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there needs to be more one-sided enemies to lovers content. by which i mean one person HATES and the other is like “aw you’re adorable + utterly nonthreatening to me *enrages them on purpose*”
OR!
One hates + has the power to actually make the other’s life miserable but the other one is like “well I admire you a lot and I know I can prove you wrong so *tries really hard and stubbornly shrugs off the criticism/mocking/cruelty*”
#astxrwar.txt#yeah im ttbposting again. i was looking at the enemies to lovers ao3 tag and it’s mostly 2 ppl who see each other as equals#i simply desire more unbalanced dysfunctional dynamic where either#one of them hates and the other is like ‘lol it’s cute because you’re genuinely no threat to me. like a kitten with claws out’#or where the more powerful one hates and the other is like I WILL PROVE MYSELF!!! and#that just enrages them more because Oh actually maybe they were wrong + the person is competent#can’t deal with being wrong at all except to lean into the hatred and desire to take them down multiple pegs#and then they fuck. and the one that idolizes them a little is SO INTO IT that the more powerful one is like. oh no.#can’t even maintain hatred anymore just Wants Them is enamored with their determination and it’s Game Over#OR BOTH AT ONCE!! ppl contain multitudes#i just love fucked up relationship dynamics.#in FICTION where they’re FUN and SAFE#dkfjfkfkf
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one of the things I see the most in any fandom space is pearl clutching people saying how “shocked” they are when it turns out a “problematic” ship or a “problematic” character is loved a lot in said fandom.
the most recent example for me would be from this poll where it asks people to vote which ship they like the most, thousands of fans have voted, and the results happen to show the ship that is — according to these people — most problematic has won. needless to say, hundreds of these “noble people who usually harass real people, who just want to ship their little ship in peace, over fictional characters in the name of being morally superior” are so shocked that such a “harmful and problematic” ship is the one that is most liked within the fandom they’re in.
I mean… I don’t know what to tell you, but just because you’re “loud” and you like to “witch hunt” people who enjoy fictional things that you think is Bad, doesn’t mean the ship or the character you deemed Problematic is actually hated by the majority of the fandom you’re in.
sure, you are allowed to hate these ships and these characters for any reason, but other people are allowed to like them. and surprise surprise, the world doesn’t revolve around you and your mindset that Liking Bad Fictional Things Equals Condoning Bad Things in Real Life.
shocking, I know. but most sane people can actually distinguish the differences between fiction and reality. and that’s why people who like fictional villains aren’t actually serial killer in real life.
fandom is and has always supposed to be a safe and fun space in which anyone can like and enjoy whatever they want. it never is, and it’s never supposed to be a courtroom where someone’s moral compass is judged based on how they enjoy Fictional Things. because the whole point of enjoying a ship or liking a fictional character is that it’s fictitious, it’s not real. no one in real life is getting killed because a hot fictional villain is loved by hundreds and thousands of fans.
I hope you feel better soon though 🤍
#fandom police#fandom discourse#fandom culture#fandom etiquette#blorbo#comfort character#fandom#fandoms#purity culture#pro ship#anti proship#ship and let ship#stan culture#ship wars#villain police#villain#villains#shipping discourse#shipping discussion
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What do you Desire
Pairing: Ari Levinson x Female Reader
Word Count: 2465
Summary: Ari explores one of his desires with you.
Warnings: Anal sex, anal play, size kink, Ari is 6’4, oral (F & M), multiple orgasms, friends with benefits with feelings. Dialogue in bold, “You're taking me so well, baby.”
A/N: Thank you to my beta readers @lfnr-blog-blog-blog & @pigwidgeonxo. All mistakes are mine. Thank you to @fictional-affairs for the header and @firefly-graphics for the divider.
A/N 2: This is for @steviebbboi writing challenge. This can be read with the mini-series I started called Infinity Sex or as a standalone. These are the previous fics Give Me One More & Mine to Ruin.
Reblogs & Comments are welcomed and encouraged. It lets me know you like my work. 😊����
I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫
Tonight was all about Ari and his desires as you knocked on his apartment door. Normally he was all about what you wanted and the new things to try in the bedroom. When Ari expressed he wanted to try anal with you, you wanted to throw yourself in his arms and his bed. This was also something on your list to try but you had always been nervous about it until Ari showed up in your life. You trusted him completely, cared for him deeply and a part of you was falling in love with this gentle man. You both started as strictly friends with benefits, but as time passed, you couldn’t ignore your feelings anymore. You didn’t want to ruin the good thing you had with him so you locked those feelings away.
After a moment of waiting Ari’s front door swung open and there he stood before you in sweatpants and a form-fitting t-shirt. You had to control yourself as the t-shirt he was wearing showed off all his muscles. It was like he was sculpted from the gods above.
“Hey sweetheart, so happy you're here. Do you want any wine?” Ari hugs you tight before letting you go.
“Yes please,” you stated as you walked into the apartment in your leggings and one of Ari’s shirts that was oversized. The door closed behind you as you kicked off your shoes, placing them at the entrance.
You followed Ari into the kitchen where he poured you both a glass of wine. Ari handed you the glass and you took a sip of it. You could see his blue eyes wandering across your body like he was drinking you in. You could be wearing a potato sack and you knew he would still eye fuck you. The thought of it brings a smile to your face.
“So I wanted to make sure you were still up for tonight's scenario. I mean I know this is something I have always wanted to do with you sweetheart but if you aren’t comfortable now or at the time of it I need you to let me know. We can always do something else. I just want you safe and comfortable.” Ari commented as he took a drink of wine.
You couldn’t help the smile on your face after what he said. He was always looking out for your well-being. He never forced you to do anything you didn’t openly want to try. Ari and you had a safe word just in case anything was too intense for you. But never once had you used it the entire time you had been together.
“I am ready for tonight. It’s something I have always wanted to try with you. You always take care of me in bed and I trust you will do the same tonight. I know this is something on your list as well so let us do as we always do. Take our time and enjoy one another.” You suggested taking another drink of your wine.
Ari smirked at you as he moved closer to where you stood in the kitchen. Ari was a very tall man compared to you standing at 6’4. He leaned down and kissed your forehead.
“Why don’t we take this to my room? I want to be able to have some fun before we try anything new. What do you say, sweetheart?”
“I say let’s go Mr. Levinson and don’t forget to bring the wine.” You winked at him as you turned on your heel and walked away swaying your hips.
Ari downed his glass of wine as he watched you head to the bedroom. “God she is going to be the death of me.” Ari picked up the bottle of wine and followed you quickly.
In the bedroom, you turn on the lights next to the sides of the bed. Your body slides across the covers as you lay in the middle of the bed waiting for Ari to pounce. It doesn’t take long before he enters the room placing his glass and the bottle of wine on an end table. Ari walks to the end of the bed and slowly takes his shirt off revealing his muscular body that had a fair amount of chest hair. He slowly crawls up the bed until his body is changing you in.
“You’re too overdressed, sweetheart. Let me help you out of your clothes.” He states.
Ari leans you upward as he grabs the shirt and pulls it over your head. His fingers then unclasp your bra and take it off slowly. His hand pushes you back on the bed as he works his way lower, kissing your body as he descends past your breasts and to your stomach. Ari’s fingers grab the waistband of your leggings and underwear, pulling them down your legs and discarding them. There you lay bare in front of him. Ari licks his lips as he takes your naked body in front of him. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. He wanted more than just your body, he wanted you to be his. The problem was he didn’t want to scare you away from him if he told you how he felt.
Pushing your legs apart Ari settles his broad shoulders in between your legs. He places your legs over his shoulders and starts kissing slowly up your thighs. His beard left scratches in his wake as he made his way towards your pussy. You let out a shuddering breath when he licks through your pussy and kisses your clit. His tongue makes another pass through your petals and a moan escapes your lips.
Your fingers find refuge in his hair as you slide your fingers through his hair. Ari starts to eat you out like a man starved as his tongue and lips work you over. His right thumb finds your clit and rubs circles around it making you moan his name to the heavens. You can feel your body starting to get closer and closer to your end. Your breathing grows quicker the more Ari eats you out. A few more swirls of his tongue and swipes of his thumb to your clit has you screaming your release. Your arousal leaks all over Ari’s beard as he works you through your climax.
As you come down from your high Ari pulls away and kisses his way back up your body to your breasts. He takes a nipple in his mouth and slightly sucks on it. Again he pulls off with a pop and does the same thing to your other nipple. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you start to pant. Once he pulls apart from you he kisses you passionately on your lips. His tongue plays with yours as he grinds his clothed cock against your core. When he pulls away from you so the both of you can breathe you press against his chest with your hand signaling for him to lay on his back.
It’s your turn to pull off his sweats and boxer briefs down his legs, discarding his clothes onto the floor. His cock is hard, long and thick. Just knowing this will be in your ass in a matter of minutes makes your pussy clench around nothing. You whine at the thought of him taking you from behind and ruining your hole for all other men. Ari smirks at you as if he could read your mind. It was as if you could communicate with no words.
You crawl up his body and lightly grab a hold of his cock. Your head dips down letting your tongue swirl around the tip of his cock. You lick the precum that is dripping down the head of his cock and slowly take him down your throat.
Ari softly whispers “fuck” as soon as he feels you take him deep in your throat. He runs his fingers through your hair as you work yourself up and down his shaft. His hands grip your hair as he starts to fuck your throat. You hum in delight at being used for his pleasure. You hollow your cheeks as you both work together chasing his high. His cock hits you deeper in your throat making tears fall from your eyes. It feels as though you can’t breathe at times but you don’t care you keep bobbing your head up and down on his cock. Cupping his balls you start to play with them causing Ari to groan loudly as he starts to chase his high.
“That’s it, sweetheart, don’t stop.” He pleads.
A couple more thrusts and Ari is cumming down your throat as he moans your name over and over. He lets go of your hair as you swallow his cum down your throat. You lick your lips making sure you got every drop of cum in your mouth and take a deep breath in. Ari looks like you swallowed his soul down as he is breathing deeply in and out.
“God damn, sweetheart, that was fucking great. Just give me a minute before I have my way with you.”
Ari pulls you to his chest and kisses your forehead. You cuddle up against him as you both continue to touch one another sensually. Every caress, every kiss makes this feel more intimate between the two of you. Time passes and you start to get aroused again. Looking down at Ari’s cock he starts to grow hard. Sitting up in bed Ari opens the end table drawer and pulls out some lube.
“Now sweetheart, I’m going to get you stretched out before we go any further. Okay?”
You nod your head as you get into position, head down and ass up. Ari shuffles behind you and lightly rubs your hip. He pours some lube on your hole and his fingers. The lube makes you tense at first but then you relax. His thumb rubs soft circles around the rim of your hole and with every light pass he just pushes the tip of his thumb into you slowly. Inch by inch his thumb stretches you. Causing you to groan out in pleasure. In and out, he moves gently to not hurt you.
“I’m gonna add two fingers to help stretch you out better. You’re gonna need to take at least three for me to fit.” He pushes two fingers inside you as you moan his name.
“Ari, baby, this feels good. The stretch is…oh god… it's so fucking good.”
Your ass presses back against his fingers as he finally puts all three inside you. Ari works them in and out of you. Now and then he speeds up making you squeal in delight. After several minutes of working on you and stretching you, adding another finger, and doing it again, he pulls his three fingers out. Ari pours a little more lube on you and strokes some on his cock.
“Okay sweetheart, I’m going to push inside you. If anything hurts you know your safe word. Are you ready?”
“Yes, I’m ready.”
He grabs his cock and puts the tip to your puckered hole. Slowly he pushes into you and your hole stretches around his thickness. Inch by inch he gently moves inside you and when he is fully inside his cock pulls out just as gently. Your soft whimpers and moans fill the air as Ari starts to speed up a little. Every push and pull has you holding onto the bedding. Ari loves the tightness around his cock and the noises you are making. With as tight as you feel he is afraid he isn’t going to last as long.
“Darling you are gripping me tightly. Feels so good. You feel so good. Can I go a little harder?” He all but begs you.
“Yes, baby. I need more of you.” You whined as he started to thrust a little harder into you. You relax as much as possible so he can thrust into you more easily.
Every push and pull of his cock has you both moaning and groaning. Ari’s pace is just what you need. Your fingers glide down between your legs to where your clit is. Reaching it you start to play with yourself rubbing it in pace with Ari.
With every thrust you push back against him, trying to chase your end. Ari’s grip on your hips is almost bruising as he gets lost in the sensation of it all.
“You're taking me so well, baby. I’m close, sweetheart. So fucking close. I need you to cum for me.”
Your fingers continue rubbing your clit and you can feel that familiar coil within you about to break. A few thrusts and a slap to your ass from Ari sends you over the edge as you chant his name over and over.
That’s all that he needed to hear to make him cum inside you. His thrusts slow down until he is finished. Ari gently pulls himself out of your hole and watches you sink into the bed. Fuck did he enjoy himself for his first time doing anal.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?”
You mumble out, “Yes, I think I need a minute.”
Ari straddles your hips and starts to massage your back. He knew you needed this and worked to get all the stress worked out of your back. After ten minutes of massaging he leans down to kiss your shoulder.
“Let’s get up so we can both shower. Then we can lay down.” He kisses you again as you groan out your frustration of having to get up. But you knew you had to.
You both crawl out of bed and take a hot shower together. Each of you cleaning the other while enjoying the intimacy of it all. By the time you were cleaned, you both dried yourselves off and were heading to bed. Ari was putting the lube away as you climbed into bed.
Ari joins you and cuddles up behind your naked form. His big arm drapes across you and pulls you close to his chest.
You both start to drift off into your sleepy state when you whisper, “Love you, Ari.”
His eyes open up at the sound of your voice and he smiles to himself. “Love you too sweetheart.” But it seems he’s too late as he hears your soft snores as you sleep.
Were you both just confessing the love you had for one another or was it just a slip of words? He worries that maybe his feelings are getting too involved in what was an agreement between the two of you. This is something you both will need to talk about soon. For now, Ari holds you close and falls asleep.
Taglist
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#saiyanprincessswanie#missy writes#ari levinson#ari levinson x female reader#ari levinson x fem!reader#ari levinson x f!reader#what do you desire#infinity sex mini series#ari levinson x reader#bbboi200celebration#steviebbboiwritingchallenge
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Fun Fact: Hognose snakes are dramatic lil guys!
I am particularly fond of the snakes known as hognose snakes, and my reasons are both understandable and correct.
This is a hognose snake:
(They received their name by having the sweetest lil snoot to ever require a boop – image source)
They use these adorable snoots to burrow under sandy soil using a sort of nuzzle-y motion. They then use these burrows as a place to sleep at night, hibernate in the winter, and lay their eggs.
(you could say they’re into... the Underground Scene! ...ok yeah i’ll show myself out – image source)
Plus, they come in a variety of delightful colours!
We've got brown! Beige! Yellow! Black! Red! Orange! Tan! Kinda greenish! Orange again!
(pretty sneks! – Here’s all the image sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9)
And, to be clear, the snakes pictured above are wild snakes. No selective breeding by humans in these noodly bois! At least, not in these specific individuals. probably. I guess a few of them could be escapees...
But most importantly: These snakes know the true meaning of DRAMA
Hognose snakes are actors, first and foremost. When they feel threatened, the first thing they do is puff out their neck into a hood.
(like cobras, this hood is made by FLEXING THEIR NECK RIBS. which: gross – image source x)
This superficially makes them look like a cobra, but what they’re actually trying to do is make themselves seem bigger, and therefore scarier. Possibly those dark spots on their neck helps with that!
Any resemblance to real-life Eurasian cobras, real or fictional, is purely coincidental
Also, it makes its mouth do this:
(Snakes that SCREAAAAAAAM. – image source)
honestly, if I didn’t already know that hognose snakes were harmless, this would ABSOLUTELY make me leave it the hell alone
But if all of that^ is unsuccessful at scaring away the predator, the hognose snake pulls its signature move: playing dead
If you think that is a lame signature move, then you are wrong, because hognose snakes put EVERYTHING into their performance and I love them for it.
(they’re serious, they’ll do it! – image source)
((I’m actually going to stick the rest of this under a read-more, bc the pictures of the alive-and-physically-fine hognose snakes do kind of look like a legitimately-dead hognose snake, if you don’t know what to look for.
So, uh: cw for a snake being too good at pretending to be dead))
Behold: a series of completely healthy, unharmed snakes!!!
(to help with their self-esteem, we ask that you at least pretend to believe that they are dead – image sources 1, 2, 3, 4)
Honestly, the photos don’t do it justice. Here’s my favourite video of the whole wonderous performance:
youtube
But to review:
There's writhing! There's dramatic noises! There's flipping onto their back and opening their mouth wide and letting their tongue hang out! There's excreting a combination of intentionally smelly substances!!! Truly a master of the art of being left the hell alone (*^▽^*)
(yep. deeeeefinitely dead. not just faking it. nothing worth eating here! – image source)
Personally, my favourite part of this is how they insist on rolling onto their back, even when they are rolled back onto their stomach.
Seriously, if you try to roll them right-side-up, they will flip back over. It's as though they believe that a good, proper dead snek MUST be on its back, obviously.
(truly fearsome – image source)
Sadly, the hognose snake may have made itself too scary, according to humans.
Out of fear, these snakes are commonly killed on sight 😔. I once heard someone proudly brag about how they’d killed a dozen cobras! In southern Ontario! Where cobras do not live! This is both extremely frustrating and deeply sad.
(safe enough to hold! although maybe don’t, just because this snake IS probably experiencing mortal fear, which is not a good feeling – image source © Dean Stavrides)
So just to highlight: hognose snakes are completely harmless. They’re just pretending to be fearsome!
(not that people should be killing venomous snakes either, imo. Let the danger noodles LIVE THEIR LIVES)
(i is baybee, pls do not hurt me – image source)
And now some bonus facts to help raise us out of that downer:
Hognose snakes are toad specialists! Their favourite food is toads, which is unusual, because toads are poisonous. Hognose snakes deal with this by force of will and also, at least two amino acid substitutions, maybe (Mohammadi et al. 2016). Possibly a few other things help with this, also (Feldman et al. 2016).
(is snek eat toad? or does toad wearing cape of snek? impossible to tell, really – image source)
Also, I have a confession: hognose snakes... are venomous. Technically.
(itty bitty little fangs at the veeeeery back of their mouth! – image source)
They are known as rear-fanged snakes, which means they have fangs aaaall the way at the back of their mouth. The venom they produce seems to be toad-specific, and is considered to be harmless to humans unless you happen to have an allergy but that's the exception rather than the rule
(the two hognose species. They are both baybee, but in different ways actually there might be more than two species but these are the two i’ve actually learned about so ALL WELL – image source)
Also, hognose snakes are big cowards NOT aggressive and I've never even heard of anyone getting bit by a one (outside of one feeding mishap, which we can all agree was an ACCIDENT).
The series of events that would need to occur for you to be envenomated are so unlikely and bizarre that I assume you would have to be TRYING to get bit.
This has been Fun Fact Friday, bringing you the forbidden noodly boys to try and keep them a little more safe!
.....................................................................
Sources, because I know me and SO DO YOU:
Averill-Murray, R. C. (2006). Natural history of the western hog-nosed snake (Heterodon nasicus) with notes on envenomation. Sonoran Herpetologist, 19(9), 98-101.
Buchanan, Scott W.; Timm, Brad C.; Cook, Robert P.; Couse, Richard; Hazard, Lisa C. (2017). Spatial ecology and habitat selection of eastern hognose snakes. The Journal of Wildlife Management, 81(3), 509–520. doi:10.1002/jwmg.21218
CHS: Canadian Herpetological Society https://canadianherpetology.ca/species/species_page.html?cname=Eastern%20Hog-nosed%20Snake
COSEWIC. 2021. COSEWIC assessment and status report on the Eastern Hog-nosed Snake Heterodon platirhinos in Canada. Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada. Ottawa. xi + 45 pp. https://www.canada.ca/en/environment-climate-change/services/species-risk-public-registry/cosewic-assessments-status-reports/eastern-hog-nosed-snake-2021.html
Cunnington, G. M., & Cebek, J. E. (2005). Mating and nesting behavior of the eastern hognose snake (Heterodon platirhinos) in the northern portion of its range. The American midland naturalist, 154(2), 474-478.
Feldman, C. R., Durso, A. M., Hanifin, C. T., Pfrender, M. E., Ducey, P. K., Stokes, A. N., ... & Brodie Jr, E. D. (2016). Is there more than one way to skin a newt? Convergent toxin resistance in snakes is not due to a common genetic mechanism. Heredity, 116(1), 84-91.
Jared, C., Luiz Mailho‐Fontana, P., & Maria Antoniazzi, M. (2021). Differences between poison and venom: An attempt at an integrative biological approach. Acta Zoologica, 102(4), 337-350.
Liu, C., Chen, Y., Zheng, Y., Bo, J., Yang, C., Xu, S., & Zhang, S. (2022). Wear Resistance Improvement of Keeled Structure and Overlapped Distribution of Snake Scales. Journal of Bionic Engineering, 1-11. Citing abstract.
Mohammadi, S., Gompert, Z., Gonzalez, J., Takeuchi, H., Mori, A., & Savitzky, A. H. (2016). Toxin-resistant isoforms of Na+/K+-ATPase in snakes do not closely track dietary specialization on toads. Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, 283(1842), 20162111.
Nature Conservancy of Canada: https://www.natureconservancy.ca/en/what-we-do/resource-centre/featured-species/reptiles-and-amphibians/eastern-hog-nosed-snake.html
Plummer, M. V., & Mills, N. E. (1996). Observations on trailing and mating behaviors in hognose snakes (Heterodon platirhinos). Journal of Herpetology, 30(1), 80-82.
Rouse, Jeremy D.; Willson, Robert J.; Black, Ron; Brooks, Ronald J. (2011). Movement and Spatial Dispersion of Sistrurus catenatus and Heterodon platirhinos: Implications for Interactions with Roads. Copeia, 2011(3), 443–456. doi:10.1643/ce-09-036
Seburn, D. 2008. Recovery Strategy for the Eastern Hog-nosed Snake (Heterodon platirhinos) in Canada. Species at Risk Act Recovery Strategy Series. Parks Canada Agency, Ottawa. vi + 24pp.
Schwartz, V. & D. Golden (2002). Field Guide to Reptiles and Amphibians of New Jersey. New Jersey Division of Fish and Wildlife
VHS: Virginia herpetological society http://www.virginiaherpetologicalsociety.com/reptiles/snakes/eastern-hog-nosed-snake/eastern_hognose_snake.php#:~:text=Heterodon%20is%20derived%20from%20the%20Greek%20words%20heteros,meaning%20%22broad%20or%20flat%22%20and%20rhinos%20meaning%20%22snout%22
Young, R. A. (1992). Effects of Duvernoy's gland secretions from the eastern hognose snake, Heterodon platirhinos, on smooth muscle and neuromuscular junction. Toxicon, 30(7), 775-779. https://doi.org/10.1016/0041-0101(92)90013-U
Young, B. A., & Morain, M. (2003). Vertical burrowing in the Saharan sand vipers (Cerastes). Copeia, 2003(1), 131-137.
SARA: threatened https://www.canada.ca/en/environment-climate-change/services/species-risk-public-registry.html
#hognose snake#snakes#biology#fun facts#fun fact friday#science#sciblr#science side of tumblr#STEM#adhd in STEM#zoology#ecology#Herpetology#snake#i love these guys so so much#there's more but its late#also this is late#i wrote it last week but then stuff happened#well#i wrote most of it last week#some of it was written in 5 minutes of frenzied keyboard slamming#depression is STILL HERE#but im doing my best#also yes i know it's saturday but LET ME LIVE#Youtube
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So you’re looking to write some smut but feeling stuck, uninspired, or unsure where to start. Smut writing comes easily to some and not others, and that’s okay! Here are some tips I’ve gathered over my few years of writing smut to take with a grain of salt! It's my opinion; you can always do what you want!! <333
It’s fiction writing at the end of the day. So, it’s okay if you haven’t experienced what you’re writing about or maybe you have experienced it but you find it difficult to put it into words. I’ve never fought a creature from the Upside Down but I’ve written about it because that’s what fiction writing IS!! You’re creating a story from your own experiences/thoughts/emotions and applying it to a made-up scenario. So don’t feel discouraged by your own personal journey, anyone can write smut!!
When in doubt, plan it out. When I’m really stuck, just simply grabbing a piece of notebook paper and writing out each event in a sequence, even in the most basic terms, can make things so much easier. For example: making out, blow job, hand job, prep, fuck. Write down positions (sometimes limbs can get lost in the sauce and it is so hard to figure out how they’re actually doing it lmao). Write down settings. Write down if one person is leading it more than the other or if they switch off. Write down desperation levels (personally, I think it’s more fun when desperation is very high but casual fluffy smut is fun too!!) This will help the writing process feel a lot less daunting.
More specifically, remember that prep is important. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been taken out of a smutty fic because they get to the main act (penetration, typically) way before someone should be ready to. Fingers, mouths, and lube (actual lube or something that can be safely used as lube. Blood is not lube. Blood is not lube as it is a liquid that dries quickly and offers no moisture so it will not help you penetrate anything, as hot as it would be.) Foreplay and prep can be a really good tool to establish a sexy dynamic between your characters and get the reader ramped up to read through to the end!
If you feel like the action part is getting too technical, this is where you can add in thoughts and emotions that will give your smut some personality. It can feel very silly to write, for instance, your character A thinking “Wow character B is so hot” but it’s a thought that would probably cross their mind!! Write out any nerves the characters are feeling or maybe even the confidence they’re feeling. Write out what sensations they pay attention to. Write out what they like and dislike. Write out what actions cause an immediate response from them (moaning, bucking their hips, groaning, eyes rolling, etc.) Write out how your character would verbally respond (Are they dirty talking? Are they praising? Are they degrading? Are they stuttering through their words? Are they incoherent because the sex is so good?) It’s important that your characters still feel natural and not like sex robots. Unless your story is about sex robots, then go off!!!
The thesaurus is your fucking FRIEND!! Smut can feel ridiculously repetitive, especially if you’ve written it before. I say every time I write a blow job scene that “god blow job scene is blow job scene is blow job scene” because that’s how it FEELS! Use your resources like the thesaurus or there are a million posts with other ways to say “said”, ways to describe a kiss, etc. Just be careful that you don’t fall into using words that seem unnatural to the flow of the story (for example, a lot of synonyms for cock are simply…unsettling and can take your reader out of the story). Find ways to creatively tell the same action again and again which leads to tip #5…
Go read some smut. The tag “porn what plot” is so unbelievably helpful. Even if the writing isn’t exactly your style or your preference, sometimes reading someone else’s descriptions of sexual acts can be helpful if you’re lost! I have a few faves that I go back to read to get inspiration and I have notes about what it is specifically I enjoyed about their work. While you’re at it, if a fic inspires you and you feel comfortable doing so, leave a comment! It’ll make the author’s day, I promise.
TAKE THIS TIP WITH AN ABSOLUTE GRAIN OF SALT but…go watch it. Or my personal preference, go listen to it. If I’m really lost, I’ll seek out audio porn that follows the same ~vibe~ of whatever I’m writing. There are many websites for this but Soundgasm is my go-to (it’s a free upload site so there are THOUSANDS of sounds and varying quality levels so it might take a second to find what you’re looking for)! Even a sexy playlist on Spotify can put you into a good headspace for writing. Just make sure you’re being safe and looking out for your own comfort levels. Never put yourself in a situation to experience something triggering for the sake of writing a good story.
All of this to say, it is so different to write smut than it is to write a regular plot. It can feel incredibly daunting to go about it and find the perfect balance between technical actions and thoughts/feelings/dialogue and then make it all cohesive in the end. It’s hard to do but it’s not impossible!
#i hope this is helpful in some way!!#writing#writing tips#fanfiction writing#smut#smut writing#fanfiction#archive of our own#writing tools#writing reference#references#reference
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𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 - 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬
in which you lay alone in your bed at night wondering where your relationship with the young star went wrong
disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting
HUGH DISCLAIMER: this fic doesnt have a clear ending. i literally have no motivation to continue this, but i cannot find it in myself to start my next work for this album until this one is out. so yeah, sorry about that :)
warnings: angst, swearing , not proofread
pairing: jack hughes x reader
wc: 2.6k (including lyrics)
guts masterlist
Cat got my tongue
And I don’t think I get along with anyone
Blood runnin’ cold
I’m on the outside of the greatest inside joke
And I hate all my clothes
Feels like my skin doesn’t fit right over my bones
So I guess I should go
The party’s done, and I’m no fun, I know, I know
I know, I know
Ever since you had moved to New York in early 2022, it felt like it had been living a lie. Like this life you were living wasn’t yours, like you had just stolen it from someone. Growing up, you had always been homeschooled, meaning your social life was slime to none. So, it was safe to say that when you chose to move to New York for a job your mom’s friend had offered you, you were scared.
You only had two real friends, who you barely ever saw because of their busy scheduled with school before, and even more now since you three were all over the country doing your own things. Luckily for you, there was a girl only 2-3 years older than you at your job, meaning you had someone to talk to if you felt the need. After a month of two, the two of you became friends, growing ever closer when you realized you lived in apartment blocks next to each other.
Which is how you found yourself at a bar on a saturday night in October of that year. Mailey had convinced you to come with her, claiming the two of you needed to decompress from your busy week at work. You rolled your eyes at first, but agreed none the less. Ever since this summer, you found yourself starting to go out more, joining Mailey and her friends every once in a while. Only this time was so much different than the others.
There was a big group of maybe 20ish guys, age ranging from young adults to full grown men, taking up most of the place. The two of you were confused, seeing as this bar barely ever had people coming in, and it was mainly the same people coming here every week. So, a group of random guys neither of them had seen around before certainly peeked your interest.
“What do you think they’re doing here?” You asked as the two of you sat down at your usual spot. The group occupying the opposite side of the room.
“Don’t know. But they’re not buying that cheap booze.” Mailey mumbled, her eyes focused on the insane amount of liquor at the couple of tables they were occupying. The two of you eventually started forgetting about them, talking about random things that happened throughout the week.
“Not to freak you out, but there’s a guy that keeps looking at you. A cute guy.” The girl across from you said after about an hour of the two of you being there. You furred your brows slightly at her words, before turning your head in their direction. That’s when you met his eyes for the first time. He had a slight grin on his face as he stared into your eyes, nodding along to whatever the guy next to him was saying. You sent him a small smile, waving slightly, which he answered with a nod.
“More like hot guy.” You mumbled, looking back over at your best friend. You had had a couple of flings here and there, but nothing ever serious, and you were never used to getting boys’ attention on a night out.
“He’s going to the bar. Go talk to him.” Mailey announced, making you turn your head to look at him. At the same time, he looked over at your table, sending you a small wink when your eyes met.
“Rich coming from someone who always says girls don’t chase, they attract.” You teased, making her roll her eyes. You eventually decided to go up to him later that night, talking for a bit before exchanging numbers. Jack, you learned his name was, didn’t seem to want to get into talking about his group of friend too much, so you kept all your questions to yourself.
Over the next couple of weeks, the two of you got to know each other. Your friendship slowly formed and the two of you grew closer each other. But, clearly Jack was still holding back on some stuff. He still refused to open up about his friends and what he does as a living exactly. You told yourself that he’d tell you when he was ready, but you were getting a little impatient, which is why you pretty much forced the answer out of him when you went over to his apartment one day.
“When are you gonna tell me?” You asked, pausing the show the two of you were watching. Your words made him look over at you, a confused expression on his face as his eyes met yours.
“What do you mean?”
“When are you gonna tell me truth, Jack. If that’s even your name.” You sassed, making the boy next to you let out a deep sigh as he threw his head back.
“D’you wanna see my birth certificate?” He answered coldly, making you scoff. “What I do doesn’t matter, Y/N, so just drop it.”
“If it doesn’t matter than why won’t you tell me, Jack? You know pretty much everything about me and my life, and barely know anything from yours. God, you won’t even tell me the names of your brothers!”
“Why do you care so much?”
“Because I like you, Jack! And… and I though you liked me back, but clearly I was wrong.” You admitted, standing up from your spot on the couch as you started packing up your things. “Just forget it.” You mumbled as you started making your way to the door. You were stopped right as you were about to grab onto the doornob.
“Y/N, wait!” He said, grabbing your wrist and turning you around before you could leave. “I like you too, Y/N, and I’m sorry I haven’t been honest with you, but I didn’t want what I do in life to influence how you see me. I’ve had way too many people use me and I didn’t want that to happen again because I really like you.”
“Jack, I made it clear hundreds of that time that I what you do in life wouldn’t change the way I see you, but you kept hiding from me. It makes me feel like you don’t trust me.” You explained with a scoff. The boy in front of you sighed before cupping your face in his head, his forehead leaning against yours.
“I know, I know, I should’ve told you a long time ago. But what we have, it’s really special to me, and it’s so good. I didn’t want to ruin it.”
“You’d have to be a serial killer for me to change my mind about how I feel, Jack.”
“Stay. Please. I’ll tell you everything, I promise, just don’t leave me, please.” He begged, his thumbs rubbing small circles under your eyes. You swallowed harshly before slightly nodding your head yes. Jack then brough the two of you back to his couch, and he stuck to his promise. He started going on and on about his life, starting with the fact that he played hockey for the Devils. Then he moved on to telling you pretty much every single memory he had about the sport, a wide grin plastered on his face.
In exchange, you opened up to him about some of the insecurities you had because you were homeschooled, including having to attened big parties and being surrounded by large crowds. Jack had promised that was something he would never put your through, but you quickly learned that his promise meant nothing to him.
I broke a glass, I tripped and fell
I told secrets I shouldn’t tell
I stumbled over all my words
I made it weird, I made it worse
Each time I step outside, it’s social suicide
It’s social suicide, wanna curl up and die
It’s social suicide
It had now been three months since Jack asked you out. You had met his brother Luke when the boy came to visit, talked to his parents through face time a while ago, but you had yet to met his friends. You tried hard not to let it bother you, but it did. He didn’t want you attending his games either, claiming he didn’t want people to hate on you because you were his girlfriend. You couldn’t help but overthink the fact that maybe it was just because you were his girlfriend.
You had seen pictures of the other players wives and girlfriends, and you looked nothing like them. They all seemed so outgoing and the life of the party. Not to mention all of the models Jack followed, all of them being the exact opposite of you. You had questioned him about it one night, he just scoffed and said you were being petty and pathetic asking him a question like that.
“J?” You called out. His arms were wrapped around your waist, your back pressed against his chest.
“Mm?”
“When am I gonna meet your friends?” You asked quietly, making the boy sigh harshly against the back of your neck.
“Got to sleep, Y/N.” He mumbled.
“Could you at least answer me?”
“I don’t know, okay? Your weird fear of crowds or whatever makes it impossible for you to meet them all at the same time, and I’m not gonna go through the burden of setting up little dates with my teammates just so you can meet them. Can I sleep now, mother?” He answered harshly as his arms left your frame and he turned around, his back to yours. You felt tears prikle in your eyes at his words.
“I can handle it.” Your voice was low, not trusting your voice not to crack if you talked any louder. Jack let yet another sigh at your words.
“We’re getting together after the game tomorrow, come if you want.”
“To your game?” You asked hopeful. You were growing tired of just watching him play through your TV screen, when he was close to your home.
“No. After.” And just like that, all your hope was crushed.
“What should I wear?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” He grumbled, getting out of bed making your head snap towards him as he approached the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Guest room. I need peace and you keep talking.” Was the last thing he said before leaving the room. When you woke up the next morning, he was gone, no text no notes, nothing. He didn’t come back for his pregame nap either, which scared you a little. But all your nerves went away when his face appeared on your Instagram feed, a bright smile on his face as the picture the Devils posted illuminated your screen.
All of your texts to Jack had gone unanswered, as well as your calls. Thankfully, you knew where the team would be heading after the game, it was a local bar near the rink they went to almost every time after a game. You had gotten there a lot later than everyone, spending thirty minutes in your car deciding whether or not Jack would still want you there. You figured there was only one way to find out so in you went.
The place was crowded, the music loud as the bartenders prepared multiple drinks. Realistically, there wasn’t that many people here, just the team and a couple other regulars, it was just a really small room. It took you a couple of minutes to spot Jack, who was sitting at a table with a couple of his friends and lots of girls. You tried to look as confident as possible as you made your way over to him. Some of his friends and their partners started at you, wondering what someone like you was doing here.
“Jack?” You called out as you stood behind him. His arm was resting on the chair of a pretty blond girl next to him. You couldn’t quite describe the look in his eyes when his head turned to face you, but the words he was about to say completely crushed you.
“Do I know you?” He questioned, and you could feel your heart shatter inside of you. You tried your best to keep a brave face on, but you were dying on the inside.
“J, come one, this isn’t funny. I’ve been texting and calling all day, you were gone when I woke up this morning.” You mumbled, taking a step closer to him. The girl on his right could read you perfectly, and she realized that you two were a couple. When it clicked in her mind, she sent the boy a judging look before standing from her seat and walking back to her friends.
Jack got up right after her, gripping your wrist and dragging you outside the bar. “What’re you doing here?” He asked harshly once the two of you stood outside alone.
“No! What are you doing, Jack?”
“I’m enjoying a night with my buddys!”
“Yeah, the friends you said I could meet. Tonight!”
“When did I say that?” His words were harsh and rude, making your heart shatter even more. You truly did not understand why he always acted this way towards you lately, but you were growing tired of it.
“Last night! You said I could come if I wanted to, and I want to be here, so here I am. And here you are, with your arm around another girl!” You said, your tone matching his. You were tired of letting him walk over you all the time.
“I said that so you would shut up and leave me alone. God, you’re always just complaining about everything and anything. It’s like nothing’s ever enough for you, you always need more–”
“Oh, nothing’s enough for me? What about you, huh? Am I not enough for you?”
“There you go, making it about you like always.”
“Because this is about me, Jack! I am your girlfriend of three months, and I don’t know any of your friends! It’s like you’re ashamed to be with me. Do your friends even know about me?” You asked. There were tears in the back of your eyes threatening to spill, but you blinked them away. You had cried enough over him for the last couple of weeks. The boy in front of you stayed silent at your question, making you scoff.
“Of course they don’t know, just like your brother’s weren’t suppose to know, or your parents. You don’t want anyone to know that your girlfriend is me.” You spoke with your voice low. This exact though had been in the back of your mind for a long time, but saying it out loud made it feel so much more real.
“Things were better before you knew–”
“They were better for you! You lied to me for weeks, and you’re still lying. All you do is lie, Jack. I can’t believe I waisted so much time and energy on you. You never wanted this relationship, did you? You just wanted someone to fuck whenever you needed, someone to be there for you. You didn’t care who it was, you neved cared about me. You’re pathetic, seriously.” You mumbled before pushing past the hockey player and walking to your car.
You were done with Jack Hughes.
#bri writes#jack hughes#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes imagines#jack hughes angst#new jersey devils#guts series
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Spider Web | JHS | (m)
☾ Pairing: Vampire!Hoseok x human!reader (afab)
☾ Summary: Playing games with vampires is a bad idea. Playing with Spiders is worse.
☾ Word Count: 1,976
☾ Genre: Supernatural, Predator/Prey, Established Relationship, Smut
☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
☾ Warnings: Predator/prey dynamics, intense feelings of fear, reader is navigating a maze while unable to see at all, Hoseok taunting reader, minor injuries, explicit language, explicit sexual content including vaginal fingering, biting, dom/sub dynamics, subspace, feeling fear during sex, reader being both afraid and aroused and just going with it, implied relationship of some manner.
☾ Published: Monday, January 15, 2024
☾ A/N: This might not be for everyone, but this is for me. This is not only self-indulgent but it was so fun to write. The third roll for the 100 Drabble Challenge was number 46 - Predator/Prey and I had the opportunity to do something that surprised me - write a piece of a universe that I’ve wanted to write since I was in middle school. You heard that right - I have an entire outline/idea of a dystopian vampire novel where vampires rule and humans live under them with a complex political structure and rebel human groups and class war etc. that I have wanted to write since middle school and when I rolled this tonight… I was like what if I just use that world. In that world there are vampire guards call The Web that are broken up into three categories: Spiders, Widows and Venoms and they all have different purposes. In this case, Hobi is a Spider :) I’ve considered turning it into a fic so… let me know if you’re interested odigjdoigjdofgij
A/N 2: This is unedited and I wrote it in roughly an hour pls excuse the errors etc. I will look back over it in the morning and fix them okay soifjsoigj
☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾
“The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout,” a voice echoes. Your heart slams in your chest as you press your fingers against the sides of the wall, trying to feel your way through the maze. “Down came the rain and washed the spider out.”
You should be used to the dark. Your life has revolved around the dark from the moment you took your first breath. Born in the dead of night during the hour of the predator. As a kid, you didn’t quite understand the hour of the predator. All you knew was that it meant to stay inside and not leave the building no matter what.
When you were older, you learned that walls and locks do not keep out predators. The notion that they keep their hunt to a single hour of the night is ridiculous. Now you know that vampires only let people think that they’re safe outside of that single hour of every night.
Like everything in the city, it is an illusion.
Inhaling shakily, you try to calm your breathing. The thud of your pulse in your neck and the rattling of your heart in your ribcage is a dead giveaway to this predator. Fear puts you on a razor's edge. A tingling sensation skitters along your skin like static as you keep one hand against the wall and the other in front of you, each step careful.
You can’t see in the darkness of the maze. He can.
The disadvantage isn’t far. He’s better than you at most things: sight, smell, speed, strength - sadism, to be sure. But still, you’ve managed to evade him for far longer than he would like, and despite his taunting, you know it’s irritating him.
You smile. For vampires, most things are prey. For Spiders, all things are.
“Perhaps we should change the lyrics of the song,” Hoseok calls. The hair on the back of your neck stands up. He sounds only a few rows over, making you quicken your steps. You’re barefoot and the ground is cold, making you shiver as you go. “The Spider doesn’t get washed out, but the little human does.”
The hand reaching in front of you hits the wall. You inhale and turn left, letting your right hand skim the corner and press against the new wall. You’ve hit a dead end twice and lost your sense of direction, but Hoseok hasn’t caught up yet.
The thought makes you grin. You’re better at these games than you used to be, and you’re able to make faster decisions now. You also have managed to learn a thing or two about vampires. Somewhere, your socks and shoes are sitting in other corners. You’ve also dropped a jacket, making the entire maze smell like you.
“Ah, the mouse has left a shoe for me.”
Your heart beats faster. You only dropped that shoe moments ago, which means Hoseok is close. Too close. You’re not even sure what will happen if he wins - it’s always different.
“I hear your heart, Mouse.”
The momentary panic makes you walk into a wall, banging loudly. Hoseok laugh is carried down a maze hall, chilling your spine. You throat caution to the wind, breaking into a run though you cannot see anything around you.
In the dark, colors and shapes taunt you, your imagination filling in the gaps for the things you cannot see. Running wild totally unable to see is a terrible idea, you could run into-
You slam into a wall and let out a pained sound. Pain shoots up your wrist and you whimper, cradling it to your hand. A hiss echoes behind you and you run again, bad hand tucked to your chest as Hoseok closes in.
“Yes!” he growls, glee in his dark voice. “Run, Mouse! I love it when you run!”
You hardly recognize his voice through the growl, bloodlust taking over. Your instincts perceive a wall and you jerk to the left, skidding as you go. A speck of light beckons you and you gasp, realizing you can see the way out of the maze. You never make it that far.
Without hesitation, you take off at a full sprint, the soles of your feet slapping against concrete, your heart pumping in your chest. Just a little further, almost there.
Hoseok snarls behind you and you scream, a primal fear exploding inside of you as your instincts sense the danger behind you, all other thoughts and feelings blotted out by the sheer force of terror.
A force crashes into you, taking you down. You squeeze your eyes shut, jarred and waiting for the harsh impact of the concrete. It doesn’t come, instead softened by the blow of falling into Hoseok as he twists, taking the brunt of the impact.
You’re dizzy, world spinning as the adrenaline tingles in your veins, your entire body feeling like it’s on pins and needles. In the dim light of the concrete building, you make out the shape of Hoseok under you. It doesn’t last long, the vampire rolling and pinning you with an ironclad grip to the floor.
A cry slips out of your mouth before you can stop it. It riles him up, Hoseok pressing in on you. He smells like rosewood and lavender, making your eyes flutter as Hoseok pulls your head backward against the old concrete, your skull digging in painfully as he noses your pulse.
“You lose, Mouse.”
Hoseok’s voice rasps against your throat. Fear-laced pleasure blooms in your stomach. Where his mouth ghosts against your sweaty skin feels good, his words buzzing through you as his lips skim your neck toward your jaw.
You don’t dare move - can’t move. This is the part that you don’t understand, but don’t have to. Your body thrums with the innate terror of death. Adrenaline pumps through your system, parts of your brain screaming and alerting your organs that you’re in danger.
But there’s another part of your brain that goes fuzzy when you feel Hoseok’s fangs drag against your jaw. You can’t make out his features in the barely-there light of the building, but you catch the silver flash of predator's eyes when he glances up at you.
Once upon a time that gaze made you nearly soil yourself in horror. Now the wetness between your legs is entirely different, caused by the hell your nervous system goes through as it straddles fear and desire.
“I smell you,” Hoseok breathes. His tongue snakes out to taste your salty skin and you can’t help the sound that comes out of your throat. It is equal parts a whimper as it is a moan. His lips are pressed against your cheekbone as one of his hands skims down your body. “You almost made it out this time.”
The ability to verbalize anything is lost on you. You can only squirm underneath his touch, sparking to life like cut livewires. A violent shiver wracks through your body as Hoseok presses his hands between your legs, causing a pulse of want to unfurl.
You want more. You want none of it. You want both.
“Next time try dropping your panties,” he whispers, pressing hard, painful kisses toward your ear. He bites your earlobe sharply at the same time he presses your clothed cunt, plain and pleasure dancing together. “That would certainly do it.”
“Never thought of that.”
Hoseok’s hand ventures up and grabs the waistband of your pants, pulling on them with a loud rip. It’s almost drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.
Your limbs start to shake in excitement as Hoseok catches your mouth with his. The kiss is sudden and demanding, completely inescapable. You kiss him back, drowning in the flurry of sensations hammering down on you, scrambling your thoughts, destroying your feelings.
It’s always like this. He’s always able to do this. Hoseok has made an art of building you up and cutting you open, scattering every thought to the wind as he hunts you and beds you. Here with him you might not be safe, but at least you don’t think about being out there and being unsafe.
This spider web you weave with Hoseok is high stakes, high reward. At least here if he kills you, you’ll be smiling. Out there when you die, no one will care.
Hoseok’s fingers hook your underwear to the side and pull. Cold air hits your hot, weeping hunt and you wiggle under him, trapped under his oppressive weight. He half growls, half purs as his fingers swipe up your sticky folds, avoiding your clit where all the pressure feels trapped.
You kick your feet under him, pressing up. You want more. Need more. The more he gives you, the more you feel the high of whatever this is between you. Hoseok knows this and gives in, playing nice as his fingers dip into your clenching hole to collect wetness before drifting back up, circling your clit.
A sound that is barely human escapes you. Hoseok has you pinned firmly underneath him as he starts to play. He carefully drags his fingers up and down, tracing your tightening entrance before drifting back up to apply pressure on your bundle of nerves.
“Little mouse is desperate tonight,” Hoseok pants. When he speaks, you can feel the sharp drag of his fangs on your cheek. “I bet you wanted to be caught.”
You shake your head no and he laughs, sinking a finger into your waiting heat. A strangled moan escapes you. Everything is on fire and you feel your cunt clench around his fingers. The concrete beneath you is too hot, Hoseok is too firm, his fangs on your skin are too sharp, you’re half afraid and half aroused - it all turns you into a mess, your mind tiptoeing on the edge of a blade between two nameless abysses.
Hoseok thrusts his fingers up into you at an angle, pushing against that spot that makes you teeter dangerously. Your nails dig into your palms, leaving bloody crescents as Hoseok fucks you expertly with his fingers, drawing you to the edge of madness as he does it.
Just as you think you’re about to tip one way or the other and plunge into darkness, Hoseok presses his mouth against yours, words slurred as he mumbles, “Ask.”
“Please.” Your words are slurred against his mouth, your breath hot and sticky. “Please let me. I need it. I - Hoseok - please.”
His pace quickens. His thumb presses on your clit, wiggling. You feel it coming like a spool spinning thread, going and going and going until the spindle snaps and the thread comes unwound, spilling into his hand with a scream.
Your ears ring. Your mind blanks. Your body goes so taught that it's only option is to go limp. You are vaguely aware that you’re gasping for air - you feel it more than you see it. You melt into the ground, unaware of anything but the static in your veins and the rush of air through your lungs.
In out. In out. In out. In out.
You drift in the abyss. You’re unsure which one you fell into. Here, you are weightless and calm.
In out. In out. In out.
Nothing can hurt you here. There is no such thing as pain. There is only absolutely nothing but your breath and the buzzing on your skin.
In out. In out. In out.
Eventually it wears off. Hoseok is still a firm weight against you, an anchor pulling you back. Your thoughts are syrup-slow and dizzy when you lift your too-heavy head to look at him. You cannot make out his features, but you get the sense he’s smiling.
“Did you think we were done?” he rasps, a laugh in his voice. “You’ve only just fallen into the spiderweb, Mouse.”
#hobi smut#hoseok smut#j hope smut#bts smut#hobi fic#hobi fanfic#hoseok fic#hobi x reader#hoseok x reader#vampire hobi#bts fanfic#hoseok x you#100 drabble challenge#okay but like trying to do j hope hobi hoseok tags is wild please why must i name him thrice
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Fanatic Intervention Part 7!!!
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It will not surprise you at all, dear Reader, to learn that Aziraphale keeps very little in his kitchen cupboards. There is no stove or oven, and the only thing in the fridge is milk (for his tea no doubt). When you start opening cupboards, you find one pack of custard creams, and a second one of chocolate digestives. Well, it will have to do. You find yourself a small plate and fill it half and half before heading back into the shop just in time to say goodbye to Anathema and Newt.
As they leave, you turn to the supernatural entities in the room.
“So,” You say, “If we’re going to the States, then we have a few problems. First, I don’t have my passport or any ID at all, so airport security is going to be fun. Second, I have no money. Third, I’m gonna need a Walmart or something because I don’t even have a toothbrush, my dudes. Fourth, these,” You indicate the cookies, “are fine for a snack, but overall they’re not gonna cut it.”
“You just leave the airport security to us,” Aziraphale replies. You make a note that he glided right past ‘my dudes,’ they’re getting used to you already. Dammit. “As for the rest of it,” Aziraphale continues, “I suppose a trip to Tesco’s is in order.”
Crowley produces a shiny black credit card from nowhere and hands it to you. “We’ll take the Bentley,” he says. He starts to stand, but you shake your head.
“Nuh-uh, you both stay here,” You say. Crowley raises his eyebrow.
“You realize we can take care of ourselves,” he says, “We’ve been doing it for a few millennia.”
“I’m not talking about that,” You say, “Look, what we’re going into is really dangerous. And I know that your pattern is to just wait to talk about things until you’re in the clear, but that’s not a good idea anymore. I mean, I get that I’m not exactly an expert, but I read just as much as you do and I’ve heard a million stories by this point in my life, and in NONE of them do people ever say ‘I’m so glad I never told them how I feel’ - you know? It’s always ‘I wish I would have’ or ‘I should have told them every day.’ So Muriel and I will go ask Maggie to take us to Tesco, and you two need to talk. Please. While it’s safe, while you have the chance, before things get dangerous and possibly deadly.”
Crowley and Aziraphale are silent. You notice that they aren’t looking at each other. Well, you’ve done your best. Now you need to trust them.
At this point, dear Reader, you are probably thinking to yourself ‘well I would snoop and spy on them while they talk! I want to watch them make out!’ But here is the thing – in this world they are real people, not characters. It’s one thing to say that you would creep on them from the other side of this fiction, but when they’re very real and looking at you in person, things are a little different. For one thing, you realize that real people deserve things like boundaries and privacy, especially for sensitive conversations.
And so, you take Muriel over to Maggie’s shop, where you explain that Mr. Fell has sent the two of you on an errand and you need to stop for dinner somewhere and have no idea where anything is. You flash her the credit card and say ‘It’s all on me,’ and she conveniently agrees with a look on her face that says something like ‘least they could do after all that shit they put us through.’
So the three of you go for dinner at the nearest Weatherspoons, where you and Maggie eat while Muriel watches in morbid fascination. Then you all take the bus to Tesco where you buy yourself a small wardrobe, and manage to coax Muriel into some light blue jeans and an argyle jumper so they look a little less like the Beacon of Gondor. You quickly find out that Muriel has an adorable fascination with fuzzy socks, novelty mugs, and coloured pencils. Of course, you enable their fascinations with a happy heart, and as an afterthought, you grab them a small pot of orange daisies from the flower section. It will give them something alive to tend to while you’re gone. Muriel appreciates the thought. All in all, it’s a long but good time.
You don’t know about the talk, and you’re worried about asking when you get back.
THAT BEING SAID
You and I, dear Reader, not actually being in that world, are allowed certain privileges.
The bookshop is silent for a long time. Both of them are thinking, digesting, processing. Feelings are hard to feel, and harder to put into words. Especially when it has been made clear, twice now in the span of a number of hours, that you absolutely need to put them into words.
It isn’t until after Crowley notices you, Muriel, and Maggie heading down the street that he stands up and begins to pace. A few more minutes pass before he speaks.
“So...uhm...are you going to go first or should I?”
“Are we...are we actually going to do this? Have this talk I mean?” Aziraphale has been shelving books to try and take the edge off. Now he puts down the book in his hands and absent-mindedly fidgets with his ring.
“Well, I mean we don’t have to,” Crowley says, aiming for non-chalance and missing ever-so-slightly, “No one can actually make us.”
“Yes, except it feels very much like everyone is trying to.”
“Trying is the key word there.”
“That’s true enough I suppose.”
The silence returns and stretches. It is anything but comfortable. The air is full of words that they have been told they should say, words that perhaps they want to say, but words that have been dammed up with fear and uncertainty for so long now that they’ve become very hard to un-stick. After a while, Aziraphale clears his throat and speaks.
“I, erm, I suppose you had better go first.”
“Me, right, okay.” Crowley clears his throat now and stops his pacing near the desk. He looks down at the scattered papers and books, the pens and photos and newspaper clippings. The assorted clutter of Aziraphale’s life. Looking away makes it easier to start. He takes a breath. “Um..right...well...we’ve known each other a long time. We’ve been on this planet a long time – you and me, I mean. I’ve always been able to rely on you, and you’ve always relied on me,” another breath, “We’re a team, yeah? A group of the two of us. And...erm...we pretend that we aren’t. Always have. Safer that way I guess.” He looks up at Aziraphale. The angel isn’t looking at him, but he nods anyway to show that he’s listening. Crowley continues. “And I mean...I’ve tried not to think about it much before but...but it would be nice, I mean, UGH” He takes off his sunglasses and rubs a hand over his eyes as though he can massage the words and make them easier to say. “I mean, I would like to spend...mmm….I would like to spend the rest not pretending anymore. Be an us. I mean,” suddenly the dam breaks, and Crowley finds the words come tumbling out, “If Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, we can. We don’t need Heaven or Hell, they’re both toxic. We can be an us, on our side. You and me. What do you say?” He looks at Aziraphale without reservation now. His angel looks back at him, eyes wide. When he does speak, it’s with a smile and a small nod of acknowledgment rather than agreement.
“That was very well done Crowley,” he says. This isn’t an answer.
“Nnyeah, thanks. Your turn though.”
“Right, I suppose it is.” Aziraphale takes a moment to gather himself. After hearing Crowley be so open about this, he feels more resolved himself to do this properly. He faces Crowley and folds his hands to keep himself grounded. “Crowley,” he begins, “I...I wish that this conversation were happening under better circumstances. Although it’s been pointed out that ideal circumstances aren’t a promise that we can wait around for. Well, the thing is that I would like the same thing. Very much in fact. My biggest concern by far is for your safety because, well, frankly I don’t see the point in saving the world again if you’re not around to enjoy it with me. An us, as you said. You and me.” He smiles. Crowley smiles.
“Guess we’d better save the world together then. And try not to die.”
“Yes, quite.”
“Aziraphale?”
“Yes, Crowley?”
“You’re my angel. No one else.”
“And you, my wiley serpent. No one else.”
The shop bell dings.
“We’re baaaaaack!” You sing as you waltz through the door, shopping bags in hand. Muriel follows after you, carefully carrying their daisies. “Did you miss us?”
When you eventually get the courage to ask them about their talk later, you get a “ngk” from Crowley, and a “We’ve said all that needs to be said, for now.” from Aziraphale. And that, you suppose, will have to do.
❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤
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#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#good omens 2#good omens fandom#aziraphale x crowley#aziracrow lasts forever#good omens fanfiction#good omens fanfic#tumblr fic#poll fic#choose your own adventure#self insert#let's write#we're all in this together#fanatic intervention#part 7#muriel#maggie#tesco#mugs and fuzzy socks#muriel has an aesthetic#yes they talked#if they made out now you wouldn't have that to look forward to later#ineffable fandom#gomens#go2#good omens s2
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talk with my hands, maybe take it real slow (jake seresin x fem!reader)
Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)
Synopsis: Jake's roommate has a new tattoo and can't stop itching at it...what kind of friend would he be, if he didn't help distract her?
Warnings: this fic is 18+, minors please DNI – we go pretty quickly into smut, featuring the usual--explicit oral sex (both receiving, bc we're feminists like that), and then also PiV sex, including but not limited to, condescension, overstimulation (bc what's the point of fiction if we're not wringing multiple orgasms out of our self insert?) and creampies (do not have unprotected, unnegotiated sex pls)
Length: 7.8k
A/N: sorry about the moodboard being lacluster; I couldn't find a tattoo pic that wasn't on a size 0 thigh or white, so we went without
You hadn’t considered yourself to be a person with particularly awful self control, but then again, you’d never had a tattoo healing on your inner thigh, driving you mad with the need to scratch at it. It’d been 3 weeks since the appointment and your ink was probably 95% healed; the redness had faded entirely and a couple raised patches of roughness were all you had to show for the fact that it was new. Which somehow made the incessant need to itch all the more frustrating, because you were pretty sure it was mostly phantom at this point.
“Listen, honey, you gotta chill.” Jake’s voice interrupted your inner monologue, from his seat on the couch across the living room.
Your roommate had started in hard on the Southern pet names when he’d seen that they’d flustered you. Honestly, there was precious little the man wouldn’t do, if it meant making you unnerved. You two didn’t have what you’d call a friendship, but the playful Something between the two of you felt safe and fun. Even if it did mean that Jake seemed to take a little more pleasure than he should’ve, in the face of your pain.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you replied drily, “are the literal thousands of abrasions on my skin irritating you?”
Jake rolled his eyes at your melodrama. “I can feel you thinking from over here, and it’s taking up real estate that belongs to Maya Hawke,” he gestured to the TV where the latest season of Stranger Things was playing.
“It itches,” you mumbled, hearing the complaint in your voice and knowing it was pathetic, but too over it to care.
Jake cut you a long look, like he also heard it, and was embarrassed for you. “Want me to get you some ice?” he asked, and it was sweet of him to offer, but…
“We’re out of ice,” you sighed. “I went through the last two trays in, like, record time, and they’re refreezing now.”
“We have like fourteen trays,” Jake frowned.
“Yeah, well someone,” you paused meaningfully, “drastically depleted our resources when he decided to have a bourbon tasting over the weekend.”
Jake had the grace to look guilty for a moment. Then it was his turn to sigh dramatically, lifting his arm to the back of the couch and swatting at the cushion next to him. “Alright, kid, c’mere.”
In retrospect, you probably should’ve asked why, or at least deliberated for half a second before doing what he asked. In reality, you pushed off the settee you’d been lounging on, and flopped ungracefully onto the couch next to Jake. You shared a bathroom with the man and he’d seen you on the second day of your period; dignity was a distant memory.
Still, it didn’t prepare you for Jake pulling your legs apart with one of his large hands, and spreading his fingers over your tattoo, all while calmly turning up the volume of the TV with the remote in his other hand.
“Jesus, Jake,” you choked out, telling yourself the goosebumps erupting over your whole body were entirely because of your surprise, and not any other reason. “Buy a girl a drink first.”
Jake chuckled, somehow managing to shake his head at you while not looking away from the TV. “You’re the one who’s always telling me my hands are cold as ice.”
Had you said that?
It sounded like something you’d say.
But Jake’s hand on your leg felt anything but cold. Okay, no, if you separated your brain from—well, from anything—you could recognize that his fingers were quite cold, and it was incredibly soothing having them over you. His thumb was brushing lightly over your skin, while the rest of his hand stayed still, and you knew that ice cubes couldn’t do that, but damn, it would’ve been great if they could. You settled back into the couch, relaxing into the soft material and the relief brought by Jake’s hands.
It was a wonderful two minutes.
Good to know that that was how long it took for the fourth law of thermodynamics to kick in, and for Jake’s fingers to warm up after extended contact with your skin.
Then a new problem was presented—you couldn’t scratch at yourself without scratching him. You shifted slightly, to see if you could get any type of friction, but Jake’s touch was light enough that he moved with you. You snuck a glance at Jake’s profile, still fixed on the TV screen, and his expression could best be described as incredibly pleased with himself.
“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” you muttered accusingly.
“Absolutely,” he said, smugly. “You could fidget up a storm over there, but here you have to just deal with it.”
You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from sticking your tongue out at him petulantly. You folded your hands in your lap, determined to ignore the rising propensity to scratch at yourself. At some point, you’d sunken into the couch until your shoulder was pressed against Jake’s arm, and you shifted so your cheek was resting against him too. His tshirt was soft, and he smelled clean, like a freaking linen candle, which was annoying, because it didn’t help clear the riotous tangle of thoughts rushing through your head.
You did stop fidgeting, though.
“Atta girl,” Jake said quietly, his thumb still moving over your thigh.
Was it hot in here?
It had to be hot in here.
Because this was Jake, your roommate, who’d never shown an ounce of interest in you, being calm as anything with his hand literally on your thigh, and saying things that would’ve sounded like come ons from anyone else.
You tried to focus on the TV, and whatever ridiculous shenanigans the children on it had found themselves in, pulling a deep breath through your nose.
(Immediate mistake, because of said linen candle bullshit).
On the TV, Nancy’s hair got frizzier, Steve’s life got shittier, and all the while your leg was getting itchier and itchier.
You reached to press a hand over the skin distractedly, forgetting momentarily that Jake’s hand was there until you encountered his fingers instead of your skin. He turned his hand over, his knuckles pressing against your skin while his fingers intercepted your own.
“Where’re you going?” he asked, voice lightly mocking, and you wrinkled your nose. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t affected, his hands so close to your burning skin, and he still had the wherewithal to tease you for your poor impulse control.
“Jake,” you whined, trying to untangle your fingers, but his grip was unrelenting, “I’m not gonna scratch, okay, I just need to do something.”
He looked down at you, which you had to admit, was a hell of an experience when your head was practically on his shoulder.
He blinked slowly, looking at you closely before he opened his hands, letting your fingers go. You pulled your hand back, eyes closing in relief when you pressed them against your skin. It wasn’t as good as scratching, but the pressure helped, and you shifted your fingers—and your nail accidentally dragged against your skin.
Which was pretty much the worst thing that could happen, because it was like a tease and it shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, but you were half a second away from clawing up your thigh when Jake’s hand closed around your wrist again.
“Seriously?” he asked, amusement coloring his tone.
“Just let me,” you pleaded, trying to pull your wrist back. “It’ll take like two seconds and then it’ll hurt and I can stop.”
“You could also get infected or mess up the ink placement,” he said, and you stopped pulling for a moment.
“When did you learn so much about tattoo care?” you grumbled, and Jake chuckled again. It sounded different this close to him, deeper.
“When my roommate decided to mark up the inside of her leg,” he replied easily. “Now don’t you have a lotion or something you can put on this?”
“I do, but it doesn’t help,” you said, annoyed that he was right.
“Well, let’s at least try it, yeah?” Jake asked, and you rolled your neck, sighing.
“Fine,” you pushed yourself off the couch.
You felt Jake’s eyes following you to the bathroom, so you didn’t scratch at your leg, not wanting to hear more of his teasing. You found the jar of lotion, dropping back onto the couch as you unscrewed the lid.
“It’s just gonna be sticky and leave white marks on the couch,” you groused, looking confusedly over at Jake when he held his hand out. “What?”
“What do you mean, what,” he retorted, like it was obvious. “I’m not gonna let you do this; you have zero impulse control.”
You were too stunned to resist when he plucked the lotion out of your hands, dipping his fingers into the jar.
Had you said that the worst thing was an accidental nail brush against your tattoo?
That wasn’t true.
Because the actual worst thing was having to sit there, pretending everything was fine and normal, as your ridiculously hot roommate started spreading Aquaphor on your inner thigh.
Jake was nothing if not thorough, his long fingers smoothing the cool lotion over your skin, pressing slowly into you and fucking kneading into your thighs, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was that he was entirely serious. Gone was the teasing condescension, the knowing look, and in its place was an unfamiliar gentleness.
Jake’s head was bent, some of his perfect hair falling in front of his eyes, as he properly tended to your leg like he was a nurse and these were doctor’s orders. Like he wanted to be absolutely careful as he looked after you, like looking after you was even something he did. You swallowed, forcing your breathing to remain even.
This was fine, this was normal.
This was absolutely not complicating the tenuous relationship the two of you had, and wasn’t causing you to read into the pet names, the caring, the fact that his big hand was literally between your legs.
He had to stop, or you had to stop, because now was not the time to be thinking risque things about your roommate, not when he was genuinely being sweet and trying to help.
“I think that’s good,” you said, hoping Jake couldn’t hear the tremor in your voice.
Jake tipped his head to the side, considering his work, then nodded to himself, satisfied. He rubbed his hands together, wiping the excess lotion on the backs of his knuckles, and screwed the lid of the jar back on. You were readjusting on the couch when he leaned across you to leave the jar on the coffee table and when he shifted back, one of you messed up, because his forearm brushed against your chest.
“Uh, sorry,” Jake said quickly, “I wasn’t—”
He was interrupted, of course.
Because you could tell yourself you were fine, everything was fine, all day long, but turns out that the slightest, accidental brush of Jake against your breasts had an ungodly whimper spilling out of your mouth before you could stop it.
He froze.
Shit.
“Shit,” you said aloud, hands covering your face in embarrassment, “no, I’m sorry, that wasn’t—uh, we can ignore that—I don’t know what’s going on with me, sorry to make it weird, it’s not your fault—”
You stopped babbling when Jake’s hands closed on your wrists, and, for the upteenth time that night, you let yourself be guided by him. When he pulled your hands away, your breath caught at how close he was, and the unfamiliar expression on his face as he looked between your eyes.
“I need to know right now,” he said, his voice serious as anything, “if you’re apologizing because you’re embarrassed, or because you didn’t mean it.”
You pressed your lips together, not trusting what sounds would come out of your mouth with Jake’s hands holding your wrists, and his eyes this intense. Whatever he read on your face had Jake’s lips parting, a shaking breath drawn in through them, before they thinned in a lazy smile.
“And here I thought I was the perv, taking any excuse to get my hands on you, darlin’, when you’ve been wanting me just as bad.”
Your jaw dropped at his blunt words, but what, were you going to say he was wrong?
Jake’s head cocked sideways when you didn’t say anything, and he guided your hands to the back of his neck, before letting go of them. Your fingers wound around his neck, the ends of his hair brushing your thumbs, and you realized he was waiting for you to say something before this—whatever ‘this’ was—went any further.
“Probably worse,” you admitted, not even trying to hide the breathlessness in your voice, “if I’m honest.”
Jake’s eyes darkened and his grin grew wider. “If that’s how honest sounds, I think I want to hear more of it,” he said.
Fuck, he was going to ruin you.
“Kiss me and find out?” you managed, and Jake huffed out a laugh before reaching for you again. His hands settled on your waist and he lifted to drag you towards him.
“Yes ma’am,” he whispered before his lips crashed into yours.
You were still reeling from the title, and how you liked the sound of it a little too much, but Jake’s mouth against yours drove that thought from your head. He kissed you like he’d wanted it for longer than you could’ve expected, his teeth biting at your lower lip, his tongue soothing after it. You shifted to help him as he pulled you towards him, both of you gasping when you settled in his lap. You were thankful his flannel pajamas could stand a bit of residual lotion, just as you were thankful for the pressure of his hands on your waist, fingers pressing into you and pulling you closer. Jake licked at the seam of your lips and you opened for him; when his tongue swept into your mouth, you felt it in your core. And suddenly, or maybe not suddenly, maybe finally, after months of build up, you were desperately needy.
Your fingers pulled through his hair, and Jake’s hips pressed up when you pulled lightly on the strands. At the motion of his rolling hips, your pajama shorts pressed tightly into your core and the friction felt like building, and Jake broke away from your mouth with a gasp. His hands tightened on your waist, holding you still, and while you appreciated his restraint, you wanted to feel him again.
You whispered his name as he trailed kisses down your neck, and your breath quickened when he found your pulse point under your jaw. Jake hummed, the vibration echoing over your skin, through you, and you realized he was muttering things against your skin.
“D’you know how hard these last three weeks have been,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your skin as he pressed kisses to new goosebumps, “with you always in those tiny shorts, saying it’s because you can’t have tight clothes over your tattoo?”
You felt lightheaded at the idea of Jake wanting you this whole time, maybe longer, locking it away and refusing to act on it because he didn’t know what you felt.
“It’s true,” you managed, and Jake laughed, a puff of warm air over your skin.
“And if that wasn’t enough,” another kiss, another soft suck, “you’ve been so whiny, haven’t you? Always pouting, always needy, making me wonder how you’d sound…”
Your eyes were closed, your world distilled to the heat of his mouth, the heat of his words. You pulled at him, needing his mouth over yours again, and Jake obliged. He was so much softer than you expected, gentle but firm, and he tasted so damn good.
With him distracted, you rolled your hips again, rewarded by the friction over your core, and you could feel Jake hardening in his pajama pants. It was addictive, and you sought him out again, pouting when Jake stilled your hips again.
“Baby,” he murmured, and heat shot through you at the pet name, not one he’d used jokingly before, “what was the point of the lotion if you’re going to grind it off against my flannels?”
“You can reapply it later,” you rationalized, but Jake shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. His lips were swollen, his cheeks reddened, and you loved the look of him like this, almost dazed.
“C’mon,” he prompted you, and guided you to stand. Your legs felt weak, but you managed, and Jake’s hands smoothed up the outside of your thighs. You were between his spread knees, and his hands played with the hem of your shorts before he pulled them down your legs, taking care to not scrape them over your tattoo. The air felt cold on your exposed skin, and Jake swore quietly as he dropped the shorts, staring at you in your underwear with something that felt dangerously close to adoration.
He leaned closer, and at first you thought it was so he could be more gentle with your fragile panties, but then he pressed a kiss to the outside of your thigh and you jumped, pushing him away, embarrassed again.
“You don’t—” you started, pursing your lips, “um, you don’t have to…do that. We can—”
Jake’s hands smoothed over your thighs, coming around to cup under your ass. Had you said his hands were cold earlier? You were sure they were burning, leaving trails of heat wherever he touched.
“Nah, baby,” he whispered against your thighs, his nose brushing the soft skin there, as his hands squeezed you, “nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming ‘bout for months.”
Well, fuck, when he put it like that…
“Okay, then,” you said quietly, weaving your hand into his hair again, and Jake flashed a smile up at you.
“Okay, then,” he echoed, and his fingers pulled your underwear over your hips. He scooted to the front of the couch, a motion that should’ve been cute for his enthusiasm, but instead was simply devastating. He looked so good like this, eager and hungry, and your breath caught when he licked his lips, your hips canting towards him.
He didn’t look away from you.
His green eyes locked on yours as he leaned closer, not pausing when his tongue crept past his lips and you were the one to break, your head tipping back when he licked you. His tongue was flat against you, like the first taste of ice cream, and your head spun at the shamelessness of it. You whimpered when he pulled away, and Jake’s breath was warm as he leaned back again.
“There’s that sound I was after,” he murmured, his soft words a cutting juxtaposition to his filthy tongue.
He teased you with soft licks, lapping at your arousal that’d only grown since he’d first touched your thighs earlier tonight. His hands snuck around to pull you apart, spread you on his fingers like he needed his tongue closer, tasting you and drinking you. He was unhurried and it was maddening, and you pulled at his tshirt distractedly, needing to feel his skin.
“Ah, honey,” Jake muttered as he pulled back. “You taste so good, fucking unbelievable.”
You opened your eyes to find his chest heaving, his eyes dilated and your slick smeared across his chin. He looked so good like this, drunk on you, and you imagined you looked nearly as wrecked. He leaned back to pull his tshirt over his head, and your fingers smoothed over broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, as it was bared to you.
He tossed the shirt aside and a moment later he was leaning back into your cunt, nuzzling your clit with his nose as his tongue lapped at you. Your knees nearly buckled at the sensation, and Jake groaned, the vibrations only increasing the intensity of the feelings flooding you. His strong hands held you up, spread before him, and he lifted his mouth to tease at your clit. You whined when his tongue rolled around you, alternating tight circles and slow, and your eyes rolled back when he closed his lips and sucked.
“Jake, oh my god,” you gasped, feeling your stomach tighten. It was too soon, you knew it, but you also couldn’t fight it, and it was practically crashing over you—
Jake pulled back.
You whined in confusion, looking down to find him looking up at you, a familiar expression of smug awareness on his face. He turned his head to press a gentle kiss to your thigh, amusement sparkling in his dark eyes.
“Told you I’ve been waiting on this for months, honey,” he teased, another wet kiss slightly higher on your thigh. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easy, did you?”
Nothing about this felt easy. Not the way he had your body primed for release, every nerve wound tight, not the way you felt it slipping away, and your desperation only climbing.
You whimpered his name, too gone to be embarrassed by how fucked out you sounded.
“Aw, baby…” Jake cooed, and you saw his shoulders shift as he repositioned. Before you could anticipate his next move, a broad finger was stroking through your folds, and you cried out, your hands flying to his shoulder to steady yourself.
“So pretty like this,” Jake soothed, pulling his finger through you, stroking back over you, the pressure perfect, but not enough, “needy. Desperate.”
“Jake, please,” you cried, appalled to find real tears were pushing behind your eyes. After being so close to release, then being denied, then held steady wherever his fingers pulled you, you couldn’t be responsible for the way your body was shaking.
“Bet you’d beg me for it, wouldn’t you?” Jake said, voice even and unbothered. He added another finger, still not entering you, just teasing over you, languid. “You’re all proud when you’re strutting around in those shorts, cute when you ask for help, but not like this, huh? Like this, you know who’s in charge.”
Any response you had was cut off when he plunged both fingers into you.
No warning, no easing, just sudden pressure and thickness and your body tightened around the sudden intrusion, unrelenting and unexpected and fucking perfect, and you couldn’t stop your orgasm as it ripped through you.
“Oh, fuck,” Jake groaned, as he recognized your walls tightening around his fingers. “Thatta girl, come on, give it to me.”
You moaned, your core clenching as your denied release rolled over you, scalding and strong and you felt it in your toes. You didn’t know how you were still standing, you knew the sounds pouring out of you were unbridled, and Jake was proudly talking you through it.
“So beautiful, baby, you’re doing so good,” he said, his other hand stroking up your neck to support your head. You turned your head desperately, pulling his thumb into your mouth and sucking on it, needing to be grounded.
“Fuck, baby,” Jake moaned, and his fingers kept their pace inside you. You felt the edges of your orgasm soften as he worked you through it, and as the fingers not in your mouth brushed against your cheek, you realized he was wiping away tears. You were shaking, it was perfect, but his fingers inside you were pressing deeper and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to push you higher again.
“How we doing, honey?” Jake asked, and you lifted your head to meet his eyes. He was watching you carefully, and he pulled his thumb from your mouth so you could answer him.
“Good,” you whispered, through the clearing haze, “really, really, good.”
Jake hummed, tilting his head as he considered you. His fingers scissored inside of you, and you clenched down on him, hands grasping his shoulders.
“Then I think you should give me another,” he said, smile growing as your eyes widened.
“Jake, wait—” you protested, but you went without opposition when he pulled you back to the couch. His fingers paused their exploration but he didn’t pull out of you as he guided you onto your back, propping your knees up carefully.
“Have to be gentle with that thigh,” he said, his voice growing husky as he settled between your legs. He stroked his fingers again, and your core clamped down on them, still not fully returned from your first high. Any other protest you had died when he bent down again, his mouth returning to your cunt.
You’d had his tongue, you’d had his fingers, and they’d made you cum like you hadn’t in months. And now suddenly you had both at once, and you were pretty sure it was going to cost you your mind.
“Jake, fuck,” you keened, your back arching off the couch.
Jake didn’t respond, too busy lapping up your release and thrusting into you. His tongue traced a maddening pattern over your clit as his fingers pressed deeper into you, stretching you.
“You taste even sweeter like this, baby,” he mumbled into you, and you moaned as you felt his words. His fingers brushed something deep inside of you and you couldn’t breathe; you reached for Jake’s hair, pulling desperately, hoping he could read how impossibly taut you were.
“You know something,” he mused, like it was the calmest thing in the world, “you came so quick, didn’t you? Came once you had something fucking you, and it was so beautiful, honey…but I never got to hear you beg.”
“Jake,” you whispered, his name the only word you could manage, the only thing you could say with his fingers brushing that spot and his mouth just a breath away from you.
“Nah,” he said, his voice low, “I know you could do it so prettily. Won’t you do it for me, sweetheart, won’t you let me hear it? Let me make you cum again?”
He kissed you again, his mouth light and teasing, brushing caresses over your mound but not where you were aching, throbbing, for him. His fingers slowed, torturously, pushing you closer but not fast enough, and you felt your eyes filling again. What was he asking for?
What was anything, what did he need?
“Jake, please,” you gasped, your voice thick. “Please, please—”
“Please what, baby?” Jake asked, another soft kiss. “What do you need?”
“I need to cum,” you practically sobbed. “Please, need it so bad, please, Jake—need you so bad, need you to—”
“That’s right,” Jake practically growled, his voice lower than you’d ever heard it. “You need me. And I’ve got you, honey, so you can let you go, since you asked so nicely, and I’m gonna take care of you…”
His forearm was banded across your waist, holding you still as his fingers found that spot inside of you, pressed up against it, and your thighs shook as your second orgasm bowled over you. Jake’s tongue was over your clit, then his lips closed, and when you thought you might be ready to let go of the high, he sucked, and you fully shattered. You could feel your nails raking into his back, feel his responding groans through the mouth still pressed to your cunt, as your world dissolved into white heat. It swept over you and you stopped trying to ride it, just let yourself be thrown, buffeted by Jake’s mouth, Jake’s fingers, Jake’s soft words.
“Fucking gorgeous, baby, you did so good,” Jake was murmuring into the skin of your stomach. His fingers were still inside of you, gently rocking but no longer trying to stimulate you. It would’ve brought tears to your eyes, if they weren’t already streaming, how tender he was being with you. The whiplash was incredible—how quickly he’d brought you to orgasm, how easily he’d denied you, how thoroughly fucked out you were, now that he’d given it to you.
God, and you hadn’t even had him yet.
“Jake,” you croaked, your throat hoarse, and he lifted his head to look up at you.
“What is it, honey?” he asked, voice soft. He was propped up on his elbows, and he shifted slightly, pulling his fingers out of you. You pressed your lips together to stop a whimper from escaping and trying to ignore how empty you felt, and watching quietly as he wiped his hands absently on his pajama pants before looking back up at you.
You lifted a hand to brush away some of his hair that’d fallen into his face. You shifted slightly, pulling the hem of your tshirt down to wipe at his chin, clean him up a little. It was rough, not the intended purpose of the garment, and Jake laughed a little at the clumsiness of the action, pressing his jaw into your cotton-covered hand, to help you as you wiped at his face.
You bit your lip, more to stop yourself from smiling so wide it made you hurt, looking down at him, propped up on his elbows
He looked proud.
He looked content, and it made your heart swell uncomfortably in your chest, that he’d look like that after taking care of you. But the longer you looked at him, something like doubt flickered behind his eyes and he cleared his throat, looking away.
“If…” he started, and he shook his head, like he was clearing the fog after a night out. “Uh, you know, if that’s too much…or not what you wanted, or something, we can just say it was a distraction. You know, to get your mind off the tattoo.”
You hadn’t thought about the thing in what felt like a lifetime.
More importantly, you saw Jake still wasn’t meeting your eyes, like he expected you to say that that’s all this was, and he was worried you’d see too much if you were looking at him when you said it. It broke your heart, that he would push away his own repressed feelings, if it meant protecting yours.
Although, to be fair, you’d both been more honest in the last thirty minutes than you’d been in the months before, so it was probably on you, as well as him.
You carded your fingers through his hair again, waiting.
It took another couple seconds, but Jake steeled himself and looked back at you.
You hadn’t realized you’d missed the green of them.
In the height of everything, they’d been hooded and dark, the bright color nearly lost in his blown pupils. But like this, clear and sweet, you thought you might like this better.
“It wasn’t too much,” you said, simply.
Jake’s shoulders dropped, just slightly, and you saw him wanting to contest it, and so you shook your head.
“I think that’s a conversation for later,” you said gently, “when we’re both a little more clothed, hmm?”
“Oh,” Jake said, his head turning quickly as he looked around for your pajama shorts. “I can reach—”
You wanted to roll your eyes and you wanted to pinch him, just a little, to get him to listen to you. “That’s not what I meant,” you corrected. “I’m not…I’m not ready to be done. Besides, we han’t gotten you off yet.”
“Oh, that’s okay, that’s not what this was about,” Jake said quickly and you tilted your head, pushing yourself up to sitting.
Jake was still between your spread knees, your faces close together now, and you pressed a kiss to his cheek, a quick reassurance before you reached between the two of you.
Jake jumped when your hand slid over the front of his pajama pants, and you felt like cooing. Even through the thick cotton, you felt him respond to your touch. The fabric had to be adding to the illusion, because he felt enormous under the flannel.
And it was very gentlemanly that this was for you, that he didn’t want this to be a thing about reciprocity, but in a much more tangible way, he’d made you feel infinite, just a few minutes ago. If you could do the same for him, you imagined you’d probably feel just as proud as he had, to see you come undone.
“What’d you say,” you asked innocently, your fingers trailing up the length of him, “about distracting me?”
When you looked back up at Jake, his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling slowly, deliberate, like he was holding his breath.
Sweet man.
You leaned back up to kiss him gently, waiting for him to kiss you back. It took only a moment, and you bit back a moan at the taste of yourself on his lips. You kissed him softly for a minute, gentle lips, gentle tastes, coaxing. When you pulled back, Jake’s lashes fluttered before he opened his eyes to look at you.
“I don’t know,” you lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I think I’d be pretty distracted if I were choking on your dick, Jake.”
“Jesus,” Jake whispered, and his hips bucked into your touch. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to–”
You licked your lips, his words from earlier coming back to you. “Nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming about for months.”
Jake surged forward, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you to him. You tasted his longing in this kiss, the tight reins he held himself in check with, and how desperately he wanted to give them to you, if only for a moment. You wanted that, and maybe for a little longer. So you kissed him for a moment more, then slid off the couch, settling between his knees like before, but this time, he stayed with his back against the back of the couch, and you were on the ground.
“Wait,” he said, leaning over to grab a pillow, and gesturing for you to use it under your knees.
Forget rolling your eyes or pinching him, did you want to marry him?
You shook the thought out of your head, settling on the cushion and reaching up to help Jake slide the pajama pants down. He hooked his boxer briefs along with them, and once they slid past his hips, his cock sprang free.
“Holy fuck, Seresin,” you whispered, looking up at his face. Jake shrugged, a kind of bashful you hadn’t seen him before. One of his hands fisted his cock loosely, like he needed something to do, and you reached up to pry his fingers away.
No wonder he walked around like he did.
As you wrapped your hands around him, replacing his fingers, you couldn’t deny a fresh wave of arousal washed over you. His wasn’t the longest dick you’d seen, but he was thick, a dusty rose color that you’d kill for a lipstick match of—which just made you think of why you were waiting so long to get him in your mouth.
But he’d teased you, and when you glanced up at Jake, his hands clenched at his sides, his stomach tight, you figured he was due for a taste of his own medicine.
You kissed up his thighs slowly, loving the contrast of wiry hair over smooth skin, and when you got to his cock, you let out a warm breath over the tip. As you watched, a smooth drop of precum appeared at the edge of his cock, and you frowned in mock sympathy, knowing how worked up he must’ve been from finishing you, while denying himself.
“Bet you’d beg something pretty yourself, Jake,” you teased softly, licking at the drop of moisture and pulling his salty taste back into your mouth. You hummed, immediately salivating for more, but Jake’s hips jerked up as he choked in a breath.
“Darlin’...” he said, his voice low, and you had mercy on him, not needing to hear the words to know how badly he wanted this.
“Good thing I’m nicer than you, hmm?” you asked, before you licked at him again.
Jake’s head fell back limply as you tongued his tip, teasing the sensitive head before you licked up the length of him. This was supposed to be for him, but as you were here, you were lost in the exploration of him—the gorgeous weight of him, the musky scent of him, the rich taste, and the sounds he was making.
You kind of loved how quiet he was being, when it was clearly costing him dearly.
It meant that when he did burst, it was going to be loud, and you wanted that break. You kissed your way lightly back to his tip, before opening your mouth and pulling him in.
You’d been joking earlier, about it being distracting, but fuck. The ache to your jaw was immediate, your mouth open as wide as it could to accommodate his thickness. But it felt so good, deeply satisfying, to be able to hold him like this. Warm and thick in your mouth, stretching you—you moaned around him, imagining him filling you. You hollowed your cheeks lightly, sucking, and Jake groaned above you.
There it was.
You pushed yourself deeper onto him, holding your breath and fighting your gag reflex, and Jake’s hands shot out to hold the back of your head, his breath a low moan that was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard.
You clenched your thighs together, the sound of him and the weight of him had you feeling so empty, while you knew you were physically stretching to your limits. You pulled off of him, a trail of saliva falling from between your lips and his tip, and Jake swore softly at the sight.
“That mouth, baby,” he groaned, and you felt his thumb trace your lips, smearing your spit across it. You opened your mouth, holding out your tongue and Jake groaned again, feeding his cock back into your mouth.
You felt like he could see straight through you.
That was how it felt, his eyes boring into you as his cock stretched your jaw and his hips pressed slowly deeper. Your nostrils flared and your eyes were streaming again, but you wanted this, wanted him, wanted him to find his release in you, as you had in him. You couldn’t take him all the way down your throat, not now, although you relished the idea of training, so you found a rhythm that seemed to work for both of you.
Jake’s hips rose slightly to meet you, as you bobbed your head up and down his length, alternating sucking and swirling your tongue over his tip. Your other hands stroked the part of him that you couldn’t fit, squeezing and pulling and you heard Jake’s breathing getting heavier. You were lightheaded, overwhelmed by him, but you couldn’t stop, not for something as simple as air.
The stretch of him was so good, unrelenting and perfect, and the steadiness with which he held himself in check, it felt like a promise. It made your core ache, throbbing and empty, but you reached up to play with his balls. One of your hands cupped him lightly and then Jake was pulling you off of him.
You choked at the sudden influx of air as Jake set you back on your thighs, his hands smoothing over your face as he checked you were okay. You couldn’t remember a time you’d felt better, lightheaded and dreamy, but you nodded obediently in answer to the unspoken question, and Jake pulled you to standing. You weren’t sure where he was taking you, but you knew with absolute certainty that you’d follow him.
Mercifully, it was just around the couch, and when you understood his plan, you whimpered slightly, hoping you could take it. You braced your forearms on the armrest of the coach, rocking back on your hips, presenting your ass to him, and Jake was already behind you, covering you. His long arms draped over yours, pressing you into the couch, even as his knee worked between your thighs, spreading your legs. You moaned when you felt his cock slap against your thighs, and one of Jake’s hands fell to between your legs to cup your cunt.
“Oh, baby,” he whispered, voice somehow both rough and awed. “Is this new? You work yourself up, getting me off?”
You meant to say ‘obviously, asshole’, or ‘as if you didn’t know it’, but what came out was a truly pathetic, “Jake, please…”
He chuckled, his body stretched over yours, and the sound broke off when he guided his cock towards your core.
“Honey, you’re so wet and warm, fuck. Need to be in you, baby, need to feel this tight cunt—”
“Do it already,” you cried, rewarded by another deep laugh from Jake, and then you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, because that thick cock was pushing into you.
It was a good thing he was holding you up.
Your body was shaking to accommodate him, already loosened from your orgasms and his fingers, but the stretch still bordered on painful, and you dropped your head to your forearms as he pushed into you. You weren’t doing anything, you were simply there, letting him fuck into you slowly, and you couldn’t think of anywhere better to be.
“Fuck, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake groaned, and you knew he was trying to go slow, but that didn’t make the stretch any more attainable.
“Need you,” you managed. “Please, Jake, want to be full—”
His hips slammed forward and you cried out as he bottomed out into you.
You felt impaled, you felt him in your throat, you felt like this was everything you could want and you trembled but held him in you. You felt full, and it was so, so good.
“Honey,” Jake gritted, “I’ve got to move, but I need to know you’re okay.”
“I’m good,” you whispered, “let me feel you.”
He groaned, another gorgeous iteration of that sound, and when he pulled back, you clawed at the edge of the couch. It was like he was shifting your center of gravity, but the pull was re-orienting. You had no choice but to surrender to it.
Your whole universe was balanced on the edge of the sofa.
Jake’s thick cock, stuffing you. Jake’s strong chest, pressed against your back, his arms holding you up, pulling you to him. Jake’s sweat, dripping off of him and onto you, sweet and sticky and heady. The pull and push of him, overwhelming and deep, remaking you.
You weren’t going to cum from this; it was too much, but it was too good to stop. You’d already had yours, and you could hear how good it was for Jake, could feel it in the tight clench of his hands and the short length of his thrusts.
Jake groaned, a throaty sound that jolted through you as he pulled you back onto his dick.
“Sweetheart you feel so good…is this what we’ve been missing out on? This tight as fuck cunt, that I can just feel clenching around me? Touch yourself, honey, I need to feel you come again, want to feel you come on my cock.”
You couldn’t be sure if you were crying or babbling, but when Jake told you to play with yourself, you summoned your boneless limbs to do as he asked.
When your fingers brushed your clit, you immediately pulled back; it was too much.
“I can’t,” you gasped, hands falling back to brace against the couch. “It’s too much, Jake, I can’t–”
“Poor baby,” Jake gritted, and one of his hands smoothed down your back before dipping around to your stomach and finding his way to your clit. Your knees buckled and your hips jerked away from his hand, but a moment later you were pressing into him, needing the perfect pain of his touch.
“Honey, you’re doing so good,” Jake’s voice was tight. “God, you feel unreal, clenching down on me like that. Are you gonna cum again? Is this pussy going to cum for me?”
“Jake,” you sobbed, his name the only prayer you could manage.
“That’s it, baby,” he soothed, his touch gentling, even as his hips sped up. “I’m almost there; I know you are too. Where can I come, honey, where do you want me–”
“Jake,” you moaned, your head thrashing from side to side. It was too much, it wasn’t enough, but you knew you needed him. “In me…please..Jake...”
“Holy fuck,” Jake groaned. “Baby, are you sure I–”
You bucked back into him, the thought of losing his heat and his presence nearly unbearable. “Need you,” you whimpered. “Jake, please–”
“I’m right here,” Jake’s hips pistoned impossibly faster. “Fuck, I’m here, I’ve got you. Shit, honey, you feel so good, you’re gonna make me cum, baby, please–”
He ground his hips deep into you and rolled his fingers over your clit once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out and you felt Jake grunt as he caught you, his hips pounding into you a couple more times and he stilled with another beautiful moan as he pumped his release into you. You felt him, hot and pulsing inside of you, and you wanted to curl up into that feeling forever—warm, full, safe.
Jake summoned some kind of strength as he turned the both of you, him settling onto the ground and you on his lap, your cunt clenching around him, like you still couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving. You turned into his chest, and Jake wrapped his arms around you, cradling you, somehow knowing how intense that had been and that you needed the warmth of his chest before you could come back down.
You were shaking, incredibly exhausted but deeply satisfied. And as you drifted back, you became aware of the tangible things around you—Jake’s chest hair prickling your face. Stranger Things still playing, on the TV. The cool air in the room around you, the sticky remains between your thighs.
You lifted your head to find Jake looking down at you, his expression careful, like he was worried what he’d see. Your eyes closed again, and you managed a smile before you turned your face into his chest again, pressing a kiss to whatever was closest. His hands were locked around your back, but you could feel his thumb brushing over your skin, lightly. And it was wild, that that was what had started this all, and if you’d had the energy for it, you would’ve laughed.
You could deal with the repercussions later, what this meant for your roommate situation, if your thigh was any worse for wear, any of that. Because that motion, that comforting gesture that Jake didn’t even seem to be aware he was doing—that meant that this was always where you were gonna end up.
//
tagging: @bradshawsbitch @callsign-fangirl @laracrofted @datemephoenix @mandylove1000 @withahappyrefrain @gigisimsonmars @babyonboardfloyd @blue-aconite @mxgyver @hangmanbrainrot @lt-bradshaw @wildbornsiren @fuckyeahhangman @double-j @sebsxphia @javihoney @jadore-andor @teacupsandtopgun @thedroneranger
#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake seresin x reader#hangman x reader#hangman x you#jake seresin x you#hangman smut#jake seresin smut#misskielwrites
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Love the idea of Xiangliu being Wukong Warrior before Macaque.
More funny if Xiangliu actually earned the title and given by Wukong. And Mac just self pro-claiming
Xiangliu goes through intense fights and battles to save Wukong and keep him safe while Macaque just really likes him and wants to be dramatic (+he helped him fight a couple times) Honestly that’s amazing.
You know, I know in canon Macaque never told Wukong about his self proclaimed Warrior title, but I like a Au where he did.
After getting to know Wukong and swooning (romantic or platonic you choose), he proclaims he’ll be Wukong’s Warrior and keep him from harm.
Wukong is VERY anxious about this because he lost his last warrior and HIGHLY disapproves. Macaque doesn’t understand why Wukong’s so upset but he drops it. Secretly (and to Mk) he still calls himself Wukong’s loyal warrior because of what they’re been through together.
Bonus if Xiangliu got to stick around and he tries to get his warrior spot back. Battle of the warriors, winner gets Wukong’s favor.
Someone write a fan fiction NEOW 🫵🏻
Don’t know how that story would work but it would be fun! Fanart might be in order. (It’s not fanart if it’s something I MADE up but whatever.)
#lmk#lego monkie kid#lmk sun wukong#lego monkie kid sun wukong#lmk macaque#lego monkie kid macaque#lmk shadowpeach#lmk xiangliu#lego monkie kid xiangliu#lmk nine headed demon#lmk poisonpeach
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Intro / Pinned Post!
“They laugh at me because I’m different. I laugh at them because they’re all the same.” –Kurt Cobain
Greetings, fellow humans! …Er, hey, everyone! Welcome to my all-purpose blog! Here, you’ll find all my Tumblr posts, including various art pieces, reblogs, and selfshipping stuff! So, without further ado, allow me to introduce myself. (This post may change over time!!)
Mario / Marma / Marm
22 y/o (there’s no NSFW/suggestive stuff here, but please be mindful before interacting)
AMAB Paraboy (He/They)
Bi-xenosexual (meaning, I am a bisexual who is exclusively attracted to sapient nonhumans)
Furry / alienkin (The last 2 names I gave for myself are names for my aliensona! I might post him someday.)
Selfshipper / fictolover (I do NOT use my aliensona for selfshipping. I consider him a separate character.)
INFP 4w5 so/sx 469 (4w5-6w5-9w8)
Hobbies / Interests (including media)
NOTE: Me having an interest in or having F/Os from a certain media DOES NOT MEAN THAT I CONDONE THE CREATOR’S ACTIONS, IF APPLICABLE!! Also, I don’t consider myself to be in these fandoms, if applicable. I’m just a fan!
90s alternative / grunge music
The Amazing Digital Circus
Beastars
Chikn Nuggit
Drawing & writing
The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy
Hazbin Hotel / Helluva Boss
Heavy metal, especially alternative metal (which includes funk metal, nu metal and rap metal)
Invader Zim
Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure (especially Part 3)
Kitty Is Not a Cat (please please PLEASE interact if you are also a fan of this!!! I want to meet more people who enjoy the show)
Nintendo, especially Super Mario, Kirby & Pokémon (up to and including Gen 7)
Personality types, most notably MBTI & Enneagrams
Pizza Tower
Statistics & data science
Trivia Crack / Triviatopia
Undertale / Deltarune / Undertale Yellow
BYF
I am autistic, which makes it very hard for me to interact with people sometimes. At times, I say things that I don’t truly mean, so please be patient with me. In addition, please say what you mean whenever you talk to me, as I often take things very literally.
I have very bad social anxiety, and I often delay responses simply because I’m shy and/or I don’t know what to say that won’t offend other people.
DNI (may change over time)
Anti-selfship, anti-furry
Proshippers/comshippers/darkshippers (including neutrals, anti-antis, and “proship safe” blogs)
MAPs & adjacent, adults who selfship with minors, incest shippers, zoos
Selfshippers who ship themselves with real people (fictional characters played by irl people/actors are fine)
Biphobes / those that engage in bisexual erasure
Homophobes, LGBTphobes, TERFs & other bigots
If none of these apply to you, go under the cut for more!
Now that you’re still here, it’s time for the fun stuff!
(NOTE: As long as you truly respect them, I am 100% comfortable with sharing ANY AND ALL of my romantic & platonic F/Os!!!)
My F/O lists may change over time.
💖 (One and Only) Romantic F/O 💖
My one and only romantic F/O is Petal, one of the 16 (!) main characters of Kitty Is Not a Cat, an obscure Australian cartoon that aired from 2018 to 2020.
The show centers around the adventures and experiences of a human orphan girl named Kitty, who really wants to be a cat. One day, she encounters a mansion where 15 talking, musical cats live. Initially reluctant, the cats eventually agree to take care of her and accept her as one of their own. It is a very wholesome and underrated show, and I highly recommend thar you check it out!
But enough about the show, let’s talk about Petal!
Petal is a cat (of no specific breed) with purplish gray fur, including dark “chest fur.” She also wears a black collar.
Petal is considered the “mother” of the cats; she is protective of them and loves looking after everyone, especially Kitty. Petal is also very kind, caring, and enthusiastic to a fault…so much so that the other cats have gotten annoyed at her sometimes. Despite her kind and gentle nature, she knows when enough is enough, and is willing to put her foot down if it means justice.
Petal’s motherly nature makes her quite intelligent for a cat. But she still has done some pretty derpy things at times. For example, there was one episode in which she confused a play Kitty put on as fact instead of fiction, and she joined the other cats in searching for buried treasure outside the mansion. In another episode (and one of my personal favorite ones), Kitty built a big plastic playhouse outside the mansion, and Petal and the other cats got the idea that she was moving out. This made her and the other cats very sad, and they in turn “visited” her in an absolutely hilarious sequence of events.
And yet, despite not fully understanding things sometimes (in particular, human culture and behavior), she does her absolute best to be as kind and respectful about them as possible. This kind of support is exactly what I need in life.
And this is our ship!
(This commission was done by @/sheepie-self-ships!)
Our ship name is AltMetal! Every post about this ship, whether it is an art or writing piece, will be tagged with this.
There’s not really much more to say here, other than the fact that I love her so goddamn much. If you want more content of this selfship, follow this blog, which includes gushes and whatnot!
Queerplatonic F/Os
Petal is my only romantic F/O, but I also have 4 queerplatonic F/Os. They were all romantic at one point, but I still very much care for them.
They are all OCs, and their names are Amyllia-Gotanka, Casey, Maria, and Wendy! For now, I won’t share them here, but if y’all want to know more about them, please let me know!
Familial F/Os
I also have 6 familial F/Os. They are:
Kirby (Kirby series) - Son
Tito (Trivia Crack / Triviatopia, but esp. the latter) - Son
Haru (Beastars) - Daughter
Mandy (The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy) - Daughter
Toriel (Undertale) - Mother
Asriel Dreemurr (Undertale) - Brother
Platonic F/Os
Lastly, I have several platonic F/Os. They are:
Adam (Hazbin Hotel)
Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Ankha (Animal Crossing)
Barbie Wire (Helluva Boss)
Cheeta (Kitty Is Not a Cat)
Foghorn Leghorn (Looney Tunes)
Ginsburg (Kitty Is Not a Cat)
Grim (The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy)
Happy (Kitty Is Not a Cat)
All of I.M.P. (Helluva Boss)
Jean Pierre Polnareff (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure)
Johnny Cage (Mortal Kombat, esp. his MK1 incarnation)
Part 3 Joseph Joestar (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure)
Legoshi (Beastars)
Meow Skulls (Fortnite)
Miley (Kitty Is Not a Cat)
Ming (Kitty Is Not a Cat)
The Nazz (Kitty Is Not a Cat)
Noriaki Kakyoin (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure)
Sallie May (Helluva Boss)
Schnitzel (Chowder)
Sidon (The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild)
Sir Pentious (Hazbin Hotel)
Spook (Kitty Is Not a Cat)
Starlo (Undertale Yellow)
Thorn (Kitty Is Not a Cat)
And that’s pretty much it for this post! Hope to see y’all around in the future!
(NOTE: I will use this image below instead of DNI tags from now on as a way to not clutter the tags. Since this is my first DNI list, this probably won’t be a permanent image, as it may change over time. To keep myself safe from proshitters, I will put “proshippers DNI” at the end of my posts.)
Proship/comship DNI.
#kitty is not a cat#kinac#selfship#self ship#selfshipper#self shipper#selfshipping#self shipping#intro post#pinned post#introduction#pinned intro
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taylor swift songs that aren’t about her exes
mean - regarding people saying she doesn’t write her own songs
long live - dedicated to her band and her fans
never grow up - dedicated to her younger self
you are in love - written for jack antanoff and his partner
blank space - satirical song written about the media painting her as a serial dater and insane woman
shake it off - ignore the haters
a place in this world - feelings regarding fitting in
mary’s song - falling in love and settling down (not personal experience)
fifteen - dedicated to 15 year old taylor and abigail
change - bringing change to the world
the best day - about her love to her family
epiphany - dedicated to her grandfather
closure - feud with her old label
marjorie - dedicated to her grandma
miss americana & the heartbreak prince - uses the metaphor of high school to represent the american political situation
me! - just a fun song
the archer - anxiety (represent by the lack of a beat drop)
the man - double standards and misogyny
tied together with a smile - her friends eating disorder
forever winter - about her friend who overdosed
ronan - dedicated to a little boy who died from cancer
22 - a fun party song
champagne problems - mental health
no body no crime - fun murder mystery song
the lucky one - fame and the struggles that come with it
starlight - dedicated to ethel kennedy
nothing new - insecurities and feeling unwanted
cardigan - made up love triangle from betty’s perspective
betty - james perspective
august - augustine’s perspective
mad woman - female anger / when women are angry they’re painted as “crazy” by society
mirrorball - changing yourself to fit in
this is me trying - burnout
dorothea - presumably about selena gomez
ivy - a story of unrequited love
exile - a story for folklore
cowboy like me - story for evermore
tolerate it - unappreciated love
look what you made me do - feud with the kardashians/jenners
this is why we can’t have nice things - kardashians/jenner feud backstabbing
i did something bad - feud
seven - childhood friends
you belong with me - friend in a toxic relationship but with a romantic twist
hey stephen - a fun love song she wrote as a kid
enchanted - about developing a crush on the guy from owl city
the other side of the door - not about her own love life
willow - casual love song
gold rush - crushing on someone everyone is crushing on and romanticizing them and the idea of a relationship and then ultimately realizing it’s just a fantasy and it fading away
happiness - looking forward to happiness even if there isn’t any right now
evermore - mental health
right where you left me - story for evermore
it’s time to go - encouraging people to leave toxic situations
you need to calm down - gay rights
afterglow
it’s nice to have a friend - having a friend
the 1 - story
my tears ricochet - leaving her old label and breaking ties with scott borchetta
illicit affairs - aNoThEr story
invisible string - story
peace
hoax - possibly about her old label
the lakes - want to leave the toxicity of social media and run away/escape
superstar - being starstruck
jump then fall - having a crush
untouchable - cover
love story - romeo and juliet but happy ending
ready for it
delicate
gorgeous
i wish you would
bad blood - feud with katy perry
how you get the girl - tutorial basically
clean - parallels between coming clean and leaving a toxic relationship
new romantics - fun song / youth experience
innocent - kanye / response to his song about her (“i made that b**** famous”)
i’m only me when i’m with you - dedicated to friends and family
christmas tree farm - childhood
call it what you want - reputation
new year’s day
only the young - used for political campaign for democrats
today was a fairytale - for a movie
sweeter than fiction - for a movie
both of us
beautiful ghosts - for a movie
renegade - hurting someone when they try to help you
breathe - growing apart from friends
eyes open - for a movie
safe and sound - for a movie
crazier - for a movie
the last great american dynasty - rebekah harkness (previous owner of her rhode island home)
i don’t wanna live forever - for a movie
the way i loved you - inspired by the notebook
teardrops on my guitar - about a crush
better than revenge
speak now - story
everything has changed
run
better man - wrote for little big town
ours
wildest dreams
message in a bottle
death by a thousand cuts - based on a movie (someone great)
soon you’ll get better - moms cancer
dancing with our hands tied - about how she didn’t want to put joe through the harassment she gets from the media but him refusing to break up with her
carolina - for a movie
lavender haze - addressing public opinions and rumors about her relationship with joe
you’re on your own kid - takes you through her life
karma - scooter braun
bejeweled — confidence
dear reader — advice
sweeter than fiction - written for a movie
only the young — political injustice
when emma falls in love — emma (stone)
castles crumbling — september 2009 vma’s
timeless — written about her grandmas first love
clara bow
i hate it here
thanK you aIMee
cassandra
the bolter
#spilled thoughts#thoughts#taylor swift#writing#taylor swift 1989#1989 taylor's version#taylornation#i love you taylor#the eras tour#tswift#swifties#taylor stans#taylor swizzle#list
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Writeblr Introduction
Hi, I’m Andromeda (she/they). I am returning to Writeblr and decided to start a new blog for my WIPs and writing updates! I want to use this blog to shout out other Writeblrs, make posts about my current WIPs, and experiences in publishing. I mostly write original fiction but write fanfic when the inspiration strikes. I love Writeblr games and asks!
This blog is a safe space for all identities, gender & sexuality, neurodivergence, race, and religion. I do my best with content and trigger warnings.
My Writing: Genre and Representation
I love horror, sci-fi, and fairy tales
I don’t enjoy romance (if it’s only the pursuit and drama), but I love writing nuanced love stories where people communicate well and put effort into building relationships
Lots of queerness and queer relationships
BIPOC main characters
Neurodivergence- shout out to the undiagnosed ADHD queens, the anxiety, and masking/coping behaviors
Trauma, out of context, is seen as personality
Smut- sex is a part of life and it’s fun to write. Get down, make mistakes, get messy. My sex scenes aren’t just conventionally attractive people putting on a show. I emphasize body diversity, complexities of gender identity, and emotional state
Tropes:
Found Family
Villains
Redemption- working to be a better person, even when it’s hard
Poly-Amory- we often have more than one close friendship, and have variety and nuance in those different relationships, so the same thing goes for romance
Morally gray/Feral girls- women have so much responsibility put on them for the emotional wellbeing of others, but what if they aren’t capable of that? (think Broad City/ Bottoms)
Finished works:
The Devil You Know- short story- Out now! Find your copy here
Genre: horror, vampires, fairytale
Vibe: The Green Knight x The Witch
Anya has built a quiet life for herself, trusted as the village healer as long as she keeps her magic hidden. All of that changes when a strange traveler arrives at her doorstep. The man looks human, but Anya senses an old and powerful magic within him. Intrigued, she allows Owen inside. He claims to have been an apprentice to a witch, and Anya, despite her suspicions, finds him to be a kindred spirit. They begin a romance, both finding comfort in one another.
Their peace is broken when a family comes to Anya in crisis. Their child has been cursed, and is transforming into a monster. Desperate to save the boy, Anya asks Owen for help. He can grant her the power to break the spell, but it requires blood and forbidden rites. Knowing that she can’t break the curse alone, Anya faces a choice with deadly consequences.
WIPs:
Bubblegum Capital
Genre: Queer Cyberpunk
Vibe: 1984 x Legally Blonde
Novaczek is on the brink of fame. They’re an amateur gamer about to break into the pro leagues. But their dreams are crushed when work denies them time off for the championship.
Novaczek decides to play on shift and is caught. Everything comes crashing down. They find themselves at rock bottom having lost their job, company housing, and girlfriend all at once.
In a world where your value is measured by your social ranking, Novaczek has to claw themselves back up, hustling for money and favors from friends. As they work their way back up the ranks they discover an underbelly where nothing and no-one are what they appear to be.
Love, Asunder
Genre: Gay Vampires, Family Saga
Vibe: 1917 x Hellboy
James Townsend was supposed to be starting his new life, an American abroad, with a Fellowship at Oxford University. All of that changes when Germany marches on Paris. James can’t remain in the classroom while teachers and students leave their desks for the battlefield. So James enlists as a volunteer ambulance driver on the Front. The days stretch long with violence and misery, but he finds purpose and friendships in the trenches.
Then he meets a man, a smuggler providing supplies and information to the Allies. Etienne is so different from the soldiers, bright and charming. They begin a secret romance, disappearing together when they can, and writing letters in between.
An opportunity comes to meet in Paris, and James is overwhelmed at the opportunity to spend time with Etienne in the City of Love. Free to spend their days together, James quickly discovers just how much Etienne has been hiding from him, and enters a world of magic, beauty, and death.
Tropes and fun stuff:
Butch witches
Femme werewolves
Playing the vampire tropes straight
Magical Underground
Found Family
Bio-Family responsibilities
Many, Many different kinds of love
I'll be sharing moodboards and snippets along the way! Looking forward to learning more about the other talented Writeblrs out here!
tagging: @hillnerd-art @suffrajett @starknstarwars @em-dashes @blind-the-winds @leave-her-a-tome @athenswrites
#writeblr#writing#gay vampires#writeblr community#writers on tumblr#witchy shit#novel writing#horror#fairy tales
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can you write something for Johnny Martin?? Maybe something kind of angsty but with a fluffy ending??
Thank you!! Hope you’re doing well!!
The Depths of Despair
Johnny Martin x reader
A/N: Hi anon! I hope you're also doing well 🤗 Thanks for the request, and I hope you like it! (This is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) Warnings: mentions of war
For a moment, the two of you sit in silence, neither sure what to say. The past few days have been so full of fun, sunshine, enjoyment, and general disregard of the rules that the announcement this afternoon has put a damper on everyone’s mood. Well, everyone except for the lucky few with enough points to go home.
It seems unfathomable that Johnny should be getting ready to make yet another jump while you get sent back to the states. They can’t spare a fighting man for the upcoming conflict, but apparently they’re just fine shipping nurses who are willing and able to work home. Of course, there’s work to be done there, but you’d rather be doing the work required here – or, more accurately, wherever in the Pacific that Johnny may be sent.
“What if I just don’t go?” You finally suggest. There are probably better solutions. However, in the depth of despair, the most obvious resolutions are often the most difficult to initially find, let alone hold onto. What you’ve come up with seems like a start, though.
Johnny’s eyes go wide. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“What?”
“Go home,” Johnny clarifies. “(Y/N), you have to go home.”
Now it’s your turn to be confused. “Johnny, I can’t do that. I can’t just – just leave you behind and go about my life while I worry about you over in the Pacific.”
“I’d rather you be safe,” he counters. “I would be worrying about you the whole time if you were still in an aid station.”
You could argue more. There’s no good in being at home if you’re worried sick; there’s no use spending so much time apart worrying if one of you is doomed; you should spend as much time together as possible while you can. Instead, you decide to save your breath and stick to the last one and enjoy whatever time you have left together.
“Come on,” you say, changing the subject by taking Johnny’s hand in yours and leading him out into the streets, toward one of the massive buildings that makes up Berchtesgaden. “I heard Tab say something about a ballroom somewhere around here. I want to dance.”
When you glance back at him, Johnny looks bemused, but not upset. Finally, he smiles. Maybe he’s just reached the same conclusion that you have and is too tired to argue. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s dance.”
. . .
He hasn’t looked this happy for days, you realize when Johnny strolls into the tent where you and a few other nurses are organizing supplies. A wide smile paints his face, and though it doesn’t seem possible, it only grows when his eyes land on you. His skin is slightly pink from sunlight, his hair tousled from sweat and running. It’s then that you realize his chest is heaving ever so slightly, like he’s just run here, or he can’t quite catch his breath, or both.
You abandon the box you’re in the middle of sorting. “Johnny?”
“It’s over,” he says.
For a split second, you think he means the relationship. You blink, stunned. Several other nurses glance over in concern, with one even dropping the pencil she was holding seconds before.
“What?”
“The war,” Johnny clarifies, still smiling, none the wiser to the heart attack he’s just given you. “The Japanese surrendered. The war is over.”
“Oh my God!” Someone cries out, sending the tent into a tumult of excitement as everyone abandons their work, hugging each other, cheering, some even crying at the news.
As for you, you practically fall into Johnny’s arms when he holds them out to you, his embrace warm. After the awkwardness of the past few days as you attempted to navigate your time together without it devolving into another disagreement, you can finally relax. Entangled in your embrace, you feel Johnny do the same.
Over the sounds of celebration, you whisper in his ear, “We’re both going home.”
“Together,” he whispers back.
No worrying about him while he’s in the Pacific. No worrying about you in an aid station. After all this time, you’re free, and heading back to the places where you began. Your heart races in your chest as you start to realize how different things will be this time, now that you’re in each other’s lives. Of course, there are details to be worked out, plans to be made, decisions to be finalized, but you can cross those bridges when you get there. Right now, all you care about is enjoying this haze of happiness and celebration as long as you can.
“Together,” you agree, smiling at the promise of what is to come.
#band of brothers#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers imagine#johnny martin#johnny martin x reader#my writing
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RSA Fanmade Dorms
Thought I should share a fleshed-out(ish) list of dorms that me, @chohouse , and @dizastermango made for Royal Sword Academy. Honesty thought that RSA should get more love (plus it was a lot of fun to make this, especially since I have some OCs that go to RSA). Also I made a Pinterest board for the dorms, the dorm uniforms, and their ceremonial robes.
The overall inspiration of these dorms were the supporting characters in the stories of the Big 7, but it’s the characters that were associated with the heroes. Now with that out of the way, here is the list!
- Iterspeculo: Spirit of Carpe Diem
Themed off of The Mad Hatter
Pronounced as “I-ter-speh-coo-loh”
Carpe Diem roughly translates to “Living in the Moment”
The complete opposite of Heartslabyul when it come to organization and tidiness
Basically an eyesore, and constant game of ‘Eye-Spy’
Dorm name was made with: ‘Speculo’ which is Latin for mirror, ‘Iter’ meaning journey, so it completely comes out to ‘Journey (through the) Looking Glass’
- Baoheart: Spirit of Mindfulness
Themed off of Rafiki
Pronounced as “Bau-hart”
ALL DORM MEMBERS LIVE IN A GIANT BAOBAB TREEHOUSE! It’s pretty cool ngl
This dorm is SO chill and can be wise. They have a lot of relaxing activities like yoga and meditation sessions. Literally living that Hakuna Matata life
Dorm name revolved around the tree that Rafiki lived in which is a Baobab tree, and the heart because it sounded better and more whimsical than tail or fang lmao
- Plimsoll: Spirit of Sharing
Themed off of Scuttle
Pronounced as “Plim-sl”
Nautical and sea port vibes with this dorm (ngl was hard to figure out, so I mixed it together)
Heavily community based! Everyone helps everyone out because why not? The more the merrier!
Literally a silly headcanon, but the common room has a deep brown wood flooring to imitate a ship and someone made the joke of it looking like shit, so now everyone calls the common room the “Poop Deck”
Name came from the Plimsoll Line of a ship, which is a mark on the hull of a ship indicating how deep a cargo ship can travel safely to trade goods
- Sadjinn: Spirit of Friendship
Themed off of The Genie
Pronounced as “Sah-jin”
Kind of similar to Scarabia, but it has that overall “goodness” to it
Not as many parties, but still very much so community based
It’s a more creative dorm that leans more into enjoying what you have and making the most out of it with the people you have. Literally if Kalim was a dorm it would be this one.
Also, the Cave of Wonders is where the dorm resides, and it is surrounded by a beautiful oasis and small forest of sorts
Name came from: ‘Sadiq’ meaning friend in Arabic, and a Djinn (Jinn) is another name for the mythical creature of a genie (this is under the pretense of fiction and fantasy rather than the Arabic/Islamic religious aspect of Jinns)
- Septierre: Spirit of Humility
Themed off of the Seven Dwarves
Pronounced as “Sep-tea-error”
Such a hardworking yet humble dorm. Like omg- this dorm is that meme that is like “It’s not much, but it’s honest work”
COTTAGECORE VIBES!!!
Literally all of the produce and materials for the school is from this dorm! The students in this dorm are basically all in agriculture and geology, it is wholesome and very simple living
Mostly flatlands with cottage dorm rooms/dorm housing. It’s cute ngl. A lot of orchards and mines and woodland creatures
Name came from: ‘Septem’ which is Latin for 7, and ‘Pierre’ roughly translates to ‘stone/rock’
- Fulgyros: Spirit of Growth
Themed off of Philoctetes (Phil)
Pronounced as “Fuhl-ger-ose”
Dorm of perseverance and growth (emotionally, physically, and mentally. Literally in every possible aspect)
Basically the gym bros/fraternity of the school lmao, but don’t worry, they’re usually himbos. Just want what’s best for everyone and will help achieve that goal
All Ancient Greece influences, kind of a mix between Mount Olympus and Phil’s home/training area. Ethereal and godly vibes with white and earth tones. One of the more pristine dorms, especially with their mostly white uniforms
Name comes from: ‘Fulger’ which is the Latin root word for ‘lightning’, the suffix ‘-ysos’ from Dionysus who Satyrs would be associated with (along with Pan), and ‘-os’ from mythos
- Rosasci: Spirit of Harmony
Themed off of The Three Fairies (Flora, Fauna, and Merrywheather)
Pronounced as “Roh-zeh-see"
Spirit comes from the three fairies working together to raise Aurora despite how chaotic it was. They worked in harmony together and were able to make things work. So that same vibe of responsibility and harmony of oneself and community is prominent in this dorm.
All roses imagery with no thorns. Thorns are a big nono in this dorm
Was another difficult dorm to figure out, but then again this whole school can be viewed as pretentious, so why not add in that overly sweet ‘goody-two-shoes’ aspect lol
However, this dorm is so pretty and very Fairycore with flowy and whimsical uniforms and decorations
Best way to describe the dorm vibe is the Moors in the first and second Maleficent movie
Name came from: ‘Rosaceae’ which is the botanical family name for roses. It’s a simple but pretty name.
- Bonus HCs
Snow White’s Wishing Well is the magical object(?) that sorts students into their dorms
The way it works is that you have to sing a tune or something into the well, and the well sings back to you what dorm you are sorted into. Note that the voice singing back is a collection of voices that are in perfect harmony. It’s creepy if you think about it because do those voices belong to anyone??? Who knows.
Also, students arrive to RSA in a brilliant, blinding white, pumpkin carriage drawn by horses, pegasi, unicorns, even comically large seahorses/dolphins, you name it! It’s magic- anything is possible.
Honestly think of the flying carriages in Sophia the First, and bam it’s that, but a white pumpkin!
Everyone is alert and awake during their journey to the school, with various magical accommodations to make the trip as pleasant as possible. Hungry or thirsty? No worries, a menu with simple summoning spells fixes that. Bored? Don’t sweat- free wifi in the carriage AND a hidden movie screen to watch the latest block buster starring Vil Schoenheit and Neige LeBlanche. It’s basically a first class seat on a magical airplane. Straight up comfort.
However, once you do arrive to the school and land, your luggage disappears (of course there is a notice before you land). Once you get your dorm and room assigned, your luggage will already be there waiting for you
Students are dropped off towards the back of the castle where staff greets the new students on the outskirts of a whimsical tree line. Upon crossing into the forest, students are magically dressed in their ceremonial robes and matching makeup . They all flood into a large whimsical pavilion full of seats (think of the one from Barbie and the 12 Dancing Princesses) that surrounds a very well known wishing well
After the ceremony, the headmaster opens portals to the Heart of the Castle where the main portals are.
RSA has a similar portal system to NRC, but the room is full of really pretty ports that fit the decorum of each dorm/school location. It’s located in the heart of the castle, which is easy access for the students and staff
That is basically all of the headcanons I had, and I hope it helps in any creativity process, or was enjoyable! Let me know if you want any more HCs or have any comments, questions, or concerns! It was a blast making this!
Also! If you want to use any of this for OCs or fanfics, please go ahead!! Just please link this post and like/reblog 🖤 I appreciate those who want to use this! Thank you!
#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#twst headcanons#twisted wonderland headcanons#heartslabyul#savanaclaw#octavinelle#scarabia#pomefiore#ignihyde#diasomnia#night raven college#nrc#royal sword academy#rsa#rsa headcanons
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Our Very Own Greek Tragedy (Pt. 2 of 2)
Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader
Summary: As the weeks begin to stretch on with no solution as to why you can't remember Morpheus and the Dreaming when you wake up, you begin to lose hope. Can yours be the rare tragedy with a happy ending?
Or, part two of "yes this is based on that post that I made about Reader and Morpheus being in a relationship in the Dreaming but then you don't remember your dreams when you wake up."
Word Count: 5.5k
Notes: Thank you guys so so so much for being patient with me as I dealt with one of the worst months I've ever been through, as well as your sweet messages. I cannot thank you enough for your support. I can only hope that, amidst the grief and the stress, this makes some sort of sense.
Let me know your thoughts! Feedback is always appreciated, likes, comments, and reblogs keep me going and make me happy, and my inbox is always open to chat about whatever!
Part One of Two
“...and for some reason, instead of choosing fight or flight, my body chose fight and flight.”
“Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes. So anyways, that’s how I got a five-year ban from the biggest haunted house in the city.” The man sitting across from you finishes telling his riot of a story about when he punched an actor playing Michael Myers in the face while simultaneously screaming and trying to run away, making you laugh harshly into the glass of water you’re attempting to take a sip out of.
Derek is 27, a software engineer who loves science fiction and photography. He’s handsome in a nerdy way, his big brown eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses and his brown hair simultaneously sophisticated and messy. Polite and with an understated sense of humor you’ve been laughing the entirety of tonight. Your friends have set you up on a date with him, insisting that he’s just your type and that you need to get out and meet new people.
And they’re right. Derek is traditionally your type, everything you’ve historically gone for in a potential partner. That’s why it’s so confusing that you’re really not that into him. He’s nice, to be sure, and you’re having fun, but in the way that you’d have fun when hanging out with one of your friends. It doesn’t feel right to call it a date.
You haven’t been feeling right the past couple of weeks, if you’re being honest with yourself. For some reason, it all seems to stem back to your sleep. Where before you would wake up everyday feeling refreshed and happy, now you find yourself defeated and upset before you can even get out of bed. It’s frustrating, even more so because you don’t know why it is that you’re feeling this way since you can’t remember whatever it is you’re dreaming about.
Maybe that’s why you’re surreptitiously checking the time on the clock above Derek’s shoulder, hoping that the next time you look, it will be an acceptable amount of time that you’ve been on this date and can suggest that it’s time for it to end. Maybe it’s just because you don’t feel a spark, which is too bad. You’ve enjoyed tonight, but on a strictly platonic level.
Eventually the date does come to an end. Derek drives you back to your home and even walks you to the door–a perfect gentleman, and normally a move you’d swoon over. Instead, you’re just feeling tired and more than a little bad at the fact that you don’t reciprocate the feelings you know that he has.
“I had a great time tonight,” Derek says, shyly shoving his hands into his coat pocket. He rocks back on his feet, trying to remain a respectable distance away.
“Yeah, it was fun!” You’re not lying to him; tonight was fun, just not romantically.
When his eyes flick from yours to your lips and back again, you decide to beat him to what he’s inevitably going to start leaning in for and give him a kiss on the cheek. To his credit, he hides the disappointment very well.
“Let me know when you get home safely?” you ask.
He nods a little too enthusiastically. God, it’s gonna suck having to tell him that you don’t want to date him. “Absolutely. I’ll talk to you soon.”
You smile and wave goodbye at him as he walks back to his car. The moment you close the door, your cheerful facade drops and you sigh heavily. Well, you think, at least it’s over.
Derek later texts you as promised, and you respond with a smiley face emoji and wishes for sweet dreams before setting your phone to ‘do not disturb.’ Tomorrow, you decide before you fall asleep. You’ll rip the bandage off with him tomorrow.
When you open your eyes in the Dreaming, guilt immediately begins to eat at you. There it is, your nightly refresher as to why you’re so miserable as of late; because you can’t remember the love of your life, the King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm, unless you’re asleep and with him in said realm. The moment that you open your eyes back in the Waking, which is where you spend the majority of your time, it’s as if Dream of the Endless doesn’t exist. Hence, the date you allowed yourself to be set up on.
While you’re certainly not doing any of this on purpose, that doesn’t make it any better. You’ve basically just cheated on Dream and had no qualms about it since your stupid Waking body doesn’t know that you’re in love. Though…maybe, subconsciously, you do? That’s really the only reason you can think of as to why you were so turned off of everything about the evening’s events and your date. It doesn’t make you feel that much better, but knowing that there’s a chance that your very soul knows who it belongs to (just as the holder of your soul belongs to you) does help.
Regardless, the guilt leads you to not leave the library and actively seek Morpheus out like you usually would. You’re definitely not hiding from him when you grab one of Sylvia Plath’s unpublished novels and tuck yourself in a small alcove with a window giving you a view of the mountains that are home to both dreams and nightmares. No, you’re just…making yourself scarce and catching up on some reading you didn’t know you had been wanting to do. Besides, Morpheus is busy running a realm and being Endless. Surely he has more, and better, to do than hunt you down?
Apparently, you’re mistaken. Barely an hour (at least, you think it’s an hour; time is a fickle, funny thing in the Dreaming) passes before the hair on the back of your neck prickles, the air shifts, and Morpheus appears in front of you. The stars in his eyes, which have always been your true indicator as to how he’s feeling, twinkle with all of the joy that his barely-there smile hides. It makes your heart, heavy with the knowledge of your betrayal, ache.
“My starlight,” he greets, holding a hand out for you to take.
Your knee pops when you stand, and you stifle a laugh at the horrified look on Morpheus’s face. It’s fun getting to see his reactions to the normal plights of humans, including joints that make odd noises.
“Hi.” You lean in to kiss him, and the look on his face after you do so tells you that nothing’s going to get by him.
“Something is wrong.”
Dammit. And just when you had decided on the course of pretending like everything was a-okay.
“What makes you say that?” you stammer.
“Your eyes.” His hand comes to your cheek, and his thumb strokes the skin under your eye. “You’re…sad. Uncertain. Why?”
Dammit.
Instead of answering, you throw your arms around him and bury your face into his chest. You can’t look at him, not when you whisper, “I went on a date.”
Morpheus hums, not hearing what you said. “What?”
“I said, I went on a date.”
He stiffens under your hold, and it makes you feel sick to your stomach. You pull away from him, holding your hands behind your back in an attempt to keep them from shaking so violently. They still continue to shake, but at least Morpheus doesn’t see it.
“I didn’t even like him!” you try to explain. “I went because my friends basically forced me on a date and I wanted to get them off my case. We had dinner, it was nice, then he drove me back home. That’s it. But then I woke up here and I’m so ashamed at what I did. I couldn’t keep something like this from you.”
Morpheus is silent as he tries to keep his composure, and you don’t blame him. You’d be mad too, even if there are extenuating circumstances that led to the aforementioned date. Though you want to keep talking and trying to explain yourself, you know that this would just lead to you continuing to dig a bigger hole for yourself, so you wait for him to make the first move.
When he does speak, he does so quietly. You’re staring out the window, too nervous to face him, but you can feel his gaze on you as he says, “You are not at fault here.”
You scoff. He repeats this phrase so often lately that you wouldn’t be surprised if it becomes the new Dreaming slogan. You know he’s speaking truthfully, that he doesn’t hold any sort of contempt towards you for this. As he’s said to you so many times now, he can’t be mad at you when you quite literally don’t remember any part of the Dreaming when you wake up. You, however, can and will be extremely mad at yourself.
Days of research into why you don’t remember and how you could potentially remember has turned into weeks of research, which has now become months of research. And still, you’re not any closer to finding an answer to this question that’s plagued both you and Morpheus. Any of the rare potential solutions that you’ve come up with have been unfeasible: witches asked too high a price with no guarantee that anything they tried would work, Morpheus’s few mortal contacts could not find any lead to help, and the Dreaming’s library didn’t hold any answers.
The only real fix that anybody had come up with would be for you to move to the Dreaming permanently. While that was certainly a plan that you had, you also still enjoyed the life that you live in the Waking, and there would be loose ends for you to tie up in order to move. Morpheus would basically have to kidnap your unknowing, Waking self, and neither you nor he were willing to deal with the potential trauma of that, no matter how desperate you were becoming.
“Well it still feels a lot like I am,” you say, “especially when it’s causing you so much pain.”
“You are in pain as well,” Morpheus points out.
He’s right, of course. You really hate it when he’s right; and he’s right a lot. Another perk of being Endless, you suppose. That, or being alive for a really long time just gives you the natural ability to always know what to say.
“You’re not mad at me for basically cheating on you?” you ask.
You’re not at all expecting Morpheus to laugh at your earnest question. Though you’ve heard his laugh before, it’s always a little disconcerting; harsh and grating, like it’s coming from someone who’s both never laughed and never heard a laugh. Even still, you love his awful, full-throated laugh. You just didn’t think that this situation would elicit such a reaction from him.
“I would hardly call one miserable evening spent with a male suitor who did not have any sort of chance with you ‘cheating,’ my love.” He seems awfully pleased about all of this, and while you’re happy for him, you’re also a little confused. “You said it yourself that your friends forced you to go, and that you had no interest in the man. I am jealous that I was not the one able to take you to dinner in the Waking, but there is nothing for you to feel any sort of guilt over.”
It’s certainly a relief to know that he doesn’t hold any grudge against you, nor does he see this as the same grievous error that you do. You’d feel a whole lot more relieved, however, if you didn’t have to worry about any of this at all and could just be happy with your love in both of your realms.
“What do we do?” you ask finally, today’s Waking events giving you a bad feeling about things to come.
“We continue to search, and in the meantime, we love each other as we always have.”
“You still want me?” You’re only half-joking, and he knows it. “Even with all of this trouble?”
“I want you in any way that I can have you. If, one day, you were to decide that our love was not meant to be, I would still be content with being a mere observer in your life.”
“I would never,” you say earnestly. “You know that, right? Sorry to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me.”
“And what an honor and a joy it is,” he says before leaning down to rest his forehead against yours.
The odds, you know, are insurmountable. But for now, here, in Morpheus’s arms, it feels a little more doable.
•••
Morpheus remains in his throne room long after you’ve returned to the Waking. Though he did his best to take both your mind and his off of the troubles you’re facing, the awareness of said troubles always remains on the periphery. Now, he stares up at the galaxy that swirls above his head, hoping that the stars will hold some sort of answer within their constellations.
What if there is no solution? What if this is just the universe’s way of truly expressing its disdain for Morpheus; by giving him the love that he had only wished to have, just for his lover to be doomed not to remember him when not in the Dreaming? Some would call him dramatic, but he believes that, were this to be the case, he would not survive such a heartbreak. Now that he’s had you in his life, he simply cannot go on living any sort of an existence without you.
He’s teetering precariously on the edge of a dangerous thought spiral when Matthew lands on his throne with a caw, breaking him out of such morose thinking. “Boss, you got a minute?”
“What do you require, Matthew?” Morpheus asks.
“Lucienne is looking for you, she wants you to meet her in the library when you get the chance.”
It’s not as if he’s doing anything but brooding (moping, you would call it), so Morpheus stands from the stairs that he finds preferable to his throne when he’s not required to conduct official business and nods at his emissary. “Let us not keep her waiting, then.”
Lucienne looks as though she’s been waiting for Morpheus to arrive since the moment she sent Matthew off to request an audience with him. She’s already looking down the long aisle that gives her a direct view of the main doors from her desk, and she stands in recognition when Morpheus and Matthew appear.
“Matthew said you were looking for me?”
“My Lord,” Lucienne greets. “Do you remember when Lady Constantine completed a task for you in 1794?” She has the tact to not say what that task was, knowing that giving more detail than necessary will do nothing but bring more heartbreak to Morpheus.
He nods. “Of course.”
“You had her drink from a spring near the Shores of Creation, so that she would remember the conversation she had with you about how to escape Robespierre. Might that same spring be an option for her Ladyship?”
Even in such dire circumstances, Morpheus still finds himself fighting a smile at the title Lucienne addresses you as. You hate being referred to so formally, and always insist to everyone that they just call you by your name if they need to address you. Most have adjusted to the request, but Lucienne still holds steadfast to traditional conventions.
“When I rebuilt the Dreaming, the spring did not come back. I know not why, nor do I know how it came to be all those years ago,” Morpheus explains.
“So we must attempt to find answers through other avenues. Perhaps we peek into the past?”
“Do we know any time travelers?” Matthew muses lightheartedly.
Morpheus shakes his head and says, “The last time traveler I knew, I have not seen in almost three hundred years.”
Matthew’s feathers ruffle as if he’s about to comment on how he was just making a joke and didn’t expect time travelers to actually be real, but Lucienne cuts in with an idea before he can speak. “The Fates could potentially help.”
“As you said to me once before, the Fates speak in riddles. I do not believe they would be particularly insightful in a matter such as this.”
She nods, and thinks for a moment more. “Your sister has continually reminded you that the family is willing to assist one another, given such assistance is asked for. Might Destiny be willing?”
His first instinct is to emphatically turn down this suggestion. But Lucienne is right; the Endless siblings (most of them, that is), for all their interpersonal troubles, are also more than willing to help out another member of the family should they ask. For most members of the family, their price for assisting with such a request would be far too steep. However…
He has two siblings that would be the most open to helping, and only one would do so solely based on a sense of duty. That same sibling would likely hold the most information about the past, which is the information that he needs. However, this could also be a dead end. For all that Morpheus insists on sticking to the rules that help to keep his realm in order, his older brother somehow makes Morpheus look like a rebellious teen when it comes to following rules.
It’s a gamble, but it seems to be pretty safe. With that in mind, Morpheus makes his decision. “As far as my siblings are concerned, Destiny is the one that would not require any sort of favor from me. If it is written in the Book that he is meant to help me, then he shall. Likewise, he will not help if that is what the Book commands.”
“It is likely the lowest stakes you are going to get here. And if Destiny cannot help, the Fates can serve as a backup plan,” Lucienne points out.
“I shall contact my brother, then.” He waits for Matthew to land on his shoulder before turning back to look at his librarian. “Thank you for your wisdom and assistance, Lucienne. It is…much appreciated.”
Lucienne flattens her lips against each other, but it does nothing to stop the smile that’s fighting to appear on her face. “You’re most welcome, my Lord.”
Morpheus nods and tries not to look as humbled as he feels. He really must stop taking Lucienne and her counsel for granted. How many times throughout the course of Lucienne’s long, long life spent as a creature of the Dreaming has she talked Morpheus off of the proverbial ledge?
As he walks into his gallery to request a meeting with his brother, the first frame, the one containing a large book, begins to glow. “Dream,” a voice says from the frame, “it is I, Destiny of the Endless. I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil, brother. Won’t you come through?”
This meeting was meant to happen, then.
“I will go alone, Matthew,” Morpheus directs. Though Matthew shifts uncomfortably, like he’s not quite sure he wants to let Morpheus do this without him, he jerks his head in a nod nonetheless.
“Good luck!” Matthew wishes before taking off through the open door and making his way back into the Dreaming proper. With a sigh, Morpheus rolls his shoulders back to make himself stand straight and proud as he steps through the portrait frame and out into his eldest sibling’s realm.
The Garden of Forking Ways is always a little disconcerting, no matter how many times Morpheus has visited the realm of Destiny of the Endless. There are an infinite number of paths that one might take, so many that it becomes almost dizzying to look at, and Morpheus imagines it would be quite easy to become forever lost in this never-ending labyrinth. Thankfully, his brother has been expecting him, and is there the moment that Morpheus appears.
“Well-met, Destiny,” Dream greets.
Destiny stands as tall and imposing as ever, the hood of his cloak pulled low over his unseeing, milky eyes. Those that know him, which is really only his siblings, would argue that, though Destiny is blind, he, in fact, sees all, even that which everyone else cannot see with normal vision.
When Dream arrives, Destiny lays a hand over the book that is forever chained to him. Evidently, the book has told him whatever it is he needed to know, for he nods and gestures Dream closer to him.
“My brother, I thank you for answering my call.” This is as warm as Destiny will ever get; Morpheus, however, has had an eternity to get used to these mannerisms, and knows that this is uncharacteristically tender coming from Destiny.
“You call on the family so little, and I can hardly recall the last time you summoned me individually. What is the matter?”
“Father Time visited my realm some time ago. He said that he had a boon for you, one that was granted as some recompense for your imprisonment. Father, being who he is, could not remember if your boon would help you in the past, present, or future. At least, I believed that he could not remember, for when I asked which it was, he simply said ‘yes’ before taking his leave.”
Morpheus would be lying if he were to say that he didn’t believe he deserved some sort of restitution from the universe or the Creator for all that he had gone through. Still, he never imagined that said amends would be coming from Father Time, who, at best, has only ever shown a vague disinterest in the lives of his children.
(He would also be lying if he were to say that he wasn’t at least a little jealous that their father had deigned to bless one of his children with a rare visit. Of course it was Destiny; the eldest, the wisest, the favorite. He thought that he had long-since come to terms with his family and their strange dynamics, but something about being directly confronted with such a fact has him feeling every bit the middle child that he is.)
From within his robes, Destiny produces a vial which he holds out towards his brother between his thumb and forefinger. Morpheus stares at the pink liquid within and wonders if he should really get his hopes up, or if this is just simply a cruel joke. But no, it’s not. He can feel the dreamstuff that the liquid is made out of, for he is also dreamstuff, and the dreamstuff is he. Like recognizes like.
“I now understand what he meant, and I believe you will as well. Do you know what this is?”
Of course he knows what it is. How could he not, when, for all intents and purposes, it appears to be of his realm? “Water from the spring that used to run near the Shores of Creation?”
Destiny nods, and Morpheus feels his chest tighten. “Thus, his comments make perfect sense now. The past, being that this spring no longer flows in your realm. Presently, you are looking for a solution. With this, your future will be achieved, one way or another.”
He very much agrees with that hypothesis, though the last statement does cause him to pause. “What do you mean, brother? ‘One way or another’?”
“I have said what is to be said.”
To be fair, it’s more than what Destiny would typically say in such a situation, and Morpheus is grateful for it. Still, he remains wary; when has his family ever been clear in their actions without any sort of ulterior motive? “And it is mine? There are no…stipulations, or deals that I must adhere to?”
“It was given freely, for you to use as you wish. A gift, and nothing more.”
For the first time in weeks, Morpheus feels like he can breathe freely. “Thank you, Destiny. Truly.”
“I wish luck to you and your bride. I shall see you soon, when realms meet and the old converges with the new.”
Morpheus doesn’t bother trying to decipher his brother’s cryptic words. What will be, will be, and only once it’s happened will the connection to Destiny’s prophecy make sense.
His own gallery appears before him in a flash, Destiny having sent his brother back to his own realm upon their business being concluded. The vial of spring water still remains in his hand, and he closes his hand around it tightly to remind himself that it’s here and real. The solution that they’ve been searching for, housed in such a small container that he almost worries that he’ll misplace it.
For the rest of the day, he can only halfheartedly complete the tasks that he had intended to finish. His mind is so distracted that, at one point, he’s pretty sure that he gave The Corinthian (remade without certain traits that made the first iteration a failed project) permission to take a day trip to the Waking. That will surely have to be addressed later, but it can wait. It has to wait. The only thing that he can think clearly about is the small bottle currently sitting in his pocket, which might finally hold the key to your problems.
Morpheus can feel you pass through the barrier separating your realm from his almost as easily as he can feel Matthew do the same. So when you finally, finally fall asleep, he’s there in the library at the exact same moment as you. When you see him, you jump in fright, obviously not expecting him to be right in front of you.
“Give a little warning next time you feel the need to try and send me into a heart attack!” Regardless of your feigned chagrin, you kiss him in greeting before smiling at him.
“Hopefully you’ll forgive me when I tell you that I have good news.”
“What kind of good news?”
Morpheus feels as though every atom in his body is vibrating from the excitement, so much so that he glances down at his hands to see if they’re physically shaking (they’re not). “I appear to have been granted a boon from my father.”
You look bewildered, but it’s not towards what Morpheus had been expecting you to be confused about. “You have a dad?”
“Time.”
“We’ll focus on that later,” you say, shaking your head as if to draw yourself away from this new fact. “What did he give you?”
“Long ago, a spring ran through the Dreaming. The waters of this spring, when consumed, allowed the drinker to remember what had happened within the Dreaming as easily as if they were recalling their day in the Waking. After my imprisonment, when I rebuilt my realm, the spring was absent, for reasons unknown to me.
“Father told my brother, Destiny, that I was owed recompense for my capture, and that the gift he entrusted Destiny to give to me was such payment.” Morpheus reaches into the pocket on the outside of his coat, the only one with lining not made of the universe, and pulls out the glass vial. “The gift was water from the spring, water that I did not believe would ever be in the Dreaming again.”
“So, if I drink this, then…” You don’t say what you’re thinking, not wanting to get your hopes up. Morpheus, having been in your shoes mere hours before, knows exactly how you’re feeling.
“You should be able to remember everything about the Dreaming, about me, when you wake up.” Morpheus hands you the glass container, pressing it gently into your palm. “I will not force you to drink it, however. The choice is yours.”
You scoff and tease, “Do all of the declarations of love and fidelity mean nothing to you?”
The top of the vial is pried off with the nail of your thumb, and you take an experimental sniff of the liquid inside. Once it’s passed whatever test you’ve just administered, you toss your head back and take it as though it’s a shot of liquor. Morpheus doesn’t ever recall actually being one to take a shot, but one sees their fair share of creatures imbibing on all manner of alcohol when one converses with the likes of Faerie and gods.
The actual act of you drinking the water is anticlimactic, and the disappointment shows clearly on your face when you say, “I don’t feel any different.” Still, Morpheus is not discouraged.
“Though it has been about three hundred years since the spring was last used, I do not recall any instant symptoms to show that it had worked. Unfortunately, the only thing we can do is wait.”
Despite his reassurance, you still pout. “Well, that sucks.”
“I am quite sure that we will find some way to pass the time until you wake,” Morpheus says, as if you’ve forgotten that you can quite literally do whatever you want when in the Dreaming. “In the meantime, there is something that I wish to give you.”
“Something else besides magic water?”
“Close your eyes.”
You do as he asks, of course. He moves to stand behind you, reaching into the air and pulling down the gift that he has been intending to give you. His long fingers work to fasten a clasp after he lays the chain around your neck, and when he finishes, he lays his hands on your shoulders. Taking that as a signal, you open your eyes again and look down.
A beautiful silver necklace rests just under the hollow of your throat. He watches as you hold the charm in your hand and run your thumb down the notches of the vertebrae-like trunk. Once you realize that it’s his sigil you hold, you turn in his grasp to meet his eyes.
“Morpheus, this is–” You’re stunned at the significance of such a gift. While he had discussed his desire to give you a wedding ring, being aware of the mortal custom for married couples to wear such jewelry, for Morpheus, this is his version of such a token that signifies devotion and partnership.
“It is yours, and shall remain on your neck when you return to the Waking. My hope is that you will remember me when you wake. If that is the case, you need only call for me while holding my sigil, and I will hear you.”
You kiss him repeatedly in thanks until his head feels like it’s spinning and he starts to think that he understands what mortal dizziness must feel like. “Thank you, truly. I’ve never received such a meaningful gift before.”
“Let us hope you can actually use it come tomorrow. Now, I believe I promised that I would let you win our next chess match?” He had promised such a thing after you had begged him to teach you how to play and then witnessed your subsequent frustration upon continually losing to a being who has played the game since its invention.
“Just announce it to everybody that I suck at chess, why don’t you,” you say fondly before taking his offered hand and letting him do his best to help find some way to pass the time until you wake.
•••
When you open your eyes and catalog the mid-morning sun filtering in through a crack in your curtains, you notice that this is the best that you’ve felt after waking up for weeks now. You roll over, hoping to catch a couple more hours of sleep since it’s the weekend and you have nowhere to be until the afternoon. A sharp poking on your chest has you aborting the idea of laying on your stomach, and you sit up instead to see what it is that’s disrupted your plan.
Around your neck lies a necklace that you most definitely did not go to bed wearing. The charm is like nothing you’ve seen before; if you had to guess, you’d call it some weird, mosquito-like creature. Your thumb traces the spiny trunk as you turn it this way and that to study it, and you watch the light glint in the two rubies that you think are meant to be eyes. A bolt of familiarity runs through you, but you’re not sure why.
Then, it hits you. This is Morpheus’s sigil that you’re wearing–a miniature figure of his helm, his main tool of office.
Morpheus, the love of your life.
Morpheus, the man who you normally don’t remember when you wake up.
“Morpheus!” you gasp, holding the necklace against your skin with both hands. “My love, I hold the necklace with your sigil on it, which you told me to use to call for you. Can you hear me?”
The seconds stretch out longer than any you’ve ever experienced as you wait agonizingly to see if your summoning worked. Then, the hair on the back of your neck prickles, the air shifts, and a smile grows to match the one that the man with starry eyes that appears standing before you wears.
“You called?”
•••
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