off of me.” 

Eddie peeks through his fingers and finds Steve biting his lower lip like he’s thinking something over. 

“Do you want me to move?” 

“Fuck, no,” Eddie admits with a sigh. “But Steve-”

“Eddie, hey,” Steve cuts in, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and trying to move his hand away from his face. “Look at me.” 

With another sigh, Eddie complies, lowering his hands and looking at Steve.

“There you are,” Steve says, his eyes softening when they meet Eddie’s. 

“Steve-”

“I’m not joking,” Steve tells him. “I like you too, Eddie. Romantically, sexually, all of it.”

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. He blinks at Steve. “But- but you’re- you’re straight.”

“I’m not actually,” Steve snorts. When Eddie just stares at him, mouth agape, he sighs. “Eds, I let you sit on my lap for two hours, I basically spooned you.” He looks down between them and looks back at Eddie with a raised eyebrow. “I’m literally straddling you right now-” 

“I’m aware,” Eddie mutters, his voice coming out slightly strangled. 

Steve ignores him. “And I really really like you, so- definitely not straight.” 

Eddie lays there in silence for a few seconds as he tries to wrap his head around the fact that not only is Steve Harrington into guys, he’s into Eddie. 

“Holy shit,” he says finally and then, “why- why didn’t you say anything? You had to know I like you back.”

Steve gives a half shrug. “I thought I’d ease you into it first-”

“Ease me into it?” Eddie’s voice is about an octave too high. “You call this easing me into it? I think my brain melted out of my ears when you flipped us over like that!”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “Well, you sat on top of me first! I was just taking a page out of your own book-”

“What book? There’s no book! I was just joking, you were the one who trapped me there!”

“Well, when the guy you’ve had a crush on for months sits on your lap you don’t let him go,” Steve admits, shyly ducking his head. 

Eddie gulps. “Months?”

“Yeah, Eddie, months,” Steve admits, his fingers absently playing with Eddie’s hair where it fans across the bed.

“Holy shit.”

“You’re just gonna keep saying that?” Steve asks with a sheepish grin. 

“What do you want me to say?” He’ll say anything Steve wants him to just to keep them both like this. 

Steve’s eyes dart down to Eddie’s mouth. “Nothing, actually,” he says, licking his lips. “I want you to kiss me.”

Holy shit, Eddie thinks to himself, and then without another thought, he surges up, looping his arms around Steve’s shoulders as he all but mashes their lips together.

Steve hums into Eddie’s mouth and melts into him, kissing Eddie back. He lowers his arms, holding himself up with one elbow, using his other hand to cup Eddie’s head, fingers tangling in his hair. His lips move against Eddie’s so tenderly and slowly that it makes his stomach fill with butterflies.

Then Steve tongues gently at Eddie’s bottom lip and the butterflies explode. 

Eddie immediately parts his mouth, giving Steve permission, and his eyes nearly roll back when Steve slips his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. Eddie cards his fingers through Steve’s hair, giving it a soft pull, causing Steve to make this punched-out groaning sound. Chasing that sound with his tongue, Eddie carefully explores every inch of Steve’s mouth.

Eventually, Steve starts to slow down the kiss, but Eddie doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to breathe, he just wants to kiss him, but he can’t do anything when Steve leans back and out of reach, the lower part of his body trapping him against the bed.

Unless-

Eddie grabs Steve’s arms and tries to flip them the way Steve did earlier but, while he made it look easy and effortless, Eddie can’t find enough leverage to budge Steve and he flops back down.

“Motherfucker,” Eddie huffs. “How did you make it seem so easy?”

“It is easy,” Steve says with a grin. “You’re just not strong enough, baby.”

Eddie squeals at the pet name- and then squeals again when Steve successfully flips them over again so that Eddie is straddling him.

He grins up at Eddie, that lopsided boyish grin that drives Eddie crazy and that it’s only worse now that Steve’s lips are red and slick with spit. “How’s that?” 

“Hot. Christ, that’s fucking hot,” Eddie says with a breathless chuckle. 

“So, that’s a yes to being on top?” Steve asks with a raised eyebrow, his hands grabbing Eddie’s hips like they did back on the couch. Only this time Eddie isn’t planning on getting off of him any time soon. Preferably never. 

“Sweetheart, that’s a yes to absolutely anything ever.”

Steve bites his lip, then he asks softly, “What if I ask you to be my boyfriend?”

Eddie’s brain screeches to a halt. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “You-you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Pretty fucking badly actually,” Steve shyly admits. 

Eddie whimpers softly. “Holy shit,” he mutters. Then he swoops down and gives Steve a kiss that he hopes translates to fucking shit yes! 

By the way Steve laughs delightedly against Eddie’s lips, he thinks he gets the message across. 

[romanarose]

Yes, Mr. Miller?

DBF!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Join my taglist : Masterlist

Summary: Something something, turkeys not the only thing getting stuffed, or whatever?

or

Your dads friend, Mr. Miller, fucks you in your childhood bedroom

Warnings: Big, girthy age gap, degrading, rough sex, hair pulling, , spanking, mirror sex, PIV sex, unsafe creampie, dd/lg stuff? IDK she holds her teddy while he fucks her, mentions of loss of virginity with Joel, joel is a perve, spit

Immersability: Reader is fem, has hair, Joel is able to pick reader up and is taller than reader, reader is 21+

****************

"Fuck, look at you, dirty little thing." Joel yanks you hair back back, making you yelp in pain. "Shhhh, hush now, don't want your dad hearing his little girl getting fucked like a slut in the bed he build for her, huh?"

You whimper, and he turns you to face the closet door where a mirror was hung. Joel was looking too. You looked positively wrecked, fucked out with your hair all a mess and make running down in streaks down your face. The red lipstick was all over your mouth and his dick now.

"Daddy..." You whine, and god did you look pathetic. Joel, on the other hand looked incredible. Both of you were mostly dressed. Joel kept his black pants and cream colored shirt. He didn't even take off his belt, simply taking his cock out from where he unzipped and jamming it down your throat. When he was done abusing your mouth, with the sound of your families laughter ringing down stairs he picked you up and threw you on the bed. Placing a few of your pink frilly throw pillows under your hips, Joel gripped your hips and took you right there. The stretch was pleasurable- it always was- and a large kept your face shoved into the mattress until your cries subided.

"So fuck'n pretty, princess." Joel grunted, his body up straight as he fucked into you, gripping your hair like a harness to pull your head back. "Open"

"Yes, Mr. Miller"

You obey, you always do, open your mouth for Joel to lean over and spit directly inside.

"Swollow." He tasted like cranberry sauce and cherry pie.

Pulling his dick out, you whine, but Joel hushed you. "Gonna make sure you cum, baby, don't worry about a thing, daddy will take care of his little cock sleeve. Fuck, you look so cute in your little holiday dress, serve'n me up food... your daddy not noticing how you beeeeend" Joel pushed your knees up to your chest. "Over so I can see your pretty tits." He takes a fistful in your hand, groping you through your dress.

It was beginning to be too much: the overstimulation, the stretch of his cock, needing to cum... you begin to cry, warm tears falling down your face. "Daddy, please?"

"Ohhhhh fuck, that's it baby girl, thaaaaat's it, cry on my cock." Joel's broad body folded over you, licking a stripe up your face to taste the tears. "Almost as deicious as that pie you made me. You made cherry just me, didn't you?" He grabs your teddy, placing itin your arms for you to have something to hold.

"Yes daddy" you sob. "I know cherry is your favorite."

When your dad told you his friend, Mr. Miller was coming over for thanksgiving, you asked him all his favorites.

"Sure is, baby" He said, thrusts growing erratic and you knew he was close to cumming. "Love cherry, and you…" A hand went to play with your swollen bundle of nerves and his other aggressively smacking a tit. With his face close to yours, you smell of after-desert coffee on his breath. "Are still as tight as the day I popped yours."

You came around him then, choked sobs of pleasure as your cunt pulses around him, making Joel spill over too.

"That's it, greedy little cunt t-taking what she -oh fuck baby- taking what she needs... look at that pussy cum..." He spit on your face one last time and smears it around. "Dirty girl..."

You clutch your teddy hard as you cum, and cry into it when it was all over. You were always so emotional after sex.

Joel pried the teddy away gentle. "C'mon, princess, let daddy take care of you..." With a make-up wipe from your vanity, he cleans off your face and then pulls your underwear up and under your dress again.

"There we go, good as new..."

"Thank you, daddy..." You whisper as he pulls you to stand.

"Now you listen to me baby" Joel pinches your cheeks between his thumb and for finger, look at down at you as you eagerly await instruction. You'd do anything to make Mr. Miller proud. "I don't want you to clean up, I want you to wait ten minutes after a leave, and come join your family for the game. Anyone asks, you were resting and I was calling Sarah, got it?"

"Yes, Mr. Miller"

He smiled at that. "Now, I'm gonna go talk to your father while his daughter has her daddy's cum sloshing around in her panties, and you better hope Tommy didn't hear nothing. He always wants what I got."

He didn't even check if the coast was clear when he left your bedroom.

******************************

Maybe we'll get a part 2 with Tommy for christmas tee hee

Please consider reblogging to share this work, It would mean the world <3

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[mediumgayitalian]

Will wakes up sometime around two, stumbling over to Arts & Crafts. He looks so incredibly, adorably sleepy, face creased with pillow marks and hair sticking out everywhere even worse than usual, that Nico can’t help his smile.

“Morning,” he says quietly, shifting over in the bench to make room. “Or, well, afternoon.”

“Mmfh,” Will responds. He sways on his feet, eyes still closed, so Nico has reach back and take his hand, guiding him to the seat Nico cleared for him.

“Still sleepy?”

Instead of answering, Will slumps onto his shoulder. Nico tenses for a moment, but quickly relaxes — Will is out of it. He’s a heavy weight on Nico’s side, and his breath comes out in little puffs; he’s halfway to snoring. He sets aside the clay sculpture he was making, wiping off his hands, and shifts slightly to make his shoulder more comfortable, sliding his hands in Will’s hair. After a quick glance to double check that no one’s around, he cards through the matted curls, carefully untangling the birds nest that sits currently upon his head.

“Night shift was long?”

Will groans, nuzzling deeper into Nico’s neck. Nico huffs, allowing it, turning his half-limp body so he’s practically sitting on top of him. It’s kind of a nice weight, actually. And Will is warm, slumped and half-sprawled in his lap like a freckly blanket.

“Got thrown up on three times.”

It takes Nico a second to decipher the words, mumbled as they are. His finger gets caught in a strand of Will’s hair as he winces, tugging a touch too hard. Will shivers.

“Oof.”

“Mhm. Shouldn’t complain, though. Not Cecil’s fault.” He pauses. “Well, it’s a little his fault. I told him not to mess with Billie’s garden.”

Nico smiles. “You know, it’s not the first time a Hermes kid has been poisoned for their dumbassery. You could’ve left his cabin to handle him.”

“They would do a horrible job. They might actually make him worse.”

“Yep.”

“…I can’t leave him to suffer, Neeks.”

“Hero complex,” Nico teases. “Sounds like a natural consequence to me.”

“Shhhh. I’m sleeping.”

“It’s two thirty in the afternoon, Solace.”

“Pot, kettle, et cetera.”

Nico smiles. “Only dorky people say et cetera when they’re half asleep.” He shifts, accepting that he has a lapful of head medic, now, no refunds or exchanges. It’s still, somehow, very comfortable — he feels as if he’s laying in a sun patch, under a warm, heavy blanket. Plus, Will smells like strawberries and lavender and his sandalwood shampoo. Nico could get used to it.

He does, however, subtly raise a couple skeleton to stand guard outside the gazebo — no need to get anyone gossiping. As cute as a sleepy Solace is, Nico can and will shove him to the ground the second anyone gets too close. He has a Reputation.

(He is a liar.)

“Did I miss the strawberry coffee cake this morning?”

“Yes.”

“Aw.”

Nico hums, untangling the last of his hair. Without anything for his hands to do, he slides them under Will’s hoodie, resting them in his stomach, ignoring his whining and exaggerated shiver at Nico’s ice-cold hands.

If Nico is going to function as his personal bean-bag chair, Will is going to function as his space heater. Fair’s fair.

“Saved a piece for you, though.”

He feels Will’s grin more than sees it, twisted up as they are. He feels his happy little wiggle, too, arms flailing before wrapping around Nico’s waist, thighs shifting before re-bracketing his hips.

“You’re my actual favourite.”

“Hm. I think you say that to all the boys you save you strawberry cake and let you nap on them.”

“Nah.” Will’s breathing starts to slow, body stilling as he rests his head right about Nico’s heart. He can feel his puffs of breath in his collarbone, tickling the skin under his thin t-shirt. “Just you.”

Nico flushes, more pleased than he’s willing to admit, and rests his chin on his head, watching over the strawberry fields. He checks that Will is actually asleep, and when he is, he presses a quick, darting kiss to his still-creased cheek, and smiles.

“You’re my favourite, too.”

[mytheoristavenue]

MHA Mezo Shoji x Reader 🍋 - Make Believe - VIII

Summary: You ask Shoji to pretend to be your boyfriend for a dinner with your parents.

Warnings: language, slightly OOF, virgin!Shojix virgin!reader, fem!reader, oral (both receiving), 69ing, use of his quirk, cum eating, dirty talk, full nelson, corruption kink, perv!shoji, unprotected sex, p in v

"Shhhh...." Shoji's voice was low and gruff and you couldn't be entirely sure where it came from if you were honest. Not that you cared. Fingers slipped past your kiss-swollen lips, pinching your tongue between as a form of teasing. "Hush baby, you'll wake your parents up."

The snide remark typically would have had you slapping his arm but you were in no such position now, currently perched atop his face, hips grinding desperately as his tongue worked your nerves. You were an utter mess, stringing together loud attempts on his name that almost always came out mispronounced. "M-Meh-heh-zoh-hoh!"

"Try again, sweetheart," He encouraged, a hand kneading your breast, pinching the nipple and rolling it between his fingers. "Mezo."

"M-Meh-!" You tried. "Hah, ahhh!" You melted, slurring your speech as you felt his tongue breach, slithering inside you as a disembodied pair of lips laughed in your face.

"So close, try again." He mocked, peppering kisses on your sweaty, drooly face.

"C-Can't!" you sobbed, stumbling forward, locked in place by his arms around your thighs.

"Can't never could do a damn thing," he replied, kisses trailing down your throat.

"P-Please, Meh-zo..." you finally choked out. "C-Can't take it anymore!"

"That's my girl," he purred beneath you, heart swelling with pride as you finally said his name, somewhat properly. "Knew you could do it, baby, such a good fucking girl."

"T-Thank you..." you heaved, on the verge of creaming just over his praise alone. "F-Feels so good!" You crooned, dragging your pelvis along his chin.

"Oh, I know it does, baby." Shoji cooed, thumb tracing circles on your hip. "I bet this little cunt just aches to be licked-! F-Fuck!" You put his big talk to rest with one ghostly touch to his tip, still concealed by your brother's old pajama bottoms. "B-Baby, careful there,"

"W-Wanna touch you too..." you pout, dazed and lovesick, only thinking of giving him pleasure in return.

"No need, baby, I feel good just knowing you feel good." He reassured the thought of gaining pleasure without giving it foreign to him. Deciding his answer wasn't good enough for you, you suddenly wiggled free of his grasp, taking advantage of his distraction.

Laying your tummy, and his, you nuzzled his bulge, flustering him so much, you'd think his face wasn't just buried in your pussy. 'B-Baby, really you don't have to..." He said, body feeling like static under your touch. An embarrassing gasp left his lips when you suddenly yanked the hem of his pants down, his stone member springing up, giving your face a gentle slap. "Fuck..." he breathed, relieved to be free of the constriction.

Shoji's dick was massive, to say the least. Not only did it match his stature, it surpassed any fantasy you could have dreamed up. It was long, extremely thick, with a dark pink bell end, and a throbbing vein running up the side of the shaft.

He shivered when you exposed it to the cool air, and even more so when he could feel your hot breath tickling the tip. "Y-You don't have to.." he repeated against your labia, sending intoxicating vibration through your body. "Don't force yourself..."

"I want to make you feel good, Mezo..." You whispered, finding your wits as the thought of you potentially touching him distracted him from his 'meal'. "Wanna know what you taste like..."

"B-But-" You could feel him tense under you before every single one of his muscles relaxed in unison at the sensation of your slobbery tongue licking a stripe along the vein. "Ahhh..." he sighed, head hitting your pillow as he lost the stretch to keep his neck craned. "Shit..."

Shoji had always known oral would feel amazing but this- this wasn't something he could have ever anticipated. Just your breath had him nearly in tears and now you were licking him like that much-needed lollipop after a brutal dentist appointment. His breath hitched as your licks became more and more shallow and finally your lips fount his bell, devolving into a shy suckle. "Fuck, princess..." he groaned, a duplicated hand finding the base of your skull as his fingers dug into your hair.

You continued to slurp on the tip of his cock, noting how salty his pre tasted, but recognizing that it wasn't a taste you necessarily hated. Over the span of what felt like years, you began to sink further onto him, swallowing more and more of his saft as the minutes ticked by. Shoji was eating his words, this was punishment for him teasing you so harshly. You were reducing him to a drooling mess without even trying, he couldn't imagine how unpreapred he'd be if you actually did have malicious intent like he had. "Shit..." he groaned, eyes threatening to roll back as he stayed intoxicated by your musk, his face still between your thighs. "So fucking good, baby..." he cooed nonsensically.

Finally realizing the power you had over him, you sunk your mouth lower onto him. You knew you had no shot at taking his entire vascular length, but from the sound of him unravelling beneath you, you guess you wouldn't have to. "Y-You should really learn to be more kind, M-Mezo..." you finally whispered, spitting his cock out momentarily.

This was it- this was his payback. He was dead in the water. "I-I'm sorry for teasing, princess, I-!"

Before he could pray for mercy, you refused it, pushing against his shins and planting your seat firmly against his muzzle. "E-Eat it," you demanded, cheeks burning. It sounded a lot sexier in your head. "A-And you better not stop 'til I say so."

No matter how you internally cringed at your words, they ignited a fire in Shoji's belly that not even self-gratification could put out. Before, he just wanted to hear you say his name, now he was playing for keeps. "Ditto," his voice came rumbling a low against your labia as he split it with his tongue. A hand came down and planted on the back of your head, forcing it down onto him, but not harshly. You just needed a nudge.

With that, the competition was on, who gave better head? How could make the other finish faster? Who could make the other lose control first?

You really did give it your best effort, poking your tongue out so it licked the underside of his dick as your head bobbed, hollowing out your cheeks, and kissing and fondling his arousal-swollen balls, but in the end, he did you in. You were just too overstimulated from his prior work that you didn't stand a chance, especially with how the adjusted position allowed his tongue to explore you deeper, finding that special bit of spongy tissue and abusing it.

"N-No f-fair!" you shuttered, tears slipping down your cheeks as you felt your climax begin to wash over you, even trying to push up from his face to stop it. It was futile, though, as two strong arms kept your thighs locked in place. Your eyes rolled back as the forced orgasm began to take hold, rendering you nearly brain-dead as you struggled to come up with coherent speech. "M-Meh...zoh!" You wept for him, silently thankful for his gentle thumbs caressing your skin.

"'M right here, baby, fuckin' ride it out for me..." he cooed, voice muffled for obvious reasons. "So fuckin' good for me, cumming all over my face? Say it, baby." You hardly noticed as you shrunk against him, that you'd neglected his cock, or the hand that appeared to wrap it in thick, calloused fingers. "Say 'I love cumming all over your face, Mezo,'" He, pleaded sternly. "C'mon, so fuckin' close...'

"I-I love cumming all over your pretty f-face..." you repeated, shy and fucked out without even officially being fucked yet. "M-Mezo..."

There was that word again, the one that made him lose all control in the first place. 'Pretty'. The extra adjective spelled his downfall as his head fell back against your pillow again, lips dripping with the prettiest, most desperate moans you'd ever dreamed of hearing. "F-Fuck..!" He wept, breath ragged as he fucked into his fist, hips wild and legs trembling, no care for were his milky ropes landed.

You'd have to have another bath for sure, but that wasn't on your mind yet. What was on your mind was the way you felt so incredibly shy atop him, frozen as his seed rested in strings on your skin. The pearlescent substance stuck to your knuckles, seeping into the crevices of your fingers. It congealed on your tear-soaked lashes. A spatter on your cheek and connected ropes across your lips and nose made for a beautifully shiny spider web. You felt incredibly...pretty with his jizz decorating your face, and though you didn't understand it at the time, it had awakened something in you.

"S-Shit, my bad," Shoji said sheepishly, pulling back his hand and opening his palm to assess the flood, realizing his load was largely missing from his person. "D-Did I get any on you?"

You looked back at him, love sick and flushed, showing him your own hands, clear strings sitting across the gaps between your fingers as if they strung them together. "I think so..." you answered, daze.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," he blushed, wide-eyed as he reached for your hands and frantically searched the room for anything to clean you off with. Finally, he remembered the towel on the floor and multiplied his arms until he could reach it without getting up. "Fuck, that's so gross, I'm so sorry, I-"

Nothing could have possibly prepared him for the site of you, his cum all over your face, with your fingers in your mouth licking it off. "O-Oh my God," Shoji breathed, breath hitching as post-nut clarity gave way to even more intoxicating lust. "Jesus fucking Christ, a-are you...?" He huffed, eyes now half-lidded and hungry. "Fuck, are you eating my cum, baby?"

You hadn't really thought of it that way, it just felt like the natural thing to do. "I-I guess so.." you murmured, shyly. "I-Is that weird?"

"Oh my God, no," he replied out of breath. "It's so fucking hot," He marveled. "I just have to fuck you, oh my God." It was almost embarrassing to see him fawning over you like this. He seemed so infatuated- so obsessed, chanting about how he had to have you now. "Please, princess, I need you bad, so fuckin' bad," he hissed, breath ragged as he rolled you over on your back, caging you again in his physique. "Lemme fuckin' have it, baby, please. I can't take it any more."

A small nod was all it took for him to capture you, repositioning you on his lap, back to his chest, legs held in the air by his many hands. There was no way, you thought. There was no way he was putting you in a full nelson to lose your virginity, surely not. You'd always imagined it'd be in missionary with you on your back, gazing into your lover's eyes softly as he breached. Yet here you were, doing absolutely nothing to stop him from living out his tentacle monster dreams.

"M-Mzo..." you winced as you felt his bell slide against your skin, parting you even further than the position did. "W-Will if hurt...?"

Yeah," he confessed with a love-drunk laugh. "Wish I could make it not hurt..."

You swallowed hard at his words. If he was on the giving end and even he was promising pain, you knew you were doomed. "Y-You'll stop if I say so, right?" You questioned, trying not to melt at the way him rubbing in your slick felt.

"Of course," he confirmed with bated breath.

"A-And you'll be gentle?"

"Promise," he nodded, one of his hands finding yours and hooking your pinky with his. "Ready, baby?"

With a shaky breath, you nodded as well, crying out when his tip breached. "M-Mezo!" you wailed, tears pricking your eyes. Already, onto just those swollen few centimeters, the stretch was agonizing. It crossed Shoji's mind that he probably should have fingered you first, trained your hole a bit better before stuffing his monstrous cock in, but that time was long passed. All he could do now was ease himself into you at a snail's pace, listening intently for any sign that you needed him to pull out and wait with a clenched fist to keep himself from cumming again, just by your sheer tightness alone.

"Ahh, fuck baby," he sighed, head hitting the headboard as his eyes rolled in ecstatic potential energy. "You take me so well, 'ts like you were fucking made for me..." he hissed, struggling to keep lucid as he sunk into you and bottomed out, holding oh so still to let you adjust.

You wanted to drool at his praise, but the searing pain in between your legs wouldn't allow it. You felt so incredibly full, like a balloon with too much air that pops when you try to tie it off. "So fucking tight for me, princess..." Shoji whined again. "Love the way you squeeze me so good, can't wait to fuck out this pretty little hole..."

"Mez...M-Mezo..." you heaved, head having long since fallen limp against his shoulder. His filthy pillow talk was finally beginning to melt your nerves. Though it wasn't enough to kiss the pain away, it made for a delicious distraction. "T-Talk to me..."

His muscles relaxed a bit, finding you asking for more. It let him know that, just because you weren't enjoying yourself at this moment, you wanted to give the pain time to pass, you wanted to keep going. "Do you one better," he smirked, bringing a dupli-mouth between your legs, its tongue dragging slobbery, soothing licks up your entire sex, not caring if he got a taste of his own cock- it wouldn't be the first time. Meanwhile, his true lips pepper kisses over every bit of skin they could reach, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. "My God, you're such a good fucking girl, taking my cock like this. Fuck, you've no idea how long I've waited for this. Baby, fucking you is my wildest dream come true..."

You hadn't even realized it when you began to rock your hips against his, so entranced by his words and his warm tongue easing your aching heat, you'd lost focus of the penetration almost entirely. "Atta girl..." Shoji exhaled through gritted heat, breath tickling your ear as he felt you begin to move, no matter how minuscule. "Doing okay, love?" He aksed, planting absent-minded kisses across your shoulder. "Tell me what you need, baby, I'm all yours."

"G-Go slow..." you finally consent, much to his delight.

"Anything for you, princess," he grants, shallowly rolling his hips up into yours, making sure his strokes are long, slow, and thoughtful. The exhaustion and overstimulation are almost enough to lull you to sleep, your eyes closing as if the lids were made of lead. "Shit, you're so fucking sweet, baby..." he muttered, uttering anything kind that popped into his head.

A disembodied eye slithered under his cocked knee to see between your legs, witnessing a sight that made his mouth water. Steadily, his cock disappeared within you and dragged back out, covered in a slick sheen each and every time. "Oh my God, so fuckin' pretty..." he remarked at the pornographic scene, eye occasionally glancing up to revel in your fucked out, overwhelmed expression.

To Shoji, you were a painting- one of those Renaissance ones that always depicted Greek orgies and women with soft tummies. He was Hades: dark and corrupt, and you were his Persephone: innocent and perfect and so very fertile. You were ripe for the taking and he was taking everything you had.

As is the natural progression of things, neither of you noticed much as slow and steady turned to winning the race. You were a drooling, incoherent mess, no longer even attempting words, not even his name as he bounced you on his cock, coming undone himself. He was all grunts and embarrassingly desperate sighs as he pumped into you, fingernails leaving dozens of crescent moons on your skin.

"Fucking shit baby," he hissed, face falling into your shoulder, pearly teeth finding sweet flesh to anchor to. "Oh my fucking God, gonna paint this little pussy white, I swear to fucking God, I will!" He rambled obscenely, gripping onto any bit of you he could find with all six arms for dear life.

"Please, please, please," was all you could muster, as you chanted for him to bust inside you, and to be honest, you would have let him in your stupor. "Cum inside, cum inside," you begged, feeling your second coming breach the horizon.

"You want me to fucking fill this little thing to the brim, baby?" He grunted, voice hoarse and beastly. "You wanna take all my fucking cum in this pretty cunt?" You muttered something akin to an 'Mhm!' and his speed boosted again, thrusts becoming sloppier by the second. "Fucking say it baby, fucking beg for my cum!"

"Please, Mezo, fill me up! Gimme your cum!" you wailed, magically finding speech again as your second climax hit, crashing against you so violently it left you sore and with tears streaming down your face. "F-Fuck, Mezo, I'm cumming!"

"O-Oh, fuck-!" Shoji sputtered, regaining self-control at the last possible second, lifting you off him as his cock slipped out, just in time to toss ropes into the air, twitching as it did. "Fucking shit, baby, oh fuck," He panted, voice high and needy. Exhausted, he let you back down, resting you against his chest again, ignoring the icky feeling of his jizz sliding against his skin between the two of you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, both on the brink of drifting off. Finally, he caught his breath enough to say something. "This isn't just the sex talking when I say," he paused, heaving. "I've never felt any more attraction and overwhelming love for anyone than I feel for you right now." You weren't in any shape to respond just yet, so you let him talk. "I don't want you to think I only said all that earlier because I wanted to get in your pants, I really do like you..." He confessed with surprising conviction for a man on the edge of sleep. "You mean everything to me, (Y/N) and I don't care what people say when we get home. I'd be proud for people to know we're together, I want to be with you."

Shoji continued to ramble and you just listened, heart swelling at his passion for you. "Please, give me a chance to make you happy beyond this," he finally begged, officially asking you out. "Don't send me back home with nothing to show for our time together, don't pretend this was nothing, anything but that."

"M-Mezo...I..." you hesitated, weighing the consequences of each option.

"I love you, (Y/N), and I want us to be together, achieve our goals, become heroes, grow old- together..." He said, trembling beneath you with anticipation. "Please, say you love me too, I know you do."

"I-I..." Finally, the dam broke and tears freely flowed down your cheeks. "I love you too, Mezo, I always have..." You smile weakly, glancing up and pressing a kiss to his lips. "You're intelligent, brave, strong, beautiful," you gush tiredly. "What's not to love?"

"So you'll be mine?" he asked, muscles relaxing at your confession.

"Of course I will, I never had a chance at not loving you."

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Logan and writer! reader?

Behind your apartment door, Logan could hear you talking to your mom.

She was on speaker. Like always. So you could do what you needed to do and just put in a comment here or there. And he winced. Christ. That hadn't changed. And probably wouldn't. You could be in labor and she would still be asking you for money or complaining about her neighbors not noticing anything about you.

He had a key. He could let himself in. But he knocked anyway.

You needed to be able to tell him 'no'. That he decided was important. As bad as he needed to talk to you, he couldn't just make you do it. But he wasn't ready when you opened the door.

You look exhausted. Stressed. Drawn. Not the way you should look. The way you used to look even. Or the way you used to look when you looked at him. You drew back away from him, pulling your cardigan closer to your body like it will protect you. "We need to talk," He growled.

"I don't see why," you answer, "You made it clear you didn't want-"

"Don't be stupid," he snapped, anxiety roiling up as he stepped forward. "Y/N you're falling apart-"

"Fuck off," you snap back "God just fuck off. I'm trying okay?" Tears well up and you gesture to the door, "Mission accomplished, you've pointed out that I'm worthless you can go."

"Sweetheart-"

"God, is it ever e-fucking-nough for you? I get it I'm stupid. I'm worthless. I'm a distraction until I'm not. I don't matter. Nothing matters and nothing is ever enough. Okay. Perfect. Point taken I don't need you to keep telling me okay? I ruin everything I touch-" You break off and wipe angry tears off your cheeks and all Logan can do is stand there dumbfounded when you take a swing at him. Catching your wrist to keep you from hurting yourself.

You try to twist out of his grip and he doesn't let you go, pulling you against his chest carefully. Cradling the back of your head. He can hear your heart racing. The anxiety. And the pain you're in is palpable. You're so worked up and upset you don't make any sense but the words just keep coming and you keep struggling uselessly.

"Shhhh," he soothed. "I'm here. You're okay-"

"Why am I never worth changing for?" you stammer. "Why am I always worth leaving."

And he doesn't know what to say. Because he didn't know if it was him you were asking about. He opened the wound, but he didn't make them. All he can do is let you cry. Let you dissolve into a weak, pitiful puddle in his arms.

He gathered you up and let you rest your head on his shoulder. Holding you and rubbing your back, heedless of the snot and the mess as he rocked you on the sofa. "When's the last time you ate?" he asked softly. "Slept?"

"I don't know."

" 's not good, Sweetheart," he said.

"I'm not hungry and I can't sleep, I just keep thinking and it keeps going."

He nodded. He wanted to ask about doctors. About how you were feeling. If you were doing anything to take care of the fact that there was a baby coming. But he didn't know how you would take that and this- he hardly knew how to handle this. All he knew right now was that you needed to eat and you needed to sleep because you were getting sick. Very sick. And if he wanted to make it right with you, he needed to start with getting something to eat in you. Something healthy. And then once you's eaten, it was going to be time for bed.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Love and Loss

Summary: Despite being married for centuries, the two lovers have yet to produce an heir. Desperate for a child, she makes a deal with Phanes, God of Life, unbeknownst to her that motherhood has its own complications much like love and marriage. Now she must find a way to save both her child and her love.

Notes: ~11k words, only lightly edited... so yeah. Also, this is my first time posting any of my writing so I'm nervous as fuuuuck. I keep switching between past and present tense but I think I caught them all but idk. Let me know if I miss any tags or warnings! (There's so many plot holes but shhhh)

Warnings: MDNI - 18+ content, one use of Y/N but written in 3rd person, Reader has a "name" that's only used twice, pregnancy, loss of pregnancy, metaphorical use of surrogation, usage of miscarriage themes, jealousy, P in V, oral (F! receiving), unprotected sex, jealous Dream but that's to be expected really, regency-esque, diverges from cannon

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

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Despite having been in the Dreaming for so long, its frigid air was something she could never get used to. The temperature always fixed itself somewhere between an unheated house on a winter’s day and a spring day in the shade. Despite her title in the realm, she always felt like a child walking to the kitchen late at night to grab a snack whenever she meanders into the great hall. 

The castle of the Dreaming was her home, and she was the owner in every right as her husband. A small black cat accompanies her, its green collar and bell jingle with each step in its preppy trot. Her Lady wore simple garments, a dark green dress with slits to match her feline friend. Its light-weight fabric billows around her with a breeze that never seems to stop and some golden jewelry decorated her neck and arms, all gifts from his Lord. She opted to walk barefoot, skin to soil, so as not to hurt her feet necessarily before the upcoming dinner the Dreaming would host later today—the idea her own entirely that her husband agreed to for her sake. 

Her legs move her toward the throne room, where she is certain her husband presides. Still, her feet are cold and thus she picks up the pace. Her steps are lighthearted as she prances on her tiptoes, heels dangling from her fingers. 

Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of the Nightmare Realms, Prince of Stories. She was sure there were more, but if she were to start listing them all in her head, she’d be stuck there all day. Morpheus was as old as humanity itself, perhaps even older. But as she sees him spread out on his throne, the air of authority is never questioned. Age has only made him more intimidating. 

Morpheus commands any space he enters. His shadow fills each nook and cranny it seemed fit, aura chilling and distant. Yet he himself was a beautiful creature indeed. His modern form molded himself into a lean body, distinct muscle lines, and a strong jaw. His dark hair always looked tousled as if he had rolled out of bed a mere minute ago, and despite how often she would run her hair through the silky strands, they never behaved as they should have. 

“Wife, mine,” Morpheus greets as she nears the bottom of the stairs. “What ails you to seek me out?”

The Lady smiles and gives a small curtsy before she ascends the curved stairs. “Nothing ails me, my lord. Must one have a reason to see her husband?”

Morpheus lets out an entertained breath before opening his arms in invitation. Another graceful smile appears on her lips as she sits comfortably in his lap, his arms encircling her. 

“No, I suppose not,” He replies. He watches as she makes herself as comfortable as she can, leaning her head on his shoulder in a way that wouldn’t mess up her hair. The handmaidens would not stop fussing over it if a single strand was out of place from their original design.

“I simply wish to spend some time with you before our feast. I fear that I will be whisked away as I entertain guests for the evening.” She closes her eyes and steadies herself on the patterned breathing of her husband. 

“I will stay by your side if you so command it,” Morpheus says. He runs his thumb in circles on her bare shoulder.

“And have everyone afraid to approach me? With your dark and brooding act?” She jests, her eyes opening briefly to look into his. 

He can’t help his eyes rolling at her slight tease. “As you wish, my love.”

The two lovers sit for a moment. The sounds of her cat purring and their breaths mingling fill the air. But serenity such as this never lasts long in a castle like theirs. Lucienne comes from a hallway, presumably, the library’s, dressed up as well. Her coat was tailored to fit her body, her shoes freshly shined, and her glasses cleaned. 

She gives a curt bow to the two sovereigns. “My lord, my lady,” She addresses. “The guests will be arriving soon.”

“Thank you, Lucienne,” Her lady says. She reluctantly releases herself from the warmth of her husband and uses the throne as a brace to put on her shoes. Her husband’s hand rests on the small of her back to further assist her. 

“I will see you very soon, my king,” She says leaning down to peck his cheek before descending the stairs. She looks back once with another smile and then follows Lucienne to greet the arriving guests. 

Morpheus’s eyes watch her figure until she turns a corner. He was still underdressed, his day previously preoccupied with trying to find a certain nightmare. He was simply idling on his throne in a simple black attire with his long coat. After all, a king need not worry about how he looks if he commands respect without golden bribes. With a wave of his hand, sand befalls him and covers him like ivy to a broken wall. When they recede he is dawning a tight button-up undershirt and vest, its fabric weaved with intrinsic cloud-like designs. His coat is now replaced with another of a similar shape and design but resembles cotton instead of the original felt. He fastens the raven cufflinks and smooths down his pants before rising from his throne and going to the Dreaming’s castle garden.

When Morpheus enters the gardens he immediately spots his wife at the entrance, standing underneath a pergola of purple wisterias and climbing hydrangeas. The flowers slowly lean towards the goddess as her presence fuels them by simple proximity.  Her cat is nowhere to be seen and probably ran off into the gardens after a rodent caught his eye. 

Morpheus slides up beside his wife as she greets the last of the guests arriving. He turns his head towards the decorated table and can see a great spread of gods, goddesses, fairies, nymphs, and other mystical creatures that his wife had managed to befriend—the feeling of her arm wrapping around his redirects his attention. 

“Shall we, lord husband?” She gives him another one of her smiles and he understands how the hanging flowers feel. How he had ever lived without her before was still a mystery to him. To be him without her, it is like the Earth without its Sun - and he wishes to always feel the gravitational pull of her love. 

Morpheus leads them towards the aggregation of guests, all of whom devote their attention to them. 

“Beloved guests,” His wife starts speaking in her nectar-like tone, “Despite what is currently happening in the waking world, we are pleased that you could make time and attend this wondrous dinner.”

The goddess pauses for a brief moment as her guests clap in agreement. When they stop, she continues. “The feast is served buffet style, please eat and enjoy yourself to the fullest content. The Dreaming is here for your convenience.”

With her open palm, a long table appears with dishes of all types. Wreaths and fresh flowers decorate any empty space, which is to say, not much. Lambs, beef, and several types of poultry and fish take centerpieces along the table. Fruits, vegetables, and freshly baked bread weave in between the large plates as palate cleansers and small plates appear on the very corners of the table. A satisfied smile appeared on Her Lady’s face as the guests began grabbing food.

As the dust settles and smaller niches of guests start grouping, Morpheus is displeased when his wife leaves his side to mingle amongst the other gods. He watches from the shadows, small fruit plate in hand, glooming as she smiles with her guests. A hand comes up to hide her mouth as she laughs at something Phanes, God of Life, said. Jealousy brews and grows bitter like spoiled milk. 

Morpheus stands, ready to come to his wife’s side in hopes of deterring the god, but before he can a nymph comes forward and gives an exaggerated curtsy. He can’t help the slight roll of his eyes as she begins to talk him up. The nymph’s voice carries a small lithe to it and he becomes unfocused, only noticing the movement of his wife’s green dress and Phanes walking off into the hedge labyrinth. 

A frown etches itself onto his face. The nymph choosing to ignore the frown finds the courage to lift a mossy hand to caress his coat’s lapel, to which the Endless notices. Morpheus looks down at the nymph, his hand tightly grabbing into her wrist and dropping it away from him. 

“Do not presume you may touch me, insolent child.” His voice is deep and grave as his frown deepens. 

The nymph’s face contorted into embarrassment as red poppies boom across her cheeks and ears. She briskly walks away, forgetting to curtsy, with her tail tucked between her legs. The forest nymph looks forward to the next time she meets the Dream King, but she does not know that this will be the last time the doors of the Dreaming will open to her. 

Dream makes a beeline towards the hedge labyrinth, taking a right turn as he had witnessed his wife doing moments ago. But, as something as lucid as the Dreaming, the labyrinth path twists and turns in new ways each moment. Morpheus turns left and right based on where he could feel his wife’s presence, but seems that she does not want to be found.

As a deity in her own right, should she so command it, she would not be found. Something that the Endless found infuriating at the moment. What could she possibly be doing with Phanes? Did she invite him for a personal reason? Was the dinner event a ruse so she could speak with him without raising any questions? Well, Morpheus surely was starting to ask questions. 

Jealously turned into guilt quickly like the crack of a lightning bolt. Has he not been a good husband? Was she getting bored of their marriage? It has been several centuries, after all. Guilt turned into sadness as the questions he asked started bringing down his spirit. Surely there is something he can do to make her happy again. Surely she is faithful, surely, surely, surely…

Morpheus stands still, the drive to find his wife lost. The hedge leaves shiver as the temperature grows colder from the king’s mood. The lovely sunset leaves the last of its warmth before disappearing, leaving the sky full of stars. He turns around and retraces his steps, if his wife does not want to be found, he will grant her this wish. 

Morpheus would never admit to anyone that he mopes. But with his sluggish walk and downturned lips, he clearly was. He sees his wife had made it out of the labyrinth quite some time ago and is already waving her guests goodbye, Phanes nowhere in sight. When she sees him emerging from the hedges, she perks up and excuses herself from her conversation. 

“Dear husband, where did you run off to? Too many people in your presence?” She jokes, latching herself onto his arm. 

“I was merely looking for you,” Morpheous murmurs. He starts walking with her back to the castle. 

He waits as his wife takes a pause, slowing down in step. “You followed me into the labyrinths?” 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. 

“Yes…” He draws out, trying to tread lightly, hoping that she would open up without much prompting. “I saw you and Phanes entering together.”

An amused huff escapes her. “I see.”

The silence lingers like the plague: uncomfortable and heavy in the air. 

“Will you not speak as to why?” He questions and he almost hates how desperate he sounds. 

The lady takes a seat on his throne, only to lean down and take off her shoes with a satisfied sigh. She rubs the ankles of her foot when she speaks again. “I believe it to be a personal matter.”

The answer was vague, and Morpheous hated it. Angry, gray storm clouds formed overhead and the ice-cold rain started to hit the stained glass behind her. 

“Am I not worth sharing with?” He asks again, but he doesn’t stop to let her answer. With her eyes wide in surprise, he continues. “Am I not good enough? Faithful enough? Am I not devoted enough to you, my love? Will you command me to beg on my knees, I shall if you so ask.”

He falls to his knees before her and runs his hands from her ankle to her knee, slowly, deliberately. His lips follow soon after, tracing the same path his fingers had. Her breath hitches and her hearts start beating faster. 

“How can I show my devotion to you, my love?” He kisses. 

“My wife?” He kisses again. 

“My forever goddess?” And again. 

“Morpheus,” She breathes out, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. She is all he ever wants to breathe and all he wants to taste. 

“I pray to Daleena, Goddess of Husbandry, for forgiveness. I have left my wife unsatisfied and feel the crop of our love withered. I shall repent for my sins by your guidance.” Morpheus says in a hushed tone as he slowly inches higher on her leg. 

The goddess feels power surge through her as the prayer leaves her husband's lips, and she craves the touch of them on her own. Heat pools between her legs as her husband’s breath fans across her lower regions. Her dress slits exposed her legs deliciously to Morpheous but there were still her undergarments, which he removed slowly, keeping contact with her silky skin as it slid down. 

Her Lady looks down at him with uneven breaths and waits for him to give her what she wants. Morpheus, however, is patient. He traces his lips higher, he kisses all the spots she wants, but not where she needs it the most. 

“Morpheus,” She pleads, and it is all he needs. One moment it is the cold air of the Dreaming and the next it is the warmth of his lips, tongue languishing the length of her slit. 

She jerks in place, strong hands holding down her hips. Her own hands shoot out, desperate to grab onto anything. One, bear-clawed and desperate, on the arm of the throne and the other weaving itself into the silky strands of her husband. She gasps at the wet sensation and her head is thrown back in pleasure. 

The Endless is unmovable, driven solely by the purpose of satisfying his wife. A low groan emits from deep in his throat at the unapologetic sounds she cries, babbling in a series of his name and other obscenities. He tilts his head higher until he finds her clit and relishes in the pain of her nails in his hair, lapping at her arousal with contentment until it drips down his chin. He is a starved man and she is his salvation. 

Morpheus continues his demonstrations, alternating between her clit and her needy cunt. She clenches her thighs hard as she feels the impending rise of her orgasm. Her fingertips buzz with excitement as he continues to ravish her sensitive clit. His pace continues, and her eyes roll to the back of her head. 

She calls out his name again, and a high-pitched whine leaves her lips as he easily adds two digits into her weeping hole. He moves them slowly, slightly curved to touch that delicious spot inside her that has her arching her back taught like a bow. From below, Morpheus looks at her through his lashes, and he can’t help the smirk that tugs on his lips as his wife tries to thrash from the sensations. She tightens around him, cunt pulsing sporadically, and he is flooded with her orgasm where he drinks greedily from the taste - sweet like a plentiful summer wine. 

He places a final gentle kiss on her clit before looking at her again, the skin of her extremities glowing ethereally as she tries to control her ragged breaths. She is still in the midst of her orgasm, trying to calm herself from the high and he finds it the perfect time to leave a bruising hickey on the inside of her plush thighs. Morpheus gets up, dick painfully hard as it brushes against his pants. He takes hold of her hands to help her stand on wobbly legs and leans back. 

He leans until he falls, through the throne room floor and then onto the plushness of their shared bed. His command dematerializes both of their clothes and he basks in the sticky warmth of his wife on top of him. He runs light fingers down her spine, shivers following behind like a loyal companion, whispering sweet nothings into her ears.

“Come back to me,” He murmurs, kissing her sweat-filled brow. 

“Hmm,” The goddess exhales after a few more seconds of silence, eyes opening languishingly, lashes tickling the skin of her husband. 

She looks around the dimly lit room for a moment before realizing that she is in their bed. Using her husband’s chest, she props herself up, effectively straddling him beneath her. Morpheus remains unmoving, ignoring the way his tip brushes against her lower lips, only messaging the meat of her hips with his thumb. 

When she meets his eyes again, he speaks. “Have I proven myself, dear wife?”

It takes a moment for the goddess to remember what he was talking about and her feelings crash down again. “You had never needed to prove yourself to me, Morpheus. What happened between me and Phanes will remain between me and Phanes.” 

She lifts herself on sore thighs, but can’t get far as gentle hands turn rough. The next moment, she is lying down with her husband looming over her. There was not enough light to illuminate his face, leaving only the impression of his merciless, mercury eyes. Deep down, she knows no harm will ever befall her, but in this moment, something primal presents itself.

Perhaps it is how his eyes bore into her very soul, to the very moment she was born several millennia ago. Or perhaps, she was just crazy about how his touch was driving her mad. She was very aware of the appendage that settled between the two of them and the way that her slick was coating it. His hands cup her cheek and slide down her neck and her head tilts back at the ticklish and yet pleasurable sensation. She swallows thickly and a broken sigh escapes her as his hand ghosts over her nipple.

Shivers bloom once more as his mouth incloses over the perk nipple, suckling at it in a way that has her legs wrapping around his waist. Her arms come up and snake over his shoulders, fingers gliding over the smooth marble-like skin, then resting behind his neck. One of her hands finds itself back into his hair, clenching as he gives continuous pleasure to her body. 

Her hips buck up, her pussy clenching down on nothing. Cold fingers glide down the center of her stomach, going lower and lower until they cup her heat. A thumb gently circles her clit, understanding the overstimulation it recently received. They trace over her outer lips, downwards, then upwards again, coating themselves with a mixture of spit and arousal. 

Morpheus removes himself from her breasts and presses his lips at the junction between her neck and shoulder. He licks at the sweat that accumulates on her collarbone and continues up her neck. When he faces her again, he speaks. 

“Beg for it.” He commands. 

Her Lady remains silent, slowly chewing on the inside of her lip, weighing the options in her head. Morpheus, as always, is patient and he continues running his fingers between her folds, keeping his pace but occasionally rubbing his pointer finger in circles around her clit. When she realizes that he really would just keep rubbing her and nothing else, she opens her mouth. 

“P-please,” She stutters, the mere idea of begging or pleading foreign on her tongue. As a goddess, one would never allow such lowly behavior. Nevertheless how her husband will give her whatever she asks for. 

Morpheus hums in approval, removing his hand to hold his dick instead. He rubs it this time in lieu of his fingers around her cunt and the goddess almost begs again. Before she can, a moan releases from both of them as he inserts himself into her and she whimpers at the familiar dull ache of being stretched out. Morpheus dips his head between her neck and shoulder again and remains stiff, feeling the warmth that only his wife can provide. 

He pulls out and she mews beneath him in pleasure, ushering him to fill her up once again. Her cunt sucks him back and he wraps one of his arms underneath her waist to ground him. The other slams against the headboard of the bed, and he grabs on for all he is worth. His thrusts grow harder as her cries grow louder and he feels the way she clenches down on him.

“How divine you are, my love,” He says with a shaky breath, kissing more bruising hickeys that he hopes will last for millennia. He blows cold air over them and goosebumps rise in place, her back arching again and he can feel each perk nipple rubbing against his chest. 

She moans his name again, losing herself in each drag of his cock, screaming curses when the head brushes against her sensitive spot, and whimpering when it kisses her cervix. Morpheus rises, looking down on his wife with half-lidded eyes, running a hand down between the valley of her breasts, feeling each desperate breath of air. He goes lower and groans when he sees how the two of them are connected.

Each thrust creates an unholy, slick noise and he can see the inflamed clit begging for attention. He presses his fingers on her lower stomach and she cries out for him. 

“Can you feel me, my Queen?” He growls down at her, feeling the way his dick moves within her. 

“Yes!” She cries back, her brows furrow and her cunt pulses around him, gripping him like a vice. 

“Do you love me, my Queen?” He asks again.

“Yes!” She cries again. She starts begging again. Please, please, please, please. “Don’t stop, please my King. Please, don’t stop!”

“Will you tell me why you spoke with Phanes?” His last question. 

Her eyes snap open, all the build up from her orgasm lost in the question. With her legs still around his waist, she twists her hips and topples Morpheus over until he is beneath her again. 

“No,” She whispers, rocking her hips back and forth to regain the momentum they had lost. 

This time, it is him who pleads. “Please,” He whispers back. His hands cup at the roundness of her ass cheeks, loving how soft they were. 

She increases the ferocity of her grinds, looking down at her husband like he had just done with her. His head tosses back and she loves watching his Adam’s apple slide up and down his throat as he moans for her. His eyes are squeezed shut and his grip tightens but she doesn’t relent.

That familiar searing hot feeling appears again in her lower stomach and with one final grind she releases her orgasm all over him, falling onto his heaving chest. Morpheus cums right after, shooting his release into her in hot loads and she feels each jolt inside of her. 

Her orgasm rocks through her body, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time. It tingles in her fingers and toes and when she closes her eyes, she sees the stars of the Dreaming shinging back at her. When she comes back to her senses (again) she can feel her husband’s hand running through her bed hair, untangling it as much as he could with the one hand. The other hand holds her waist flush with his. The two lovers share a quiet moment after their throw of passion before she speaks again. 

“Phanes and I…” She starts, and she can feel Morpheus stiffen under her. She groans as his cock is still deep in her, semi-hard and the only thing keeping them together. 

She shifts a bit and some of their combined release pool down onto his abdomen. He would never admit to her how filthy he thought it was, nor the fact that he loved it all the same. 

“Yes?” Morpheus urges, looking down at her on his chest with full attention. 

“We made a deal.” She finishes her sentence. 

Everything stops as Morpheus sits up. “What deal did you strike? I can do it instead, terminate the deal at once, my love.” He says with anxiety. 

His wife grabs onto him as she is rocked back and a smile appears on her face. “Morpheus, my love, you have done your part.” Her smile turns sad and a forlorn look cloaks her face and she casts her gaze downwards. “We just needed some extra help.”

A confused look crosses Morpheus’s face. He brings a hand to lift her chin to look at him. With the raise of an eyebrow, he doesn’t have to say anything for his wife to know he wants a better explanation. 

“I asked for a child, Morpheus.” 

When her husband remains quiet, her lips start to tug downwards and his heart lurches at the sight. Her waterline soon floods with tears. 

“We have not been able to produce an heir once.” She says, voice wavering. She dares not to blink for she is afraid if a single tear were to fall, all of them would. 

“What in return?” He asks. 

“I look after his pet snake for a weekend.” She replies simply. Morpheus has returned to his previous position. 

The tears start to fall, each fat drop hitting his skin seemingly striking him directly in the heart. “You need not worry, wife. This time it will take, with Phanes’s help or not.” He whispers into the crown of her head. 

She nods once, sniffling as her nose starts to run, too. The rhythmic breathing below her and the continued brushing of her hair rocks her to a dreamless sleep. Morpheus wraps his arms protectively around her frame and should he have known, he would’ve stayed longer. He would’ve held her tighter, kissed her longer, and promised her that he would be there when she woke. Alas, there was a missing nightmare, rampaging through the waking world, something that was his responsibility as king. 

When she wakes up the next morning, with a satisfying ache throughout her body, the bed was cold and empty, and her husband was nowhere to be seen. To say that this was new behavior would be a lie, unfortunately. The number of times that a night of passionate love-making ended in a cold and lonely morning was more than she could count on her fingers and toes. That isn’t to say that Morpheus didn’t want to stay in bed with her, it’s simply a sovereign that understands his responsibilities, and she could never blame her husband for that. 

Avoiding the difficult conversation the two lovers shared last night, her Lady avoids the locations her husband is most likely to reside in. Instead, she chooses to look towards her duties in the Dreaming. She finds herself amongst a simple dream from a small farmer who looks after sheep, who struggles with getting their weight to increase during the harsh winters. Carefully, she admits herself to him, dressed in a light yellow dress, sunflowers decorating the fabric and her hair. Her hands were covered in dirt, and she held a shepherd’s crook that had a bell attached to the end. 

The farmer looks up from his rocking chair, prized sheep chewing lazily around him, and smoke from his pipe circles him. His face was rough - old and wrinkled from long days in the sun during his youth. But she smiles gently at him when his laugh lines appear around the edges of his eyes and mouth. 

She stands next to him and they stare out on his flock together. He shares his life story. The story of a young boy whose father was also a farmer, and his father before him, and his father before him. He talks about his first puppy, named Barkly, his first love, whom he lost after he was drafted into the First World War, and how he now finds solitude with his late wife’s grave and his grandchildren. 

He mentions that he needs to fatten his sheep up for the winter as he can’t lose any more stock so he may afford medicine for his sick grandson. He confesses that he has tried everything and nothing seems to have worked. He looks up at her now, tired, and slumped over, and realization dawns on his face as she smiles down at him.

She whispers at him a simple solution, one he can’t quite hear over the muddle of a dream. He stands abruptly as her figure distorts, the dawn is rising and a farmer’s body rises with it. He thanks her - he offers a sheep for her, which she nods at before he wakes from his dream. 

The goddess visits a few more dreams, each giving her ethereal presence. Some were like the one she was just at, some needed comfort from the loss of animals, and some dreamed of a new pet to have. By the 5th dream, she realizes that several days had passed in the waking world, and her husband was nowhere to be found. 

She admits to herself that she had been avoiding him longer than she intends, but perhaps it was time to face him again. She teleports to the castle, summoning herself before the drawbridge of the magnificent building. The ivory dragon perks up at her arrival, but otherwise pays no attention to her, going back to hoarding its gold coins, a few of them falling when she crosses the large doors. 

As always, the castle is slightly colder than what she likes. A small sense of deja vu encapsulates her as she walks to the all-familiar throne room. This time, however, it was empty. No figure on the throne, nor the stairs as he sometimes preferrs it. Odd, she thinks, but not impossible. So she turns a corner to the library, she often finds him here as well, looking over the books of his dreamers. She searches high and low, through each aisle and reading spot, but still nothing. Anxiety and thoughts of doubt begin to fill her. Perhaps she did mess up, making that deal with Phanes.

Her last stop was Cain and Able’s homes. She finds the two brothers in front of their own homes, tending to their garden and playing with the gargoyle that Morpheus had given them. The two were of no help as they were unable to answer something worthy of even a hint of where her husband was. 

She rolls her eyes as the walk away from their homes was accompanied by the sound of a scream and the resolute bang of a metal shovel hitting a skull. 

As her last resort, she calls for Lucienne. Often, she hopes to never bother her, understanding that the work she puts into maintaining the Dreaming is never-ending. And, she knew that if she were to ask something of her, Lucienne would stop everything to help her. 

“His Lord left several nights ago to fetch the Corinthian,” She spoke, pushing up her round glasses. 

“And since then?” She questions, her hands wringing with themselves. She hopes for an answer she knows she won’t get.

Lucienne shakes her head no. “My Lady, Jessamy hasn’t returned either. Perhaps his Lord is simply taking longer than usual.” 

“Let us hope,” She says defeated. 

For the next few months, the goddess stays within the Dreaming. Each day that passes, more hope was lost for her husband's return. Doubt and anxiety cloud her mind at the uncertain future.

She looks down at her stomach, a distinguishable bump had made its appearance and she rubs it gently with her hand. The deal with Phanes went through, she is with child. She should be happy right? Except for the obvious fact that Morpheus still had not returned. 

Her cat lounges at her feet where she sits and she pets its head. With a trill, it looks at her, similar mercury eyes of her husband stares back. She had no choice but to find him herself. 

“Go,” She asks of it. “Go to the waking world, find Morpheus.”

The cat sits up and stretches, hind high in the air. Its claws grips into the plush carpet it rests on. With another stretch to its lower back, it trots off, the jingling sounds of its bell disappearing as it crosses over to the waking world. 

All the goddess could do was wait and hope. She runs another anxious hand across her stomach and a tear escapes her. 

Lucienne had mentioned it to her in passing a few days ago. The librarian stated that it probably was nothing to worry about, but the conversation had stuck with the goddess since. 

The Dreaming is dying. 

As much as the Dreaming is hers through marriage, it is suffering without its true ruler in the realm. She could see it in the dying leaves and small cracks of the castle. The ivory dragon that rests above the castle has gotten more restless in the past few weeks. And despite her best efforts to comfort the animal, the dragon did not listen to the Goddess of Husbandry. 

This brings up a second concern of hers. The child she carries is as much a part of her as it is the Dreaming’s. It embodies a part of the Dream Lord and if the Dreaming is suffering, there stands to reason that her husband is suffering as well. If both of these entities are suffering, what is to happen to her child?

This child that she already loves until she is forgotten and nothing but stardust and she had been asking for centuries. This child that Morpheus is finally ready to love after the untimely death of his son. She must find Morpheus, and soon. 

For the sake of the Dreaming and her child. 

Several more weeks pass and her cat had yet to come back. She only hopes that it was due to the difficulty of finding an Endless and not because it got distracted with a family whose heart was big enough to take in a “stray” cat. Each day that passes, she grows significantly weaker. The prayers of her followers still ring in her ears, but she could not leave the Dreaming to help her devotees. 

Another war broke out among the humans, the one they call World War II. Less and fewer people were crossing over into the dreaming and slowly, the once beautiful realm was losing its colors. The goddess couldn’t stop the residents of the realm from leaving its gates, the Dreaming was no longer a place they wished to stay. Furthermore, there weren’t enough dreamers for them to bother staying. She only remains thankful for those who decided to stay. 

She sits on Morpheus’ throne, the castle colder than ever. Behind her, the once beautiful stained glass had shattered. The Corinthian had still not been captured, or else her husband would have been home and Fiddler’s Green had decided to leave. She runs a hand through her hair at the issues that seem to keep piling up. As she ignores her prayers, her powers start to wane. Fewer and fewer people were still believing in her. 

And how could she blame them? She hasn’t made herself present in any of their prayers and with the war, people were less concerned about animals and more about themselves. She sighs. 

A sharp pain yanks her out of her thoughts and a scream rips from her throat. She doubles over from the throne and kneels, hunching over on the floor. The pain spreads across her lower abdomen and a shaking hand holds her stomach. Immediately she knew something was wrong and it involved the safety of her child. 

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, too focused on staying conscious. The throne room was empty, her fall echoed around and bounced across the wide walls. When she thought the pain was over, she took in a large breath, inhaling shakily in gulps. 

Salvation lasts a few seconds before another wave of pain overwhelms her. It wraps around her like a hot blanket on a sweltering day, sticking to her skin and making her overstimulated. Too much was happening at once and it was almost too hard to bear. 

“Lucienne!” She screams between cramps. Tears fall in fat drops onto the floor and wets the hand propping her up. 

Lucienne appears quickly, followed closely by Mervin. Hands grab at her weak body and hoist her back onto the throne. Where she had fallen, blood pooled and more fell from between her legs. 

Her whole body shakes with shivers and a whimper leaves her. 

“My Lady,” Lucienne says with concern. The librarian couldn’t stop from staring at the growing pool of blood below her. 

“What do we do?” Mervin asks. Even though he was a glorified janitor, constructor, and destructor for the Dreaming, he didn’t know how to fix this. 

“Call for Phanes,” Their Lady said weakly. Sweat begins to appear like morning dew across her forehead. For once, she was grateful for the cool temperature. 

“Mervin, take her to his Lord’s chambers,” Lucienne instructs. She doesn’t stay to watch as she sprints to the library. 

She flips through leather-bound books, old and new until she finds the correct summoning spell she was looking for. The loyal librarian could only hope that a god would listen to a dream like her. 

She hauls the large book into the room her Lady lays in. Labored breathing came from both women, although for two vastly different reasons. 

“Forgive me, my lady, but I require your assistance,” Lucienne said next to the goddess’ bed. 

The goddess gives her a hand limply and Lucienne starts chanting the words on the page while holding her cold fingers. The wind whirls around them and Mervin holds onto his pumpkin head to not have it knocked off. 

Lucienne finishes the spell and looks down. Her Lady was glowing with power but she could not have looked any more weak. Nothing happens for a few bated breaths, only the sound of howling wind around them. Then nothing, not even the sound of crickets could be heard. 

Enters Phanes, golden and warm like the sun. He materializes in a cloud of golden dust. He slams his staff down, and his golden snake slithers up from under his robes. 

“Who dares summon m-” 

“Lord Phanes,” Lucienne interrupts, something she knows she would be punished for, if not for the more important matter at hand. 

A glare is thrown her way and softens at the familiar face. Phanes’ eyes travel across the intertwined fingers and land on his friend. 

Weak eyes open and meet his. The godly figure is almost too much to stare directly at. 

As if understanding what was happening to his friend, he drops the golden light he had been shining. The Dreaming returns to its cold blue, and it was just two deities and two dreams in understanding. 

“A new deal,” Phanes announces and the goddess wants to weep again. Judging by how her husband acted the last time she had done this, she was going to be doomed. But the decision was easily made. 

“Anything,” she whispers. Her eyelids are starting to feel heavy. She had delivered countless calves, kittens, and cubs, but never another deity. Was she supposed to feel this weak? 

Silky scales slide across her feverish skin and she is face to face with Phanes’ serpent.

“Give your child to him, he will keep them safe until they may come to fruition. Until then, you must look after the serpent as if it is of your blood.”

The goddess could barely pay attention but understood in a way without words. She nods in agreement and the relief begins almost immediately. 

Pain seeps out of her body, slow, like molasses and her body starts to glow again. Lucienne shields her eyes and peeks through her fingers. The goddess’ stomach glows and deflates. 

A small glowing ball releases itself from the warmth of her womb, its dim light is warm and lights the room like a lantern on a foggy night. A weak hand cups it and it sits in the palm of its mother. 

“Hello, darling son,” She whispers. The ball stays still, a small high-pitched noise emitting from itself.

The goddess smiles. “Darling daughter, then?” This time, the ball bounces gently a few times in response but otherwise doesn’t do anything. 

The golden serpent is slowly making its way up the arm that holds the glowing orb. A tongue flicks out and smells it. Then with a nod from the goddess, the serpent unhinges its mouth and swallows the child whole. The light shines through the crevices of its eyes and ears as it makes its way down the serpent's throat. Eventually, the light dissipates and the serpent looks all the same, save for the bulge in its stomach. 

A sense of longing borrows itself into her chest where her heart lies. Quite literally, the light disappears right in front of her. Physically, her pain had been removed, only the dried blood between her legs reminded her of what had happened just moments prior. And yet, a dull pain resides. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, but she could feel it behind her eyes and how it lodges in her throat. 

Her gaze is unfocused as she pets the golden snake, her golden snake now, her child. For the rest of the night, she rests and Phanes leaves without a word. Lucienne stays by her side the whole time, eyes only moving when the serpent shifts. Mervin went back to work after a few hours, the castle’s foundation still cracking under their feet. He left with a sorrowful look, well, as sorrowful as a pumpkin head could be. 

As the sun rises the next day, the goddess wakes up to not only the snake by her side but the librarian and her long awaited cat. Lucienne wakes up at the first shift that her Lady makes and stands. 

“Let me draw you a bath,” She said before any debate. 

“Lucienne,” Her Lady calls after her anyway in rejection. All of her handmaidens had left. They were only there to help the goddess under the instruction of the Dream Lord who created them. Without him here, no one would punish them for leaving and not attending his wife. 

Still, the librarian doesn’t listen and disappears into the joined bathroom. Meanwhile, the goddess looks down at her cat and raises an eyebrow. It has certainly gotten fatter. And a new name tag was attached to his collar next to his bell. 

“Buttons,” She said out loud, reading the new name. At that, the cat perks up and stares back at her disappointed face. “You got distracted on your mission didn’t you?”

She pets his rounder stomach and scratches his head. “Well, they certainly loved you…” The hidden passive-aggressive message was evident. 

The cat, now Buttons, doesn’t bother with a response. Instead, it lays back down, flicking its tail aggressively at her comment. 

She rolls her eyes. “Did you locate his Lord?”

Buttons rolls onto his back and stretches, belly exposing to her, and opens his mouth in a yawn. “Burgess Manor,” He says and turns his body away from her. 

Finally, an answer. She throws the blanket off her body and goes to stand. She looks at her closet, thinking of what to wear to the waking world to retrieve her husband. 

“My Lady!” Lucienne exclaims as she walks out of the bathroom. The goddess looks over at her and notices her staring at her dress. She looks down as well and remembers all of the blood that she spilled last night. It had caked itself into the fabric and was still crusted on the inside of her legs. 

The librarian’s shock was still on her face when she realizes that her Lady fully intends to go to the waking world looking like that, having overheard the conversation between her and the cat. Lucienne insists she take a bath first and that she would find something for her to wear. 

Her Lady doesn’t disagree and disappears into the steaming bathtub that was made for her. She doesn’t regret it for a second the moment she steps in. The warmth was comforting like a mother huddling to keep its cub warm. The water washes away the filths of yesterday and within the embrace of the water, she finally cries. 

It’s not a gentle cry, it is hiccups and gasping for breath. The pain of yesterday that she felt behind her eyes and in her throat spills out. Her bathwater which used to smell of apples and cinnamon now turns into a maroon as her blood washes out. It starts to smell of iron and salt and it reminds her of war. 

Her hand runs over her stomach and a whimper leaves her again at the lack of the bump she had grown so accustomed to. Logically, she knows that her child, no her daughter, was safe. But, one would have to admit that having their daughter in the stomach of a serpent was a bit unnerving. 

A golden head peaks at her over the side of the ceramic bathtub and flicks out its tongue. 

She sniffs the last of her tears away and pets its head with her index finger. “I’m sorry for leaving you already, dear daughter.” 

The serpent’s stomach had grown twice as large since last night and since this is new territory for her, she must make haste so she may be back in the dream to witness the birth of her daughter. 

Before she left, though, she walks into the castle gardens and gets to work. From her fingertips she grows a birch tree, its white branches and muted green leaves fit right into the dying realm around them. She sprouts flowers and brushes for scenery and a bed made of straw under a tunnel that she dug out. 

The golden serpent follows her and slithers up her body, wrapping around her curves. When its head was next to hers, it let out a rattling-like noise in agreement with the small open enclosure the goddess had made for it. It slides back down her body and makes it home in the tunnel. 

“Mommy will be back,” She whispers to it when it settles in and gives it a quick peck on the top of its head. It flicks its tongue at her and moves further into its nest. 

The goddess stands back up and dusts off any dirt that could have gotten on her dress. Lucienne helps her pick out an appropriate attire for the waking world. Something she wouldn’t personally wear, but it certainly helps to blend in with the mortals. She quickly had to locate her husband. After all, she has no idea how long it takes for a snake to incubate a child. 

It was easy to find the Burgess Manor when she arrives in the waking world. Everyone who was anyone spoke about the grand magus who managed to capture the devil in his basement. That the devil had granted him eternal life and some other rumors. All she had to do was flaunt a smile and go where the fingers pointed. 

The rumors, of course, were mere rumors. The devil? No. Without knowing it, Rodrick Burgess managed to capture something even more powerful. How he had managed to keep him captured was a different question entirely and the goddess had a sneaking suspicion that he had some help. 

It was nightfall when she arrives at the gates of the manor. Thousands of people clamor in the front garden, talking amongst themselves. Suddenly, the clothing she had worn was not fit for the environment she was walking into. Using a little bit of her powers, she changes the outlook of her clothing into something else. It was a bit more formal, growing longer and softer to the touch. However, if someone were to squint and stare hard enough, they would be able to see the original dress she had worn. 

She weaves her way to the front and listens carefully to the words around her.

“I had arrived this morning, my feet are killing me.”

“Ha, me as well. But anything to get into the manor. I want to see what the Great Magus is hiding.”

“Not to mention the party of your lifetime!” They joke together. 

Someone taps her on her shoulder. Another young man was waiting to be let in. 

“You are a new face,” He comments and takes her hand. He presses his lips to the back of it. She takes her hand back and wipes it away on the back of her dress while keeping a smile.

“Yes, I wish to see the Great Magus himself.” She half-lies through her teeth. The young gentleman offers an arm to her which she reluctantly takes. Perhaps he will be the key to getting into the manor. 

The doors of the manor open and people slowly trickle in. She peers over shoulders into the manor but couldn’t immediately find anything of note that would be dangerous. The warmth of the building fans over her as she enters through the large doors and a breath of relief escapes her. 

“Isn’t it everything you could ever dream of?” The gentleman asks. He looks down at her with a smile. 

She looks around, the manor was certainly lively. Foods of all kinds sprawl out on tables, fresh flowers almost too sweet to smell, and candlelight flickers and dances from the sudden wind. There were some party tricks as well, the flames seem to sparkle a bit more, bubbles were floating around in the air without popping, and the statues follows her with their eyes. But, they were all small party tricks, nothing to indicate this holier-than-thou man. 

Through the buzz of it all, she could feel it. The string of fate that connects her to her husband. It was faint, but it was there and she knew she was in the right place. She just had to find out where. 

A man emerges on the top of the stairs to the second floor and opens his arms in a flourish. She frowns at him because there he was, Rodrick Burgess, the man who took her husband. By the end of tonight, she promises herself, there will be no Rodrick Burgess. 

“Ow, dang you’ve got a grip on you,” She breaks eye contact with Rodrick when her escort for the evening exclaims out. She releases the iron grip she had wrapped around his lower arm and apologizes. 

“I am terribly sorry,” She apologizes. “Actually, I am parched, can you be a gentleman and fetch me some lemonade?” She bats her eyelashes and gives a smile. His face lights up in a blush and runs off to fetch her the lemonade she wants. 

As soon as he was out of eyesight, the goddess began moving. She moves between bodies like wind on the beachfront - gracefully, wistfully, but with purpose. She uses her senses to locate where her husband could be. It was like an invisible dance. 

When the sense weakens she backtracks, when it strengthens she moves forward. She was so lost in her quest that she almost did not register when she ran into a wool-covered chest. Surprise overtook her face as she looks up, ready to apologize and continue on her way. But she stops when she realizes that the man she bumps into is the very host of the party. 

“Rodrick Burgess,” She says almost breathlessly. Oh, how she wants to commit a grievous crime to this mortal. 

The old man chuckles above her and grabs onto her shoulders. His fingers are cold when they come into contact with her bare skin and she wants to cringe away from his touch, but he holds on strong. 

“You seem like a curious creature, my little dove,” He comments and starts to walk. Without much room to budge, she is reluctant to follow him.

“Yes,” She drawls out much like how Morpheus tends to do. She suddenly acts with interest when she realizes that the bond strength between her and her husband increases. She holds on tighter and presses her body against his arm.

“I heard that the great Magus kept the devil in the basement of his manor. Can we see it?” She fakes a supple voice and looks up at him with an innocent smile.

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think a small thing such as yourself would want to see the devil.”

“No!” She belts out, a bit too quickly. But she recovers smoothly. “What I mean to say is, I am far too excited to see him. Please don’t deny me this one pleasure Great Magus.”

“How loathsome,” She thinks to herself. 

“Very well, I can’t deny you anything if you keep looking at me like that.” He confirms. 

Rodrick Burgess leads her away from the party, down a long and quiet hallway. It is decorated with antique and rare collectibles. The older man talks about each one, dragging on his time that leads to her husband, but she nods along anyway. 

She had waited decades to be in the arms of her husband again, a few more minutes surely wouldn’t hurt. Soon, she is led to a dark and demanding set of double doors. Locks and bolts seal it from top to bottom. With a nod of Rodrick’s head, the guards stationed outside open the door slowly and a cold air seeps out and blows her hair back. The basement smells musty of old water and stale air. A cough emits from further down the stairs and she frowns. 

“Scared yet, child?” Rodrick says to her mockingly. 

She only shakes her head no as she continues down the steps. 

The smell grows stronger as she gets closer and she can also make out a small portion of dirt and sand amidst it all. Despite it, the air was crisp and cold, suitable for a stone basement. 

A light emits from the end of the long staircase downwards and she can’t stop her jaw unhinging as she finally sets her eyes on her husband. Tears well up in her eyes as they dart across the room.

Arches supported the basement throughout the floor and a moat still separates between her and her husband. A singular fluorescent light is cast on him in a glass prison as if he were some circus animal on display. Below the glass prison were some sort of gold runic markings and even from far away, she could feel the real magic emitting from them. 

Rodrick releases her hold on him and turns to the two guards on duty that night. “You two may go,” He instructs, and the two leave without debate.

At the sound of his voice, Dream opens his eyes but remains in his laid position. His gaze pierces into his corrupt heart, if he even had one left, but quickly notices his wife by his side. With this, he sits up and gently places a hand on the glass barrier. 

“Would you look at that!” Rodrick boasts. “He moves, he doesn’t do that much. Perhaps he has feelings for a pretty thing like you.” 

The goddess doesn’t hear him and walks up to the glass cage in a trance. How does she free him? Tears fall restlessly down her face and her stature dejects. She snaps out of her trances on the small bridge above the stagnant water when a rough hand squeezes her upper arms. 

“Stop, you must not get any closer. He is trying to seduce you into releasing him!” Rodrick hashes out between gritted teeth. 

She opens her mouth to tell him something, anything, to release her husband but stops when she hears Dream’s voice again. 

“Wife,” He calls simply and her body fills with all of the love and adoration she had been missing for decades. 

Rodrick’s grip tightens at his voice, the first time he remembers hearing it. With a shocked face, he looks down at the woman in his grip. “Wife?!” He screams at her furiously. 

She takes a deep breath and steels herself, ripping herself away from his bruising grip, and stands between him and her husband. The tears had dried and only anger left in its wake. 

“The one before you is Daleena, Goddess of Husbandry, Mother of Agriculture and Protector of Animals, Saint of Farmers, Queen of the Dreaming, wife of Dream of the Endless. You face me now, mortal.” 

Wind swirls, somehow, in the basement but it is the least of Rodrick’s worries. He plants himself firmly as the wind picks up and sand envelops the two of them in a vortex of anger. 

“I have captured something more than a god! I have an Endless!” He points a finger at her, eyes scrutinizing. “What makes you think you can defeat me? The Great Magus Rodrick Burgess?” 

Walking a few steps forward, her shepherd’s crook materializes in her hand, the bell jingling violently in the wind. Her extremities start to glow their familiar light as she musters power. She points the staff at Rodrick as billets of wheat start growing around his feet and crawl up his legs, the nice wool of his pants long forgotten against the harsh stalks of the plants. The plants bloom as it sucks the life away from the very thing they grew on. 

Rodrick starts chanting in Greek. 

“Prostasía,” He chokes out. “Prostasía.” He chants again and he breathes easier. “Prostasía.” He chants one more time and he’s back to standing at his full height. The plants that were wrapped around him wither away and fell into dust, sucked into the sand vortex around them. 

The goddess frowns, she did not realize how much power she had lost until now when a simple protection chant could stave off her attacks. Rodrick lunges at her, hands open and clawed, ready to grab onto any piece of her clothing. In turn, she slams her crook into the ground and a fissure opens up, but not before he can shove her further and her body slams into the wall of the glass prison. The fissure separates the two opponents away from each other and Rodrick steps back before he falls into the Earth. 

She braces herself on the glass wall at the impact and loses her breath for a moment. She could feel the warmth of her husband’s hand and she turns away from Rodrick to look at him. His hand was aligned with her own, so close, only inches apart. 

“The runes, my love,” Morpheus tells her. She looks down at looks at the graphics that surround them, the sand had erased some of it through the abrasive nature of itself. The magic within the runes would still be strong if not for the defiant smudge she creates with her foot, just in time for the fissure to finish opening. With a final look at her husband, she walks closer to the fissure, pulling the sand vortex smaller so it was just her and Rodrick again. 

From the fissure glows a golden light, soft and merciful but quickly overshadowed by the growing dust. The light expands as the golden serpent which holds her daughter emerges. It had grown in size since the last time she had seen it. Its length and mass have nearly tripled in size and the baby bulge it used to flaunt was now merely a small bump. 

Rodrick’s stare grows higher and higher as the snake continues to emerge, it stares at the man, tongue flicking angrily at him for daring to harm the goddess. The snake lunges, all fangs and dripping venom, its large scales clattering against each other like gold coins. Rodrick moves to the side and the serpent misses. It hisses in retaliation and comes around again, this time wrapping its body around the legs of the Great Magus. 

Panic sets in as the serpent starts to constrict around the man and he can feel his pulse pounding against his head and the blood circulation gets cut off. The bones in his knees pop as they press together. 

“Father!” A young boy’s voice screams across the vortex and the goddess sees a glint of silver cross into the vortex arena. 

The serpent is halfway up Rodrick’s body when the goddess notices the sharp dagger that Rodrick now possesses. He rises it high in the air and with a large gasp plunges it into the flesh of the serpent. The golden scales provide little to no protection against the artifact. 

“No!” She screams and takes a step forward, only to be stopped by the protective tail of the serpent. 

The metal hisses as it melts against the golden scales, melting the scales together until they become smooth around the wound. Rodrick slides again and again until the weapon becomes too slippery with blood and he loses grip. The snake is now a mosaic of gold and red as it tightens one last time. 

“Curse… you…” Rodrick strains out, his face turning purple as the last bit of air leaves him. The serpent weakens and falls in a slump like an inanimate rope and the sand around them falls like rain. 

The goddess leaps over the fissure and after making sure the man is dead runs to the head of the golden serpent. Its eyes were dim, mouth agape as its muscles weakens and she can no longer feel it breathing on her skin when she places a hand above its nostrils. 

“No, no no,” She mumbles to herself. She grabs her dress up and away from her feet as she makes her way down the length of the serpent. When she reaches where she last saw the small baby bump, she runs her hand along its underside, soon becoming slick with cooling blood. 

She finds a particular cut that was deeper than normal and when she sticks her hand in there, they grab around a small appendage. A cry of relief leaves her lips as she digs deeper. She pulls her baby from the dying body and cradles it to her body. Golden scale imprints are decorated across her arms and legs and a few more along the spine of her back.

Her breath hiccups as silence fills the air. She pats her daughter’s back and wipes her mouth clean and panic seeps into her bones when still she remains quiet. 

Morpheus appears behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turns to him, tears streaking down her neck. 

“Crying, why-why isn’t she crying?!” She wails and clutches her child harder against her chest. 

Morpheus hugs her from behind and holds the two of them to his chest. 

“Y/N,” He calls her name, her real name. Not her titles, or what the mortals call her, but the name given to her since her creation. 

She weeps into his form, salty tears mixing with blood and the amniotic fluid that covers her child. Her tears fall into her daughter’s mouth and feed into the child her grief, regret, and guilt as well as the hope she still had in her. 

A soothing hand pets her and the silence disappears. Loud wailing comes from below and her eyes shoot open. Her daughter was finally crying, her hands in fists as they move around in the air. 

“Praises,” She sobs again, this time tears of joy. Her child's eyes peel open and smiles as she grabs at her mother’s hair. 

Morpheus smiles, a rare one, all teeth showing as he touches his daughter’s head gently. The three, now a family, return home to the Dreaming. There will be more to do, especially for Morpheus but for now, a small victory lies within the hope that is their daughter. 

Extra:

“Well I’ll be baffled, bamboozled, and befuddled,” Phanes says, hands on his hip and his staff leaning against one of the walls of the basement. 

He stares at his serpent covered in dried blood and dearly departed, lying alone on the cold basement floor. 

“Look at how they massacred my boy!” He screams to no one in particular, arms out in disbelief. 

He lets out a huff and crosses his arms. “I’ll let you borrow my snake, blah, blah, blah, take care of it like it’s your own, meh, meh, meh,” He mocks.

Phanes runs a hand across the top of the snake’s head and watches as the dried blood rehydrates and moves thickly back into the cuts. The gnashes done by the weapon stitch itself back close and the gold scales return to their original form. 

The snake shrinks smaller and smaller until it is back to its original size. At which, it perks up and flicks a tongue out in thanks to its god. 

“All right, let’s go,” Phanes says with a sigh as if this was a mundane chore. He extends out a hand for the serpent to slither up to.

“I am never making a deal with those two ever again, that was crazy.” He says to his snake. 

The snake flicks its tongue again and rattles the scales on its back.

“Ohh, that’s nice that she made you an enclosure.” He responds, then remains silent as the snake says something else. “What do you mean she forgot to put mice in the enclosure for you to eat?!”

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

[anjali-ashok-777]

Helping Lottie after shock therapy.

Lottie matthews x reader.

You can hear ur girlfriend’s screams and groans from outside the hospital room. Your waiting patiently. Tapping your foot. Afraid for her.

Sure Lottie’s been through this tons of times. Tons.

Doesn’t mean it’s any less traumatising.

“She’s out sweetie.” Calls a nurse.

You get up to find a weak, silent, shaky girl. Standing by the door. Her eyes darting everywhere.

“Hi honey”. You whisper approaching slowly, giving her a small smile.

“M-mm”, is all she lets out as she looks around. After a beat she quickly stumbles to you, burying her head in your chest. Clutching.

“Okayyy okay” you giggle as u gently stroke her hair. She looks terrified.

Lottie looks up to you. Lip trembling.

“What is it baby…do u wanna say something?” You cool as u caress her cheek.

“H-huh-ho-hom-mm” is all she manages to get out.

You chuckle. “Alright let’s get u home ok?” You whisper as u take her hand and walk out.

Lottie can only look around curiously as you take her to the car

“What is it baby” you giggle.

“Birdies” she mumbles.

You chuckle. “How bout I buy you a birdy when we get home hmm?” You ask sweetly.

Lottie smiles. Softly. Avoiding any eye contact with you.

You drive home. She was quiet the whole ride, only allowing the touch of your hand gently rubbing her thigh as you drive.

As you enter the house you hear what sounds like sniffling. You look down at your girlfriend.

“L-lot? You mumble ever so softly…. Your heart breaking at the sight of her trembling lip.

“Lottie? Baby” you coo as you cup her cheek..

“I-I like it here…” she cries.

Your brows furrow. “You like it hear baby? My house? You whisper as u stroke her cheek.

“I-I like it here! I wanna be here! I don’t wanna go back to the shock room!” She cries.

Oh baby no cmere sh shhhh….you coo as you hug her.

Usually, her post-shock therapy days would be like this. All you can do is coo and comfort her..but you know she has to go back eventually….it’s the only treatment available.

You lift her chin as she speaks.

“I don’t wanna go back there! I wanna be with you…it hurts when they shock me! They h-hold me down and the-the lights are so bright…I-i can’t breathe …it hurts!” She sobs into your chest.

Your heart breaks at her pain. God it must really fuckinh hurt

“I know baby I know I’m so sorry” you whine into her hair.

Lottie’s a sobbing shaking mess in your arms. You take her to your bed like she’s a baby. She clutches yo you as you cuddle.

“Sh shhh shhhh I got you bunny” you soothe and mumble.

Eventuality her cries die down. Soon, she’s snuggle in your arms as you show her the “birdy videos” she loves on your phone.

“I lub oo” she babbles.

You chuckle. “Someone’s all babied up huh? You tease lovingly.

She buries her head in your chest with a whine.

You proper her head and her shoulder with soft kisses…whispering soft praises…words of love…

“You did so well babygirl…you did so well today you know? I love you too..I love you some much Charls” you coo

She whimpers. Squeaks as she falls asleep…head buried in the crook off your neck.

You smile..her gentle breathing pushing you to sleep.

Though the day was…horrifying for Lottie…you’ve got her in your arms.

Doesn’t really matter if she’s there mentally or not, you’ve got your girl…in your arms…

“I love you so much” you mumble.

But the safety Lottie feels with you has been taken for granted….she’s fast fast asleep.

Peaceful.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 52

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, Andy is nasty in this, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Andy's palm clamps over your mouth, smothering any noise you try to make. You grasp at his thick fingers, puffing through your nostrils as you kick out, fighting his indomitable strength. This can't be. He wouldn't do this. Andy's a nice guy, the only decent guy you knew. It's why you couldn't bring him into your mess.

His arm tightens around your neck as he drags you backward. He presses his cheek to the side of your head and hisses, "shhhh, I don't want to hurt you. That's the last thing I want, honey." You whimper as your feet bounce off the ground, "even though you hurt me. Over and over." He rasps as he hauls you with him, "I only wanted to give you everything. If you let me, I still can."

He swings you around and wrangles you behind his house. Your panic surges as your eyes prick hotly. You shudder and try to calm yourself. Luna. You have to get Luna.

You let your arms go limp, taking careful steps to alleviate the constraint around your neck. He fumbles to open the door and turns you inside. He slams it behind him, closing you inside the impenetrable silence of his home.

He marches you forward. You don't resist. He takes you to another door, this one you've never been past. To be fair, when you were there, you didn't stay long enough to explore. There's a thick deadbolt on the outside.

"Andy," you force out your tight windpipe, "please, don't hurt me--"

"Honey, I won't. We got a daughter to take care of," he opens the door to a carpeted staircase.

"I know, I know," you shakily reach back to touch his hip, "let me go, I'll go down but I could fall if you don't."

"I won't let you," he insists and lurches you forward.

He keeps his arm around your neck, walking you awkwardly down each step, following the sharp angle of the staircase. The basement is made up like an apartment of its own. It's finished with carpet and paint on the walls, changing colours to delineate the space. The kitchen in one corner, a living space in another, a queen bed against the wall, and the corner where the crib looks eerily similar to the nursery in Lloyd's house. You stop and look around, horrified.

Luna whines. You pull against Andy without thinking. You have to control yourself. You repress the urge to claw and fight him.

"Andy," you bring your hands up to your throbbing chest, "I need to feed her. She's hungry... I hurt so bad."

He doesn't let you go right away. He exhales and slowly drops his arm, grazing your hip as he does. You restrain yourself from running across the room. You move cautiously towards the crib. She's there, squirming and squalling for you.

You lift Luna and hush her as you hold her close. She's bawling in fear, you can't let her feel your own. You pull up your shirt and put her to your nipple, angling her to latch. You sigh and turn, sitting on the rocking footrest in front of the glider. You coo and pet her head as she feeds greedily.

"I'm sorry. I tried to feed her," Andy says as he shuts the door at the bottom of the stairs, "she wouldn't take the formula."

"It's okay, she's fussy," you assure him, trying not to think of the surreal circumstance. Just be calm. "Very hungry."

He nods and comes closer, his cheeks kissed red from the bitter winter. He looms across from you, watching as Luna suckles noisily. His gaze weighs on you as you find his eyes fixed on your chest. You don't let the shiver roll up your spine.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

You try not to react. He's asking if you're okay and he's brought you down to his weird bunker? A place like this doesn't just appear overnight.

You gulp, "I'm just happy to have her back. Thank you, Andy."

He smiles and looks you in the face, "I'll keep you safe. Both of you."

You force a smile of your own. There's something off. You see it then in his glassy eyes, as if he's hypnotised.

"Do you have any tea?" You ask softly, "I'm cold."

He flinches and puts his hand on his chest. He clears his throat, "yes, honey, I'll get you some. You like green or--"

"It's late, chamomile?"

"Of course."

He finally backs up and you breathe through your nose as you look down at your daughter. You listen to him moving around the kitchenette. You hug Luna tighter. It's going to be okay, baby girl. I'll make sure of it.

You switch sides as the plucking turns painful. Andy sets down a steaming cup. You could throw it back in his face but you know better. That will only make him angry. You're not fast or strong enough to beat him. You're not getting out tonight.

"Thank you," you feel Luna ease in her hold, "she's getting sleepy."

He stands over you, turning to face you. His hand tickles over your shoulder and he leans it to caress Luna's head as she closes her eyes. You stiffen, livid as he dares to touch your child. You swallow it down as his hand wanders further and he squeezes your other tit. You wince.

"She's so beautiful, just like her mommy," he lets go and gets down to kneel beside you. He leans his head against your shoulder and watches Luna.

"Thank you," you breathe, roll your eyes back against a new wave of tears.

You never expected this, so how could anyone else? No one will come for you, you have to find your own way out.

🍑

Luna fusses and rouses you from your trance. Not sleep, just terror. The arm slung around your middle has you paralysed but it cannot keep you from your child. Slowly, you move Andy's arm away from you and sit up. He grumbles as you cross to the crib and lift your daughter, rocking her.

"What're you doing?" He rasps in his morning grit.

"Shhh, she might go back to sleep," you whisper, "she's just not used to her new... home."

He pushes himself up on his elbows and looks at you from under sleepy lashes. He yawns and sits up, fluffing the pillow up behind his back. He stretches his arm towards you, waving you closer, "I'll take her."

"Maybe in a bit, let me just calm her down," you cradle Luna tighter.

"I can do it," he insists, "let me hold our daughter."

His tone deepens, hard as iron. Our daughter? You can't let him hurt her. Or you, you're the only one there to keep her safe.

"Just be gentle," you gird as you come around the bed, "she'll be hungry if she stays awake."

"I know how to hold a baby," he retorts as he sits forward to take her. You carefully put her in his arms, reluctant to back away.

She wriggles as he gazes down at her. You twiddle your fingers, standing close, your chest tight and pounding.

"I go her," he insists, "can you get some coffee on, honey?"

You stare at him, blinking, then glance down at your daughter. "Sure."

You back away, inching to the kitchenette as you can't help but peek back over and over. He coos at her, his voice soft and higher than usual. It makes you want to throttle him even more. Luna feels much the same as her babbles turn to uncomfortable grunts.

You find a bag of coffee and open the machine in the corner. You quickly load it up as your daughter's voice tugs at you. You hear Andy growl.

"She won't stay still," he huffs.

"Like I said, she's probably hungry."

You go back to them and offer to take her. He hands her over but not without muttering. You pull up the same sweater you've been in since the previous morning. You get Luna latched and yipe as you feel a pinch on your other nipple. Andy tweaks through the rumbled fabric and pushes it up.

"Ow," you try to back up but he catches you by the hip.

You keep Luna in place as he turns his legs over the side of the bed and guides you close. You can't resist as you try not to jostle your child. He bares your other tit and in a second, his lips seal around your nipple. You cry out in shock, almost smacking his head as he suckles.

"What are you doing?" You exclaim.

"Mmmm," he hums and pops his mouth off, "you taste good."

"My milk is for her, Andy," you block him from trying again, pushing a hand against his chin as you keep your other arm under Luna. "Don't--"

He pulls his head back and reaches up to grab your tit, squeezing it until your yelp. It hurts so bad. A trickle leaks out as Luna's mouth detaches and she gurgles.

"Andy, you're going to hurt her," you snap.

He only kneads you harder. You whimper and your legs buckle.

"You have more than enough," he insists and slides forward, nibbling on your tender nipple. You whine and move Luna away from him, disgusted by what he's doing.

"Andy, please, I don't-- she needs to feed first--"

He ignores you and keeps suckling, your stomach churning as your daughter begins to wail. He doesn't care at all about your daughter, he's sick and twisted and would let her starve. Well, you won't stand for that. You will get her out of here, at any cost.

[thornsnvultures]

eddie munson x plus size!fem!reader, 18+

a little drabble loosely based on this text post cause I was having a feeling-bad-about-my-body day and I know eddie would be having absolutely none of that ♡

---

Thick, ringed fingers holding you, pressing into where your tummy dips and fold and rolls. Your legs are spread wide, Eddie's thighs holding yours open, leaving you exposed, bared completely to the mirror in front of you. It's hard to look at first, your head turning into the soft curls at his neck, hiding from your reflection.

"Uh-uh. Look, baby. Look'it how she opens up for me."

It took a long time, learning how not to hate yourself. Learning that everything you hated about you was the opinion of someone who didn't love you, didn't care. It took a long time to look in the mirror and be okay, to accept. Not always celebrating, or loving, but sometimes admiring, appreciating. Understanding that your body didn't hold the entirety of your worth.

And Eddie did enough loving for the both of you anyway.

For a while you stayed away from skinny boys like him, afraid they'd do more damage to all that hard work. But Eddie... there was something different about him. You knew it right away. He wasn't ashamed to be seen with you, wasn't asking you to stay the night only to pretend like he didn't know who you were in front of his friends. He worshipped you, fully worshipped you properly. That can't keep his hands off you, needs you by his side 24/7, thinks you've hung the moon kind of worship.

It was intense at first. You thought he'd get tired of you, move on in a week or two have his fun until something better came along. But it's been months, years of him loving you like no one else has before and, no matter your own reservations about your body, you believe him when he tells you, when he shows you just how much.

His thick fingers delve into your core, a reward for finally looking back at your reflection. The sopping wet center of you wets his winding fingers, the sound obscene as he makes tight circles around your clit.

"The prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

You want to tease, to ask just how many he's seen to make that claim, but you can't form words with the way he's jackhammering his thick fingers in and out of your cunt.

"That's it, princess. Making such a mess for me."

Eddie presses kisses to your temple, down your soft jawline. You stare with rapt attention, jaw practically hanging to the floor and eyes glazed, hazy but laser focused on the ring of your creamy juices around Eddie's knuckles.

His fingers curl into the roof of your cunt, pushing, searching for your release like he needs it more than you do. He's begging in your ear for you to give it to him.

"Show me, princess. Shhhh, I got you," his other hand moves to your clit to work the aching nub when you whine, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. "Give it to me. Want you to see yourself cum. You're so pretty when you cum on my cock."

Your thighs tense and shake at the mention of his cock and you're bombarded with images of him bending you over in front of this mirror, his fat cock stuffed in your cunt to the base and before you can catch your breath you're screaming, clenching down on his fingers and wailing like a cat in heat. Your eyes never leave your sweaty, heaving body in the mirror. Full breats shuddering, shaking as you gasp for air. Your tummy clenching against Eddie's arm pressed to your middle, holding you tight.

"That's it. Fuck, that's it, baby."

Eddie drags his fingers from your pussy, pulsing and grasping for his fingers, begging them not to leave.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, watching you watching him with his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean.

"Did so good for me, princess. So good, so beautiful."

[wonyrs]

rainbird

enha maknaes x fmr gnr fluff, est. relationship warnings cursing, food wc 711 + library #

‘ school life with the enha maknaes! headcanon style

kim sunoo

somehow u two manage to make the uniforms a tad cuter than anyone else

never getting ur work done in any class fs (but u still pass? its the dawg in u) u two sit in the back of the room and have a whole station just for cute instagram posts

"aww babe u look so pretty today" "really? i should say that to u, love :3" cue the deadpanning from anyone in a mile radius of u

LITERAL GODS OF PHYSICAL TOUCH AND EVERYONE HATES IT. on the way to lunch? holding hands. dodgeball in pe? holding on to each other like ur lives depend on it. the weather a little chilly? "let me warm u up schnookums :>"

half of ur friendgroup think of u two as an ideal couple while the other half is done w ur shit (dw they love u)

when exams are coming up, u two hang out at each others houses to help each other with whatever u guys are struggling with

he has full faith in u passing the exams but still offers to calm u down by singing a song, giving u a massage, ordering ur favourite takeout, or anything that eases ur nerves :(

"don't be scared, y/n. ure the smartest girl i know, so theres absolutely zero chances of u failing this test, believe me!"

yang jungwon

ur boyfriend being a former class president and u being the current class president is either a blessing or karma for something u did in ur past life

"oh my gosh there's so many papers to send off, wonnie can you help me?" "nope, i stopped doing this type of work 3 years ago" before getting up and carrying all the stacks himself

when u mess up during a speech, be prepared for endless teasing while being reassured that u still deserve a spot in the council (thank u for fake tears and ur bf's soft heart)

if u have to stay after school to work on council duties, jungwon stays behind w u and uses the excuse that he needs help on his hw to be by ur side

he still takes the chance to lovingly bully ur ass

"u know, if u just refused the offer of being class prez we could be in my room rn watching the mlb movie" "babe be quiet before i actually lose it and start crying"

however, the longer he's with u, the more concerned he gets when he realizes that u leave school (alone) around 7 pm when the sky is getting dark and all sorts of creeps are walking around

he knows ure capable of protecting urself but his 'spiderman' bf instincts tell him to walk u home everyday no matter how late it is and tune out the fact that he'll get spanked by his mama for returning so late at night

"u forgot something, love. i need 10 kisses minimum for walking u this late, uberjungwon needs his payment!"

nishimura riki

fully believing in the 'hates almost everyone at school but has a soft spot for u' + the rest of enha trope for u two

yes he acts nonchalant to anyone's attempts at flirting w him but the moment u compliment his skills in soccer bro startings twirling his hair and encourages u to say more

"ki u did so good! ure like blue lock fr" "really? i did so good guarding right? and making that goal? and dribbling? right?" yappa yappa yapping /j

during free period, he drags u to the court and has u play a 1v1 with him

uses the excuse of 'fixing ur form' to get as close to u as possible and hes not ashamed of it

"yeah so u just position ur arm right here and-" "ok but can u loosen ur grip on my hips please, focus on the training babe " "shhhh"

OMFG i imagine him asking u out after winning a really important game with enha cheering him on at the back (big bros)

it'll be when u congratulate the team outside of the locker rooms when he just grabs u by the shoulders and professes a whole shakespeare typa love confession

his fangirls drop down sobbing the next day when u two walk in holding hands and he's carrying ur bag for u with the dopiest smile on his face

@ wonyrs 2023

note me when i dissappear for a month after my first post, come back with the trashiest post ever and a new layout LESGOOO anyways i hope u guys enjoy this and REMEMBER my requests are open so feel free to ask anything :>

[harrywavycurly]

Trouble Next Door Part 21: Practice Date

Masterlist: here

TW: None

Tag List: @sinczir @rach5ive @bruher @kellyxo1 @tiannamortis @makingmunson94 @angelina16torres-blog @tlclick73 @gretavankleep37 @melaninjhs @amira0303 @robyn-118 @jaydaaasworld @squidscottjeans @rockstarmunsons @alanamarie @dandelionnfluff @aol19 @eddiesguitarskills @vampdaisy @br66klynbaby @raven-rust @daisyridleyyyy @i-love-ptv @josephquinnsfreckles @mrsjellymunson @hideoutside @eddiemunson-fanfic @paprikaquinn @burns-in-the-sun @cherrycolas-things @exploding-bonbon @krazyk99 @idkbbyx3 @amberpanda99

A/N: I included this as a regular part because it’s important to the storyline, also…y’all might not like how this ends but please just have faith in me I know exactly where this story is going and how it’s gonna end✨

“These…are for you.” “Oh Eddie these are so pretty thank you…uh please come in while I put these in a vase.” “You’re so kind…uhm so…how was your day?” “It was good I finally got the box of Halloween stuff down from the attic.” “I told you’d I’d help you get it…all you had to do was wait for me.” “You know I don’t have the patience for that…how was your day?” “It was fine…Henderson’s mom’s minivan is a fucking nightmare to work on but I got it done.” “I swear she just messes with stuff to make it stop running just so she can come and see you.” “You’re so delusional…you ready?” “Yeah…let me grab my purse and we can go.” “Now before you say anything…I talked Rick into letting me borrow his car…figured your first date back on the town deserved something better than my run down van.” “Oh don’t be silly Eddie I love that van…uhm…Did you clean it?” “Oh course I did….as if I’d let you sit on anything that belongs to Rick without bleaching it first.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” “I haven’t seen you this dressed up since your wedding day…is that a bobby-pin in your hair?” “You’re so annoying…I just wanted to look nice…and yeah they keep my hair from falling out of the bun…” “sorry..you look good Eddie that’s all I’m trying to say.” “Thank you…you look nice too…I always like when you wear that shade of green…it makes your eyes stand out.” “So…what happens now? After the obligatory complements?” “We just talk you weirdo.” “Okay…uhm…oh do you remember when you knocked on my door for the first time when we were like eleven to ask me if I wanted to play?” “Yeah…you practically threw yourself off your steps and into my arms you were so excited.” “I just was so happy to finally have a friend…who would’ve thought we’d still be friends after all these years? It’s crazy right? Friends don’t normally last this long…we haven’t even had a real fight before.” “Uh excuse me? Yes we have.” “Don’t start.” “Don’t start? Why? Because you still know that I’m right and you refuse to admit it?” “You’re not right…you’re extremely wrong and I’ve proven it to you time and time again.” “He wasn’t the first kill because we don’t know if he was dead by the time she actually died.” “Of course he was dead! They gutted him from the back! She was alive way after he died.” “You’re just so wrong because it takes a long time for someone to bleed out like that…he was totally still alive when she was dying.” “I know you want to believe that she was the first death in Scream but she just wasn’t…she watches her boyfriend get killed that’s why she starts to freak the fuck out!” “No she freaks out because a killer is threatening her on the phone and she just watched her boyfriend get stabbed….not die.” “Edward James Munson you know damn well he was dead!” “Shhhh! This is a fancy ass establishment you can’t go shouting about dead people.” “I need another glass of wine…”

“What are we doing here?” “It wouldn’t be an outing for us if we didn’t make a pit stop at some swings…” “will you push me?” “Aren’t you too old to need me to push you?” “I don’t need you to push me Eddie…I just like it when you do.” “fine…so…how’s it going so far? Feel like you could do this again?” “I’d give it an eight out of ten…and yeah I think so…it’s not as scary as I thought it was going to be.” “You thought a date with me was going to be scary?” “I just…I was nervous.” “Why? It’s just me…nothing to be nervous about.” “That’s true…what about you? Could you do this again?” “Oh yeah…I could totally do this again…maybe not the swings though..that’s just an us thing.” “Damn right it is…I better not hear about you taking anyone else to the park besides me or I’ll be upset.” “You’re so dramatic after a few glasses of wine.” “You love it though.” “Yeah…I do.”

“Ah here we are…home sweet home…mind if I come inside?” “That’s so bold of you to ask on a first date Edward.” “I’ll pour you some more wine….” “Okay you can come in then….” “Red or white?” “White please…I had a really good time tonight…thank you.” “You’re welcome..I’m glad you had a good time…I enjoyed it as well…what? Why…why are you looking at me like that?” “Are…uhm…are you…are you in love with me?” “What? Why…why would you…uhm…I..uh-” “oh god-” “No no no don’t…don’t walk away…I just wasn’t…why did you ask me that?” “Just forget it…I’m sorry…it’s the wine…I’m not making sense…I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have-” “yes.” “Yes?…yes what?” “I’m in love with you.” “No you’re not.” “Yes…yes I am.” “No you’re not…you would’ve told me…you…you would’ve said something.” “I’m…saying something now…doesn’t that count?” “I…I don’t know…what to say.” “That’s okay.” “I can’t…I can’t do this Eddie I can’t…I-” “hey it’s okay…please don’t cry….” “I think.. I just uhm…I need some space…I’m gonna go-” “no no I’ll go..you stay here I’ll uhm go stay at Wayne’s…just…I’m sorry okay? I didn’t…I didn’t want to tell you like this….please know that I don’t expect anything in return I just…it’s out there now so…we have to deal with it.” “I can’t deal with it right now…” “and that’s fine…I’ll uh go to Wayne’s and…maybe I’ll come by tomorrow and…we can talk about it?” “I’ll call you.” “Okay…yeah that works too…uhm…goodnight?” “Goodnight…tell…tell Wayne I said…hello.” “Yeah I’ll uhm..I’ll do that.”

[thedvilsinthedetails]

rosekiller microfic

HAPPY INTERNATIONAL ACE DAY YAYAYAY

here enjoy a rosekiller microfic [1066 words so idk how micro it really is but shhhh] with ace Evan and Barty ‘no homo but I think I love you’ Crouch Jr [I love them so much]

“Truth or dare?”

“Aw come on you guys know me, dare obviously.”

Barty grinned at the circle of his friends sat cross legged all around him.

“Mmm I’ve got one.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow challengingly, everyone knew Regulus gave out the most brutal dares. Barty wasn’t phased though, it was almost impossible to make Barty embarrassed honestly, outwardly at least. Last time he’d taken a dare from Regulus he’d gone around school in bright pink robes for the next week. 

“Bring it on Reggie.”

“I dare you to make out with Evan till I stop you.”

Barty scrunched his nose.

“Oh is that it?”

“Uh rude.”

Evan said.

Barty turned to him quickly, placing a hand on his best friend’s cheek.

“Don’t be like that Goldilocks you know I’m hopelessly in love with you. I just meant Reg usually gives…more dramatic dares.”

“Yeah whatever prick. And who says I wanna make out with this dickhead anyway. It’s Bee’s dare not mine.”

“Aw come on Rosie don’t you think I’m pretty.”

Barty batted his eyes and pretended to fan himself, Evan shoved him to the ground with a laugh. Evan had one of the prettiest laughs Barty had ever seen. He wasn’t gay or anything but the way Evan’s halo of blonde curls bounced up and down gently made his stomach flip. Barty sort of wanted to reach out and run a hand through those curls actually, they looked soft. Evan looked soft, in a big purple hoodie and smooth warm skin and red lips currently stretched out in a big smile that just made his whole face light up. Barty found himself joining in. Evan pulled him up off the wooden floor and ran a hand through Barty’s hair, messing it up affectionately.

“Fine, I guess I’ll do it.”

Barty turned, facing Evan properly and lifting a hand to his cheek as Evan pulled him in by the collar. They were so close now, hesitating just before their lips pressed and all Barty could think was EvanEvanEvan. 

He could smell him, the conditioner he used softly scented of toffee and pears.

He could feel his breath warm and tickling against his skin.

“Come on get on with it. 

Regulus huffed. And suddenly they were meeting in the middle and Evan’s lips were pressed against him and he tasted better than Barty could ever have imagined and and-wow. This was nice. This was lovely. Barty’s hands wandered to Evan’s hair, fingers running through it like he’d imagined only moments ago. But it was so much better than he’d imagined. Evan was so. And it was wonderful. And the way Evan had his arms wrapped around Barty’s waist, pulling him closer made the butterflies in his stomach just soar. He wanted to stay like this forever, just utterly surrounded by Evan. He loved this. He loved- Oh. Oh. 

Oh that’s what this was. 

And it all made sense suddenly.

Evan pulled back panting for a moment and Barty tried to bite back the smile he could feel forming on his face as he saw Evan’s kiss bitten lips. 

He leaned back in again to keep going but Evan glanced his eyes around and sighed.

“Barty.”

He motioned his hand out and Barty glanced around. The room was empty, the others must have snuck out while he and Evan were- he tried to stifle his smile again as he thought about it. He clearly didn’t manage very well because Evan flicked his arm angrily.

“It’s not funny.”

“No, no I wasn’t laughing I just…had fun.”

Evan glanced up at him eyes wide and pupils dilated.

“Y-you did?”

“Yeah. We could…keep going. Only if you wanted obviously.” Barty mumbled. 

Evan opened his mouth and then shut it again. 

“I- I don’t know if that’s such a good idea Barty.”

Barty felt his world crash down around him. Or it felt something like that at least.

“Yeah. Yeah it was stupid I shouldn’t have- I uh-“

His words felt like lead in his mouth. He was so stupid. So fucking dumb. He-

“Barty.”

Evan’s voice was soft and grounding. Evan’s hand on his shoulder was even more grounding. He looked up at his best friend.

“You good?” Evan asked.

“Yeah. Thanks. I just shouldn’t have said that.”

“Barty…do you like me?”

“I- yeah. A lot actually.”

It felt somehow wonderful and horrifyingly disarming to admit. He squirmed under Evan’s gaze. Vulnerable, as a rule, was not a thing Barty Crouch Jr strived to achieve. 

Evan’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh. Oh same. I really…”

Barty’s breath hitched. 

“Be my boyfriend, please.”

He asked voice scratchy and quiet.

Evan paused. He seemed to be having a conversation in his mind, eyebrows furrowing. Barty reached up and pressed a thumb between his two brows.

“Talk to me.”

Evan sighed softly.

“I can’t give you the things you want in a relationship.”

“Evan the thing I want is you.”

“I know. But I don’t, I hate sex, it just grosses me out and I don’t think I’ll ever want to do it and I know you like it and- and I don’t want you getting bored of just me.”

“How could I ever get bored of just you?” Barty murmured, eyes searching Evan’s face for some kind of plausible answer. Impossible. Because I could never be bored of him.

“Barty there’s no going back if this all blows up in our faces.”

Evan warned but Barty could feel the way his face had edged closer.

“Evan there already is no going back. Besides I never want to. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

And with that they kissed again. And when they broke apart again it was because Barty couldn’t stop grinning. Foreheads pressed together they breathed gently.

“So will you be my boyfriend?”

Barty asked with a chuckle.

Evan mussed up his hair again.

“What do you think you cunt?”

“Mmm I think your insults won’t work anymore now that I know how irresistible you find me.”

Evan groaned as Barty tugged him up to standing.

“I take it all back, I hate you.”

Barty laughed, pulling Evan to his bed. 

They fell asleep there, cuddling and whispering soft words and gentle laughter till Regulus found them in the morning, curled up against each other with soft smiles.

“Fucking FINALLY!”

Barty and Evan just laughed. 

[honeeslust]

Levi knows he can do you better than your man can.

🖤 Don't mind me, in just falling for Levi

Levi thinks your so pretty with the tears in your eyes, your legs divorced, him forcing himself so deep that you can feel it in places no one could ever seem to reach. Levi knows it, when he licks the tear that rolls down your cheek. I'd bet he’s never made you cry like this, he doesn't know how to touch you, does he? His truth, like his dick, is hard to take. His teeth lay into your shoulder leaving you to twist against the binds tethering you to either side of his bed. Ssssss-Shhhh, if it's just a little pain, you can take it pretty baby. He pushes deep, pulling out slow, roughly pushing back inside again. Pleasure and pain are one in the same now. You flinch, your head raising from the bed but not from the continual battering from his his talented but unkind member. His It was because you knew he was ruining you. How could anyone else ever measure up to this? The man between your legs was drunk off the way his name erupted from you sinful mouth. Levi, too much. Too much, or too good, he whispers in your ear seeing right through the way your shame clung to you. If anything, it made you clench him tighter inside. I'll make it so you want more. I'll make you need more. He boasts, a tattooed hand necklace adorning your pretty little neck now, squeezing just enough that you couldn't scream anymore. I’ll make it so that anytime he touches you you think of me. He bucks his hips losing himself in you as your tears flow freely. You know it won't feel like what I can do. His rythym builds and he grins down upon the glittering eyes imploring him to give even more. If I'm wrong, say the word, I'll stop. He pants, pushing his way in so deep you actually feel the moment you fell in love with his dick and maybe even him. You only close your eyes, ashamed and on the brink of one of the most cataclysmic orgasms you'd ever have. He slows, his thumb drawing your lips apart for you to suck. Ah ah I didn't think so. He tells you this, his thumb now pressing into your mouth. You'll have to look at me. I won't have you come any other way. I take pride in my work, so open them, or I'll stop. You can just barely manage to pry them open, but you were met with his satisfied gaze. He watched you explode making a mess of his satin sheets. For the first time you see him smile. That's it, come for me. He shudders. Mmmm, you're fucking strangling my cock, Ss—sso fuckin wet, fuck. c'mon, give me more. He grunts nearing his own release. He just barely manages to pull out in time to eject a heavy white load over your pretty tits. Looking at him with stars in your eyes, he's practically moving art, tight arms and even tighter abs, his dark hair a mess as he stoked out the last few spurts on of his cum on your trembling body. You couldn't move when he untied you, but that didn't stop him from flipping you onto your stomach ready to make you call your man and tell him you're never come home again.

From the honey pot 🍯

I've been practicing. How's this?? @littlemochabunni @biscuitsngravie @ryomens-vixen @blkkizzat @i-literally-cant-with-this and @callm3senpaii I've been bitten so hard. 😍

[spider-biter]

Head cannons abt the moon boys for the soul <3 🌙🌙🌙

A/N: I’ve been stuck with this in my head for the past 4 days.…. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!! Also thank you for correcting my misspelling of mierda as Mérida 😭😭😭 embarrassing 😳

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ◯ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺⋆⁺ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

- Steven loves old vintage things, he often wonders into antique stores to just “look around”

- he spends 50 dollars.

- Jake cannot stand waiting. man is literally impatient AF

- “15 minutes till the next train???! Mierda, let’s just fucking walk”

- cooking for him is his love language

- he will literally sob on the inside if you even show interest in his cultural food

- Marc is the same way

- one time you made him Rugelach and he was a MESS

- “baby it’s not even that good-“ “ITS AMAZING AND I LOVE IT AND- AND I LOVE YOU-“ “ok”

- Steven loves that you know so much about their cultures and interests

- he also appreciates how you avoid meat when he’s fronting

- when you first ordered a tofu taco on a date with him he immediately felt guilty, like he was pressuring you or something

- “love- no it’s ok! you can eat meat I don’t care!”

- “darling, if this is important to you then it is important to me. plus tofu is literally the best so it’s no problem! :)”

- oml he is going to COLLAPSE

- they always appreciate that you know how to comfort them whenever they are triggered or have a nightmare

- Steven needs to be grounded, so you take his hands and hold him close to you. Rubbing circles on his back, telling him that you’re right here, it’s ok, you’re fine. he often falls asleep with his head on your chest with your hands in his hair

- Marc fluctuates between quiet dissociation and physical panic

- when he’s quiet you make sure to interact. asking him questions like how was your day, do you want tea, how many sugars, any cream? just so he is forced to stay as much out of his head as he can

- (even though you can probably make his favorite tea ((thank you stevens Brit influence)) blindfolded)

- if it’s physical it’s a lot harder. You know that Marc would probably sink deeper if he ever accidentally hurt you so you just try to make him look at you. The 5-4-3-2-1 rule works best to get him out of it. He usually goes quiet after one, staring into nothing. Usually you just kind of sit near and around him, trying to get him back to the present (Think of that one scene in the asylum where he just looks exhausted)

- Jake just needs his space. You respect that. One of you normally leaves to give the other some space. You understand and respect that it’s not a you thing, just a ‘I think if I am touched or talked to I will literally fall over this edge that I am on’ thing.

- he normally apologizes (even though you told him it’s ok) and is super lovey dovey & touchey for the next couple of hours after

- speaking of touchey

- they all LOVE to hold you

- steven found out that holding hands with you and swinging them back and forth dramatically makes you giggle

- especially if he skips with you while doing it (he has done it twice and both times you felt your heart explode with love!)

- he loves holding your hand, rubbing circles on the back of your palm to calm each other down

- and whenever you get up in the middle of the night to pull him out of his studies/work he softly kisses your knuckles as an apology, whispering things in French

- LORD

- you guys also rest against each others foreheads in moments of silence, just enjoying the closeness of your love

- Jake is a spinner!

- he’ll grab your arm and immediately spin you around, no matter what you’re doing.

- you always scream out of surprise even though he’s done this forever

- he also loves to dip you

- “no need to be scared mi corazón, I’ll never drop you 😤💪❤️” 🤨🤨 “what about that one time at-” “shhhh mi vida no es importante”

- Jake loves having his hands on you in a “mine” way

- but you do the exact same for him

- but he likes to come up behind you and run his hands all over your body while kissing your jawline. “So lovely” “so beautiful” “y todo mío” (that last one made your knees jelly)

- Marc has such an obsession with physical touch

- for the first 6-8 months, he was really scared of touching you. he never got physical love as a child and was always scared he’d break you because of it

- but one day he fell asleep on your shoulder during a movie you guys were watching

- and damn. The peace he felt was similar to how he felt in the field of reeds tbh

- ANYWAYS

- one day you both started just hooking arms with the other and skipping around in a circle

- it’s a cowboy jig

- yeehaw

- Marc also is obsessed with giving you piggyback rides, even if you are scared AS HELL!

- yes Marc Spector has run with a fully grown adult on his back yelling “MARC WHAT THE FUCK?” In Central Park. what abt it

- he loves to let you rest your head on his shoulder.

- he’s a big face guy??? Like he brushes away hair, pecks your cheeks, wipes away tears.

- he’s very gentle all the time and loves holding your cheek as you guys just stare at each other

- the mornings with them >>>

- who’s big and little spoon is a never ending battle

- with Steven it’s very quiet & reflective

- laying on each others chests, hands in each others hair, comforter pulled up to your neck, listening to the other breathing pattern and syncing it up! It’s all about the quiet company of love. The 2 of you comfortable for all of eternity

- Marc is similar but not

- it’s inches away from each other, still entangled with the other. you face each other and whisper silly nothings: I love you, I’ll do anything for you, we should do this for a date.

- You even boop his nose.

- he’s not a fan

- Jake loves being the big spoon but after hard days you make him little spoon so you can wrap around him <3

- but when he is big spoon??????

- his warm arms wrap around your midsection, keeping you in nirvana eternally. you both float in and out of consciousness, his head rests softly on yours, you nestle deeper into him, even though that’s literally scientifically impossible at this point. He loves how addicted you are to him

- he doesn’t even realize how addicted he is to you ;)

- it’s also passionate make out sessions, still sleepy and slightly sloppy, before he goes into the shower and you make him a coffee

- (getting out of the shower to be greeted by your coffee and you sitting at the counter just reading over the news on your phone??? it makes his heart literally collapse in on itself every. single. day.)

- speaking of passion

- you helped them all find things they’re passionate about

- you helped Steven get a better job at a different museum and he LOVES IT!!!

- it was pretty easy, Steven just had to be confident in his knowledge.

- sometimes you stop by on your lunch break and see Steven somehow getting a group of terrible and loud preteens absolutely invested in the story of Ra and Sekhement

- (passionately teaching a group of kids all about the ancient relics of the past is a turn on you never knew you had)

- you helped Marc get involved with the INTERPOL force in London, so he can occasionally be on call, and help people in a legal way

- he likes it bc it gives him something to do & makes the world a better place

- he helps take down bad guys & save kids. He gets to be the person he always wished would come and save him when he was younger.

- it makes you sob

- but!

- Jake is happy as long as he’s with you but he’s actually super into watching old telenovelas

- you guys make a whole day out of it

- and the 2 of you won’t stop acting out the most dramatic scenes of it

- “TU ES MI HIJO???” “Si, madre. También soy tu ABUELO EN EL FUTURO!!!” *gasp*

- Steven and Marc are OVER IT!!

- speaking of Marc, you always celebrate Rosh Hashanah & other important Jewish holidays with him

- you cook together, him teaching you these generational meals and you making sure he doesn’t burn down the entire kitchen

- during Yom Kippur you help him fast & reflect with him

- keeping him grounded and not just letting him shit on himself endlessly for 25 hours?? telling him that “it’s about repenting and doing it better this year”???? Literally life saving for him

- and to have someone to help him with his spirituality is so important to him

- like… beyond words

- idk where to put this at but onetime you drove with Jake in the passenger

- he is TRAUMATIZED

- like just imagine a grown ass man screaming as you go 50 mph down the London bridge

- “eres un pequeño demonito de la velocidad. me asustas” (you’re a little speed demon (lovingly). You scare me)

- Steven was LIVING

- “STEVEN IF YOU DONT STOP CHEERING THEM ON-“

- “LOVE GO FASTER!!”

- yes Steven is also a little speed demon

- it’s cannon idc

- if you can’t already tell, they love you so much

- holding you after a bad day, comforting your anxieties, feeding the ducks in the pond

- “darling he’s a duck-“ “I don’t care! He’s staring at me like I did something! I’m innocent Marc I swear!” “I- I know babe- it’s- it’s a duck???”

- (This conversation and never ending confusion on Marc’s part goes on for another 15 minutes)

- they cherish you like no one else

- they would take a bullet for you without even a second thought and you would for them too

- (where is my moon system holding dying lover or lover holding dying system fic already??)

- anyways

- they love you the most in the world

- and tbh??? You do too.

- “I love you the most”

- “I love you the mostest”

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

This is for me and @babygorewhore’s Writing Prompt Game. Feel free to click the link and come play!! Prompt: Road head with John B. - Warnings: Blow job,( kinda?) Dom!JB 18+MDNI!!!

You knew it wasn’t the time. But something about the way John B was driving right now was making you crazy. His hair was a tangled mess, he had dirt all over his face, neck, and arms. His button up shirt was askew, only the few bottom buttons still in tact. Displaying his chest that was covered in a sheen layer of sweat and he just looked so good. His large hands were gripping the steering wheel to the point that his knuckles were white and the veins in his hands looked like they might burst. He had a busted lip from the altercation he just got into with the kooks and there was a hard look on his face as he angrily ranted to you.

You weren’t even sure what he was saying, honestly, the only thing you could focus on was how badly you wanted to pull his shorts down his hips and take his cock down your throat. It’s not your fault watching your boyfriend fight turned you on. He’s usually pretty gentle with you, except for when you really push his buttons. But even then, the punishments he deals are sometimes lighter than you’d like. You want him to fucking destroy you, completely take you, shut your brain off so all you can think about is him and his cock.

“Babe, are you even listening?” John B turns to you at a stop sign, eyebrow raised, fingers tapping agitatedly against the steering wheel.

“Huh? Yeah I’m listening, sorry.” You give him a reassuring smile and he takes that as sign to continue his rant. You listen the best you can for a bit longer, offering a small ‘uh-huh’ here and there. Until he runs his fingers through his hair, throwing his head back slightly. His Adam’s Apple on fully display, the sweat on his neck practically begging to be licked off. And it’s really over for you when he grabs your thigh, asking you again if you’re listening to him. You don’t respond, instead giving into your desires by leaning across the seat to lick along the side of his neck.

“Whoa!” John B jumps back a little, glancing away from the road at you. “What are you doing?”

“Shhhh… just let me.” You whisper against his skin, kissing and nipping down his throat while your hand finds his cock through his shorts.

“Babe, this is not the time! This is serious shit we are going through we have to focus - oh fuck.” He lets out a groan when your hand wraps around his shaft, jerking him slightly through the material. You feel him start to harden causing a smirk spread across your lips.

“I think your cock disagrees, and so do I. I happen to think it’s the perfect time.” You kiss down his chest, flicking your tongue out to lick the salty sweat covering his skin as your hands work on undoing his shorts. You push them down and pull his cock out, spitting on your palm before taking it in your hand.

“Oh my fucking goddd. Baby, I’m driving, I don’t think this is the best - shit - idea.” John B keeps his eyes on the road, still going the speed limit despite the fact that you just took his whole cock down your throat in one swift motion. He swerves slightly, before grabbing onto your hair, using his grip to pull you off of him. “Did you not fucking hear me? I said that shit’s not safe.”

You whimper, your eyes rolling back at the burn on your scalp his grip is causing. “Just wanna make you feel good…” You pout up at him and he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“You’re kind of acting like a slut right now, you know that? You wanna suck me off so bad? Fine.” He pulls off the road into a cluster of trees throwing the car in park. He uses the grip he still has on your hair to push you back onto his cock, shoving himself completely down your throat with a loud groan.

You gag around him, letting out a moan of your own at the feeling of him being rough with you. He pulls you off, giving you a second to breathe before he’s pushing you back down again. He starts to thrust his hips up, fucking your throat with his head thrown back, breathy moans leaving his lips. He pulls you off again, forcing you to look up at him. You have mascara running down your face, droll dripping down the sides of your lips and this look in your eyes like you’d let him do anything he wanted to you right now.

“You like this shit, huh? Are you my little slut?” He uses his thumb to rub the spit on your lips. You’re looking at him like you’re in a trance, his words hardly registering. “Answer me.”

“Yeah, I’m your little slut.” You take his thumb in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it.

“So pretty like this…” He pulls his thumb from your mouth, replacing it with his cock with ease. He counties to use your throat, bobbing your head up and down on his cock. You reach your hand down to cup his balls, swirling them in your palm. “Oh fuck! Baby, I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum.”

He pushes your head down a final time, his hips raising off the seat as his spills down your throat. You swallow every drop, pulling off him with a moan.

“That was so fucking hot.” He pants, taking your face in his hands so he can capture your lips in a passionate, messy kiss.