#but if i do have to it needs to be within walking distance of where i live

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🎄 Touch

Touch: Morpheus decides to profess his adoration and love to you, only you have never even so much as kissed someone. Morpheus finds this extremely attractive.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material.

To Note: Morpheus x AFAB!Reader

Prompt: Virginity

Word Count: ~11.0k

You wander through the Dreaming, a realm where anything is possible, where reality bends and shifts at the whim of its creator, Morpheus. The air here feels different, charged with a strange energy that makes your skin tingle. Flowers bloom and wither in the span of a breath, and trees whisper secrets to the wind. You've spent so much time here lately that it almost feels like home.

Morpheus walks beside you, his presence a quiet storm of intensity. His pearl like skin contrasts sharply with the dark, ethereal fabric of his coat. The stars in his eyes glimmer softly as he watches you, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Do you enjoy the Dreaming?" His voice is a deep murmur.

You nod, looking up at him. "It's... beautiful. Unlike anything I've ever seen."

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "I am pleased to hear that."

You've noticed how he lingers close to you, how his gaze follows you when he thinks you're not looking. There's an undercurrent of something between you two, something that makes your heart race and your palms sweat. You've never been in a relationship before, never even been kissed, so you're unsure how to interpret these signals.

"Why do you spend so much time here?" His question catches you off guard.

"I like being here," you reply honestly. "With you."

He stops walking and turns to face you fully, the stars in his eyes shining brighter. "With me?"

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Yes."

For a moment, silence stretches between you two, filled only by the rustling leaves and distant murmurs of dreams being born and dying. Morpheus takes a step closer, closing the gap between you. You can feel the coolness radiating from him.

"I find myself drawn to you," he admits quietly. "More than I should be."

Your heart skips a beat. "Drawn to me? Why?"

"Because you are... different," he says, his voice almost a whisper now. "You see things others do not."

His words confuse and excite you in equal measure. You look into his eyes—those endless pools of starlight—and wonder what he sees in you that makes him say such things.

"Morpheus," you begin hesitantly, "I don't know how to..."

Before you can finish your sentence, he raises a hand to gently cup your cheek. His touch is cold but not unpleasant; it sends shivers down your spine.

"You do not need to say anything," he murmurs. "Just... be here."

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment as you savor the sensation. When you open them again, he's watching you with an intensity that takes your breath away.

"I want to be close to you," he says softly.

"So do I," you whisper back.

His thumb brushes against your skin as he leans in closer. Your heart pounds in your chest as his lips hover just inches from yours. You're acutely aware of every movement, every breath.

But he doesn't close the distance entirely; he's waiting for something—some sign from you that this is what you want too.

"I've never..." Your voice trails off as uncertainty grips you as well as the sting of embarrassment.

Your words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. Morpheus' eyes darken, the stars within them flaring like dying suns. His thumb continues to caress your cheek, a slow, deliberate motion that makes your skin hum with anticipation.

"Never?" he echoes, voice thick with disbelief.

You shake your head, feeling vulnerable under his intense gaze. "No. Never."

His mind seems to spiral, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions visible in the way his expression shifts. You see curiosity there, but also something deeper—something almost predatory. He leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours.

"Do you understand what that means?" His voice drops to a husky whisper.

You swallow hard, shaking your head. "Not really."

His other hand moves to your waist, pulling you against him. The contact sends shockwaves through your body. "Untouched," he murmurs, almost to himself. "Unmarked by the filth of humanity."

The words send a shiver down your spine. He’s seen the worst of people—their cruelty, their selfishness—and yet here you are, pure and untainted. The thought of being your first everything seems to intoxicate him.

"You're different," he says again, this time more to himself than to you.

You look up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. "Is that... bad?"

A slow smile spreads across his face. "No. It is... extraordinary."

His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair. The tension between you builds until it's almost unbearable. Your heart races as you realize what’s about to happen.

"Morpheus," you breathe.

He captures your lips with his in a kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. It’s gentle at first, exploring and savoring every moment. But as his hunger grows, so does the intensity of the kiss. You cling to him, feeling like you're drowning in a sea of sensation.

When he finally pulls back, you're both breathing heavily. His eyes are darker now, filled with a possessive need that sends another thrill through you.

"You will be mine," he declares softly but firmly.

Your knees feel weak at his words, and you can barely manage a nod in response.

"I will guide you," he continues, his voice low and intimate as if sharing a secret. "Take all of your firsts with a touch you deserve."

The idea makes your stomach flip with a mix of nerves and excitement. You want this—want him—but the thought of being so completely at his mercy is terrifying. You truly have no idea what you are doing!

"You want that?" His tone leaves no room for uncertainty.

"If—if you want someone so inexperienced," you whisper to him, your face still very much warm.

Morpheus' eyes, like twin galaxies, hold you captive. The intensity of his gaze leaves you feeling exposed, every layer of your being peeled back under his scrutiny. His fingers still weave through your hair, their touch a blend of gentleness and possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine.

"I desire you," he says, his voice a velvet whisper that caresses your senses. "More than I have ever desired anything in my entire life."

His lips descend upon yours, a slow and deliberate descent that gives you time to anticipate, to yearn, to dread. Yet you cannot pull away. There is something magnetic about the Lord of Dreams that roots you to the spot, his will weaving around yours, holding you captive in a way that is both terrifying and exhilarating.

His mouth moves against yours with an easy confidence that speaks of countless years of experience, each stroke of his lips coaxing you into the world of sensation that you have, until this moment, never known. Your heart beats like a wild thing in your chest, the rhythm drowned out only by the thrum of blood in your ears.

He is gentle at first, his lips a soft, questioning pressure against yours, a tentative exploration. You can't help but gasp, the sound quickly swallowed by his kiss. He takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss further, his tongue tracing the line of your lips, urging them to part.

And part they do, because there is something about Morpheus that makes defiance impossible. His tongue slips into your mouth, a sensual invasion that leaves you feeling both violated and cherished in the same breath. His taste is intoxicating, like the crisp, cold air of a dream realm that doesn't quite exist in reality, wild and untamed, and yet so full of possibility.

You mimic his movements, the flick and curl of your tongue an echo of his own, even as the action leaves you feeling like you're teetering on the edge of something momentous. Your hands, previously hanging listlessly by your sides, find the courage to explore, trailing tentatively up his chest and around his neck. The fabric of his coat is soft and cool under your fingers, a stark contrast to the warmth pooling low in your belly.

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, something low and approving, as he pulls you closer, one hand sliding down to press against the small of your back, while the other continues to tangle in your hair, keeping you exactly where he wants you. You yield to his silent demand, your body molding against his with an ease that is as surprising as it is exciting.

His lips leave yours only to trace a heated path along your jaw, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin beneath your ear. You shiver, the sensation both foreign and exquisite, as you feel the smooth texture of his jaw against your own skin, a reminder that this is no dream from which you can awaken. This is reality—Morpheus' reality—and it is a far cry from anything you have ever known.

His lips continue their descent, blazing a trail of fire down the column of your throat. Each kiss is a brand, a mark of possession that sends shivers cascading down your spine. You can't help but arch into his touch, your body moving of its own accord, seeking more of the exquisite sensations he's awakening within you.

Morpheus finds a spot just beneath your ear that makes you gasp when his lips brush against it. He lingers there, his tongue darting out to taste your skin, the sensation making your knees weak. A whimper escapes your lips as he sucks gently, the pull sending jolts of pleasure across your flesh.

His hand tightens in your hair, angling your head to give him better access. You're completely at his mercy, and the realization makes you quiver. You've never felt so desired, so wanted. It's intoxicating.

He moves lower, his lips exploring the sensitive skin where your neck meets your shoulder. His teeth graze the area, not quite biting, but enough to make you moan. The sound seems to spur him on, and he sucks harder, the sensation bordering on pain, but in a way that only heightens your arousal.

Your hands clutch at his shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric of his coat. You're panting now, each breath a ragged gasp that seems to echo in the stillness of the Dreaming. The realm around you fades into insignificance, the only thing that matters is the feel of his lips on your skin, the way he's making you feel.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours. There's a hunger there that takes your breath away, a need that mirrors your own. His hand leaves your hair, trailing down your side to rest on your hip. He pulls you closer, the evidence of his desire pressing against you.

Morpheus’ lips find yours again, the kiss deep and demanding. You yield to him, your mouth opening under the insistent pressure of his tongue. He explores you with a thoroughness that leaves you dizzy, his touch both a claiming and a revelation.

You're lost in the sensation, the world narrowing down to the two of you and the connection that crackles between you like a live wire. His hand moves from your hip to the small of your back, pressing you even closer, as if he can't get enough of you.

The kiss seems to go on forever, a dance of tongues and lips that leaves you breathless and aching for more. You've never felt anything like this before, this all-consuming need that threatens to overwhelm you.

In the blink of an eye, Morpheus lifts you from the ground, cradling you against his chest as if you weigh no more than a feather. His movements are smooth, effortless, as he carries you through the shifting landscape of the Dreaming. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, a wild, frantic rhythm that you can't control, as you cling to him, your world spinning out of control.

You sense the change in the air around you, a sudden warmth that envelops you like a comforting embrace. When you finally dare to open your eyes, you find yourself in an opulent bedroom that seems to be carved from the very essence of dreams. The walls pulse with a soft, ethereal glow, and the bed, large enough to drown in, is draped with silken sheets that shimmer like the surface of a calm, moonlit lake.

But it's not the room that takes your breath away—it's the sight of yourself, draped in a stunning negligee woven from the essence of stars. The fabric clings to your body, leaving nothing to the imagination, each curve and line of your form highlighted in a breathtaking display of celestial beauty. The warmth in your cheeks deepens to an almost painful intensity as you realize just how exposed you are. You've never felt so bare, so vulnerable, and the thought of Morpheus seeing you like this sends a wave of panic coursing through your veins.

Yet when you glance up at him, all you see in his starry eyes is adoration and desire. The look on his face is one of pure reverence, as though you are the most exquisite creature he has ever beheld. His gaze travels the length of your body, each sweep of his eyes like a physical touch that leaves a trail of fire in its wake.

"You are a vision," he murmurs, his voice a low, sensual purr that resonates deep within your soul. "A masterpiece crafted from the very fabric of the universe." His words wrap around you, a comforting blanket that helps to ease the embarrassment slowly fading under the weight of his admiration.

Morpheus steps closer, his hand reaching out to trace the contours of your face with a gentleness that surprises you given his immense power. His fingers trail lower, following the delicate line of your neck before dipping lower still, skimming the swell of your breasts. You tremble at the contact and your breath catches, your body jerking in surprise at the surge of pleasure that ripples through you.

"So responsive," he whispers, his fingers continuing their exploration, each touch leaving a trail of molten lava in its wake. "I cannot wait to discover all the ways I can make you tremble."

His words, combined with the skillful caress of his fingers, send a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You can feel the wetness between your thighs, tangible evidence of your arousal, and the knowledge that he is the cause of it only serves to heighten your desire.

You're overcome by sensations that are as intoxicating as they are terrifying. Every brush of his skin against yours sends sparks of electricity shooting through your veins. You're drowning in a sea of sensation, each wave carrying you further away from the shores of your innocence.

You stand there, your heart pounding in your chest, as Morpheus' gaze roams over your body, clad in the star-woven negligee. His eyes, deep and fathomless, stir something within you—a yearning that's both exciting and terrifying. You feel  heat creep across your cheeks as you realize just how exposed you are, not just physically, but emotionally. You've never been this vulnerable with anyone before.

"Do you wish to be introduced to the delights of the body?" Morpheus asks, his voice a low thrum that resonates with the power of the universe.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you find yourself at a loss for words. The question hangs in the air, heavy with implication. You've never even allowed yourself to imagine such things, let alone experience them. But here, in the Dreaming, with Morpheus, the impossible seems within reach.

You swallow hard, your eyes meeting his. There's a flicker of uncertainty in your gaze, but also a spark of curiosity—a desire to explore the unknown with him. You give a meek nod, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. But that isn't an adequate response, not to Morpheus.

"I need to hear you say it," Morpheus insists, his voice gentle but firm as his fingers find their place at your jaw.

You take a deep breath, the words catching in your throat before you finally manage to speak. "Yes," you whisper, the sound barely audible.

"Louder," he commands, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Yes," you say again, your voice stronger this time, though it still trembles with nervous anticipation.

Morpheus steps closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His touch is soft, almost reverent, and you can't help but lean into it. "Yes, what?" he prompts, his eyes searching yours.

"Yes, I want to... to learn," you stammer, the words feeling foreign on your tongue.

His smile widens, and he brings his other hand up to cradle your face. "That's my beloved,” he murmurs, his thumbs stroking your cheeks in a soothing motion. "I will show you wonders beyond your wildest dreams."

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss that sends a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, coaxing them to part, and you comply with a soft gasp. His kiss is a revelation, a slow, sensual exploration that leaves you breathless and yearning for more.

His hands leave your face, trailing down your body in a slow, deliberate caress. He explores every curve, every dip and swell, his fingers leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You tremble under his touch, your body responding to his caresses with a fervor that surprises you.

The air in the room is thick with anticipation as Morpheus' fingers continue their slow dance across your skin. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you and it makes your heart flutter in your chest. He steps back, his hand falling away from your face, leaving a cold void in its wake.

"Kneel," he commands, his voice a low rumble yet gentle on your ears.

You hesitate for a moment, your eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement. You've never knelt for anyone before, let alone in such an intimate setting. But there's something about the way he says it—a note of authority that leaves no room for argument. Slowly, you lower yourself onto the soft, plush carpet, your knees sinking into the fabric as you assume the position he's requested.

Morpheus watches you with a predatory intensity, his starry eyes drinking in the sight of you on your knees before him. There's a possessive hunger in his gaze that sends a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the power you’ve given him.

He takes a step closer, his fingers lingering on your jaw before brushing against your lips. You can't help but part them, a silent invitation that makes his eyes darken with desire.

"What should I do?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Morpheus leans down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he speaks. "Undo my jeans," he instructs, his breath a hot whisper against your skin. "Slowly, take time to enjoy yourself, beloved.”

Your hands tremble as you reach for the fastening of his jeans, your fingers fumbling with the button. It takes a few tries, but you finally manage to pop it open, the sound unnaturally loud in the silence of the room.

"Pull down the zipper," he directs, his voice a low growl but still with a touch to gentleness.

You do as he says, your fingers tugging on the metal tab. The sound of the zipper sliding down is like a siren song, a prelude to the revelation that awaits beneath the fabric.

"Now, reach inside and pull out my cock," he says, his words making your cheeks burn with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. Your cheeks flame just from that word alone!

Your fingers brush against his stomach and a quiver runs down your spine just from the smoothness of his skin. Then you slip your hand into the opening, your fingers brushing against the hot, hard length of him. He is already hard!? You can feel his heartbeat pulsing beneath your touch, a steady rhythm that matches the frantic beating of your own heart.

You pull him free, your eyes widening at the sight of him. He's larger than you expected, his cock rigid and throbbing with need. A bead of precum glistens at the tip, a tangible sign of his desire for you.

Morpheus lets out a low moan as you wrap your fingers around his shaft, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs.

"Stroke me," he commands, his voice strained with need. "Use your hand to mimic the rhythm of your heart, the ebb and flow of the tides, the dance of the stars in the night sky."

His words take your breath away, and you falter for a moment, enraptured by the sheer intensity of his gaze and the raw emotion in his voice. How could you refuse such a command?

Your hand begins to move, your fingers sliding up and down his cock with an minimal confidence at first. You can feel the power in your touch, the way his breath hitches each time you reach the tip, the way his body trembles beneath your caress. The way his cock swells and throbs beneath your fingertips.

"Just like that," he murmurs, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair, his fingers guiding your movements. "You're doing beautifully, beloved."

His breathing grows ragged as you find your rhythm, your hand moving with newfound confidence. You're mesmerized by the sight of him in your grasp, the way his body responds to your touch. His eyes are half-lidded, his lips parted as he watches you, a look of pure, unadulterated lust on his face.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice a low purr that vibrates through your core. "Use your other hand to cup my balls. Gently, now."

You do as he says, your fingers exploring the soft, sensitive skin, the weight of him in your palm both a surprise and a revelation. You can feel his cock twitch in your other hand, and you can't help but tighten your grip in response.

"Just like that," he groans, his hand fisting in your hair. "You so skillful for an innocent, my beloved."

The praise sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins, and you find yourself eager to please him, to learn all the ways you can make him feel as good as he makes you feel.

You continue to stroke Morpheus, your heart pounding in your chest as you realize the power of your touch. His cock is hot and hard in your hand, the way it throbs and twitches sending a fresh wave of desire coursing through your veins. Even your body reacts, the muscles in your pelvis clenching. It warms your cheeks all over again.

His voice, low and husky, breaks the silence. "It's time for you to learn another way to please me," he says, his fingers still tangled in your hair, guiding you closer to his throbbing erection. You feel a thrill of anticipation mingled with a twinge of nervousness. What if I do it wrong?

"Open your mouth for me," he instructs, his tone gentle yet firm. You comply, parting your lips as you gaze up at him, your eyes wide and questioning. "Good girl," he praises, his words sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

Morpheus guides the head of his cock to your lips, the salty taste of his seed teasing your taste buds. "Lick it," he guides you gently, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Use the flat of your tongue and slide it from the base to the tip."

You do as he says, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, exploring the contours and ridges with a sense of wonder. His sharp intake of breath encourages you to continue, to explore further. You repeat the motion, each slow lick sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

You feel the throb of his cock against your tongue, a steady pulse that seems to echo the beating of your own heart. The skin is soft and smooth, a stark contrast to the iron-hard shaft beneath.

"That's it," Morpheus breathes out, his voice a low, sensual growl that sends a shiver of excitement down your spine. "Take me into your mouth. Just the tip, to start."

You part your lips wider, allowing him to slide past the barrier of your teeth. The head of his cock is velvety soft against your tongue, and you can't help but swirl your tongue around it, exploring the shape and texture.

"Good girl," he praises, his hand gently cradling the back of your head, guiding you without forcing you. "Now, use your hand to stroke the base while you suck on the tip."

Your fingers tighten around the base of his cock, your other hand coming up to cradle his balls once more. You begin to move your hand in tandem with the movements of your mouth, your tongue flicking against the sensitive spot just beneath the head.

"Just like that," Morpheus groans, his hips canting forward slightly as he succumbs to the pleasure of your touch. "You're doing so well, beloved."

The praise spurs you on, your movements becoming more confident as you carefully lick the head of his cock. You can feel the tension building in his body, a coiled spring that grows tighter with each passing moment. His cock twitches against your tongue, a clear sign that he's getting closer to the edge.

You feel the rhythmic pulsing of his cock against your tongue, the subtle way his body tenses beneath your touch. His breath hitches in his throat, a clear sign that he's teetering on the edge of release.

"I'm close," Morpheus warns, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. "If you wish to pull away, do so now."

You consider his words for a brief moment, but the thought of not seeing this through, of not experiencing the culmination of the pleasure you've been giving him, is unthinkable. You want this, want to feel the warmth of his seed in your throat, to know that you've brought him to this point.

With renewed determination, you redouble your efforts, your hand and mouth working in unison to drive him over the edge. You feel the hot, wet spurt of his release against your tongue, the salty tang of his seed splashing against your lips and chin. It's a sensation unlike any you've ever experienced, both startling and arousing.

His cock twitches once more, his seed further spilling past your lips and into your throat, marking you with his. The sight of it, the feel of it, sends a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs. You're acutely aware of your own arousal, the dampness of your underwear a tangible reminder of the effect he has on you. It makes you squeeze your thighs together and whimper.

For a moment, you're overwhelmed, unsure of what to do next. But then Morpheus' hand is there, gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray drop of his seed from your lips.

"You did beautifully," he praises, his voice filled with warmth and genuine admiration. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, beloved. You were perfect."

His words wash over you, soothing away any lingering doubts. You realize that you're not just a passive participant in this dance of pleasure—you're an active, vital part of it. And the knowledge that you've pleased him, that you've brought him such intense pleasure, fills you with greed.

As the last tremors of his release subside, your gaze drifts downward, your eyes growing wide as you watch Morpheus' cock begins to harden once more. It's a sight that leaves you both awestruck and intrigued, the way his body responds to your touch both mesmerizing and a testament to the power you hold over him.

Morpheus notices your fascination and chuckles softly, the sound a low, sensual rumble. "My body is not like that of a mortal," he explains, his eyes glimmering with need. "My need for you is as boundless as the night sky."

His words send a shiver of anticipation coursing through your veins, a reminder of the immense power that resides within him—and, in this moment, within you as well. He doesn't need a rest period in between orgasms? You feel a fresh wave of searing arousal between your thighs, the dampness of your underwear getting worse.

You are captivated by the sight of Morpheus' cock growing rigid once more, a testament to the boundless desires of an Endless. Erect, throbbing, you can even see the veins pulse. A hand on your chin draws your eyes to his once more, aflame with a ravenous hunger that is both frightening and desirable.

"I want more of you," he confesses, his voice a velvet caress that sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core. "I wish to feel the heat and deliciousness of your mouth surrounding my cock, to feel your throat fluttering around me."

A shiver of apprehension runs down your spine at his words. The thought of taking him so deeply into your mouth is both exhilarating and daunting. But you've never done anything like this before! The fear of his cock stretching out your throat makes you whimper ever so softly.

Sensing your unease, Morpheus reaches out to gently tip your chin up, his starry gaze piercing through your doubts. "I will guide you every step of the way, beloved. Trust me to show you the way."

You swallow hard, nodding your consent as you feel a fresh wave of pleasure between your thighs. His words, his touch, everything about him ignites a fire within you, a hunger for experiences yet to be explored. His eyebrow quirks and the grasp on your chin tightens.

"Do you agree to my request, beloved?" he asks, his gaze never leaving yours.

The question hangs in the air between you, a tangible reminder of the power dynamics at play. You realize that he needs to hear the words from you, a verbal affirmation of your willingness to continue. Yet again. Oh you are pretty sure you are falling deeper and deeper in love with him by the second.

A flush creeps across your cheeks as you contemplate his question. You've never done anything like this before, never even imagined that you'd find yourself in such a position. But here you are, on your knees before the embodiment of dreams, in a negligee, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and arousal.

You lick your lips, your tongue darting out to catch a stray drop of his seed that lingers there. The taste of him sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through your veins, a potent reminder of what you've just experienced—and what he's asking of you now.

"Yes," you whisper, the word barely more than a breath of air. "I agree, Morpheus."

His eyes flare with satisfaction at your words, a predatory smile curling his lips. "Say it again," he commands, his voice echoing with the weight of his authority. "Tell me, explicitly, what exactly you're agreeing to."

You swallow hard, your gaze dropping to the sight of his cock, already hard and ready once more. The thought of taking him deeper into your mouth, of feeling him hit the back of your throat, is a bit terrifying. What if you accidentally throw up on him? You'd never be able to look at him in the eye ever again! But the gentle confidence he holds in you is too much for you to back out.

"I agree to take your co—cock, deeper into my mouth," you say, your tongue trembling over speaking that word. It felt scandalous enough to just hear it! You take a deep breath, collecting yourself, and steady your gaze. "I want to feel your cock in my throat, Morpheus."

His name on your lips seems to ignite something within him, a spark that transforms into a raging inferno of need. "That's my beloved," he murmurs, his hand gently cupping the back of your head once more. "I will guide you. Just breathe through your nose and relax your throat. I will not push you farther than I know you are capable of."

Morpheus' hand remains a comforting presence at the back of your head, his touch guiding and reassuring. You take another deep breath and look into his eyes for guidance.

"First, relax your jaw," he instructs, his thumb lightly tracing the contours of your lips. "Let it fall open naturally, without forcing it."

You follow his lead, allowing your jaw to relax as you part your lips slightly. The anticipation builds within you, a delicious tension that coils in your belly and radiates outward to every nerve ending.

"Good girl," he praises, the approval in his voice sending a warm flush across your skin. "Now, I want you to breathe deeply through your nose, and as you exhale, take me into your mouth."

You obey, drawing in a deep breath before slowly releasing it. As you do, Morpheus guides his cock towards your waiting lips. You feel the smooth, heated skin against your tongue, the taste of him mingling with the lingering tang of his seed.

"Let your tongue cradle me," he directs, his voice strained with need. "Flatten it against the underside of my cock as I slide deeper."

You comply, your tongue pressed against the rigid length of him as he begins to rock his hips forward. The sensation is intense, the feeling of him filling your mouth both overwhelming and intoxicating.

"Now, breathe through your nose and focus on relaxing the back of your throat," he instructs, his hand lightly cradling the back of your head. "I will control the depth, beloved. Trust me."

You close your eyes, surrendering yourself to his guidance as he begins to gently thrust into your mouth. There's a moment of panic as you feel him pressing against the entrance of your throat, but you force yourself to breathe, to relax, to trust in him.

"Swallow," he commands, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your core. "That's it, just like that."

The action causes your throat to tighten around the head of his cock, and a low moan escapes Morpheus' lips. The sound sends a bolt of lighting right down to your pelvic region, a reminder of the power you hold over him, even in this vulnerable position. You were causing this pleasure. You.

"I'm going to move now," he warns, his voice barely more than a growl. "Remember to breathe, and I will take care of the rest."

True to his word, Morpheus begins to move with more urgency, his cock sliding in and out of your throat in a slow rhythm. It's a sensation unlike any you've ever experienced, a dance of dominance and submission that leaves you both breathless and empowered.

You feel the weight of his gaze upon you as he begins to gently rock into your throat, a mixture of desire and ecstasy that makes you want to squirm beneath him. His cock slides in and out of your mouth with a rhythm that is both soothing and arousing, the head of his cock brushing against the back of your throat with each careful thrust.

"Breathe," he reminds you, his voice a low, sensual growl. "And swallow when I push forward. That's it, just like that."

You follow his instructions to the letter, your body responding to the cadence of his voice with an eagerness that surprises you. Your hands, which had been resting on your thighs, rise of their own accord to sink into the rough denim of the jeans he still wears. The contrast of the coarse fabric against your smooth skin is a stark reminder of the raw, untamed power that resides within him.

As he pushes deeper into your throat, you can't help but gag slightly, the reflexive motion causing your throat to tighten around the head of his cock. The sensation elicits a low moan from Morpheus, the sound vibrating through his body and into yours.

"That's it," he encourages, his hand gently cradling the back of your head, guiding you without forcing you. "React naturally, beloved. Your body knows what to do."

You take his words to heart, allowing your instincts to guide you as he continues to gently fuck your throat. Each gag, each gasp for air, each reflexive clutch of your hands against his jeans serves to heighten the sexual tension that crackles in the air between you.

His movements become more insistent, his cock thrusting deeper into your mouth with each passing moment. "Use your tongue," he commands, the strain of his need evident in his voice. "Press it against the underside of my cock and hold it there."

You do as he says, your tongue flattening against the rigid length of him as he pushes deeper into your throat. The sensation is intense, a mixture of pleasure and pain that leaves you both breathless and yearning for more.

"Now, hum," he instructs, the word a low, sensual vibration that seems to echo within the very marrow of your bones. "A soft, gentle sound, just enough to make your throat vibrate around me."

You obey, the sound emerging from your throat as a soft, keening hum that seems to reverberate through every fiber of your being. The vibrations cause his cock to twitch within the confines of your mouth, the sensation drawing a low growl of approval from Morpheus.

"Yes," he hisses, his hips canting forward as he pushes deeper into your throat. "Just like that, beloved. You're doing beautifully."

His praise ignites a fire within you, a hunger for more that leaves you aching with need. Your fingers tighten around the denim of his jeans, the fabric bunching beneath your grip as you struggle to maintain control over your own body.

"Relax," he soothes, his hand gently stroking your hair in a gesture that is both calming and arousing. "Let your body yield to me, beloved. Trust me to guide you."

You surrender yourself to his guidance, your body going limp as you allow him to control the depth and rhythm of his thrusts. The sensation of his cock sliding in and out of your throat is both overwhelming and intoxicating, a dance of dominance and submission that leaves you both breathless and empowered.

"I'm going to come," he warns, his voice a low, guttural growl that sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through your veins. "I want you to swallow everything I give you, beloved. Can you do that for me?"

You nod, the motion causing his cock to slip even deeper into your throat. The thought of swallowing his release, of taking that final step into the unknown, is frightening. Are you going to choke on his seed?

"Good girl," he praises, his voice strained with need. "Relax, beloved. Get ready."

With a final, shuddering moan, Morpheus thrusts deep into your throat, his cock pulsing with the force of his release. The hot, wet spurt of his seed fills your mouth, the salty tang of it a potent reminder of the power you hold over him, even in this vulnerable position. You do choke, but only momentarily before your reflex kicks in.

You swallow, the action causing your throat to tighten around the head of his cock. The sensation draws a low moan from Morpheus. As the last tremors of his release subside, you pull back, releasing his cock from the confines of your mouth with a soft, wet pop. Your lips feel swollen, tender from the friction of his cock against them, and there's a flush of satisfaction coloring your cheeks. You look up at him, your eyes wide and questioning, and your chest heaving.

You're still reeling from the intensity of the experience when Morpheus swiftly lifts you to your feet, his hands gripping your waist with an urgency that takes your breath away. Before you can even process what's happening, you're crushed against his chest, his lips crashing into yours with a desperation that borders on savagery. His tongue delves into your mouth, exploring every crevice, tasting every inch, including the lingering traces of his seed. He certainly doesn't care, you are simply too irresistible!

The kiss is a brand, a searing promise of passion yet to come. You can feel his cock, once again semi-hard, pressing against the satin stardust frills of your negligee. The taste of him, salty and potent, mingles with your own saliva as his tongue duels with yours, and you find yourself responding with a fervor that surprises you. You're kissing him back with everything you have, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as you struggle to pull him even closer.

His hands roam over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. They slip beneath the thin straps of your negligee, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine before dipping lower to cup your bottom. He pulls you against him, your bodies aligning in a way that leaves no room for doubt about his intentions.

You moan into the kiss as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your backside, the slight sting of pain only serving to heighten your arousal. You're acutely aware of the moisture between your thighs, the damp fabric of your underwear a stark contrast to the cool air of the Dreaming.

Morpheus breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as you pants for breath. "You are exquisite," he murmurs, his voice a low groan. "I want to see all of you, to taste every inch of your beautiful body. I desire all of you. Will you give me the permission to love and adore your body in the manner you have just adorned mine?"

Your breath catches in your chest, a mixture of nerves and anticipation fluttering in your stomach as you realize it's your turn. Morpheus' gaze is heated, a palpable force that seems to see right through you, stripping away the layers of uncertainty and leaving behind nothing but raw desire.

"Y-yes," you say, your voice trembling slightly, but the word is clear, a beacon of consent shining brightly in the dimly lit room. "I want this, Morpheus. I want you."

A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face, the sight of it making your heart skip a beat. "I knew you would be brave," he says, his hand reaching out to trace the neckline of your negligee, his fingertips lightly grazing the swell of your breasts.

With a flick of his wrist, Morpheus sends a cascade of shimmering sand spiraling into the air. It catches the dim light of the room, creating a spectacle of swirling stars and galaxies. The sand, imbued with his power, whispers over his skin, and in the blink of an eye, he stands before you, completely, gloriously naked.

Your breath hitches in your throat, your eyes going wide as you take in the sight of him. His body is a masterpiece, all lean muscle and alabaster skin. His cock, still semi-hard from your ministrations, rests against the curve of his hip, a silent promise of pleasures yet to come. He speaks before you have a chance to fully appreciate how beautiful his. body.

"I will savor every moment, every touch, every taste." Morpheus murmurs to you, reaching for your body. The feel of Morpheus' hands on your skin sends shivers cascading down your spine. His touch is light, almost teasing, as he traces the contours of your body through the thin fabric of your negligee. You can feel the heat of his gaze on you, a tangible presence that makes your heart race and your breath hitch in your throat.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a low, sensual purr that seems to resonate within the very core of your being. His fingers hook into the thin straps of your negligee, slowly drawing them down your arms. The cool air of the Dreaming kisses your heated skin, causing a cascade of goosebumps to rise in the wake of his touch.

The negligee pools at your feet, leaving you standing before him in nothing but the skimpy lace underwear he put you in. The skimpy soaked lace underwear. You feel vulnerable, exposed, but the raw hunger in his eyes as he takes in the sight of you takes your breath away.

As you stand there, stripped of your negligee, your heart pounds in your chest, a staccato rhythm that echoes the thrum of desire pulsing through your veins. Morpheus' gaze is fixated on your heaving breasts, his eyes dark with need as he reaches out to cup their weight in his hands.

His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as he traces the curve of your breasts with his fingertips. You feel a flush of heat every place he touches, the sensation both foreign and exhilarating. The pads of his fingers are rough against your smooth skin, a stark contrast that sends shivers of pleasure rippling through your body.

He runs his thumbs over your nipples, the lace of your underwear adding a layer of friction that makes you gasp. The sensation is electric, a jolt of pleasure that shoots straight to your cunt. Your nipples harden under his touch, the sensitive buds aching for more.

"You are so responsive," Morpheus murmurs, his voice a low, sensual whisper that fans the flames of your desire. He continues to tease your nipples, his fingers rolling and pinching the taut peaks, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You can't help but arch your back, pressing yourself further into his hands. The sensation of his fingers on your nipples is both overwhelming and intoxicating, a mixture of pleasure and pain that leaves you panting with need.

Morpheus lowers his head, his tongue tracing the path his fingers have just taken. The combination of the cool air and the heat of his mouth causes your nipples to tighten even further. He takes one of the sensitive peaks into his mouth, sucking gently, his tongue swirling around the hardened bud.

The sensation is almost too much to bear. You cry out, your hands fisting in his hair as you hold him to your breast. His mouth is hot and wet, the suction of his lips causing a throbbing ache between your thighs.

He switches his attention to your other breast, lavishing the neglected nipple with the same treatment. You can feel the wetness seeping from your count, the fabric of your underwear practically dripping.

Morpheus releases your nipple with a soft pop, his gaze meeting yours as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. "I want to see all of you," he says, his voice a low, commanding growl. "I want to explore every inch of your body. I want to learn what brings you pleasure, to hear the sounds you make when you're aroused, when you're on the brink of release."

His words are a potent aphrodisiac, a promise of pleasures yet to come. You feel yourself growing even wetter, the damp fabric of your underwear clinging to your sensitive flesh. Morpheus' hands slide around to cup your bottom, his fingers slipping beneath the thin lace to grip the soft, round globes. He pulls you against him, the hard length of his cock pressing against your stomach, his seed smears against your flesh and you whine when the member twitches and throbs in a way that makes your body ache.

"I wish to taste you," he continues, his eyes darkening with need. "I want to feel your thighs trembling around my head as I tongue your sweet cunt. Will you let me taste you, beloved?"

The explicitness of his words makes you squeeze your thighs together as electric pleasure throbs. You've never heard anyone speak to you like this, with such raw, unfiltered desire.

"Please," your voice is almost indiscernible in the quiet of the room, but to Morpheus is it clear as a symphony.

He guides you back until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You sit down heavily, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you watch him kneel before you. His hands are on your thighs, gently pushing them apart, and you can't help but resist slightly, a mixture of nerves and self-consciousness making you hesitate.

"Relax," he soothes, his thumbs rubbing small circles on the insides of your thighs. "Let me pleasure you, beloved. I promise, you will enjoy this."

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to relax under his gentle touch. His hands slide higher, hooking into the waistband of your underwear. He pulls them down your legs, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he's unwrapping a long-anticipated gift.

The lace underwear joins the negligee on the floor, leaving you completely bare to his gaze. You feel your face flushing with heat, the warmth of your embarrassment spreading to the rest of your body. But then he looks up at you, his eyes filled with such raw, unadulterated desire that it robs you of your breath.

"You are cruelly beautiful, beloved" he murmurs, his voice a low, reverent whisper. "Every part of you is perfection."

His gaze fixated on the apex of your thighs now. His hands, cool and sure, grip your thighs, his thumbs stroking small circles on your sensitive skin, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Relax, beloved," he murmurs, his voice a soothing the knot of nervous anticipation in your stomach. "Let me show you how exquisite pleasure can be."

His words wash over you, a promise of delights yet to come. You feel your body relaxing under his touch, the tension in your muscles easing as you surrender yourself to his capable hands.

Slowly, almost reverently, he leans forward, his breath a warm, damp whisper against your inner thigh. You feel the soft, wet heat of his tongue as he drags it up the length of your thigh, the sensation both ticklish and arousing.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he continues his slow ascent, each swipe of his tongue bringing him closer to your most intimate place. You can feel the wetness seeping from your cunt, shameless desire for him.

His hands slide beneath your bottom, lifting you slightly, giving him better access to the part of you that aches for his touch. You gasp as he blows a stream of cool air over your heated flesh, the sensation making your hips buck involuntarily.

"Please," you whimper, your hands fisting in the silken sheets beneath you, your body writhing with need. "Morpheus, I need..."

"Shh," he soothes, his thumbs gently parting your slick folds, revealing the delicate flesh beneath. "I know what you need, beloved. Let me give it to you."

The first touch of his tongue against your sensitive flesh is like a jolt of electricity. You cry out, your back arching off the bed as a wave of pleasure crashes over you. His tongue is soft and warm, a stark contrast to the coolness of his skin, and it moves with expert precision, tracing the contours of your cunt, exploring every dip and curve.

You can feel his lips closing around your clit, sucking gently, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. His fingers tighten on your hips, holding you in place as he continues to lavish attention on your throbbing sex.

With each stroke of his tongue, each gentle suck, you feel yourself being drawn closer to the edge of something monumental. Your body is coiled like a spring, each nerve ending alight with sensation, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable crescendo.

You're panting now, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you feel the orgasm building within you. It's a sensation unlike anything you've ever experienced, a wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

You can't hold back the sounds spilling from your lips, a symphony of gasps and moans punctuated by the wet sounds of Morpheus' mouth on your cunt. His tongue is a relentless invader, delving into your core, then flattening against your clit, each stroke sending you higher. The sensation of his hair brushing against your inner thighs adds another layer of texture to the experience, a soft contrast to the firm, insistent pressure of his tongue.

The pleasure is intense, almost overwhelming, and your body moves of its own accord, your hips rocking against his mouth, chasing the relentless rhythm he sets. Your thighs squeeze around his head, the muscles trembling as you teeter on the edge of release. Your fingers tangle in his hair, the silken strands slipping through your fingers as you hold him to you, wordlessly begging for more.

The feel of his lips, his tongue, his teeth grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs is almost too much to bear. You're lost in a sea of sensation, each touch, each caress, each kiss sending you spiraling closer to the precipice. The scent of your arousal fills the room, a heady, intoxicating perfume that mingles with the musk of Morpheus' skin.

You're vaguely aware of the cool air of the Dreaming whispering over your heated flesh, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from between your legs. Your nipples are hard peaks, aching for attention, and you can feel the cool dampness of your own sweat between your breasts.

The tension builds within you, winding tighter and tighter, a coil about to snap. Your breathing is ragged, each breath a desperate gasp for air as the world narrows to the single point of contact between Morpheus' mouth and your cunt.

And then, with a final flick of his tongue, the unbearable tension snaps. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, your body convulsing as you cry out Morpheus' name, your voice echoing off the stone walls of the palace. The orgasm is all-consuming, a blinding, brilliant explosion of sensation that leaves you shaking and spent in its wake.

Morpheus continues to lap at your sensitive flesh, drawing out the aftershocks until you're a quivering, gasping mess beneath him. Slowly, he lifts his head, his eyes dark with desire as he gazes at you, a possessive, predatory look that sends another shiver of pleasure coursing through your body.

As the waves of your orgasm begin to recede, you find yourself lying boneless and panting on the bed, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your release. Morpheus gazes at you, a triumphant smile playing on his lips, clearly pleased with the effect he's had on you.

But the night is far from over. He turns his head, his hair brushing against your sensitive inner thighs, and presses his lips against your trembling thigh.

Morpheus crawls up your body, his movements slow and deliberate, almost predatory. His skin is cool against yours, a stark contrast to the heat that's still radiating from your flushed cheeks. He pauses to nip at your lower lip, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh in a way that makes you squirm with arousal.

You can feel the hard length of his cock pressing against your thigh, fully erect and throbbing. You are only a little frightened of it entering your body now, your lower half still thoroughly buzzing with pleasure.

The weight of Morpheus' body presses you into the soft mattress, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the heat still radiating from your skin. His lips trail a path of fire from your hip to your breast, each kiss, each nip of his teeth sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you. You squirm beneath him, your body hypersensitive to his touch, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity.

His fingers trace the contours of your body, exploring every dip and curve with a reverence that leaves you breathless. You can feel the wetness of your release still slick on your thighs, a tangible reminder of the pleasure he's already given you.

Morpheus' hand drifts lower, his fingers skimming over your sensitive flesh, eliciting a gasp from you as they glide over your swollen clit. You can't help but buck your hips, a desperate attempt to increase the pressure, to chase the sensation that's already building within you once again.

"Patience, beloved," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive rumble against your skin. His fingers continue their torturous exploration, dipping into your slick folds, teasing the entrance to your cunt.

You can't help but whimper, your body arching off the bed as he slowly pushes one long finger inside you. The feeling is strange, a sensation of fullness that borders on discomfort, but also incredibly arousing. Your inner walls clench around the invading digit, the sensation making you moan his name.

Morpheus adds another finger, stretching you, preparing you for his cock. The feeling is intense, almost too much to bear, but his lips on yours, his tongue mimicking the motion of his fingers, keeps you grounded, keeps you distracted.

Morpheus' fingers slide deeper inside you, a mix of pleasure and discomfort that makes you whimper and wince. His eyes never leave yours, those distant stars in their depths offering comfort even as his touch ignites new sensations. The stretch is unfamiliar, almost overwhelming, but the way he moves, so sure and deliberate, keeps you grounded.

"Relax," his voice whispers like a soothing balm over your skin. "Let yourself feel."

You try to relax, taking deep breaths as his fingers explore you. The feeling of fullness intensifies as he curls his fingers inside you, brushing against a spot that sends a jolt of pleasure up your spine. Your hips jerk involuntarily, a gasp escaping your lips.

"That's it," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. "Let yourself go."

Your body starts to respond to the rhythm he's setting, the initial discomfort melting into something new and intoxicating. His fingers move with precision, each stroke sending waves of pleasure radiating through your cunt. You can't help the moans spilling from your lips, each sound echoing in the vast chamber.

His other hand caresses your thigh, adding another layer of sensation to the mix. You feel every brush of his skin against yours, every slight movement magnified in your heightened state. The coolness of his touch contrasts sharply with the intense heat burning between your legs.

"Do you feel that?" His voice is a low rumble that vibrates through your entire being.

You nod, unable to form words as his fingers continue their relentless exploration. Each twist and curl sends you spiraling further into bliss, making you arch off the bed. The tension builds again within you, tighter and more insistent than before.

Morpheus watches you closely, gauging your reactions with each movement. He adds a third finger, stretching you even more. You wince at the sensation but find yourself craving it all the same. The pressure is intense but not unbearable; it feels like you're on the edge of something monumental.

"You're doing so well," he praises softly, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

The combination of his words and actions pushes you closer to the brink. Your breaths come in ragged gasps as he increases the pace, fingers pumping in and out with steady precision. Each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, centering around that spot inside you that makes everything else fade away.

You cling to him, hands grasping at his shoulders as if he were the only solid thing in an ever-shifting world. The sensations build until they're all-consuming, leaving you trembling under his expert touch.

When his fingers withdraw, leaving you feeling empty and needy, you nearly wail at him. But you hold that in and whimper at the loss instead, your body still pulsing with the echoes of pleasure, aching for more. Morpheus gazes down at you, his eyes dark with desire, the stars within them swirling with lust.

"I want you to feel me, beloved," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive purr that resonates deep within your core. "I want to feel your cunt grip my cock as you come undone."

Your heart races at his words, a shudder of anticipation mixed with a thread of fear. You're acutely aware of the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, and you can't help but tense in anticipation of the pain you've heard comes with the loss of one's virginity.

Morpheus seems to sense your apprehension. He brushes a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his touch gentle, soothing. "I will be careful with you, beloved," he promises, his words a vow whispered against your skin. "I promise I will be gentle."

He positions himself at your entrance, the broad head of his cock nudging against your slick folds. You feel a momentary resistance as he begins to push inside you, a stretching sensation that borders on discomfort. You sharply inhale, your body tensing reflexively at the intrusion.

"Relax, beloved," Morpheus coaxes, his attempting to soothe your nervousness. "Let me in."

His words are a gentle command, one that you try to obey. You focus on the sensation of his hands on your skin, the coolness of his touch a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your core. You take a deep breath, letting it out in a slow, steadying stream as you will your muscles to relax.

With a patience that seems almost inhuman, Morpheus begins to push forward once more, the head of his cock breaching your entrance. There's a moment of resistance, a dull, burning pain that manages to steal your breath and makes your eyes water. You can't help the whimper that escapes your lips, your hands fisting in the silken sheets beneath you.

"I'm sorry, beloved," Morpheus whispers, his voice strained with the effort of restraint. "This will only hurt for a moment."

The pain is dull but intense, a sharp contrast to the pleasure that came before. You feel a sudden wetness, a warm trickle between your thighs, and you realize with a mixture of horror and embarrassment that you're bleeding. The realization brings a fresh wave of panic, but before you can voice your concerns, Morpheus captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue mimicking the motion of his hips as he slowly, inexorably, pushes deeper inside you.

The pain begins to ebb, replaced by a new sensation as Morpheus begins to move within you. Each gentle thrust of his hips sends a jolt of pleasure mixed with discomfort coursing through your body. You can feel the stretch of your virgin flesh around his cock, a sensation that's both overwhelming and intoxicating.

Your body begins to adjust to the intrusion, the initial discomfort fading into something more bearable, something that borders on pleasure. You can feel the slickness of your arousal mixing with the evidence of your lost innocence, a tangible sign of the intimacy you're sharing with Morpheus.

The rhythm he sets remains slow and gentle, each thrust designed to minimize your discomfort. His hands roam over your body, touching, caressing, exploring every inch of your skin. His lips find yours once more, his kisses a sweet distraction from the unfamiliar sensation of his cock moving within you. Pushing at your clenching walls, searching for places of pleasure.

The pleasure begins to build again, a slow, steady burn that starts in your core and radiates outward, encompassing every nerve ending in your body. You can feel the tension building within you, a coil about to snap as Morpheus continues to thrust into you, his movements measured and deliberate.

You're lost in a sea of sensation, each stroke of his cock sending you spiraling closer to the edge of something monumental. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, each one punctuated by the wet sounds of your bodies moving together.

The pleasure peaks, a wave of sensation that crashes over you with the force of a tidal wave. You cry out, your body convulsing around Morpheus' cock as you come harder than you ever thought possible. The sensation of his release inside you, the warmth of his seed filling you, sends another wave of pleasure coursing through your body, drawing out your orgasm until you're a quivering, gasping mess beneath him.

Morpheus stills within you, his body rigid from his release. You can feel the pulsing of his cock inside you, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your inner walls clench around him. He collapses on top of you, his body a welcome weight that presses you into the soft mattress.

As the euphoria of your shared climax begins to ebb, the discomfort between your legs makes itself known once again. Your body feels tender and raw, a stark reminder of the new boundaries you've crossed together. But any thoughts of pain are quickly pushed aside as Morpheus' lips return to yours, his kiss possessive and demanding, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to tangle with yours.

His taste is intoxicating, a heady mix of the incense that burns perpetually in his palace and the unique flavor that is inherently him. You lose yourself in the kiss, your hands roaming over the contours of his back, tracing the lines of muscle and sinew beneath his cool, silken skin.

Even as you kiss, you can feel him stirring within you once more, his cock hardening, readying itself for another round of lovemaking. The sensation intimidating, the knowledge that he desires you this much, that he can't get enough of you.

Morpheus breaks the kiss, his lips trailing a path of fire down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin where your pulse flutters like the wings of a trapped butterfly. His breath is a cool whisper against your fevered skin, sending shivers cascading down your spine.

"Again, beloved," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive purr that draws out that arousing flame. "We have all night, and I intend to make the most of it."

Date Published: 2/10/24

Last Edit: 2/10/24

Morpheus Masterlist

12 Days of Smutmas 2024 Masterlist

[tavolgisvist]

Two Virgins and Why Don't We Do It In The Road?

Two Virgins

recorded 3-4 (or 19–20) May 1968, released 29 Nov(UK), 11 Nov 1968 (US)

August 31 Private Eye announced that John and Yoko’s forthcoming album would have a full-frontal nude cover. September 15 Around this date, John and Yoko photographed themselves in the nude, from the front and rear, intending to use the shots as cover artwork for their rst collaborative album. November 11 John: “Originally, I was going to record Yoko, and I thought the best picture of her for an album would be naked. So after that, when we got together, it just seemed natural for us both to be naked. Of course, I’ve never seen my prick out on an album before.”

(The Beatles Diary. Volume1.The Beatles Years by Barry Miles, 2001)

Autumn 1968:

As the meeting was drawing to a weary close, John, not this day with Yoko, who hadn’t seemed particularly connected with what was going on, said he wanted to play us a tape he and Yoko had made. He got up and put the cassette into the tape machine and stood beside it as we listened. The soft murmuring voices did not at first signal their purpose. It was a man and a woman but hard to hear, the microphone having been at a distance. I wondered if the lack of clarity was the point. Were we even meant to understand what was going on, was it a kind of artwork where we would not be able to put the voices into a context, and was context important? I felt perhaps this was something John and Yoko were examining. But then, after a few minutes, it became clear. John and Yoko were making love, with endearments, giggles, heavy breathing, both real and satirical, and the occasional more direct sounds of pleasure reaching for climax, all recorded by the faraway microphone. But there was something innocent about it too, as though they were engaged in a sweet serious game. John clicked the off button and turned again to look toward the table, his eyebrows quizzical above his round glasses, seemingly genuinely curious about what reaction his little tape would elicit. However often they’d shared small rooms in Hamburg, whatever they knew of each other’s love and sex lives, this tape seemed to have stopped the other three cold. Perhaps it touched a reserve of residual Northern reticence. After a palpable silence, Paul said, “Well, that’s an interesting one.” The others muttered something and the meeting was over.

(Michael Lindsay-Hogg (filmmaker), Luck and Circumstance: A Coming of Age in Hollywood, New York, and Points Beyond, 2011)

Inevitably, many people bought Two Virgins for the cover alone: for some of the Beatles’ younger fans, it was to be their first ever glimpse of grown-ups in the nude.

(Craig Brown, 150 Glimpses of the Beatles, 2020)

Paul: So what’s the point behind Two Virgins? <…> Paul: Is there any need to do this in public, Mr. Lennon?*

(Get Back sessions, January 14th, 1969)

Why Don't We Do It In The Road?

recorded 9, 10 October 1968; released 22 Nov (UK), 25 Nov 1968 (US)

designing the White Album poster during Sept-Oct 1968

I was up on the flat roof [in Rishikesh] meditating and I’d seen a troupe of monkeys walking along in the jungle and a male just hopped on to the back of this female and gave her one, as they say in the vernacular. Within two or three seconds he hopped off again, and looked around as if to say, ‘It wasn’t me,’ and she looked around as if there had been some mild disturbance but thought, Huh, I must have imagined it, and she wandered off. And I thought, bloody hell, that puts it all into a cocked hat, that’s how simple the act of procreation is, this bloody monkey just hopping on and hopping off. There is an urge, they do it, and it’s done with. And it’s that simple. We have horrendous problems with it, and yet animals don’t. So that was basically it. Why Don’t We Do It In The Road? could have applied to either fucking or shitting, to put it roughly. Why don’t we do either of them in the road? Well, the answer is we’re civilised and we don’t. But the song was just to pose that question. Why Don’t We Do It In The Road? was a primitive statement to do with sex or to do with freedom really. I like it, it’d just so outrageous that I like it.

(Paul McCartney, Many Years From Now by Barry Miles, 1997)

PLAYBOY: “Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?” LENNON: That’s Paul. He even recorded it by himself in another room. That’s how it was getting in those days. We came in and he’d made the whole record. Him drumming. Him playing the piano. Him singing. But he couldn’t—he couldn’t—maybe he couldn’t make the break from the Beatles. I don’t know what it was, you know. I enjoyed the track. Still, I can’t speak for George, but I was always hurt when Paul would knock something off without involving us. But that’s just the way it was then.

(John Lennon, 1980, All We Are Saying by David Sheff, 2020)

The song’s (very) slightly risqué lyric, all two lines of it, heightened the vague air of controversy surrounding the album. McCartney was already in trouble with the press for allowing a minuscule nude picture of himself to be included on the set’s free poster.

(The Beatles Diary. Volume1.The Beatles Years by Barry Miles, 2001)

“All this work, all this talent — and what [the press] fixate on is one small picture.”

(Derek Taylor)

from too long post

*thank you a lot, @i-am-the-oyster <3

[icewindandboringhorror]

I was just thinking what a cool job this might be.. what if you were just the person who makes little still images of cute animal figurines doing various activities to post on social media...? like.. show up to work and just spend the whole day like "hmm... this table should be placed to the left a little.. let me set this miniature bagel down in this way... this tiny rabbit should be wearing a scarf", setting the backgrounds, the lighting, etc. ... dream job perhaps lol...

[stinkrascal]

so does emmrich... like...... live inside the necropolis? do you think he has a fancy house down there? a garden? a backyard??? are there sidewalks? does he have a hoa. how does this work

[fitzrove]

Its ok maybe if you look up the lyrics to was für ein grausames leben and read them in english you will be okj<3

[hyvee]

Getting another raise thank god i think i’ll be making around $17/hr now. Now i think i can start saving more and in about a year i think i’ll be able to move to denver

[icannotgetoverbirds]

Listen. I am too disabled to work most jobs... in the United States.

Move me to Ireland or the UK, however, and suddenly the job market opens up much more for me. I don't suddenly become any less disabled - but labor laws in other countries, afaik, are so much better that my disabilities don't hold me back nearly as much anymore.

Back when I *was* working, i could barely handle my job as a host. i begged to be put on as a dishwasher, and my manager refused, despite the position having an incredibly high turnover rate. Because it was tiring and unrewarding and monotonous work.

She refused to believe that anyone could enjoy said work. I think she assumed that the only reason I wanted to be a dishwasher was for the higher pay. According to her, I was doing an excellent job as a host, despite the fact that it took everything in me to not go into a total shutdown halfway through my shifts 90% of the time.

Let me wash the damn dishes. Give me ONE fucking job and I will blow your fucking socks off.

But instead people are expected to do the work of two or more employees for the pay of one, so us bitches with switching-tasks-is-hell-disorder either have to suffer or find another solution/job.

Sigh.

[buttercuparry]

Help Siraj get to 70k by Thursday!!

Some bloggers were less than pleased with my most recent posts where I talked about how Palestine has become a momentary trend for many, and accused me of trying to "guilt trip". They even predicted that these posts wouldn't bring in any sustained support for Siraj Abudayeh ( @siraj2024 ) and advised me to instead keep it to the point. Well alright then, let's keep it short and get to the point:

Siraj Abudayeh is a journalist who is fundraising to survive and rebuild in Gaza as he has no plans to evacuate

Recently he became the sole provider of FIVE FAMILIES- both his own and that of his parents and married siblings, after they all fled to him to escape the recent IOF attacks. 

As he is now fundraising to bear the cost of all 23 family members, he is even more desperate to finish his campaign. 

What the family needs most now is access to clean drinking  water. With 10 children ( Siraj's sons and their cousins) to take care of and with the polio epidemic spreading in camps, this is imperative. 

He has requested us to help him buy a submersible water generator and network tools. This is costly but with water treating plants and other facilities being completely destroyed, this is the only long term solution for now.

For 11 months Siraj has hesitated to buy a water generator. He was afraid  that he wouldn't be able to manage it while also making sure that his family had something to eat. But since there are more children (all between 6 and 12 years of age) to take care of now, he cannot put this off anymore. The settler state has already  unchilded them- they risk their lives and walk long distances to look for drinkable water to carry back in heavy pails, when they instead should have been working on their homeworks or playing. Siraj wants them to at least be relatively safe from having to take such risks to survive. 

Siraj needs to reach 70k by THURSDAY, that is within 3 days, so that he can start the process of making a purchase. You said that I do not need to write scathing posts to have your attention, so I am here now requesting you to act upon Siraj’s plea for help. 

He is currently only at $65,393 CAD . That is 4.6k away from our next short term goal. Boost and donate and help him access clean water for the children. 

[ GFM LINK ] [ Vetting #219]

[berrymeter]

idk im just so sad & miserable all the time & it really feels like i cant do anything about it. going outside wouldnt fix me. it wouldnt help bc all the problems are constant & At Home & wont go away anytime soon. i dont even get to keep any of the furniture ive held dear. bit by bit every piece of furniture ive had & cherished has been thrown away without my consent bc "my mother's house" so she gets to decide what we get rid of. im so fucking sad im always fucking sad & powerless. idk man.

[gay-dorito-dust]

How they’d react to you not kissing/hugging him before leaving for a mission…

Dick acts as though you told him his ass isn’t that fat in his spandex suit-

He’s insulted.

You always, always remember to kiss his cheek before he leaves. His ‘good luck, be safe and kick ass’ cheek kiss!

It’s your thing as a couple! Do you want to see him cry because he fucking will! He’ll do it!

Dick will pout, huff and whine loud as possible in hopes that you’d realise your error and rectify it tenfold. He won’t tell you what’s wrong. No, he wants and expects you to figure it out for yourself, which doesn’t get him anywhere when you’re looking at him confused and lost as to what he was whining about; Literally.

His mood will be down for the entirety of the day and you’ll no doubt have texts from his teammates and family members asking what was wrong with Dick to look so down.

You’re just as confused as them seeing as how Dick didn’t disclose his innermost thoughts and feelings to you despite being his partner, so you were at a loss on how to help them with something even you weren’t privy to knowing…it’s probably one of your biggest issues as a couple but that’s for another time.

Dick will do that pathetic thing where he looks back at you expectantly the closer he gets towards the door, even going so far as to walk extremely slow when he was within reaching distance of the door handle as to buy you enough time to notice before he genuinely had to leave.

When you don’t however, Dick acts like a kicked puppy for the rest of the day and will proceed to exaggerate to anyone with ears about how his lover was restricting him of his affection.

On the other hand, If you do manage to remember to give him a good luck kiss, planting an extra one on his other cheek for extra, extra luck. Dick will have a permanent smile on his face that will not go the fuck away, even when he’s beating someone’s ass, the smile remains glued on his face as though with gorilla glue.

Seeing Dick brutally beat someone’s ass with a smile was horrifying for anyone to witness but it’s okay bc he’s happy that you remembered to kiss him good luck.

Jason will immediately call you out on your bullshit.

And by that I mean cross his arms over his chest and stare at you saying. ‘Well?’

And you’re like: ‘well what?’

And he’s like: ‘where’s my good luck kiss that you owe me? Roy is waiting on me and here I am waiting on my kiss, so give me my kiss chipmunk.’

Jason doesn’t piss about and gets to the meat of the issue at hand. He wants his good luck kisses and he wants them now and he will not leave the apartment until he gets them.

You’d raise a brow at his not so subtle neediness for your affection and decided to tease him. ‘I thought you didn’t need my good luck kisses remember? You’re a big boy who can fight with or without my good luck kisses.’

Jason groans, not expecting you to pull that out. ‘I said that one time. One time and I was being a dick back then too because all you wanted to do was show me that you cared about me and didn’t want me to get hurt.’

You smiled and got up from the couch and walked over to him, resting your hands on his biceps. ‘So now that you admit that you were a dick and the way that you acted was wrong…’ you trailed off as you pressed a kiss to his lips once, twice, three times because you loved to kiss Jason whenever possible and will try to plant as many kisses as you could.

‘Thanks chipmunk.’ Jason murmurs against your lips, feeling everything has gone back to being right again. ‘Now I better be off or Roy will tease me for lingering too long-‘

‘Too late.’ Roy said from the doorway and Jason closed his eyes and silently curse while you smiled and waved at Roy. ‘Hi Roy!’ You said. ‘Hi y/n, mind letting Jason come out to play?’ Roy joked. You played along by making a thoughtful face as Jason mutters under his breath; ‘are you being serious right now?’

You snapped your fingers. ‘As long as you make sure Jason doesn’t get into trouble then yes, he may go out and play.’

‘I hate you both.’ Jason groaned as he walked past you and playfully shoved Roy aside to leave the apartment. Roy then cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted after him. ‘Are you sure you don’t want your goodbye kisses?’ You and Roy laugh together upon hearing Jason cursing him out from a distance.

Damian acts indifferent about it.

He doesn’t need a good luck hug, hell! he doesn’t need luck at all!

He’s skilled enough to win any fight without relying on something silly as Luck. Luck was just probability under a different name and definition. (A/n: Don’t quote me on that.)

So when you forget to give him a hug before a mission, Damian doesn’t think anything of it but it will linger in his mind unnecessarily much to his annoyance.

Why was he so hung up on not getting something a silly as a hug? Or was he instead more upset over the fact that you, his closest friend/partner, completely forgot about it as though it wasn’t anything worth remembering.

Either way he was conflicted and didn’t know how to go about saying any of this to you without getting frustrated over his apparent loss for words. He was a man of action more then anything so when he finally catches up to you, he will stride towards you and stop just a couple of inches and silently stare at you with his resting bitch face.

‘Damian?’ You asked. ‘Are you okay?’

Damian doesn’t say anything because he couldn’t think of anything to say in that moment and instead stays silent as to save himself from further embarrassment.

‘Damian?’ You asked again, getting worried over his unusual silence. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me-‘ before you could finish your sentence, Damian had lunged towards you and brought you into a very tight hug. You smile softly and gladly hugged Damian back, not saying a single word other then;

‘You don’t need me to say it but I’ll reaffirm it anyway, you’ll do great out there Dami. I know you will.’

[bunnis-monsters]

The mating bond of a prince

Yandere!Demon Prince x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober Event

Oct 17th

Oct 16

Oct 18

summary:

warning: dubcon, kind of angsty, breeding, mating, marking, possessive and obsessive behavior

a/n: I wanna do more with this concept, but here’s a snippet for monstertober because I’m behind ><

Demons were said to be cruel creatures incapable of love or empathy, soulless beings that fed on fear and misery… and for the most part, that was true.

But what humans didn’t know about demons was one simple fact. There is only one person that they will ever love and care for…

Their mate.

Every demon was born into the world with one thought in their mind.

To find their mate.

Soon, other thoughts would pop up from time to time. They had to eat to continue the search for their mate, tear down humans cities to help their species thrive so their mate would have a comfortable place to live once they found them.

If they didn’t fight to end human civilization, where would their mates live and raise young? Taking their beloved back to hell with them was out of the question!

This was how the demon king managed to help demon numbers increase and keep his army growing. If each demon was born with the urge to procreate and create a good nesting ground for their mate, they could be easily controlled.

He just hadn’t expected his son, the prince of hell to be bound to a human.

The prince had recently conquered a small village. As he went about killing the men, his entire body began to throb.

In the distance, he smelled something that had his head spinning. One of the small cottages was on fire, that heavenly scent coming from inside.

He felt his body being pulled towards it, so he completely ignored the humans attempting to kill him and walked towards the cottage.

Breaking down the door was easy, but being enveloped in your overwhelming scent made it hard to think.

The second he saw you, injured and barely confused as a fellow demon stood over your fragile, human body, he felt something he had never felt before.

Protective.

Within seconds he was shirking your body, his claw drenched in the demons blood from ripping his throat out. Why was he doing this? You were just some human woman, but his soul was bound to you.

He couldn’t let you die.

When you woke up, you were somewhere strange… some sort of contraption beeped next to you, the beeps increasing in frequency as you sat up and looked around… only to spot a demon by your bed.

All you felt was pure terror.

You stared at the creature whose specifies was responsible for the deaths of so many of your friends and family, who killed innocents in cold blood. Tears streamed down your face as you tried to speak.

“Please… let me go…”

But when the prince looked into your eyes for the first time, his body felt like it had been set on fire.

He loved you, and you were his mate.

Not once in his life had he ever looked upon another creature with such fondness and care. The prince made his way to your bed, kneeling by your side and taking your hand.

“My love… oh, my darling do not fear… here you are safe, you’ll be treasured for all eternity…”

He kissed the back of your hand, your gut burning with anger and shame. This thing had taken you as some sort of… bride?

“W-what about my family?”

The words finally came out after a few days in the hospital. In this time, you learned that demon society was far ahead of the human one, with machines that could monitor your heart rate and medicines that kept you from being in pain.

It was… comfortable.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and cold. “What about them? They are humans, they will be culled like the rest.”

You clutched your blanket in your fists, your eyes welling up with tears. Something about you crying made his chest ache, and the prince reached out to caress your cheek.

“Why do you cry? Are you not comfortable?”

The demon could not comprehend your feelings towards your loved ones. He simply saw them as pests that needed to be eradicated, and could only feel love for you, his mate.

“They’re my family, I love them!”

Your sudden exclamation had him raising an eyebrow, his tail twitching. Were they really that important?

The prince knew that every human from your village was already dead, there was no way your family had survived. But to placate his mate, he wrapped his tail around you, using his soft black wings to encircle you and bring you close.

“I’ll have my men escort them somewhere safe. You may not see them, but they will live.”

This lie made you relax, and you settled into his arms. You felt like you could finally rest, and slept like a baby for the first time since you had been taken away.

The prince wanted to take things slow, but news that his mate had turned out to be a human woman spread through the kingdom until it reached his father.

He was called in to meet with the King, who was displeased, but mildly amused.

“I hear you’ve taken on a human mate, my son. You know how the royal court will react.”

The prince nodded, standing tall and confident in front of his father. “I am prepared to defend my mate to my dying breath, as would any demon.”

“That’s all well and good, but a human mate is an eyesore. You should hurry up and get her pregnant, there will be less danger once an heir is produced.”

Everyone knew that demon blood was powerful, being the dominant trait in every pairing. Once she was pregnant with the heir to the throne, not a single creature would dare to touch her.

It had only been a week since you had been home from the hospital, staying with the demon prince when suddenly approached you.

“My love…”

His lips peppered across your neck, hands holding onto your waist before sliding to your hips. “I wanted to wait… to give you time to adjust…”

You froze when his tail moved between your legs, rubbing against your clothed cunt. “But this is the only way to keep you safe… please, don’t be afraid… I’ll be gentle.”

The pieces slowly came together as his tail played with your cunt, rubbing against your panties before slipping under them and toying with your clit.

His hand was on your belly, eyes darting between your face and thighs. The way he moved his hand around your stomach…

He was going to breed you.

You squirmed for a bit, letting out an uncomfortable whine, but settled down when his clawed hand danced across your chest, groping one of your breasts as his face buried itself into your neck.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, love… this life is comfortable, isn’t it? I can give you a life of peace and safety, where you don’t have to fear war or pain. You’ll be taken care of.”

The very thought of some human male touching his lover made a growl rumble in his chest. You’d be staying with him, that wasn’t an option… but he wanted it to be something you chose yourself.

It felt sinful feeling wet from the demon playing with your fat pussy. His fingers pumped in and out of your as the tip of his tail continued to stimulate your clit, your juices flowing down your thighs.

He said your family was safe… was it so bad to let this demon take you as his mate? You were tired of long nights full of screams from people running from demons, of days without a proper meal as you rationed your supplies so you wouldn’t have to leave your home.

Couldn’t you live a comfortable life? You’ve suffered enough…

So you let him pin you down, watching as his fat cock rubbed against your leg. You had never seen a man naked before, so you were unsure if the size was normal… but you knew it had to be bigger than average.

His wings fluttered as his cock rested against your thigh. It nudges you, his tail lifting from your cunt to your tits, playing with them.

“I love you… more than you could ever imagine. You never have to want for anything again. I’ll give you everything…”

The pain of him taking your virginity made you cry out, your nails digging into his forearm. It didn’t hurt him at all, and he simply cooed, his wings soft as he dried his best to comfort you.

“Shh… shh… oh, my love I know it hurts. It won’t be for long…”

His lips pressed against your forehead, sweat already beading down. It wasn’t easy trying to take something so large inside of you for the first time…

The second you eased into it a bit, he pulled back out and slammed into you. He hadn’t meant to be rough, but he had struggled to control his urge to breed you from the second he realized you were his mate.

“I love you…” he murmured, gripping your hips as he fucked you, his teeth lightly gracing your neck. He wanted to cover you in bites and hickeys, claiming you completely.

He wasn’t done with you until your belly bulged with his cum. You smelled so much like him that he was a sappy mess.

You were exhausted, sore, and in need of a bath… but your demon mate curled around you protectively, kissing all over your body.

Within a month you were confirmed to be pregnant, and were moved into the palace as a princess.

You’d live a life of comfort… but were practically betraying your species by baring the future demon prince.

The current demon prince would soon be king, and you his queen.

An honor and the biggest shame.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ … 99% NOT LOVE ! | kinich x gn!reader

— in which two people notice what two people don't .

— i've gone absolutely batshit over him your honour. im going to now start writing for kinich like a crazed man dying of thirst in the desert. let it be known that streamer!au kinich, enemies to lovers with poacher mc and other ideas are coming up (no im not cheating on xiao shush)

mualani notices it.

"hehe."

and you hear it.

"so! there's a little..." she stares at you with the most serious face you've ever seen on the girl, acting suspiciously unlike herself. gesturing at you with exaggerated hand movements, then pointing toward who knows where, she eyes you. mischievously. "something that's 'going on', yea?"

and at first, you have absolutely no clue what she could be referring to. mualani is a sociable person, after all. her definition of "something" could range anywhere between a particularly cute baby saurian to an out-of-control-bonfire turned wildfire.

with the only eventful thing today being a brief morning surf session with sharky, you just sat there, never having felt more lost.

mualani grabs your shoulders in an iron grip, leaning forward to the point she's almost beginning to seem menacing. you can see the moment where she tries to think over something (which she never does quite successfully) before she straight up shouts:

"ah!! i'll just spell it out for you!! you. and kinich. bestie. spill."

.

.

.

ajaw did more than just "notice" it.

"you..! kIINICH, did you seriously have to-"

"noisy."

"selfish assh- ALMIGHTY DRAGONLORD K'UHUL AJAW HAS HAD ENOUGH OF THE DISRESPECT! TIME AND TIME AGAIN, yOU'VE-"

"once again, ajaw. be quiet."

"sure sure, and pretend i didn't see you and that someone do a little smoochy-smooch, huh?! UGH, now you've asked for it- KINICH AND LOVEY DOVEY, SITTIN' IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-"

ajaw was what you would call a "witness". though, most would use that term in regards to one seeing a crime or heinous event take place — this event was nothing of that nature.

well, as far as kinich was concerned, the matter was simple. you'd ventured all the way to scions of the canopy to give him a gift, (claiming it was for the time he'd helped you after a couple of yumkausarus hadn't enjoyed your fruit offering and instead decided to off you), and he'd refused to accept it. he wasn't one to receive reimbursement for others, and he didn't particularly like talking either — it was a well-known fact, almost law in natlan, that if the malipo ignored your words, all you need do was apologize and continue on.

well, you did exactly the opposite.

"no thanks."

"...sorry?"

"i don't need it."

"haha, so 'malipo' kinich's rumored no-nonsense nature really proved to be true! now come over here so i can give you my fucking gift!"

you were rather adamant about giving it to him. the reason? you'd bought the gift on a whim after seeing it being sold by a passing merchant, advertised as "80% only today if you buy within the next like 4 minutes" and you'd immediately dropped every mora you had. it was the most useless little thing ever, and you didn't want it at this point, but.. the deals. how could you return such an item???

naturally, you handed it off to the man you'd seen for a good two minutes before he flew, or did whatever his thing was, away. the man had remembered furrowing his brows the slightest, listening to ajaw's persistent yellings of "IT'S AN OFFERING TO ME, TAKE IT" and feeling an oncoming headache. "i said i didn't.."

as he turned to walk away, three unfortunate(?) things occured.

a rock under your shoe and a very graceful process of falling to the ground

kinich looking back (his mistake)

a kiss...?

oh, and two extra.

4. ajaw had saw it all. 5. and mualani, who had saw you from a distance and was coming to greet you, was faced with a sight she could not process.

...Now that he thought over it again, was the matter really "simple"? kinich's job was what he considered simple — split 70% to investigation, 10% to final decision, and 10% to execution, well portioned and planned out.

then, this...

.

.

.

"girlie, you've seriously got the wrong idea. i'm telling you, we aren't dating!"

"mmmokay. of course! because not-dating people kiss allll the time!"

you paused for a moment, remembering kinich's even tone, stern gaze, and... ah, a face that deserved a gold medal.

"it's only 99% not love, okay mualani? but if it wasn't..."

.

.

.

"... and it's 99% not love, ajaw."

(a/n) darling im back from jail part 2. daddys home part 2. not funny? ok. HIHIHIHI ive bene really built like a sun dried raisin lately but kinich is the healing holy water that has saved me i will write more for him in the future because i love him a stupid amount its like the first time in a decade I've written for just ONE character and AND AND

I THOUGHT HE WOULDNT OCME HOME BECAUSE I ONLY HAD 68 WISHES OUT OF MY ORIGINAL LIKE 100+ AND RUINED MY CHANCES BECAUSE OF REALLY REALLY WANTING MuALANI (i love her sm) BUT. BUT BRO CAME HOME. ON THE FIRST 10 PULL AND WON THE 50/50 JUST LIKE MUALANI DID (or is it 45/55 now idk) LIVE LAUGH LOVE KINICH !!

[ tags: ] @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu-archive, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @aioniela, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @intpessimistic

( dm or comment to be added ! i might miss ur comment so just to be sure, leave a comment on the actual masterlists page on my pinned ^ ^ )

[captainamericasmotercycle]

Cregan Stark x reader where it’s very hot in her homeland and the two are visiting for a wedding and Cregan is having a hard time adjusting to the heat while also getting horny because of readers outfit that’s a bit more revealing to relive her from the hot weather.

You don't even understand how much I love this request <3

warnings: p in v sex, cregan is so horny he starts ignoring her, oral (f receiving), wife reader, appearances are not specified

wc: 1.1k

Since you had married Lord Cregan Stark, you had spent most of your time in the cold and snow, forgetting what it was like in The Reach. You became more accustomed to the Northern climate.

When your sister had sent a raven to the North, declaring her marriage to the sitting lord of House Oakheart, you insisted to Cregan that the two of you were to attend.

Over two months after you left Winterfell, you had arrived in your homeland.

“Returning from the North, Lord and Lady Stark!” The guards called out to everyone at your arrival.

Your sister rushed to you and your husband, pulling you away, she looked you up and down, shaking her head.

“Sister, these gowns will not do! It is far too warm for your furs, we must get you changed!”

She motioned for more maids to tend to your lord husband as she pulled you to her chambers.

Gathering much more appropriate gowns, she helped to dress you. The gown was much more low cut, showing off the cleavage you had, the sleeves were shorter, the material was thinner, and it felt so much lighter on your skin.

“There you go. So much better! Now, lets meet our lord husbands in the Hall.”

She wrapped her arm in yours, walking within the long castle hallways. Most of her guests had already arrived at Highgarden, greeting the two of you as you passed.

Walking in, your husband’s soft gaze turned to a more hardened one. You approached him, brows furrowed, “Everything alright?”

He swallowed sharply, kissing the temple of your head, “Great!”

You weren’t convinced, but you dropped it, it was time to celebrate your sister and her soon-to-be husband.

The morning of the wedding was intimate, waking with your husband at your side, then leaving the chambers early to help your sister prepare.

All throughout the wedding, your husband would barely look at you, provoking insecure thoughts. Had he found another lady in The Reach that he liked better? Had he taken a whore to bed? Did he no longer find you attractive?

Your usually doting and loving husband would barely look at you, and let alone touch you, but today wasn’t about you, and you needed to let it go, but you couldn’t.

During the after-ceremony celebration, you distanced yourself from Cregan, since that’s what he seemly wanted. You hadn’t spoken or talked to him, until he had pulled you outside of the feasting room by the arm.

You pouted at him, “What is it, husband?”

“Husband? You never call me that!”

You’re up against the wall, your arms crossed over your chest, facing him. He looked so different in lighter clothing.

“Well, you never ignore me.”

He sighs, running his hand over his face, “Forgive me. I am having trouble adjusting to the weather…it is making me quite irritable… and you are not making it any easier.”

“I?”

“You and these gowns,” you started to piece together what he was saying to you.

You smirked at him, “Do you not like them? I think they are rather pretty.”

He nearly growls at you, pulling you into him by the waist. His lips go directly to your neck, sucking gently.

“Do I like them? I can’t even fucking look at you without getting hard.”

You reach your hand down to grope at his crotch, easily feeling his length in the thin linen pants he was wearing. He grunts at you, “See what you are doing to me.”

He looks down at your cleavage, rushing to kiss lower down your chest, but you scold him, lightly pushing him away, “Cregan! Not here… the celebration…”

“Then find me somewhere that I can have you.”

You pull him with you to your chambers, shutting and barricading the door. He grabs the fabric on each breast, ripping the fabric straight down the middle.

“Cregan!”

“I’ll get you a new one. But this one… this one is mine.”

He animalistically pulled your dress off, leaving you in your small clothes, looking you up and down, he licked his lips, his eyes darkening.

Grabbing your small clothes and ripping them off, your husband turned you around, bending you over the small couch in your room, your back to his front.

He kicked your legs open, dropping to his knees and immediately attaching his lips to your sweet spot.

He licked and sucked at you like a man starved. His tongue lapping up and down your womanhood. You writhed in pleasure, finding it hard to stay still.

He added his large fingers to his craft, thrusting and curling them in and out of your cunt. Almost immediatly after adding a third finger inside of you, a wave of pleasure hit, you whole body shaking.

He came up to your lips and kissed you, “Your cunt has never tasted sweeter, my love.”

He picked you up, walking to the bed and throwing you down. You crawled to the edge of the bed where Cregan angrily fumbled with the ties on his pants, getting on your hands and knees and shaking your cunt in his face.

Finally getting his pants down, he snatched you by the waist, shoving his hard cock into you. You screamed out at the contact, but he quickly put a hand over your mouth, “You don’t want the guards to come interupt us now, do you?”

You shook your head and swore to be quieter.

He fucked you hard, thrusting at a pace that he’s never reached before. The pent up anger he had with himself for not taking you sooner came out.

Lewd sounds filled the room. The sound of your and Cregan’s moans, and the sound of him pounding into the back of you only made you wetter.

He grasped your neck, pulling your body up to flush your back to his front. He nipped at your ear as you felt your second orgasm approach. His thrusts got sloppier, you knew he was close too.

A string of profanities came out of his mouth as your cunt tightened and squeezed his cock. He filled you with his seed and pulled out.

Flopping down on the bed, you were breathless; Cregan fell next to you, kissing you softly.

“I shall never restrain myself for so long ever again,” he laughed.

You giggled at his words, “You shall never ignore me for so long ever again.”

He smiled, kissing you one more time before getting up to pick up all of your garbs. You sighed, staring at the ceiling, knowing you had to return to your sister’s celebration.

Though, at your return with a new dress, flushed cheeks, and messy hair, the rest of Westeros will surely see how much the Lord and Lady of the North truly love each other.

[parkerslatte]

Right Where He Belongs

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: mentions of a difficult pregnancy. mentions of death.

Summary: Y/N and Azriel were in love, and they still were even when Azriel was bound to Velaris for fifty years. When he goes to visit Y/N after so many years, he runs into a male who looks an awful lot like him.

Requested: yes. based off this request.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

“I need to get home,” Azriel muttered, pressing kisses down the side of Y/N’s neck. 

Y/N giggled. “You said that nearly an hour ago.”

“I know,” Azriel groaned, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck. 

Y/N smiled and gently pulled Azriel’s head away so she could look him in the eyes. “My love, I will see you in a few days. Surely you cannot miss me too much.”

Azriel gently cupped Y/N’s face. “I miss you whenever I’m apart from you.”

Y/N kissed Azriel on the tip of his nose. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Azriel said before surging forward to connect their lips. 

Almost instantly, Y/N melted. She always did whenever Azriel kissed her. Every thought seemed to fade from her head until she was only consumed by Azriel. Her fingers threaded into his soft hair, gently scratching at his scalp. Azriel hummed in delight. 

Reluctantly, Y/N pulled away. “As much as I am enjoying my time with you, I do need to get to work soon. And so do you.”

Y/N pulled her body from Azriel’s and threw the sheets from her bare body and stepped into the cool air. From the bed Azriel watched her, nothing but pure love in his hazel eyes. He propped himself up on his elbows and shuffled up the bed until he could rest comfortably against the headboard, his wings slumped comfortably. 

Feeling eyes upon her, Y/N turned around to face Azriel. “What?” she asked, failing to keep a smile from her face. 

“Nothing,” Azriel shrugged. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “No, you were clearly thinking of something.”

Azriel shrugged once more. “All I was thinking is that you are beautiful. It’s nothing you don’t know already.”

“Stop trying to coax me back into bed, Az,” Y/N said and picked up Azriel’s clothes from where they were laying on the floor. 

Azriel caught them before shuffling out of the bed himself. While Y/N changed into her clothes quickly, Azriel changed slowly delaying his return back to Velaris. Once Azriel was fully dressed, he sat down on the edge of the bed and simply watched as Y/N styled her hair in the mirror. 

Y/N could see him looking at her in the mirror and she couldn’t help but smile. “I can feel you staring.”

“I’ve already told you, it’s because you are beautiful,” Azriel answered. 

“You’ve already said that,” Y/N said, turning around with her hands on her hips. 

“I’m only stating the truth,” Azriel replied. 

Y/N walked over to him and as soon as she was in touching distance, Azriel wrapped his arms around her as she settled on his lap. 

“I need to go,” Azriel said miserably. 

“I know,” Y/N said, brushing a strand of hair away. “But you will see me in a few days.”

Azriel huffed. “But that is too long. Why can’t you come to Velaris with me?”

“I still work for Thesean, Azriel,” Y/N said. “Just because I have been given more freedom over the past few months does not mean I can skip out on my duties when it calls for it.”

Y/N stood from Azriel’s lap and pulled him up with her. “Now as much as I hate to kick you out, I do have to get to work soon.”

Azriel sighed. “So do I.”

Y/N dragged Azriel to the door of her apartment. “I know that if I don’t push you out, you will not leave.”

Azriel chuckled. “You know me too well.”

“Better than I know myself,” Y/N replied and opened the front door. “I will see you in a few days, Azriel. 

The shadowsinger stepped through the threshold. “No kiss?”

Y/N huffed out a laugh and pulled Azriel close for a kiss. Everything within her told her to pull him back inside and take him to bed and never let him leave. But she didn’t do that. The moment her lips pressed against Azriel’s, Y/N was pulling away once more. “I will see you in a few days, my love,” Y/N said, slowly closing the door. 

“I love you too,” Azriel said, a playful smile on his lips. 

Y/N blew him a quick kiss and closed the door in Azriel’s face. Though she felt a wave of regret washing over her as she stepped away. Y/N quickly shrugged it off and went back to the mirror to sort her hair out. A few days. She would see Azriel in a few days. 

If only Y/N knew how wrong she was, she would have let Azriel remain in bed with her just a little longer.

***

50 Years Later

The moment after Azriel reunited with Rhys, he immediately winnowed to the Dawn Court. For fifty years he had yearned for Isla. There had been no way to contact her or send word, he was bound in Velaris with no way of communicating. That last time he had seen her, she had pushed him out of the door. Azriel wished he refrained only a little longer. He wished he would have coaxed her back into bed. Perhaps he would have spent these past fifty years wrapped in her embrace instead of sleeping in a cold bed, devoid of her warmth and scent. 

As soon as Azriel appeared in the Dawn Court he walked the route he remembered like the back of his hand. He would never forget it. Despite Y/N spending more time in the Night Court than Azriel did in Dawn, he still memorised every route possible to her apartment. An apartment he wasn’t even sure if she still lived in anymore. 

In the distance, Azriel could see the familiar building. He smiled to himself and quickened his pace. Azriel’s eyes were fixed on the building in the distance so he didn’t notice the figure stepping out in front of him until it was too late. Azriel stumbled back and maintained his balance but the figure was not so lucky. 

Azriel’s hand shot out to catch them but the attempt was futile as they went tumbling to the floor. 

“Watch where you’re walking,” the figure spoke, obviously annoyed. 

Azriel scoffed. “I should be telling you the same thing.”

The figure slowly stood to their feet and Azriel took the opportunity to look at them. The moment he did he felt his heart stop. 

It was as if Azriel was looking into a mirror. The male had the same hair as him, although styled differently. His eyes were the same shade of hazel as Azriel’s were, even the male’s dark lashes were the same. What Azriel picked up on most was the large illyrian wings tucked into the male’s back. Azriel’s mouth opened and closed. The male standing before him was related to him, there was no doubt about that. 

As Azriel’s eyes surveyed the male again, he noticed something familiar– very familiar. The male’s mouth didn’t match up with his at all. It was the perfect replica of the love of his life, even down to the slight scowl upon it. 

Azriel’s hands shook as the realisation dawned upon him. The male standing before him was related to him. And he was definitely his son. 

“I need to go…” Azriel mumbled before speeding off in the opposite direction of Y/N’s apartment. 

His heart beat so fast as his vision blurred. Azriel had a son. Not just a son. A son who was grown up. A son who had grown up without Azriel. 

There was an area surrounded by trees where Azriel hid himself from any onlookers. As soon as he was out of sight of everyone, he finally allowed the tears to fall. He had a son. Azriel had a child. Not being able to support his weight anymore, Azriel slumped onto the grass. 

Many thoughts swum through Azriel’s head. All of them of Y/N. She must have been pregnant before he was bound to Velaris. She must have sent so many letters that he wouldn’t have received. She must have thought he found out and left. More tears sprung to Azriel’s eyes. 

For fifty years, all Azriel had dreamed of was the day he would one day get to hold Y/N in his arms once again. Feel her touch. Hear her voice. Now, perhaps, he never would. If she thought he left her to have a child on her own. Let her go through birthing him alone–

Azriel suddenly stilled as dread filled his body. He had wings. His son had wings. Y/N’s body was not fit to carry an Illyrian child. There was a possibility that she was not alive at all. 

A scream of anguish left Azriel as the realisation dawned upon him. All those hopes and dreams about reuniting with Y/N. Asking her to marry him. All of those hopes and dreams were shattered in an instant.

Azriel let his wings slump to the floor, not having the energy to lift them up. He clawed at his chest feeling his heart shatter as the thought that the love of his life may not possibly be alive. 

“Azriel?” A familiar voice spoke softly. 

Azriel’s head snapped up from where he was staring at the grass to look at the source of the voice. His tears blurred his vision but he shakily rose to his feet. 

“Y/N?” Azriel whispered. 

He blinked the tears away and Y/N’s beautiful face came into focus. Wasting no time, Azriel rushed forward, as did Y/N. As soon as their bodies collided Azriel wrapped his arms around her as they sank down to the floor. 

“You’re really here,” Y/N whispered, emotion clouding her voice. 

“I’m here,” Azriel replied, his fingers threading in her hair as he cradled her head against him. “I’m here.”

“I sent so many letters,” Y/N cried. 

“I didn’t receive any,” Azriel explained. “I couldn’t receive any.”

“I missed you so much,” Y/N mumbled. “I never should have sent you out that day. We should have never left that bed. It’s my fault.”

“Hey, nothing was your fault,” Azriel said softly. “There was nothing we could do.”

Y/N continued to cry into Azriel’s shoulder as they held one another. Her scent was the same and it felt as if Azriel had never been apart from her. Holding her felt just like that last day they spent together. 

As her cries subsided, Y/N pulled away from Azriel to look at him. “There is so much I need to tell you.”

“I believe I already met one of the things we need to talk about,” Azriel said, taking Y/N’s hands in his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

Despite the tears, Y/N let out a breathy chuckle. “He came to me acting like he had seen a ghost.”

Azriel’s eyes stung as he thought about the male he had met not even ten minutes ago. “What is his name?”

“Forrest,” Y/N replied. “His name is Forrest.”

Azriel nodded and looked down at their joined hands. “He’s grown up.”

Y/N nodded sadly. “I found out I was pregnant only the day after I kicked you out. It was too early to pick up on a shift in scent but I just knew.”

“That was the day I was bound to Velaris,” Azriel said sadly. 

“It was, I tried all I could to contact you but it was impossible,” Y/N said. “At first I thought you had received the letters and left me.”

“I would never do that in a million years,” Azriel said. “Y/N, please believe me when I say that if I had found a way to come to you, I would have.”

Y/N cupped Azriel’s cheeks, wiping away the fallen tears. “I know you would have. After not receiving a response from you, I tried to contact Mor, then Cassian and finally Amren. When I did not get a reply from anyone, I knew that there was something stopping you.”

“When I saw Forrest, and saw his wings,” Azriel began, fighting back the tears, “I thought something could have happened to you. Your body is not built to carry a child with wings.”

Y/N trailed her hand from Azriel’s face to link her fingers with hers. The feeling of holding Isla’s hand again sent shivers down Azriel’s spine. 

“I won’t lie to you and say the pregnancy was easy because it wasn’t. I was so scared the entire time,” Y/N explained. “But despite how frightened I was, I live in the Dawn Court, a place with the best healers Prythian has ever seen. The recovery was tough and painful but it was worth it in the end just to hold Forrest in my arms, a beautiful boy who looked just like you.”

Through his tears, Azriel smiled, thinking back to the boy he had run into. A life he helped create. 

“And Forrest,” Azriel said, “was he okay after he was born.”

Y/N sighed. “His wings were damaged during his birth, the healers did all they could for him. A lot of visits to multiple healers. He can fly but only very short distances or it hurts him. Forrest always tells me it is not a big deal but every single time he flies he is always in an extreme amount of pain after.” Y/N chuckled. “But he has your stubbornness. No matter how many times I tell him to take breaks and work on the programme his main healer had put him on, he still decides to go out on long flights. He says it makes him feel closer to his dad.”

“What?” Azriel said in disbelief. 

“Did you really think I haven’t told Forrest anything about you for the past fifty years?” Y/N said, squeezing Azriel’s hands. “Even though he had never met you personally, he loves you. Admires you. He has only just begun asking recently, but he has wanted to meet you for so long. I never told him the full truth, mainly because I didn’t know the full truth and because I know that if I did, he would try anything to get to you. He has your determination too. He is your son through and through, Azriel.”

Azriel looked down at his hand linked with Y/N’s. “I have missed so much of his life. How can I ever be a good father to him? I don’t know a single thing about being a father.”

“And you think I know anything about being a mother?” Y/N replied, a smile pulling at her lips. “I have been one for fifty years and I am sure I am still figuring out things as I go.”

“Will he want to meet me?” Azriel asked.

“He would want nothing more,” Y/N said. “But can I be selfish for a moment, I am sure Forrest will understand.”

Azriel nodded, pulling Y/N closer to him.

“I just want to be with you for a few moments longer,” Y/N said. “It has been so long since you have held me in your arms.”

Azriel smiled at Y/N. “I love you so much.”

The smile that lit up Y/N’s face was the one that haunted Azriel’s dreams and nightmares. But she was real, Y/N was real and Azriel held her tightly to him, afraid that he would wake up in his cold bed. 

“It has been a long time since you have told me that.”

Y/N surged forward once and pressed her lips against Azriel’s. Azriel simply melted into her, knowing that it was real. Y/N was real and he was never letting her go again. 

***

“Forrest,” Y/N said, pushing open the door to her apartment. “I have someone with me you have been wanting to meet.”

Azriel stepped in the room behind Y/N. The apartment was different, there were different decorations and furniture but it was still all familiar to Azriel. He noticed the small gifts he had given her over the course of their relationship in obvious spots around the room. Azriel smiled. 

As Azriel stepped further into Y/N’s apartment his eyes fell upon his son standing still in the centre of the room. 

“Forrest. This is your father, Azriel,” Y/N said. 

Azriel took a deep breath and took a step forward. “I bumped into you just outside,” Azriel said somewhat awkwardly. “I am sorry about that.”

Forrest didn’t respond as he took a few steps closer to Azriel. From this distance, Azriel could see clearly just how much Forrest looked like him but Azriel could also notice all of Y/N’s features in his appearance, all of the features he loved so much. 

“It is good to finally meet you,” Azriel said, feeling far too formal. 

Forrest still didn’t respond as he took a final step closer to Azriel, his face not giving away any emotion. Azriel noticed that Forrest wasn’t too much shorter than Azriel himself but the shadowsinger couldn’t help but feel intimidated under his son’s stare. 

“I thought that maybe, you and I could–”

Azriel was cut off by Forrest hugging Azriel tightly. Azriel’s body remained rigid until he could feel Forrest’s body begin to shake as he cried. Almost instantly, Azriel’s arms wrapped around Forrest as he tried to calm his son. 

“It’s good to meet you, dad,” Forrest mumbled. 

Azriel’s grip only tightened on Forrest as he felt his own tears well in his eyes. He was holding onto his son and the love of his life was standing just behind him. Despite his tears, Azriel smiled. He was right where he needed to be.

[girlokwhatever]

can you do like reader is mad at paige n paige yk the attitude right outta her?

CERTAINLY I CAN!!!!

⋆·˚ ༘ *𓍢ִ໋₊˚*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆𖡎 are you done yet? ,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

you’ve been wanting to leave this club for the past hour.

the crowd was large when you got here, but since then it’s only grown. the air is hot and tacky, causing you to stick to each person you pass. it was nasty really, even worse on the dance floor.

your feet were aching and the lace from your top was scratching against your chest, only adding to your discomfort. a sheen layer of sweat covered your skin from head to toe and it seemed everyone else was experiencing the same thing.

you were just leaving the dance floor, jostling around larger bodies to get to the bar where you last saw your girlfriend. she had been talking to some guy about basketball when you’d left, but now she’s replaced her company for a woman around your age. you were slightly jealous and definitely angry. she had barely paid you any mind within the past hour, constantly occupying herself with other people. even after you tugged on her hand and asked her so nicely if the two of you could just go home.

that was an hour ago though. your desire to leave only grew in the time frame, as well as your annoyance.

you walked straight to paige, trying to find your balance among the numerous bodies. there wasn’t really a chair available, so you opted for leaning against her, one hand at the back of her neck and the other adjusting your top.

“hi baby-“

“can we go?” the abruptness of your question shocked paige. her eyebrows raised and she gave you a ‘really?’ look. you’re deadpanning though, attitude written across your face in neon bold lettering. if she wouldn’t take your hints earlier, you’d stop dropping them.

she’s pulling you between her and the bar and onto her lap. though it relieves the aching in your legs and feet, it’s not really what you wanted. she’s leaning up, lips just behind your ear and muttering a quick “don’t be a brat.”

you roll your eyes at that, finding her antics absolutely ridiculous. you’d been here with her all night, letting her enjoy herself while you suffered. you usually didn’t mind going out and having some fun; the club tonight had been too packed for you though. everywhere you went, every time you turned around, there was someone within whispering distance to you.

at this point, you stop considering the consequences of your actions. you grab her car keys out of her pocket and leave the club. paige is absolutely flabbergasted, excusing herself and following behind you with haste. she feels her body grow hot with anger watching you walk away from her without so much as a look back.

why were you so pissed?

her stride is much longer than yours so she’s catching up to you in no time. she grabs your wrist and her keys simultaneously, turning you around and stopping you in your tracks.

“what the hell is your problem? hm?” she emphasizes her point with the tight grip on hour jaw, staring straight at you. you’re both tipsy, you more so than her, and it throws your usual rationality out the window. you push her away from you, watching with satisfaction as she stumbles back a step.

she makes you so angry but fuck does she look good. you’re scoffing right to her face and doing it loudly. as though her feelings are ludicrous, completely irrelevant and wrong.

“my problem?! you know what- whatever. you stay here if you want. i’ll walk home. need a break from you anyway.”

if you had left the last part off, paige wouldn’t have been as mad as she was. in all honesty, she would’ve just taken you home peacefully after giving you a kiss and apologizing for keeping you here so long. but, you did add the last part. you looked your girlfriend in the face and told her you were tired of her.

“say that again, i dare you.” her tone is taunting and you know it’s a trap, but you do it anyway.

“you’re getting on my nerves and i need a break from you.” you’re punctuating every word, but little do you know it’s only fueling your girlfriend.

as soon as you say it you’re being pushed into the backseat of her car. she’s climbing in after you, closing the door as she tries so desperately to fit her frame into the small space. paige pulls her loose hairs into a bun, leaning over you once she’s finished.

“wanna act so fucking tough and mean- gonna get rid of your attitude baby. till all you can say is my name.”

“i bet you couldn’t.”

oh. challenge accepted.

your skirt is hiked up, panties pulled to the side as paige prods you with her fingers. she notices the way the street lamp makes your cunt shine from your wetness, smirking at your situation. she’s knees deep into the backseat, pushing two fingers into you at once.

you cry out at the new and sudden stretch. she doesn’t give you time before her fingers thrust roughly in and out of you at a brutal pace. they’re curling inside of you, already finding the spot that makes your back arch to heaven.

“you like that?” you say nothing, make no motion of acknowledgement. smoke is blowing from her ears at this point, not able to believe how stubborn you’re being right now, even as she plunges her fingers into your sopping wet cunt. your silence only motivates her to speed up, because sure, you didn’t say any words, but your loud moans spoke for you. your body is so responsive to paige, it always has been. every time she touches you, you lean into it. every time she kisses you, you’re chasing her lips when she pulls away.

just like right now. the way your core tightens and she feels it, moving away and watching your hips follow her fingers when she denies you your orgasm. you’re protesting, begging for her to continue and cryimg out her name like a chant. your hair is already a mess and your girlfriend’s heart pounds, using every bit a restraint to stop herself from giving into your pleas.

“are you done being a brat yet?”

“paige-“

“apologize and i’ll let you cum, how does that sound?” she’s rubbing and kissing your thighs, watching the way you squirm at the proposal.

even from her position between your legs she sees the battle you’re having with yourself. she almost thinks for a moment you’ll brave the storm and say no, but deep down she knows there’s only one option for you. she can tell by the way you push your hips into her face.

“i’m sorry paigey. i was.. fuck- i wasn’t being nice. i’m sorry for being mad and giving you attitude.” your voice is weak and it’s turning her on so much to hear you like this, begging for her completely. she doesn’t know how genuine your apology actually is, but she doesn’t care either.

her tongue twirls your clit, gentle and slow to tease you. it’s excruciating, the feeling making you screw your eyes shut as your mouth falls open. you’re moaning her name out too, just like she said you would be.

she’s sucking on your clit now, toying with it and gauging your different reactions to different movements. she knows what you like already (nearly everything from her) but the look of pure ecstasy on your face will never get old. you grind your hips down onto her face, desperate to find your release. you can feel it tightening in your stomach and making your head spin, but just as quickly as it came, it’s being ripped away from you.

paige is sitting upright now, readjusting your clothes and wiping around her chin where she feels the remains of you. she’s licking her fingers and lips clean, staring at your shocked expression, one singular tear rolling down your cheek.

“what’s wrong baby?”

“you said-“

“should’ve thought about it better honey. i’m jus’ giving you space since you’re so tired of me. just like you wanted right?”

you don’t miss her shit-eating grin as she leaves the backseat. she plops into the driver’s seat, glancing back at you momentarily. she places a hand on your thigh and it makes you jolt at the sensitivity, legs aching more now than they were before.

“i hope it’s everything you wished for and more.”

*♡∞:｡.｡˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

paige is sassy and mean but what’s new??!

anyways, hope you enjoyed 😘

[srslyblvck]

a dare too far, james potter [ Part II ]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: james was dared to make you fall in love with him. unknown to him, he was falling for you too. But soon the truth comes out, and you are left heartbroken.

genre: angst

warnings: mentions of y/n, heartbreak

word count: 5.5k [ a/n: what can i say, i lost track lmao ]

part I

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE DAYS FOLLOWING YOUR discovery had been a blur of pain and confusion. You had avoided James like the plague, refusing to even look in his direction. Your heart still ached, but your pride and self-respect kept you from falling apart in front of everyone.

It wasn’t long before your friends—Archie, Leonard, Autumn, and Florence—noticed something was wrong. They knew you too well, and your sudden distance from James didn’t go unnoticed. You hadn’t said a word about what had happened, but one afternoon, while you sat with them at lunch, Florence finally broke the silence.

“Y/N,” she began softly, “what happened with James?”

Your fork stilled in your hand, and for a moment, you debated lying. But the weight of it all was too much to bear alone, and with a deep breath, you told them everything. From the dare to your overheard conversation in the library, every heartbreaking detail spilt out. By the time you finished, your friends were fuming.

“He did what?” Archie’s voice was low, dangerous. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

Leonard, usually calm and rational, had gone stiff, his face a mask of barely controlled anger. “He was using you… for a stupid dare? Merlin’s beard…”

Autumn reached across the table to grasp your hand, her face a mix of empathy and fury. “That—that is despicable.”

Florence was quieter, but her steely expression said it all. She had always been protective of you, and seeing you hurt had ignited something fierce within her.

Archie was the first to stand, pushing his chair back with a sharp scrape. “Where are they?” he asked, his voice like ice. “Where’s Potter and his pack of idiots?”

You shook your head, reaching out to stop him. “Archie, please—don’t do anything. It’s not worth it.”

But Archie’s mind was made up. “Not worth it? He messed with your heart, Y/N. He hurt you. That’s more than worth it.”

Leonard and Autumn exchanged a glance, and Leonard stood as well, his usually calm face clouded with anger. “He’s not getting away with this.”

“I don’t want you to fight—” you tried again, but Archie had already turned to leave, his face set in grim determination.

“You don’t have to come,” he said, his voice softer now, though still filled with anger. “But I’m not letting this slide.”

Before you could say another word, Archie and the others were already storming out of the Great Hall, leaving you behind. A heavy sense of dread settled over you as you watched them go.

Archie didn’t need long to find them. James and his friends were walking through the hallway just outside the Great Hall, laughing about something Sirius had said, completely unaware of the storm heading their way.

Without warning, Archie charged forward, grabbing James by the front of his robes and slamming him into the stone wall with a loud thud. The sound echoed through the hallway, silencing the students nearby who had been watching.

James let out a grunt of surprise, but before he could say anything, Archie’s fist connected with his jaw in a solid punch. James staggered against the wall, his hand flying to his face as he winced in pain.

“You think you can just mess with her like that?” Archie growled, pinning James to the wall again, his face inches from his. “You think you can just play with her feelings and walk away without a scratch?”

James blinked, still reeling from the punch, but when he met Archie’s eyes, there was no deflection or defense in his gaze. There was only guilt. “Archie, wait—”

“No, you don’t get to explain!” Archie spat, shoving him harder against the wall. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to her? You broke her!”

Sirius stepped forward, his eyes flashing angrily. “Oi, get your hands off him—”

But Leonard blocked Sirius’s path, his expression dark and uncharacteristically cold. “Back off, Black. He had this coming.”

“Look, mate, we didn’t mean for it to go this far,” Sirius said, trying to reason with Leonard, though his voice lacked sincerity. “It was just a stupid joke.”

Autumn, standing beside Florence, scoffed. “A joke? You think it’s a joke to toy with someone’s feelings? You think it’s funny to break someone’s heart?”

Remus, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his voice soft but firm. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, Archie. James didn’t mean—”

But Archie wasn’t listening. “I don’t care what he meant! He knew what he was doing. You all did. You think you can just play with people’s lives because you’re the Marauders, huh? Because you’re so damn popular?”

James, his cheek red from the punch, swallowed hard. “Archie… I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Shut up,” Archie snapped, pushing James harder against the wall. “You knew what you were doing. You used her for a dare—you made her believe she could trust you. That she could actually care about you. And you did it for what? A joke? To get Evans jealous?”

James opened his mouth, but no words came out. Guilt twisted in his gut, more painful than any punch could have been. He had no defense. No excuse.

“I didn’t mean to—” James started, but Archie cut him off, his voice growing colder.

“You did mean to. You knew exactly what you were doing. You toyed with her feelings and now you’re going to pay for it.”

James felt the weight of Archie’s words settle over him like a lead blanket. He hadn’t wanted it to go this far. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you—but that didn’t change the fact that he had.

Before the situation could escalate any further, the sharp, familiar voice of Professor McGonagall sliced through the crowd.

“Mr. Hatcher! Mr. Potter!”

Professor McGonagall strode into the hallway, her eyes blazing with fury as she took in the scene before her. James was pinned against the wall, blood trickling from the corner of his lip, Archie’s fist still clenched tightly in his robes.

“Step away from him, Mr. Hatcher,” she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Archie hesitated for only a moment before letting go of James with a sharp shove, stepping back but not taking his eyes off him.

McGonagall’s stern gaze moved between the two boys. “Would someone care to explain what, exactly, is going on here?”

For a long moment, no one spoke. Archie’s jaw was still clenched, his fists balled at his sides, and James simply wiped the blood from his mouth, his eyes cast downward. He didn’t even try to defend himself.

Seeing that no one was going to speak, McGonagall sighed, her lips thinning into a tight line. “Very well,” she said, her voice icy. “Since neither of you seem inclined to explain, you will both serve detention. One week. Starting tomorrow.”

James nodded, knowing he deserved far worse. Archie, however, still seemed on edge, his glare burning into James even as he stepped back.

McGonagall’s expression softened, if only slightly. “Now, all of you—back to class. This nonsense is over.”

The gathered students began to disperse, and McGonagall gave one last stern look at both boys before turning and walking away, her robes billowing behind her.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Archie took a step closer to James, his voice low but dripping with contempt. “Stay away from her, Potter. If you ever come near her again, I’ll make sure that punch is the least of your worries.”

Without another word, Archie, Leonard, Autumn, and Florence walked away, leaving James standing in the hallway, bruised and guilty.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter stood in stunned silence, unsure of what to say. But James just stood there, his back still against the wall, staring after Archie as the weight of his actions pressed down on him.

He had ruined everything.

The following days were unbearable. Everywhere James went, he could feel the tension. Students whispered about him as he passed, and the disapproving stares of his classmates burned into his back. But none of that hurt more than seeing you.

You had become a ghost in his world. You still smiled softly at your friends, still went to class like normal, but you never once looked his way. It was as if he no longer existed to you. And James hated himself for it.

It took him a while, but eventually, he gathered the courage to try and make things right. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. He knew he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. But he had to try.

One afternoon, James found you in the library, sitting alone at one of the tables near the back. He approached slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. You were reading, your eyes scanning the page with an intensity that told him you were trying to ignore him even before he said anything.

“Y/N,” James said quietly, standing a few feet away from you.

You didn’t look up. “What do you want, James?”

He swallowed hard. “I just… I need to talk to you.”

You sighed, closing your book but still refusing to meet his eyes. “Haven’t you done enough already?”

James flinched at the coldness in your voice, but he forced himself to continue. “I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve messed up in a way that I’ll never be able to fix, but… I want to apologize.”

You remained silent, but your fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the book in your lap.

“I never meant for it to go this far,” he continued, his voice sincere. “It started as something stupid—something I regret more than you’ll ever know. I’ve thought about it every day since then. And I hate myself for it.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression filled with sadness and anger. “You didn’t think about how much it would hurt me, did you? You didn’t care that I might actually fall for you. That I might trust you.”

James shook his head. “I did care. I didn’t realize how much until it was too late. I’m sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to break your heart.”

James swallowed, the guilt weighing heavily on him. “I know. I’ll never be able to take back what I did, but… I want to make it right. Somehow.”

You shook your head slightly, your voice soft. “I don’t know if you can.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. James stood there, hoping for a sign, a flicker of something that would let him know he wasn’t too late. But you simply looked back down at your book, your walls firmly back in place.

James left the library that day feeling more hopeless than ever. But he wasn’t ready to give up. Over the next few days, he tried—small acts of kindness that he hoped would show you he was serious about making amends. He held doors open for you, left small notes of apology on your desk, and even helped you with your Potions homework from afar, making sure you had all the right ingredients laid out. He didn’t push. He didn’t ask for anything. He just wanted you to know he cared.

When you walked into class, your desk would be cleared of stray ink stains. A forgotten book would find its way back into your bag, or a note of apology would be slipped into your books. At first, you tried to ignore it all, but eventually, it became impossible to pretend you didn’t notice his efforts.

Despite everything, there was a part of you that still cared for James, a part of you that hated how much you missed the way things had been before the truth came out. It was that small part of you that made it harder to ignore him.

But you tried. You tried not to care. You tried to remind yourself of the hurt, the betrayal. You didn’t want to forgive him… but some days, you found yourself softening, despite everything.

James made sure to keep his distance, always careful to avoid Archie and the rest of your friends. If Archie found out that James was still trying to win back your trust, he’d make sure James regretted it. But James wasn’t doing this for anyone else anymore—not for Sirius, not for Lily. He was doing it for you, hoping that, one day, you might believe in him again.

It was a long process, and you weren’t ready to forgive him completely. But little by little, you began to see glimpses of the James Potter who wasn’t just a reckless boy trying to win a dare. He was something more than that—someone who was genuinely sorry for what he had done.

You still weren’t sure if you could ever fully trust him again. But maybe, just maybe, you could start to forgive him. One small step at a time.

It was a cool, crisp afternoon at Hogwarts, the autumn air biting softly at your skin as you climbed up the empty Quidditch stands. The Gryffindor team had finished their practice a while ago, leaving the pitch quiet, save for the rustling of leaves carried on the wind. You liked coming here after everyone had gone—there was a peace to the open sky and the vastness of the field that made everything else feel distant.

You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself and settled into one of the seats, letting your eyes wander over the golden leaves scattered across the pitch. For a while, you just sat there, lost in thought, until the sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you out of your reverie.

“Mind if I sit?” James stood at the edge of the row, his broomstick in hand, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. His messy hair was windswept from practice, and there was a tentative smile on his face, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be near you.

Your heart gave a small jolt. You weren’t used to him being this hesitant around you. “Sure,” you replied softly, gesturing to the spot beside you.

He sat down carefully, leaving a bit of space between you, though the air around him still felt warm and familiar. For a few moments, the two of you sat in silence, both staring out at the empty field. The awkwardness between you was palpable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—it was more like the calm after a storm, when everything is still fragile, but quiet.

“You used to come to all our games,” James said after a while, his voice low, as though he was afraid of breaking the peace.

“I still do,” you replied, not looking at him. “I just... sit further back now.”

James winced, but nodded. “Yeah, I noticed. Haven’t seen you up close in a while.”

You glanced at him then, catching the way his eyes softened as he looked out at the field. The cocky confidence he’d worn like armor for so long was missing. In its place was something quieter, more genuine.

“I don’t blame you for keeping your distance,” he continued. “I deserve it.”

You hugged your knees closer to your chest, not responding at first. There was still an ache in your heart whenever you thought about what had happened, but the anger was flickering.

“Why do you care so much now?” you asked quietly, your voice almost lost in the wind. “Why are you trying so hard?”

James turned to you, his hazel eyes full of sincerity. “Because I care about you. Really care about you. And I don’t want to be the reason you’re hurt. Not anymore.”

The openness in his voice took you by surprise. You had seen James like this before, but only in fleeting moments. Now, it felt like the bravado had peeled away, leaving someone real beneath the surface.

“You weren’t like this before,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

“I know.” James leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I thought I had to be... I don’t know, bigger than life all the time. Like I had to prove something to everyone, especially myself. I’m not proud of that. But you’ve always been real with me, and I wasn’t real with you.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the weight of betrayal as strongly. You felt a little lighter, like maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

“I’m not expecting you to forgive me all at once,” James added, his voice softer now. “But I want to show you that I can be better, for you."

You looked down at your hands, picking at the edge of your sleeve. “It’s just... hard. Trust doesn’t come back that easily, James.”

“I know,” he said, his voice a little rough. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and you could see how much he meant it. There was no smirk, no playful grin—just James, raw and honest. The boy who had been careless with your heart was trying to make amends, and for the first time, you felt like he truly understood the weight of what he’d done.

The wind ruffled his hair, and for a moment, you found yourself smiling softly at the familiar sight. “You’ve got ink on your face,” you said, pointing to a smudge near his temple.

James blinked, touching his face with a confused frown. “What—oh.” He chuckled lightly, his expression sheepish. “I guess I got a bit too into planning out that Transfiguration essay.”

You shook your head with a small laugh, the sound surprising both of you. It wasn’t much, but it was something—a tiny crack in the walls you’d built up.

James seemed to catch the change in your mood and his smile widened, though he didn’t press you further. He leaned back in the seat, his gaze shifting back to the field. “You ever flown before?”

“Once,” you said, shrugging. “I’m not really a fan of heights.”

James grinned, the old spark of mischief flickering in his eyes. “Well, if you ever feel like giving it another go, I’m pretty good at keeping people safe on a broom.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Silence settled between you again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, like an old friendship slowly knitting itself back together. You weren’t sure where things would go from here, but for now, sitting here with James felt... nice.

And maybe that was enough for today.

It had taken weeks to come to a decision. Every day, you had wrestled with the memory of what James had done, how he had played with your heart like it was a game. But, as time went on, you couldn't ignore the fact that James had been trying, truly trying, to make things right. You could see it in the way he no longer sought attention, the way he was quietly helping without expecting anything in return.

Forgiveness was hard, but holding onto anger was harder. And you were tired—tired of the pain, tired of feeling like you were carrying a weight that wouldn’t let go. So, with shaky hands and a racing heart, you left a note on James’s desk:

Meet me by the Black Lake at sunset.

You didn’t write more, unsure how you would feel when the moment came. All you knew was that you had to give him—and yourself—a chance.

When James found the note, his heart nearly stopped. He read it over and over, as if afraid it might disappear before his eyes. You wanted to meet him. His mind raced, a thousand possibilities flickering through his head—was this the moment he had been waiting for? Or was it a final goodbye?

His hands trembled as he pocketed the note, trying to calm himself. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but for the first time in weeks, a spark of hope flickered in his chest.

As sunset approached, James made his way to the Black Lake, his nerves twisting with every step. And there you were, standing by the water’s edge, your arms wrapped around yourself, lost in thought as you watched the gentle ripples on the surface.

James’s heart skipped a beat. You were beautiful in the fading light, and for a moment, he simply stood there, watching you, gathering the courage to approach.

Finally, he took a breath and stepped forward. “Y/N.”

You turned, your eyes meeting his, he could see the conflict in your gaze—the hurt that still lingered, but also the kindness that had always been part of you.

You took a deep breath, glancing out at the lake before speaking again. “I’ve been thinking a lot, James. About everything. About how much I was hurt… but also about how you’ve changed.”

James stayed silent, afraid to interrupt, afraid to break the fragile moment you were sharing.

“I’m might be angry,” you admitted, your voice steady. “But I don’t want to hold onto that forever. I don’t want to carry this weight anymore.”

James looked down, his heart heavy with the guilt of everything he had put you through. “I know I hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but… I swear, Y/N, I would do anything to fix this.”

You turned to face him fully, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know if things will ever be the same, James. But I want to try. I want to give you a chance… to prove that this isn’t just another game.”

James’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You mean… you’re giving me another chance?”

You nodded slowly. “Yes. But it’s not going to be easy, James. Trust takes time to rebuild.”

For a moment, James stood frozen, processing your words. Then, without thinking, he stepped forward, gently cupping your face in his hands. His touch was warm, and careful, like he was afraid you might pull away. He gazed into your eyes, his own filled with an intensity that made your heart skip.

“I swear to you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I will never, ever hurt you like that again. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m worth trusting. I promise.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the warmth of his hands on your cheeks grounding you as your heart fluttered in your chest. You could feel the truth in his words, the genuine regret and longing behind them. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him.

Slowly, almost instinctively, you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as the tension between you melted away. When you opened your eyes again, James was still watching you, his gaze filled with hope and affection.

For a moment, everything felt right. You were standing by the lake, the world around you peaceful and quiet, and for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to feel that flicker of warmth you had tried so hard to ignore.

But just as you thought things might finally fall into place, a voice cut through the serene air like a blade.

“What the hell is this?”

Your heart dropped as you turned to see Archie storming toward you, his face twisted in anger. He had seen you together. James dropped his hands from your face, stepping back, but Archie was already closing the distance between you.

“Y/N, get out of the way,” Archie growled, his eyes locked on James. “I’m not letting him get away with this again.”

“You’ve got some nerve, Potter,” Archie growled, his fists clenched as he glared at James. “What did I tell you? You think you can just worm your way back into her life after what you did?”

James didn’t fight back, his hands raised in defense. “Archie, I swear, it’s not like that. I’m not trying to hurt her.”

“Not trying to hurt her?” Archie spat, his voice rising. “You’ve already done enough damage!”

“Archie, stop!” you shouted, stepping between them before Archie could throw a punch. You placed a hand on his chest, trying to push him back. “Please, just listen to me.”

Archie looked down at you, his face still twisted with anger. “Y/N, why are you defending him? After everything he did?”

“I know what he did,” you said firmly, your voice steady. “But he’s changed, Archie. He’s been trying—really trying—to make things right.”

Archie shook his head, his fists still balled. “And you believe him? After all that?”

You took a deep breath, your eyes locked on Archie’s. “Yes. I believe him. I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t.”

Archie’s jaw clenched, his fists still balled at his sides. “And what if you’re wrong? What if he breaks your heart all over again?”

You shook your head, your voice steady. “He won’t. I know he won’t.”

For a long moment, Archie said nothing, his chest rising and falling with deep, angry breaths. He looked between you and James, his jaw tight, clearly torn between wanting to protect you and the growing frustration of watching you forgive James.

Finally, Archie exhaled sharply, stepping back and dropping his fists. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice low. “But if he so much as looks at you the wrong way—”

“I know,” you interrupted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’ll beat him to a pulp.”

Archie gave James one last threatening glare before turning back to you. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I will be,” you said, looking back at James, who stood there, relief flooding his features. “I will be.”

Archie sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning to walk away, muttering something under his breath about "keeping an eye on Potter." As he disappeared into the distance, you turned back to James, who was still watching you with a mixture of gratitude and awe.

“Thank you,” James said softly, stepping closer to you once more. “I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

You smiled up at him, the warmth of his presence calming the nervous flutter in your chest. “Just don’t make me regret it, Potter.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice filled with sincerity. And this time, you believed him.

It had been a few days since the Black Lake, since that quiet moment where you'd taken the first step toward forgiving James. You hadn’t fully worked through everything yet, but the weight on your chest had lightened, if only slightly. James, true to his word, had been patient. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding more than you were ready to give.

One evening, after dinner, you found yourself sitting by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, enjoying the warmth while trying to focus on your Herbology notes. You had just managed to start working through a particularly tricky chapter when a shadow fell over your table.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said softly.

You looked up and saw James standing there, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression almost shy. It was a look you were still getting used to—the quiet James, the one without the cocky grin and the easy swagger. The one who didn’t assume you’d always want to talk to him.

“Hi,” you replied, offering a small smile.

He rocked slightly on his heels, glancing around the common room before returning his gaze to you. “I was wondering if… maybe you’d like to go for a walk?”

A walk? It seemed harmless enough. And you had to admit, the idea of stepping out into the cool night air sounded appealing after being cooped up with your books for hours.

You nodded, closing your notes. “Sure.”

James blinked in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to say yes. But he quickly recovered, grinning in that soft, hopeful way he had started to smile recently. “Great. Let’s go.”

You followed him out of the common room, the portrait of the Fat Lady swinging closed behind you as the castle corridors opened up before you. The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, your footsteps echoing off the stone floors.

The evening was quiet, with most students settling in for the night. When you reached the castle doors, James paused, opening one of them and holding it for you. The cold air rushed in, crisp and clean, carrying the scent of grass and earth. You stepped outside, feeling the refreshing chill against your skin, and James fell into step beside you as you wandered down the path that led toward the Black Lake.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the water. The stars twinkled like distant diamonds, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze made the night feel alive with gentle magic. It was peaceful here, under the sky, with the world around you so calm.

James cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You know… I’ve missed this,” he said quietly, glancing over at you. “Being able to just… be with you.”

You looked at him, noticing how the moonlight softened his features. His eyes, normally so full of mischief, were now earnest, searching yours for some kind of reassurance.

“I’ve missed it too,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed these moments, before everything had fallen apart—when James was just a boy who made you laugh, who listened to you, who made you feel seen.

James smiled, but it wasn’t his usual grin—it was softer, more thoughtful. “I know things aren’t the same,” he said, kicking a pebble with the tip of his shoe as you both walked. “And I know I’ve got a long way to go before… before you can really trust me again. But I’m going to keep trying. Every day, I’m going to keep trying.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart swell—this wasn’t the cocky, arrogant James who once thought he could charm his way through life. This was the James who was willing to work for it, who understood that he had to earn your trust back, one small step at a time.

“I appreciate that,” you said softly, your gaze drifting over the calm surface of the lake. “I really do.”

For a while, you both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. It was nice—just walking together, the cool night air wrapping around you both. You weren’t sure what it was, but something about this moment felt right. Maybe you weren’t fully healed yet, but you were beginning to believe that healing was possible.

After a few more minutes of walking, James stopped, turning to face you with a look of hesitant curiosity. “Can I ask you something?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Depends what it is.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “It’s not bad, I promise. I just… I was wondering if—if maybe you’d like to come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. He had asked it so simply, without any of his usual flair. It wasn’t a demand or an assumption. It was just a question—a genuine one, filled with hope but no expectation.

“You don’t have to say yes,” James added quickly, seeing the hesitation in your eyes. “I know things are still… complicated. But I’d love to spend some time with you outside of… all this.”

You thought about it for a moment. You weren’t sure if you were ready for anything that felt like a date—not yet. But Hogsmeade was harmless, wasn’t it? A day out, something simple, something that could help rebuild the trust you were slowly finding again.

After a moment, you nodded. “Sure,”

James’ face lit up, his eyes widening in surprise. “Really?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “Really.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nodded, feeling a strange flutter in your stomach. You weren’t sure what was going to happen, or where this new path with James would lead. But for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—it was worth finding out.

As you continued walking beside him, the moonlight casting gentle shadows across the path, you realized that this moment, right here, was a beginning. Not a fresh start, but a continuation—something that had been broken but was slowly, carefully, being put back together.

And maybe, just maybe, you could learn to trust James again.

One small step at a time.