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just-a-ghost00 · 17 days

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Are you on the right path?

Group 1

Song : Meltdown - Motionless in White, Lost At Sea - B.I ft Bipolar Sunshine & Afgan Cards : Knight of wands, Emperor, queen of pentacles, Empress, knight of cups, 7 of cups

Not only are you on the right path but you're also on the verge of manifesting your divine counterpart. With a bunch of other lovely souls that will likely confuse you. Because all of them are possibly soulmates. Group 1, are you a candle? Because you shine so bright a lot of people are gathering around you and celebrating you. Some might even want to blow that candle of yours (pun intended). The future seems pretty positive for you so far. Expect several romantic offers, a lot of flirting and a lot of fun, mixed with a pinch of confusion. It feels like even though you reject some offers, these souls will stay in your lane because yall are a team. A soul fam. A pack of hungry wolves that strive for success. Look at you! All sexy and pampered, ready to secure the bag and be the next big thing. Dear Lord, you are gorgeous! The Universe is clapping for you and so is good old Wade. What more can you ask for? You'll be stepping into your power, getting them opportunities and living your best life. Yall have been doing the work and it's paying off big time. In terms of potential zodiac signs to look out for, we have Aries, Sagittarius, Taurus, Cancer and Pisces. Possibly Scorpio and Leo as well. You'll be attracting men and women identifying individuals alike, even non binary people. Every one seems to be drunk in love with you. I feel like you're the Empress in this spread. And then you have two knights, one queen and one emperor circling around you like sharks. And this isn't necessarily a bad thing. The Emperor person is your divine counterpart. Now, choosing them isn't mandatory. I feel like there is no wrong answer in this situation. Whomever you choose to be with is the one for you. Fate is in your hands.

Letters/possible significant signs : M, B, E, K, camels, horses, koi fish, stars

Group 2

Songs : Nakigahara - The GazettE, Awake and Alive - Skillet Cards : 10 of cups, the world, 5 of wands, 4 of wands, 7 of cups, black numen rx

Though you may face hardships coming from your community or the environment you're in, feel confused at the amount of fork in the roads you're presented with, you are heading in the right direction. And the outcome of your journey is a positive one. You may be travelling or relocating soon, finding a new home. This is a new begenning for you. You're getting out of a dark night of the soul. I was about to write "dark knight" instead. There could be Batman fans in this group. If we take the Batman metaphor, Bruce Wayne has been through a lot. Many times, he was faced with hardships and doubted his purpose. He doubted the good in him as he was flirting with the shadows of humanity, dealing with the worst in people. Yet, he never stopped moving forward. He kept fighting, he kept hoping for a better future for humanity. And eventually he'd find something positive to hold on to. Well, same goes for you. Because there are obstacles on your way and people that don't see eye to eye with you doesn't mean that you should stop believing in and fighting for your ideals and dreams. Which you will be doing in the future without a doubt. Expect more happiness, fulfillment in most areas of your life. Expect a healthier and more supportive community, a lot of interesting opportunities. You're taking your destiny in charge and deciding to work towards your goals no matter the opinion have of you. This time, you are choosing yourself over others. That's the spirit group 2! Hit the bull's eye! You can be proud of yourself.

Letters/possible significant signs : koi fish, dogs, roses, A, W, N

Group 3

Songs : Break me The GazettE, path of the wind aekasora, The Beginning One OK Rock

Cards : knight of swords, 10 of pentacles, king of cups, wheel of fortune, page of pentacles, hanged man

You may have had a rough time lately group 3 and were in a phase where your reality didn’t match your expectations and hopes nor did it align with the amount of effort you put into manifesting your desired reality. You may have felt desperate, depressed, frustrated. But let me be the bringer of good news : that vicious cycle is ending. A new wind is blowing in your direction. One that will make you soar high and above that dark cloud you were stuck in. You’re going to see the bigger picture and you will thank yourself for holding on all these years. Your career and studies are going to take a major positive turn. Luck is in your favor. Yes, you are on the right path. You always were. You just didn’t see it because you were in the maze. But you’ll gain a new perspective soon with that hanged man energy. I feel like you’ll be taking a completely different approach to your life in general. If you were considering completely changing your work methods or habits, that is definitely your sign this is the right thing to do. If you were the kind to follow others and hang to tradition as a safety measure, now you’ll be taking the lead and innovating. If you were the kind to wait for others to notice you and ask about you, now you’ll be the one reaching out and asking about people. And vice versa. You may be learning new skills that will benefit you financially. You may get help from an Earth and/or a Water sign. If you are a Virgo or a fixed sign (Leo, Taurus, Aquarius, Scorpio) then this is your confirmation this reading is for you. You are encourage to keep going in the direction you’re heading and be resilient. You are doing a good job group 3. There may be a connection solidifying in the 3D over time. That grounding of the connection will however happen slowly. It may take a lot of time before it comes to fruition. You may at some point enter a stagnating energy and feel like nothing is moving. Do not be scared when that happens. This is only temporary.

Letters and significant signs : spiders, eyes, squirrels, B, O, K, P, W

#just-a-ghost #pick a card #pac reading #spiritual pac #tarot reading

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doliacuddles · 2 months

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SHADOWS OF A MARRIAGE.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖣𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒.

𝖧𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇! 𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

❝In our gazes lie the secrets of a love that never had its chance, trapped in a silence that screams the tragedy of what could have been and never was.❞

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆:

𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝗎𝗅𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗍. 𝖨𝗍 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗌. 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌.

Alastor could never have foreseen that his life would lead him to this crossroads, a dark and mysterious fork in the path of his existence.

Since childhood, he had always known he was different. While other children immersed themselves in the sweet illusions of first love, with hands intertwined and shared laughter, Alastor remained distant. The social circles that provided warmth and comfort to his peers seemed foreign to him, a stage where he had no place. Deprived of those experiences that seemed so natural to others, his heart beat to a dissonant rhythm.

He didn't respond to the same impulses as his peers. While they enjoyed games and laughter, he found unsettling solace in solitude and isolation. He watched the world from the periphery, with an eternal smile that hid a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. That seemingly amiable smirk was an enigma to those around him, an impenetrable mask guarding his true intentions.

Alastor became a spectator of life, analyzing every move, every word, with almost cruel precision. While others lived their lives carefree, he delved into his own mind, building a refuge where he could be authentic, away from the judgment and misunderstanding of the outside world.

When he found you in the forest, sobbing amidst loneliness, a wave of genuine pity washed over him. It was a feeling he had only ever experienced seeing his mother suffer under the yoke of his father. With the memory of those fresh tears in his mind, he approached you with a radiant smile, the best he could offer in that emotionally charged moment.

He extended his hand with unexpected delicacy, helping you to your feet. That gesture, though simple, carried profound meaning. In that secluded corner of the world, far from the gaze of others, an unexpected and deep connection formed between the two of you. It was his first true contact with another soul, a moment laden with intense and genuine emotion that neither of you would ever forget.

From that moment on, you became inseparable, as if your souls were intertwined in an unbreakable bond. Even though you didn't attend the same school, you always found a way to meet after classes in a nearby park, where your conversations stretched until the stars shone in the night sky. Your laughter, whispers, and confessions filled the air, creating a refuge where time seemed to stand still.

But that bubble of happiness burst abruptly the day he had to move away. It felt like a vital part of his being had been ripped away, leaving him desolate and alone. The only person offering him comfort, besides his beloved mother, had been torn from his life. It wasn't your fault, but his father's, who had imposed the decision to leave their previous home, forcing you to stay in that small town.

A sense of loss and abandonment gripped his chest, mingling with bitter frustration. It was as if destiny, once again, was being decided by others, leaving a trail of pain and resignation in his heart.

His detestable father.

To say that Alastor simply hated him would be a gross understatement. What he felt was a visceral loathing, a fury that burned like an unquenchable fire, devouring every corner of his being. This aversion led him to make a drastic decision: to end his life on a dark night, when the stench of alcohol clouded his father's senses. He couldn't allow him to continue tormenting the innocent, especially his mother, who constantly suffered the atrocities of that man.

But far from feeling relief, that act became a turning point in his life. His father's death left Alastor and his mother in poverty. Without financial resources, they were forced to face a brutal and ruthless reality. His mother, who never managed to overcome the loss of her husband, became a shadow of herself, her health deteriorating day by day. Illnesses besieged her mercilessly, worsening their situation even more. Survival became a constant struggle, marked by desperation and uncertainty.

Over the years, circumstances gradually began to improve for Alastor. Each new job not only provided invaluable experience but also allowed him to hone his skills and open doors to more promising opportunities. It was amidst this upward trajectory that he discovered his true passion: radio. Alastor saw in radio not only the financial benefits it could offer but also the immense power of influence he could wield through the airwaves.

Determined to become a prominent figure, he dedicated endless hours to study. It wasn't just about acquiring technical knowledge; for him, it was essential to perfect his charisma and dialect, aware of the importance of communicating effectively and being understood by the masses. Every word he learned, every technique he mastered, was a firm step forward in his relentless pursuit of excellence and recognition. Every broadcast, every program, brought him closer to the pinnacle of New Orleans, the city he now considered home. In each transmission, he strove to capture the attention of his audience, making every phrase resonate with irresistible magnetism. Alastor was not just on the path to success; he was determined to conquer the world of radio, and nothing and no one would stand in his way.

But one day, those thoughts of greatness underwent a drastic transformation. Since your arrival in New Orleans, a question had nagged at Alastor like a constant thorn: Why did you have to reappear? It wasn't malice he felt, but an unsettling sense that your presence was an anomaly in his carefully orchestrated life, an anomaly that shouldn't exist, especially after what he had done, the dark thoughts of satisfaction he had experienced in that fateful moment with his father and other victims.

Maintaining your closeness had become a titanic task. That deep and sincere childhood connection seemed to have evaporated, leaving an uncomfortable chasm between you. Despite this, Alastor strove to be kind and cordial with you, as if every gesture and smile were the result of years of meticulous rehearsal in front of the mirror. Every word was carefully chosen, every movement planned with surgical precision, all in a desperate attempt to revive something that felt irretrievably lost. However, the results were not as expected; his efforts only deepened his confusion and frustration.

He never imagined the day would come when he would have to marry, let alone someone he barely knew and already considered a stranger after so many years of disconnection. But seeing the happiness in his mother's eyes, hearing how fervently she expressed her desire to see him married before her departure… How could he deny her that final wish, the woman who had raised him with so much love and sacrifice? Despite all the doubts and reluctance in his heart, he reluctantly accepted, driven by the desire to fulfill his mother's last wish before her inevitable farewell.

The wedding was a spectacle of luxury, with a crowd of unfamiliar guests who couldn't take their eyes off Alastor. Every move of his captivated, his imposing figure dominated the scene, his eloquence hypnotized, and his magnetic presence was impossible to ignore. And you, lost in the crowd, were no exception. At the altar, in front of everyone, you looked like a true work of art, dazzling and radiant, exuding a beauty that left everyone breathless.

"Alastor, do you take this woman as your wife, to love and cherish her until death do you part?"

"I do," he replied with unwavering certainty, his voice resonating with an authority that seemed to mark destiny itself.

"And you…"

"I do," you murmured, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Your response, almost inaudible, elicited a mix of affectionate laughter among those present and a sweet tenderness in your parents' eyes, who watched you with pride and joy. However, those words, spoken in a moment of overflowing emotion, sealed your fate in a way you never could have imagined.

With an unusual tenderness, Alastor brushed aside the strands of your flushed and slightly sweaty face, his fingers caressing your skin with a gentleness that contrasted with his usual hardness. "Does this hurt you?" he asked in a whisper, his enveloping voice filled with genuine concern.

Instead of responding with words, you leaned into him and kissed him, an unexpected gesture loaded with emotion and meaning. That kiss was a spark, an impulse that surprised him and encouraged him to continue, dispelling any doubt or reservation he might have had.

For Alastor, watching you in that moment was like witnessing a masterpiece come to life before his eyes. Your naked skin beneath him, marked by the traces he had left with his lips and fingers, was a canvas now imbued with the imprints of his overwhelming passion. At first, he had resisted the urge to reach that point, but something in you disarmed all his reservations and pushed him to surrender with a passion he had only experienced once before, in very different circumstances. He felt a frenzied intensity consuming him completely; every caress, every sigh between you resonated like notes in a symphony of shared desires.

Every movement became a dance of fervor and longing, his emotions so intense they bordered on madness. He kissed you with desperate urgency, as if each lip contact were an anchor meant to ensure you never drifted away.

As he held you beneath him, his mind was a chaos of intertwined pleasure and guilt. Aware that he shouldn't be there, he knew his newfound desire to have you by his side was distorting his judgment. But every moan that escaped your lips, every whisper of your voice saying his name, dissipated any rational thought.

When they finally reached ecstasy together, he collapsed onto you, their ragged breaths melding into a single shared breath. He embraced you with a desperate intensity, as if fearing you might vanish at any moment.

"I'm so happy to have you as my wife," he said uncontrollably, the words spilling from his lips unchecked. The pure happiness in your gaze as you returned it made his stomach twist as if a thousand butterflies were fluttering inside him.

"And I'm happy to be your wife, Alastor," you replied softly.

Alastor's memories were woven with every breath of yours, intertwining with the present in the hospital room where they nervously awaited the results of many shared nights. Despite his constant pursuit, Alastor couldn't find any clear emotion at that moment. Had he made a mistake in embarking on this? Did he truly desire to be a father? He hoped that any future paternal instinct wouldn't reflect the cold treatment he had received from his own father.

As Alastor stared intensely at the floor, as if it were the most fascinating thing he had seen in years, he felt your touch on his arm, a signal that the doctor had the results.

The doctor called them from the waiting room door, inviting them into his office. Together, they walked down the hospital hallway, with dim lights and a scent blending disinfectant with old wood and medical books. The distant murmur of other patients and the soft tick-tock of a wall clock filled the air.

Entering the doctor's cozy office, filled with books and a sturdy wooden desk, the doctor greeted them with a warm smile. "Please, have a seat," he said courteously, closing the door behind them.

"Well," the doctor began seriously, adjusting his glasses as he flipped through the papers. "The results confirm that you're pregnant." His words resonated in the room, laden with surprise and contained joy.

You felt a mix of emotions: overwhelming happiness intertwined with palpable fear. It was a moment of bliss, yet also uncertainty about what the future would bring.

Alastor stared at you silently, without words. His eyes reflected astonishment and a tenderness rarely seen. In his mind, memories of his childhood mingled with the possibilities and challenges this new chapter would bring.

The doctor continued explaining the next steps, offering advice on prenatal care and answering questions. Alastor barely listened, absorbed in the new life growing inside you and how everything would change.

After the consultation, they left in silence. Outside, the city lights began to glow, casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets. Alastor gently took your hand, expressing his support and commitment to the new path they would face together.

As they walked back home, the cool evening air wrapped around them softly, creating an intimate atmosphere. Alastor let out a soft laugh that echoed in the quiet neighborhood. Without warning, he released your hand and wrapped his arm around you, drawing you close.

His eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and tenderness as he looked at you. "Ready to dive into endless readings about motherhood?" he asked with a mischievous smile, as if about to reveal an exciting secret. His words hung in the air, filled with anticipation for the days ahead and the new adventure they shared together.

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks as you absorbed the overwhelming news that Alastor had impregnated you. The impact of his words and the reality you now faced left you breathless. Alastor, seeing your distress, let out a light laugh and embraced you, though his gesture was more of a clumsy attempt at comfort than a display of genuine empathy in that vulnerable moment.

"Don't worry so much, my dear," he murmured softly, tinged with his usual irony. "You know a smile always suits you best. You're like an incomplete painting without it."

Intellectual property of @doliacuddles.

𝖳𝖺𝗀𝗌; @catticora @mo-0-o @alastorthirsty @its-a-dam-blue-brick @speedycoffeedelight @eris-norwega

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor

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gremlingottoosilly · 9 months

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Lego still not sponsoring me (dark!Konig x fem!Reader)

Konig is a nerd who needs to get sprayed with water for being a fucking creep. You're an adorable cashier at the Lego Store in Berlin who doesn't know any better and is too nice to lose. He will have you. Mostly because he wants someone to do his Lego sets with.

Details count: 2922 AO3 TW and Tags: Dub-con/Non-con, age gap, size difference, kidnapping, awkward colonel Konig, nerd Konig, hurt/comfort, Konig's POV(mostly), awkward German, yandere Konig.

You didn’t want to build Millenium Falcon with him.

You didn’t want to shower or eat, you didn’t want to do anything besides crying, and even though your tears, as he expected, were beautiful and adorable, it was kinda hard for König to take care of your mental and physical needs while he was rock hard from watching you cry so sweetly.

König is patient, kind, and a model citizen through and through. Why are you upset? He is doing everything he can, just to make you smile! Seriously, Schatzi, the desire to make him as miserable as you possibly can doesn’t make you pretty or cute or even the least bit adorable. Good thing that he is used to feeling sad and kinda of bullied – you’re lucky he doesn’t even try to feel good anymore. Not in his destiny book to live a good life. — I brought food.

You groan lightly, whimpering somewhere in the corner of his basement. To your justification, his basement is a bit dirty. He forgot to visit the house for months after deployment, which was never enough to fill out the blanks of loneliness in the empty rooms. His dogshits methods of choosing decorations also made the mere existence in the house a hard mission even in itself. He looked at the anime posters in the guest rooms, which made him want to sell the property to anyone willing to pay 50 Euros for the processing fees. The posters(Sword Art Online because why the hell not, he likes cool swords and a power fantasy about a loser getting the chick) and artwork of his queen and savior, The Busty Blond Lady From Fate because, unlike those waifu-obsessed freaks, he did have a life and not enough time to actually remember her name. Something about light sabers. Or cats. — Are you going to kill me?

He sighs because you sound like a broken record. All the time – the questions about his intentions, like you can’t see the tent in his pants every time you open your eyes, about letting you go, about at least allowing you to text your family that you decided to change your country of residence and would need to revoke your German visa. You’re way more soft than he thought you’d initially be – no fighting, no arguing, just pure terror and desire to die every time his hands brush over you. König is a sweet guy, as sweet as someone like him can be – but he only has a few weeks until his next mission, and even a few days of your moping around is bound to make him not just blue-balled, but also very, extremely, offensively hot-headed.

He spent two days with you chained up in his basement and, he thinks, that should be enough for foreplay. He is extremely generous and kind – usually, at this point, he’d already start breaking the fingers of whoever poor fuck is his torture victim for the mission.

— I don’t want to kill you.

You whimper – somehow, his answer didn’t calm you down. Fucking women and their inability to talk to their kidnappers – he considers spiking your food just this once, so he could have a nice session with your little drunk self and some roofies but, of course, he is a nice guy who brought you takeout in a reheatable container, with a cute plastic fork and some sparkling water in a glass, just so you won’t feel like he is making you eat some garbage. It’s good food, too – he’d love to cook like this, but the heights of his skills are runny eggs and burnt coffee. He hopes you like the Italian because it’s the most inoffensive stuff he could have brought you without resorting to pizza and cup noodles. He will never let you eat cup noodles on his watch.

— Are you going to rape me?

He can’t exactly say no because, as a matter of fact, pulling your cute body under his is one of his intentions. He wanted to do it since he was you in this fucking store, but, of course. saying this to a pretty girl is lame. And completely counter-productive. And would make him a villain in your eyes, even though he tries so fucking hard to be a hero. He can make you feel good if you were to just open your pretty legs for him and moan under his tongue – god knows, he wants to make you feel good. He wonders what would it take for him to please you. If he could have a full-time job at this.

— Nein. Thought I told you already.

— I don’t…I shouldn’t believe you.

He shook his head, pushing the plate(he had to go out of his way to actually put the pasta from the tray to a proper plate, enjoy this, woman) towards you. You’re adorable like this – naked, trembling, a bit too weak to actually fight him over not eating anything for the past two days – you’re repeating the same conversation over and over again and König wouldn’t mind living in a groundhog day if the loop would end with his fucking you on that thin mattress each time.

Speaking of mattresses – he needs to get you a thicker one.

Speaking of thicker mattresses – he needs to relocate you into his bedroom as soon as possible.

Speaking of his bedroom – he is fucking bricked.

— If you don’t trust me, why do you ask?

You bite your lips. He can see you’re hungry and thirsty – he doesn’t want to forcefully feed you, so, yeah, you better be very hungry very soon. He pushes the plate towards you, hoping you won’t launch it on his head. He survived worse, a 6’4 British dude in a ski mask falling on him with the speed of Brexit, but getting hit by a plate when your angry girlfriend is being an angry girlfriend is…the best thing that could ever happen to him, actually. Gott, he is miserable.

— I…I don’t know. Don’t want to get killed.

— I won’t kill you.

— But you will hurt me.

— I don’t have to do that, Liebling.

No, he doesn’t.

But he sees the way your plushy thighs are squeezing into that tiny corner where your mat is, your squishy body getting all shaky and trembly, your lips in a tight line with tiny blood droplets from biting on them too much – and, by his fucking god, you’re beautiful. He wants to make you wet, to make you squirm, to make you beg and cry for mercy as he pounds into the sweetness of your cunt. He wants to try you on the inside and out, lick you all over from the inside, and then make you lick your love juices from his lips.

König knows he is hard and can’t really hide it – it’s useless now, really, he is being very nice and considerate to you. Changing your life is hard, especially with how quickly you moved to his place – like a good boyfriend, he should help you adjust. And aid you in recognizing that he is, in fact, your boyfriend and future husband. The perfect partner to ever exist. — What is it?

— Pasta. It’s…it’s good. Should be good. He is nervous, anxious. Seeing a pretty girl in her natural habitat – a Lego store – is one thing. He was barely able to talk to you properly, especially right after his deployment, where the only female attention he ever got was Roze asking to cover her or additional female soldiers groaning in pain as he stomped them. But you…he shouldn’t be colonel around you – absolutely not. You’re soft and civilian, you’re as polite as a girl in a basement could be, and you deserve to have something nice for once in your life. Licking his lips, König gently picks up a fork and presses a small amount of pasta – rich, creamy, with some nice cheese that smells divine - -against your lips.

You refuse.

A smart move, he could have poisoned it – so he thinks for a few seconds, staring at you like a smart girlie you are, and then – lifts his hood. If only barely, revealing his scarred chin and bruised lips. The initial swelling after getting his head bumped by a guy who was speaking like an edgy teenager in the Counter-Strike lobby was already gone by the time he managed to get you into his basement – but no amount of rest could hide all other marks from his job.

Despite being a seasoned mercenary with hundreds of killed targets and completed objectives, he feels…insecure. You’re a nice girl, a good girl, the type that used to look at him with hatred while he was bullied at school. Hatred or pity – but you only look at him with fear, and it cements his understanding that you’re not going to give in to loving him so easily.

König sighs deeply, his lips, curved into that awkward, boyish smile that creeps on his face every time he as much as thinks about you, now transforming into a scowl as you proceed to whimper and try to get lost in the wall behind you. Like he wouldn’t be able to track your scent if you would disappear. He slowly presses his fork towards his mouth, chewing on the food – showing you that it’s not poisoned.

He smiles again when he sees you slowly parting your lips, expecting him to feed you with less of a fuss. He’d propose something else – maybe even untying your hands and allowing you to actually for yourself, but something in your helpless state made his cock throb in his pants. God, König knows he isn’t his strongest soldier, but could he please make you less adorable? He doesn’t want to push you on your knees and make you suck on him until he whimpers, but the way you lick all of the cheese from your lips and try your best to look presentable in front of him… The process of feeding someone shouldn’t really be sexual, but König gently pushes the hair away from your face and lifts up the fork over and over, sometimes only changing to bring a glass of water to your lips. He can do this all day. Every day. Pleasing you already becomes second nature – and he spends most of his life thinking that the only thing he can take care of is his rifle and a few tortured enemies that need their teeth extracted. You require gentle handling – and he wants nothing more but to give you that. Just…a bit later. Preferably after the already came in your pussy at least two or three times and made you choke on his dick as a little thank-you gift.

You finish eating after a short while, thanking him for bringing you a napkin to clean your lips. König gently caresses your head, enjoying the sensation of your hair under his palm – it’s like petting a cat. A soft little pet just for him and no one else – if only he could actually bring you to like him. He has a few bond activities in mind, though. — You liked it, ja?

You lick your lips again, and his breath hitches. This is going to be hard, this is going to be impossible, it’s worse than having to work with high Krueger on a ship that made everyone feel like they were the ones doing crack in the backroom of their makeshift base.

— I…I did.

He pets your head again like you’re his pet – and you gently move your head to lean into his touch. Perhaps you’re dumber than he thinks. Or way smarter – a clever strategy to make him relax and nice to you without making him too suspicious. You slowly get back into your corner, but König wouldn’t have any of it – he drags you back by your arm, making you whimper and sob in his hold. It’s bad, he doesn’t want you to squirm from under him as much as you do, but…if you don’t want to be a good girl, he might as well force you to.

You cry as he pushes you deep into the corner, his hands roaming over your body. Thank god he ripped your clothes before you woke up – now there isn’t anything protecting you from his hands, not even that adorable bra he ripped in pieces because, as much as he loved wearing a uniform with straps and buttons everywhere, he could not figure out how to take this thing off you without breaking it. The last time he was sleeping with a woman, she wore a sports bra that could be taken off easily. It’s your fault that you decided to be more girly, really. Not his.

His hands cup your breasts roughly. Tugs and twists your nipples, a few shaky moans telling him exactly how sensitive you are – he might not have a girl in a hot minute, too busy with being the best freaking mercenary in the world, but even he knows how to take care of a pretty thing like you. Your tits fit in his hands perfectly, even more, reasons to believe you were just made for him. Not for some lame job at a Lego store counter – you should be waiting on your knees in his bedroom, with your mouth open wide and neat to fit his cock right in. With some sweet things lingering on your tongue as he bullies himself right in, getting what he deserves for protecting peace – and installing violence – while doing his job. He might not be the best freaking guy around, but he deserves something nice.

He pinches your nipples until they’re firm and swollen, every little cry escaping from your lips is only encouraging him to proceed. Licks on the open skin of your neck until his eneve stubble makes you whimper from how sensitive you are – it should be painful, he thinks, with how bloody the little bite marks from his teeth have become.

König marks you as thoroughly as possible, smiling each time you cry and beg for him to stop. You’re changing between bad German and good English, between loud cries and small whimpers, which he can’t determine from pleasure to pain. Not like he cares, too determined to make you cry his name – even though you probably don’t know it. All of his desires to claim you taking full power now, not listening to the way you plead with him. Whimper for him. Your skin is a clear canvas, allowing him to paint you with hickeys and marks, enjoying the little blood droplets covering your collarbones.

— Quiet, please. Don’t…don’t move, Schatzi. I don’t want to hurt you.

— Please, please, just…anything but… — Won’t take long. Promise.

— I don’t want to- — Quiet. I know you don’t, Liebling. Just…Scheisse, you…fuck.

— Stop! — Can’t. I apologize, Schatzen. Relax for me, ja?

He whispers, he whimpers, he is almost out of his mind when he can finally put his tongue on your swollen nipples. For some weird, depraved reason, he almost expects the milk to start flowing from your chest, allowing him to drink up as much as he wants. If he could get you pregnant, he might enjoy it for a few months – although having a kid on his hip isn’t as fun as it could have. He tried to babysit Hutch kids once when he brought them to base – and it was the worst fucking day of his life. Besides, little children can’t be around Legos – it's already a deal breaker for someone like him.

Speaking of legos…

You wiggle in his grasp, as good as you can with your hands still in the handcuffs – he should give you that one, at least you aren’t just laying lifelessly in front of him. At least you’re putting up a fight. At least he doesn’t feel too bad about restraining you without proper reasoning. You lick your lips again, that cute tongue of yours going over all the bite marks. You take a deep breath, shaking in his hold. God, he can just look in your face the whole day – barely knows how to handle himself around you. — I…I thought you wanted to…build this set with me? Smart girl. Way smarter than he gave you credit for – you know how to make him stop in his tracks and finally look at you differently. Maybe, you’re too good for him. Maybe, he doesn’t really care about that. Millennium Falcon, still sitting in the box – König hoped you’d start slowly putting it together but, seemingly, you need a bit of encouragement. The only thing that could tug him away from your breasts is the expensive set sitting just next to him.

Might start bonding with you as well. He tugs away from your nipples with a loud pop, an obnoxiously wet sound emerging as a thin line of saliva connects your breasts and his tongue. You whimper when he smiles, that scarred face of his twisting in a huge grin. Knows he’s not the most charming person around, but it’s not like you have any choice now – not with the limited options he gave you. Like a good girl, you’d probably pick doing Lego Sets with him than taking his cock in that tight pussy of yours. He’d be satisfied with any outcome. — J…ja. I’d like that. He has to give this one to you – you really know how to get a man going.

Bu building this insane set with him, that is.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #call of duty #yandere cod #cod x you #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig cod #lego

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facts-i-just-made-up · 1 year

Note

Facts about Greek Myths?

There are a great many figures in Greek myth and they can be hard to keep track of, so here is a quick guide to which is which:

Ajax- Warrior who invented detergent.

Antigone- Funeral enthusiast who invented civil disobedience.

Atlas- First winner of the Olympic strong titan competition.

Bellerophon- Plot point in Mission Impossible 2.

Cerberus- 7 headed dog tragically born with only 3 heads.

Charon- Lead rower for Styx.

Cratus- God of strength, but not THAT god of strength.

Cyclops- Inventor of the monocle.

Daedalus- Inventor of the Labyrinth, and thus of David Bowie.

Dionysus- Drank 24/7 but very responsibly never drove.

Eris- Goddess of fighting with each other.

Eros- God of doing something else with each other.

Euronymous- God of Mayhem.

Fates- Least creatively named destiny gods ever.

Hera- Goddess of marriage yet only Zeus's third wife.

Hylia- Goddess of triangles and disjointed timelines.

Icarus- God of disappointing ones father.

Io- Space captain and epic 3D short film, still not on blu-ray.

Jocasta- Originator of Jo Mama jokes, mother of Oedipus.

Leda- Swan enthusiast and feathery-fandom originator.

Medea- Even worse mom than Jocasta.

Medusa- Inventor of reptile-safe shampoo.

Megaclite- LOL her name is "Megaclite." Pronounced like "Clitty."

Narcissus- Basically Trump.

Odysseus- Sailor who refused to ask for directions.

Orpheus- Inventor of impatiently checking the download bar.

Ouranos- Spelling that could've avoided a lot of planet butt jokes.

Pallas- Inventor of weird looking cats.

Persephone- Pomegranate fan, looked like Monica Bellucci.

Prometheus- Stupid fucking movie, especially for using some of H.R. Giger's original designs then putting them up next to a fucking plain white squid. Also let's make the space jockey a tall guy in a suit. How did Scott think that was a good idea? Fuck that shit and double fuck Covenant for somehow doing even fucking worse.

Rhode- Sea nymph yet not technically an island.

Siren- Inverse groupie.

Sisyphus- Limp Biscuit fan who never stopped rolling.

Tantalus- I'll tell you in a minute...

Thanatos- God of dying as easily as snapping your fingers.

Zeus- When the earth was still flat and the clouds made of fire, and mountains stretched up to the sky, sometimes higher- Folks roamed the earth like big rolling kegs. They had two sets of arms, they had two sets of legs. They had two faces peering out of one giant head so they could watch all around them as they talked and they read. And they never knew nothing of love. It was before the origin of love. There were three sexes then: One that looked like two men glued up back to back, called the children of the sun. Similar in shape and girth were the children of the earth. They looked like two girls rolled up in one. The children of the moon were like a fork shoved on a spoon, they were part sun, part earth- Part daughter, part son. Now the gods grew quite scared of our strength and defiance and Thor said, "I'm gonna kill them all with my hammer, like I killed the giants." And Zeus said, "No, you better let me use my lightening like scissors, like I cut the legs off the whales, and dinosaurs into lizards." Then he grabbed up some bolts and he let out a laugh, and said, "I'll split them right down the middle. Gonna cut them right up in half." And then storm clouds gathered above into great balls of fire, and fire shot down from the sky in bolts like shining blades of a knife and it ripped right through the flesh of the children of the sun and the moon and the earth. If you want the rest, see Hedwig and the Angry Inch cuz this is taking way longer to type than I expected.

#greek mythology #medusa #hedwig and the angry inch #norwegian black metal #unreality

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cuubism · 8 months

Text

Morphology | Dreamling | 4.6k words | Explicit | AO3

eldritch Dream, genderfluidity of a kind, lots of smut, nonhuman organs, angst, body dysphoria, undefined body forms and transformation, brief eldritch panic attack, they/them pronouns for Dream

Dream is not meant to stay in one form. But they must, for that is the form that Hob knows. That Hob loves. Or so they think.

this is based on @gabessquishytum and their anon's post located here, about Dream believing Hob won't want him in all his nonhuman shapes, only to discover Hob is very much a monsterfucker... and also loves him very much. I was going to append it to the post but then it got kind of very long. Hope you don't mind me playing around!

---

It was not for dreams to be only one thing.

In the Dreaming, they morphed and shifted, merging from one form to another. Smoke to wind to water, lava to sparks back to stone. In the minds of dreamers they took every unconceivable form, a thousand impossibilities as various as the limbs of Destiny’s forking tree. They were all of unreality. All that could not be, all that was hoped for, fleeting, forgotten, or held, for a time.

In the Waking, it was different. Dreams Dream bent and condensed into a singular form. They he knew well enough from his dreamers that while fluid changeability may be accepted in the illogical narratives of dreams, it was not so in the Waking. To interact with humans, he must appear as one, with the limited mutability that allowed.

Which was not to say that Dream disliked his Waking form. He chose what was pleasing to him. But sometimes it felt… stifling, for one used to being as expansive as the clouds.

Particularly after his imprisonment. Kept like an insect pinned to a board. Immovable. When he was meant to move. When he was Morpheus. Shaper of Forms.

Dream put that away from him.

Hob liked this form of his. Dream had come to understand the way Hob looked on him, and he liked that Hob wanted this form. But. He was not meant to stay in this form. Not always. It was. Chafing. It was. Hurting.

No matter. He could stay in this form that Hob wanted, because more than wanting to break from this skin Dream wanted Hob’s love. And his desire. He wanted to keep Hob’s gentle, heated touch.

This form of lean muscle and sharp bone. This solid body that had endured Roderick Burgess’s prison but also received Hob’s love… he could keep it. Yes. He could. He could.

~~~

I am wind that wishes to storm. Cloud that edges on rain. I am caterpillar’s dream of flight, I am words of disbelieving, I am the hopeful light of new stars, I am— I am water’s dance with the shore, and the sun’s kiss of the moon, and— and— no—

“Yo. Roiling mass of terror that I’m pretty sure is the boss. You good?”

Dream opened their eyes. They did not have eyes, but no matter. Dreams were often about seeing. Matthew was standing on the sand before them, head cocked.

“You alright?” he repeated. “I couldn’t tell if the shrieking was a bad thing or just like. One of your things.”

“One of my things,” Dream repeated.

“Can never know,” said Matthew. He hopped onto an arm that Dream’s form generated just for him to stand on.

“I was not,” said Dream, “shrieking.”

“You were definitely shrieking,” said Matthew. “It sounded like a laundry machine dying.”

Dream grumbled in offense.

Matthew nudged his head against one of Dream’s hands. “Do you… wanna talk about it?”

Dream considered. “Do you often ponder your own physical form, Matthew?”

“Well, since I became a bird,” said Matthew. “Kinda weird. It’s cool, though. Who doesn’t dream of flying, amirite?” He flapped his wings in demonstration, lifting off Dream’s arm, then settling down again.

“And when you were human?” Dream asked.

“Every human thinks about their body, dude.”

“Did you desire to change it?” Dream pressed.

“You mean like a weight loss program?” said Matthew. “Those never work.”

“No,” said Dream. Their form morphed around them, here legs, there tail, wings, teeth. They could not make it settle, not on a human shape or on anything else. They felt— agitated. They should return to their usual human form. Should. “That is not what I meant.”

“Ohhhhhh,” said Matthew, and smacked his face with his wing in realization. “It’s this whole deal. Well, you could change it if you want? I mean. You’re doing it.”

“I did not mean to,” said Dream, their form still writhing around them, never landing on any one shape. “I—” they were meant to go see Hob. They had been cloaked properly in their usual shape. And. Something had snapped.

They remembered, now, falling to their knees on the sand, the careful construct of their human self, a body once worn easily as one of many, shattering into a million shards.

They should. Change. They should change back. They wished to see Hob, and Hob, for all his adaptability, was only human, he would not be able to tolerate this, this thing that could not even give itself a face, or decide what it was, this thing that found physical stasis anathema after so long pressed in glass. Hob cared for the being that he knew. Not this one that, Dream thought, sometimes did not even know itself.

“Whatever you’re doing, I think you should probably stop,” Matthew warned.

“You dare to question me?” Dream bit. He was condensing back down under his human mask, he could do it, he could. He had loved this form once. Could again. As one of many.

Matthew nipped at his hand with his beak. And it was only this that made Dream realize he was clawing at his face so hard he was bleeding starlight.

Solidity spiraled away from Dream again, and they let out a hard breath. It was useless. Whatever meager control they had maintained since their escape was slipping from them. It was pointless to pretend otherwise any longer. Or to pretend that they could truly offer Hob the form he was accustomed to.

“Matthew,” Dream said, and Matthew hopped to attention. “I have some business I must attend to. Please leave me now.”

“Are you sure—?”

Dream waved a hand and sent him back to the palace.

If it was impossible for them to consistently return to their prior state, then at least they should be done with it now. Show Hob what he was truly dealing with. That Dream was not what he thought. Or wanted. Then, at least, they would spare themselves any greater heartbreak.

Wrapping the barest trappings of their usual form around them like an ill-fitting coat, Dream stepped into the Waking.

~~~

Dream emerged directly onto Hob’s bed as a formless shadow. It felt good, to be formless. Normally, they did like to take a form, but to choose recently had been taxing.

Hob was awake and reading. Dream had been meant to come for dinner, and was late. When Dream appeared in a sudden fall of darkness, Hob shrieked and flung his book at them on instinct. It simply passed through Dream with no effect.

“Dream?” said Hob, gasping, the spike in his adrenaline clear. “Is that you, love? Somehow? Or am I about to get eaten?”

Those do not preclude each other, Dream said. Though as they were still a shadow, their voice was more a low rumbling vibration than a true voice.

“Not sure how I understood that,” said Hob. He tilted his head, trying to make out features in the darkness but not, Dream thought, managing it. “Always kind of knew you were more than you seemed,” he added. “Didn’t quite picture this, though.”

It is but one form I am capable of holding, Dream said. Strictly speaking, it was not quite a form at all. As they said it, they shifted, unconsciously, until they were the beam of lamplight caressing Hob’s face—Hob’s hand chased them across his own cheek—and then the lulling hum of traffic, comforting night sounds. Hob kept reaching for them, not quite knowing where he was reaching. And Dream slipped into his daydreams, his vision for what Dream’s many forms might be.

Hob’s daydreams were a comfortable place to land. Warm. Welcoming. And when Dream emerged, they were a thing of Hob’s imagining, something dark and shadowed and multi-faceted but ultimately. Touchable.

That was what Hob desired of them?

“Okay,” said Hob, “what actually is going on here? Are you okay?”

Dream did not reply, stuck on Hob’s daydreams. He did not wish for Dream to force themselves back into their usual form. He merely molded what Dream brought him into a form that was comprehensible to him.

Relief crashed over Dream, magnitudes greater than the dread they had refused to acknowledge. They knew, now, that they had truly expected this to be the end. To scare Hob off. But Hob did not seem to be scared.

“Dream?” Hob reached a careful hand toward them. He pet down Dream’s flank. Fur that was soft because he was touching it. He huffed an incredulous laugh. “Wow. It really is… you.”

“In some fashion,” said Dream.

“In some fashion,” Hob repeated. “In what fashion, exactly?”

Instead of answering, Dream butted their head into Hob’s shoulder. Following the relief of his touch, so much softer and more detailed, now that they did not have the barrier of a stifling form in the way.

“Darling,” Hob said, petting Dream’s hair, “need words.”

“No,” Dream mumbled petulantly. And Hob allowed them their petulance. Dream let out a long breath. It blew warm over Hob’s throat, and Dream felt him shiver. They trailed fingertips up Hob’s ribcage, along bare skin, feeling the stacked solidity of his bones. Hob shivered again.

“It’s like that, is it?” he said.

Dream shifted closer, half slither, half crawl, until their form, incomprehensible even to themselves, was draped over Hob’s lap. Bliss, there, the warmth of him. “You are not repelled?”

“By the ten arms? I think I can cope.” He pressed his lips in close to Dream’s ear. “In fact. I had a dream about this the other night. Well.” He laughed. “I guess I’m having a Dream about it now, eh?”

“Did you?” said Dream, ears pricking up. Had their… moods slipped into Hob’s dreams?

“Can’t remember the details,” Hob said. “But I remember how it felt.” He trailed fingertips up the bony knobs of Dream’s spine. Unlike Dream at the moment, Hob only had two arms, but Dream felt every press of his fingers acutely.

“How did it feel?” they whispered.

“Like,” Hob murmured, lips to Dream’s jaw now, “you were everywhere. Like I got into your body and made love to you from the inside out.”

The thought made all of the strange and varied nerves of Dream’s shifting body stand on end. They wrapped legs around Hob’s waist, arms around his shoulders. Scraped sharp teeth over his pulse. “Really?”

Hob laughed. “Interested now, are you?”

“Yes,” Dream rumbled, their form flickering in excitement, to shadow then a falling rainbow of light, to a mass of vines that wound all around Hob’s body, and then into roots, as if they could grow into Hob, then branching veins pulsing and racing with Hob’s heartbeat, then back to a morass of half-body, half-shadow, because yes, they wanted to be held by Hob, they must remember that.

Hob was still for several moments, then laughed incredulously. “Okay. You’re so cool. I don’t know what to do with any of that, so I’m going to have to wing it.”

He traced a hand along the soft feathers of a wing that had grown with his words. Dream shuddered. A sensitive part of the body, indeed.

“You’re gorgeous,” Hob murmured. “My strange creature.”

Dream purred in pleasure, wrapping their wings around Hob’s back, mouth catching on the edge of his jaw, and, incredibly, felt Hob growing hard under them, as he would if Dream lounged in his lap and mouthed at his jaw as a human.

“You like this,” Dream said, unable to keep the surprise from their voice.

Hob chuckled. “Didn’t you know I fell for you the second I saw the spark of the otherworldly in your eyes? Just didn’t know the whole of what I was looking at. Not then.”

The spark of the otherworldly. “You are in love with dreams.”

“Figured it out by now, yeah.”

“You are. In love. With this,” Dream said, voice echoing from more than one throat, choked up.

“With this? You mean with you?”

“I do not know quite what I am, now,” Dream admitted.

“Well,” said Hob, slipping a hand between them. Dream gasped in pleasure, wings fluttering involuntarily. “You want to find out?”

Squirming against his hand, Dream said, “Do you even know what it is you are touching?”

“Haven’t a clue,” Hob said cheerfully. “Made you go all shivery, though.”

It had. It was. Dream writhed in his lap as Hob experimented, moaned in startled pleasure, toes curling. Body shifting to hurtle towards that arousal. Hob startled as his hand was suddenly enveloped in heat, something he could press into, and Dream whined, so full all at once with no prelude, body twisting out of control without their explicit direction. But it was good.

Hob gripped them by one wing—these had stayed even as Dream’s form continued to spin—and Dream quivered as Hob pulled them closer, pressing his hand deeper into slick heat. He was grinning against Dream’s throat, scraped light teeth over his pulse, sucked a bruise there. Dream’s form rode the wave of his daydreams, provided a wet mouth for him to bite and kiss as soon as he thought of it. Dream tangled long fingers in his hair, claws digging in.

“Can I fuck you like this?” Hob breathed against his lips.

“If you can cope with me changing on you,” Dream said. “I am not. Entirely in control. At the moment.”

A shameful admission, but Hob groaned as if it was the hottest thing he could think of. “I get to have you multiple ways at once? Oh, how will I manage?”

Dream laughed. It may have been a bit teary. Their many hearts were racing, lungs stuttering for air. Wings shivered, feathers fluttering. A long, furred tail wound its way up Hob’s back to wrap lightly around his throat, possessive. Dream would not let this man go now. Could not.

“Budge up, let’s see what we’re dealing with,” Hob said, probing deeper under Dream’s form with his hand, the other still firm on Dream’s wing, which he seemed to have understood was very sensitive, and intended to press that advantage as much as he could.

The touch of Hob’s hand, in Dream, on them, around them, was bliss. Dream wished to be full of him again. To, as Hob had dreamt, be made love to from the inside out.

Riding that hope, their body shaped another hole for his questing fingers. Hob obligingly pressed his fingers in, but said, “Regrettably, darling, I’ve only got one cock, and I had other plans for my hands.”

“Regrettable, indeed,” said Dream, and Hob laughed. Then, “Plans?”

“Oh, yes. I expect some other interesting things may crop up, eh? Need hands free.” He leaned in close to Dream’s ear, which flicked toward him to listen. “I’m going to find every erogenous zone on this body and make it scream.”

Goosebumps broke out all over Dream’s body. They clung to Hob with every limb they could find. Hob grinned wickedly at this reaction. It was a look Dream knew well, one that always boded very well for them indeed.

Hob worked Dream open on two fingers—though he need not, Dream was already wet and gaping for him—then maneuvered his sleep shorts off, took his cock in hand and stroked it twice, hand slick with Dream’s fluids. Then he lifted Dream bodily and sank them back down on his cock.

Dream whined, careening up several registers, as they were filled so suddenly, as they took Hob to the base. Hob groaned at the feeling of their body. Dream tried to adjust to him but couldn’t, Hob’s cock pressed on sensitive spots deep within them, and any time they thought they’d gotten used to the feeling their body produced a new place to torment.

They clawed at Hob’s back, leaving red lines with sharp fingers. Hob gave an experimental thrust, shifting Dream in his lap, and Dream bit down on a scream as their body lit up, chasing the feeling, loving it, magnitudes more affected than in their usual, limited form.

“Wow,” Hob said, fond laughter in his voice, and heat too, as Dream panted wetly in his ear, “this is going to be fun. Have you been all worked up, my darling? Just needed someone to give you what you really need?”

“Needed you,” Dream murmured. They clenched around Hob, tried to steady themselves, but it only made things worse. Everywhere deep inside them was searing flame, their skin-feathers-fur prickly with static, they feared and needed Hob’s touch in equal measure. To soothe. To set alight.

Hob slipped a hand into the other space Dream had left to tempt him, probing deep. Dream bit down on his ear, drawing spots of blood. Hob drew his hand back, met one of Dream’s many eyes. Licked Dream’s fluids from his hand.

Dream lunged forward to kiss him, whimpering into Hob’s mouth as that drove them impossibly deeper onto Hob’s cock. Hob pulled them close, kissed them hard, caught a fistful of Dream’s hair and pulled. Dream’s body decided that it liked that very much, indeed. They whined at the grip, clawing at Hob’s skin with many hands.

Hob brought them close with a firm hand, bounced Dream in his lap, moving them on and off his cock. Dream wailed, overstimulated by all the angles of his touch, torn between pulling away and diving closer as Hob swept his tongue into their mouth, over sharp teeth and soft palate.

“There’s a love,” Hob breathed. “Does that feel good, darling?”

Dream couldn’t offer a reply, and Hob didn’t wait for one. He dug his fingers into the tight feathering of Dream’s wing and tugged. Dream shrieked, wings flapping wildly, sets of them bursting along their back, more, more, less, more. Hob didn’t let up, stroking his fingers through the feathers, dragging over soft skin, sucking on Dream’s throat all the while.

Dream saw white, their body seized up, and the nebulous hole Hob was using to fuck them morphed into a mouth.

Hob yelped to suddenly feel his cock grazing over shielded teeth. Then he laughed. “Don’t you dare bite my dick off, you menace. It’s horrible to regrow it.”

Dream would have asked how he knew that, except Hob’s cock was down their throat. They choked, swallowing around him. Dream did not need to breathe, and so the pressure was exquisite. Their long tongue wrapped around Hob to the base, caressed his balls. Explored further, along his perineum, to probe at his entrance, and then press in.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck—” Hob’s voice was a strangled shout. “Dream what the actual fuck are you doing?” It didn’t sound like a complaint.

I am fucking you with my tongue, Dream said, a hum directly from their form to Hob’s.

“I can bloody well tell, Jesus Mary and—”

Dream purred and rumbled in pleasure, the satisfaction of taking and being taken at once, of being inside their beloved and having Hob inside them in turn. As Hob had dreamt.

Hob’s fingers pressed into Dream. Dream’s form gave and made places for him to press into. Hob’s fingers tickled deep within them, starlight and heat tracking their path. Dream swirled in an indefinite vortex of shape, a hundred things at once, their body prickling all over with the pleasure of Hob’s touch.

Hob twisted against them, clenching down on their tongue, shouted “Dream!” and came down Dream’s throat. Dream swallowed him down in pleasure, retracted their tongue from Hob’s body, eliciting a long moan. They let Hob pull out, and licked the final taste of Hob from their lips before letting that mouth disappear into their form, the traces of Hob consumed.

And then Hob flipped them, somehow manhandled Dream’s indefinite form down to the mattress, pressed down immovably on legs and arms and wings so that the softest parts of Dream’s body were bared to him. Dream reached for him, always they reached for him, cock hard and straining, cunt aching, the slashes of their being weeping for Hob to come inside. Always weeping. They cried out, every inch of them trembling for Hob’s touch.

“You gorgeous nightmare,” Hob said. “You brilliant daydream. Oh, my darling, I love you so much. I’d do anything for you. Anything. But mostly I want to do this.”

He pressed his mouth to where Dream’s body strained for him.

Hob had a very talented and generous mouth, which Dream had blessedly been on the receiving end of many times. This was different: Dream’s form echoed out Hob’s touch, replicated it a hundred times over so every crevice of their body could feel the flat swipe of his tongue, how he drank Dream’s fluids down, the drag of his stubble over lips and folds and the soft skin of thighs. Dream’s many limbs trembled, bent, reformed themselves in ecstasy, they dragged at Hob’s hair, pressing his face deeper so Dream could grind against him, which only made Hob grin.

Hob pressed two fingers into Dream’s mouth and Dream greedily sucked on them, grounding themselves. Taking Hob in more than one way at once… yes. That was what they wanted. They closed their many eyes and gave themselves over to sensation. Hob’s mouth and tongue, the taste of him, the weight of his body as he bent Dream on the bed, his scent, musk and the woodsmoke that seemed to cling to him all these years later—or perhaps that was only in dreams.

They were a dream of completion. They were a dream of ecstasy. Of flight. Hob’s hand tangled in their fragile feathers. Hob’s mouth and fingers inside them. Then Hob plunged three fingers hard, deep within them, as he sucked on Dream’s clit, and with a piercing noise like glass shattering Dream came.

They were. Fragments. The individual colors splayed wide by a prism. Red, yellow, blue. Hob’s fingers trailed through them, blending the colors like paint in water. For several moments Dream drifted, more thought than being. Distantly aware of Hob’s weight on them. It felt… like kindness. Then they floated back to the present, light as the first flight of unfurled moth wings.

Hob was lying on them, looking at them, head tilted. A twinkle in his eyes. He skated his hands up Dream’s sides. Flowers bloomed in the wake of his touch, their soft petals shivering with sensitivity. Hob plucked one of the flower buds and, holding Dream’s gaze, ate it. Swallowed it. Dream watched the movement of his throat.

Inside out, he thought.

“Broke you into pieces,” Hob said then, with satisfaction. “Think I might have seen God for a sec there. Can do better, though.”

“Better?” Dream echoed, voice hoarse. Their form shifted, still, but slowly, languidly. No longer restless. A dark wing draped over Hob’s back. A tail played with his hair. He didn’t seem to mind.

“There’s so much we can do with this,” he said. He gazed at Dream, fond, terribly knowing. “Only getting started, love. I love—” he kissed Dream’s belly, a light, ghosting touch, and tickled Dream’s side with his fingertips— “how sensitive you are like this.”

“I—” Dream started. Absent the writhing need, now they just felt… stripped. Vulnerable. “I expected that you would. Not. Like this. It is not. Human.”

“Neither are you,” Hob pointed out.

“I appear so,” Dream said.

Hob snorted. “No, you don’t.”

Dream stared at him, unable to decide whether or not to be offended.

“I wear the guise of a human,” they insisted, and, to prove it, morphed back into the form that Hob would know as his lover. It was an easier coat to wear, now that they knew they could take it off.

“No, keep the wings,” Hob complained. “Those are cool.”

Dream obligingly returned wings to their form.

“I appear human, to you,” they insisted again.

“Dream, I say this with all the love in my heart, which is quite a lot because I do. Love you.” He leaned on his hand, looking at Dream with sparkling eyes. “You look about as human as a kid wearing a bedsheet looks like a ghost.”

Dream stared at him, mouth agape.

“Don’t worry, it’s a gorgeous costume,” Hob said. “Love it. Really, really do. But I could always tell that wasn’t the whole truth of the matter. Especially once I got close.” With this, he winked.

“A part of me is human,” Dream said. Had Hob truly always seen through them? Paid so close attention as to perceive the translucence of the mask? “For I am the dreams of humanity.”

“And a part of you isn’t,” said Hob. “For—” he mimicked the cadence of Dream’s speech, though not in a mocking way— “you are also the dreams of birds, and shadows, and stars.”

Dream nodded. “These and more.”

“Brilliant,” said Hob.

Brilliant, Dream thought.

Then Hob tilted his head, thinking back. “You expected me not to like that?”

“Recently,” said Dream slowly, “I found I could not maintain this form without pain. And so my hand was forced.” It hurt still, to think of. “I had no choice but to make my true form—or rather, my true formlessness—known to you if I wished to be here at all.”

Hob pushed himself up from where he was lying on Dream’s chest, and instead straddled his hips so he could take Dream’s face between his hands. “It hurts?” he demanded.

“At times,” said Dream. “More so. Since.” They didn’t finish the sentence.

“Why are you doing it now, then?”

“It does not hurt so much now,” Dream said. “It is simply that when I stay static, it begins to. Ache.”

“Ache,” Hob repeated, looking stricken. “Dream, if it hurts, then change back. Be a chimera or whatever the hell you were doing before.”

“That is how you interpreted it?”

“To be honest, I don’t think my brain was really interpreting it at all. You were just kind of… everything.” He stroked a fingertip along the fine bone of Dream’s wing, which was folded against their back now. “Did like the wings, though.”

“I’d noticed that.”

“Cheeky.” Hob shook himself. “Getting distracted. The point is, don’t hurt yourself. I don’t want to see you hurt yourself.” He tipped his head against Dream’s, lips to their skin. “Much rather see you how were today.”

“How?”

“Letting go. Enjoying yourself.” He smirked, Dream felt it against their temple. “Making all kind of lovely noises. Squealing. Shrieking—”

“I was not shrieking.”

“You were shrieking.”

Hob tickled his fingers through Dream’s feathers, and Dream made an embarrassing squeak. They smacked Hob in the face with that wing, and Hob burst out laughing, even though he had to pull a feather out of his teeth.

“I love you,” he said. “Don’t hurt yourself. Be... the indefinably strange creature that you are. And just trust me to keep up.”

Hob kissed them lightly on the lips. Dream leaned into him, made still for a moment by the depth of Hob’s care for them, how Hob caught all of their longing and swallowed it, kept it warm. How he loved Dream. And dreams.

Hob drew them both down to the bed, and the covers over them, and Dream let their other forms creep out, hesitant, but hungry for Hob’s affection. And a creature that was the sky’s dream of nightfall and the poetry of rain upon a still lake, that was the individual patterns of snowflakes and the sculptures built of their drifts, that was ambitious owl and frightened vole, quiet soil and its thoughtful worms, shape and narrative and human, too, of course, laid down its many heads, and curled its much-loved wings over its lover, and rested in his dreams.

#i wrote this so fast in truly a fit of insanity... hope it's hot and not just weird! it's definitely weird though #dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #nsft #my writing #gabessquishytum #eldritch smut

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