#i should fix that but shhhh

[deathfavor]

@barrenstars​ said: “ it’s over now.  ” ( from baji, for kazutora! )

   Kazutora flinches at the voice that suddenly appears and he trips over his own feet in his desperate scramble to back away from it. He hits the floor of the roof hard but he can’t even register it when he’s busy dragging himself away from Baji like a scared animal backed into a corner.  “  S-Stay back.  “  Kazutora whispers, voice trembling. He’s managed to avoid everyone else after his second release, but he never can escape Baji. Baji knows him too well. Baji’s the only person who’d know where to find a lost tiger in a big city. Even when Kazutora told him to not look, when he’d written paragraph after paragraph of apology in his letter, said he’d never be a problem for Baji again, he still was here liked a dumbass. He’d been so relieved to see Baji survived in that letter he’d gotten. He’d been terrified. Terrified enough to only write that one long letter and nothing else. To not speak of his sentence length ( drastically shortened despite his protests ) or release date or anything. He didn’t deserve it. But Baji had still found him just two days after it. 

   It’s over now? 

   It’s not. It’s not, because Kazutora’s still here and...and...and... and it will NEVER be over as long as he’s here. Because he’s too fucked up and it just keeps getting worse. He’s drowning in the abyss that wants to eat him whole and no one will care. No one will even notice. He’s that monster under the bed that you never speak of.  Toman hadn’t even know of him. He’s just some fucked up piece in everyone’s lives. He never should have met Baji’s other friends. Maybe he never should have met Baji (although selfishly, he doesn’t want that).

   Kazutora trembles, stopping his frantic retreat only when his back strikes the half-wall the surrounds the edge of the roof. Nothing he can do can make up for what he’s done. He’d almost destroyed the very thing that was most important to him. The only light he had in the darkness. How could he do that? How could he become so confused he thought Baji was betraying him personally? The questions that even these couple years and some therapy later he couldn’t answer. Despite his efforts, tears burn his eyes and start to stream down his cheeks. 

   “  I’m sorry... I’m sorry-- I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry. “  It bursts from his lips between loud sobs, his thin form shaking with the intensity. No matter how much he’d written it over and over in a letter, it didn’t compare to seeing him or saying it in person. Please. I’m scared. I’m so scared. So stay away where you’re safe, where my claws can’t hurt you. Throw me away. Like he wanted to do to himself.

   Golden eyes wide with fear flick towards the stairs in an effort to gauge if he can reach them. But to reach them means getting close to Baji, and he’s more afraid of that. He drags the threadbare hoodie he has on tighter around him, burying his face in his knees. Maybe he’s actually fucking lost it and this is just an illusion. He has to be. No one would  come for him. It was better that way.

[quietwingsinthesky]

i just loved that the writers were like mark of cain dean slowly becomes more and more barbaric and inhuman as he can’t control this primordial, gaping wound in the form of an already healed over scar that has been borne by the devil himself and is in fact what made him the devil and therefore will make dean long and lust after maiming and ultimately murdering people with an urge stronger than any love or passion or resolution he’s ever experienced in his life And Also He’s A Huge Misogynist

well. TO BE FAIR. you have just kind of described dean when he is normal also.

[writingjourney]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭

Your betrothal period feels entirely too long. You and Benedict make the most of the wait, especially once you spend your days together at Aubrey Hall. Or: Five times you and Benedict have to restrain yourselves before your wedding and one time you don’t.

pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

content: 6.5k words, regency romance, secret meetings, stolen kisses, smut (morning sex, v fingering, p in v), 18+ MDNI

Masterpost – Ao3 Link

───── ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ─────

1 Closet

“Ben–”

“Shhhhh.”

His mouth closes around your nipple, breasts spilled over your stay that he tugged at desperately mere seconds ago. You tip your head back, fingers tangled in messy brown curls. His tongue draws a soft moan from your lips, the kind you could not hold back if you tried.

Benedict removes himself with a pop and looks up, innocent eyes over pink, kiss-swollen lips. “They are going to hear us!”

His scandalised tone is what lures the giggle from you.

Benedict, alarmed but no less amused, brings a hand up to seal your treacherous lips. “Shhhh!”

An incredulous smile spreads across his face and you tug at his lapels, intent on kissing it away. His weight has you pressed against the shelf behind you, the hard edge biting into your lower back. You moan into his mouth with the combined vigour of pleasure and pain.

Benedict breaks the kiss with some effort, brow furrowed in distress. “Do you want us to get caught?”

“It is too tight in here I rather think,” you bemoan and urge him to switch places with you. He has the height to his advantage. “Besides, we are already betrothed.”

“Betrothed, yes, but not wed.”

You ignore his complaint as you fix your state of undress, then wrap your arms around his neck to remedy the offending distance. A second of hesitation passes before he leans back in and resumes to bruise your lips. You wonder, sometimes, if the passion you share is of concerning strength.

As air becomes scarce he breaks away to attend to your exposed skin. His lips press to the round of your bosom, your clavicle, then softly venture forth to your sensitive neck. He lingers as long as he can get away with, then pauses by your ear. “How long have we been in here?”

“I should think a few more minutes will go unnoticed…” you whisper.

Benedict hums, the sound deep and warm against the shell of your ear. You rake your fingers through his hair and he bites your earlobe in turn. You are moderately concerned for your jewellery but then his nose tickles the inside of your ear. Another giggle escapes you as the tingle runs through your body and leaves you shivering in its wake.

Once again his hand moves to cover your mouth as his eyebrows rise in alarm. The warning look under his enviably long lashes is a sight you have grown rather fond of. The thrill of these stolen moments makes them all the more memorable, rare as they are.

You smile against his fingers before pressing an apologetic kiss to his palm. “I shall endeavour to be quiet from now on.”

His gaze softens with a twitch of his mouth. “One of these days Anthony will have my head…” he whispers before leaning in to kiss you yet again.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

2 Music

The music is unmistakably yours. The practiced tunes lure him from the sweltering heat of the gardens into the cooler corridors of Aubrey Hall where they arrived just yesterday morning. Anthony insisted on hosting the wedding here, of course, and how could Benedict not rejoice at finding himself under the same room as you at last?

He stops, leans against the frame of the open door to the drawing room and drinks you in. The piano is angled away from the open windows, your back turned to him. Bare skin shimmers in the sunlight, diffused by sheer white curtains that stream dreamily in the mild breeze. He follows the line of your shoulders where they rise and fall as your hands dance across the keys, then up the curve of your spine where your neck is exposed under pinned-up hair. The music seems to carry the ease with which you hold yourself.

He notes that your maid is not with you, a sign that the staff is kept busy with wedding preparations. Or perhaps you sent her away as you are prone to do, craving solitude – and opportunities to meet him. Benedict finds himself chasing these moments in which he gets to have you to himself like they’re his sanctuary, so precious that he has to pile them up with care like gemstones in the shrine of his love for you. One day soon he will be able to display them more openly. For now he has to grasp them as they appear.

You only hear him when his steps have reached so close that not even the rugs can muffle them anymore. A few weeks ago you might have been startled by him appearing out of nowhere but by now it is rather natural that he should find you when you are alone. It seems he has a sense for it.

When you look up he is already urging you to scoot over. The double piano bench is rather narrow but you think he might be closing in more than necessary. You’re acutely aware of the press of his thigh against yours.

“Do not let me disturb you, dearest,” he says in the dulcet tone you know means mischief.

“Is your goal not to disturb me, Mr Bridgerton?”

“My goal,” he whispers, leaning in conspiratorially, “is to be closer to the music.”

His breath on your neck does nothing to enhance your ability to focus. The first few notes are not quite rhythmic as a shiver runs through your limbs and down your fingertips. You soon find your footing, however, and the song comes to life in the form of a moderately slow but all the more magical sonata of your own composition. Sheet music is quite expensive and your collection rather limited. To add some variety you recently began to write your own, significantly inspired by Benedict and his artworks.

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself and you smile as you transition into a faster section of the song that reminds you of fairies frolicking in a meadow, drunk on honeydew and starlight.

However, you soon realise that he did not talk about the music. His hand dances along your back, fingertips drumming over your spine until they come to rest on the swell of your hip on the other side. It is the closest thing to an embrace, his arm a comforting support behind your back. His proximity, if thrilling, does not deter you. Your hands remember exactly what they must do – over a decade of tutoring has left its marks.

Your confidence is short-lived. His hair tickles your ear as he leans in, a soft press of his lips to your shoulder, devoted, sensuous and… lingering. Your fingers slip but for a moment. It is enough to draw the wrong tunes from the instrument, a cacophonous quake that has you wincing in surprise.

“You must stay focused,” Benedict warns, lips still warm on your skin, “or everyone shall hear that you are… rather distracted.”

“How fortunate that I am known for my stable countenance.”

“Hm, yes, that is what they say about you, my darling, “ he whispers. “If only they saw you as I do, falling apart at the mere idea of a kiss.”

You close your eyes and recollect yourself, trying desperately to ignore how he feels against you. Despite his warning he shows no signs of stopping, not even as you resume your play. The next kiss hits the crook of your neck. You feel his nose against your jaw as he inhales your scent, rose oil and soap. For a moment his warm exhale against your throat overshadows the fact that is fingers curl at your hip, a not so innocent squeeze that you feel somewhere between your legs.

You’re aware that both of your families are just outside in the gardens, that the open windows and the steady breeze carry your tunes far out on the premises. Muscle memory serves you and you finish the hardest part of the song without more than one or two off-key notes. Benedict has been silent, lips lingering just below your ear. Just as you move on to the conclusion his mouth gets more insistent, sucking gently at your delicate skin as he gets carried away.

”Benedict,“ you warn. Crooked tunes are one thing, a vivid red kiss mark another.

“Forgive me,” he whispers, pressing tiny kisses along your neck now. “I cannot help it.”

You finish the song with a relieved exhale, wondering if a musical number has ever felt so painfully long before. Benedict has lost his patience, it seems. His free hand comes to rest on your sternum as though he needs to feel the agitated rise and fall of your chest. You only have a moment to relish in the soft feel of his palm on your bosom before he curls his fingers over your jaw and forces your head to turn to him. His kiss is dizzying, starved. He tastes of the strawberries he must have had outside just earlier.

You allow him to kiss you breathless before you remove yourself. He tries to chase after you, as he is wont to do, but a finger on his swollen lips has him halting. His expression rivals that of Newton when he is in want of a treat.

“We must go back outside before they find us,” you say. “It is already suspicious enough that I played off-key the moment you stepped inside.”

“I blame you for being such a flawless musician.”

“I blame you for being such an irresistible distraction. Now come on, my darling, I am suddenly in want of some sweet strawberries.”

He sighs woefully and you cannot help but kiss the pout from his face.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

3 Painting

You see the corgi’s bottom disappear around the corner. The Viscountess runs after him to retrieve the pall mall ball he stole from the lawn, her mallet swinging from her side as the heated game between her, Anthony, Colin and some of your own relatives is interrupted. The laughter of little children accompanies your every step as you and Eloise take a turn about the house, exerting your legs for a stroll after the small luncheon you had earlier.

Perhaps mere intuition. You glance up to one of the windows upstairs just as it gets pushed open. The rolled up white sleeve and bare forearm disappear from view and you have to resort to using your parasol to hide the direction of your gaze as it lingers long after. A purposely given sign or mere coincidence, you are eager to find out.

“Excuse me, Eloise, I would like to… cool down inside for a moment,” you lie. “I am running quite hot in the sun.”

“Ah, yes, cool down,” she murmurs. “I am sure it is not at all because you cannot bear to spend even a minute without my insolent brother.”

She waves you off, her words mere teasing. You have no doubt she is rather glad to return to her books instead of parading around with you.

Thanks to the many diversions offered in the gardens you manage to slip back inside mostly unnoticed. Aubrey Hall, as grand as it is, is still more of a maze to you than a house and you wander around for longer than expected. A waste of your time with Benedict, certainly, but the manor more than makes up for it in beauty and family history at every turn.

When you reach the right corridor, you note that one of the doors stands ajar. With the window open you can feel the soft breeze carrying you towards the room, the mildly chemical smell of paint assuring you that you are correct.

Benedict is busy. He is seated on a wooden stool, wearing nothing but his ruffled white shirt, the collar open wide to reveal most of his chest, suspenders sitting somewhat tight on his shoulders as he moves his brush across the canvas like it’s his sole purpose in life. Your stomach warms at the sight.

Everything he does inspires love, the way he holds the brush, the way his face is scrunched up in concentration, lips slightly parted and tongue wetting the corners of his mouth. When he spots you by the door his expression morphs into the crooked smile that never fails to have your heart aflutter.

“Do not let me disturb you, dearest,” you echo and he cocks his head to the side.

“Is your goal not to disturb me, Mrs Bridgerton?”

“Not my name quite yet,” you correct. “Though I do rather like the sound of it.”

“Hm. So do I.”

He picks up more paint with his brush and you approach the easel, watching him work. The subject is a still life, for lack of better choices you assume. The fruit in the small basket has seen better days, though he omits the putrid details in his painting.

“I should have you sit for me,” he comments, noticing your doubtful gaze. “That way I might not get as much painting done but at least I would have something worthwhile to look at.”

“If we were to be left alone in a room for hours I doubt you would get any painting done.”

He chuckles, depositing some more of the red paint on the cheek of an apple. “Are they all distracted outside, then?”

“Mhm, your brother is busy ruining my family at pall mall,” you say. “He should give them a chance at winning or they might call off the engagement after all.”

“Are they quite ambitious?”

“Not as much as your brother and the Viscountess, I daresay.”

He sets his palette down to give you his undivided attention but before he can stand and seize control you’ve already wrapped your arms around his neck from behind. Without his waistcoat there is hardly a barrier between you now, the thin shirt allowing you to properly feel his shape underneath as you press against his back. Your lips find his cheek, your hands the opening of fabric at his shirt and you can’t help but pull at your gloves, desperate to feel his skin. The moment your warm palms connect with his chest the brush slips from his fingers, clattering to the floor.

“You must stay focus, remember?” you tease.

“What if I don’t want to?” he whispers, suddenly breathless.

“Then you can focus on me instead.”

He does. You crave more room so you slowly run your fingers up his suspenders and let them slip from his shoulders, one by one, until you can open his shirt even wider. You admire his bare torso, the freckles that litter his body like stars in a pale night sky, soft hair and even softer skin.

The kisses you press to his neck and shoulder are nothing short of reverent, the muse admiring the artist. Benedict gives you full access, one hand gently resting on your wrist and the other in his lap. Braver now, you run your thumb over his nipple and the deep moan he releases is nothing if not obscene. You smile to yourself, repeating the movement to which he reacts by letting his head fall back against your shoulder. His hand reaches for his knee in a tight grip.

“You are certain everyone is occupied outside?” he asks, voice strained.

“It seemed so,” you reply. “Though, if you keep making these noises, they will hear you through the open window and knowing your brother he will sense my presence up here.”

“Hm perhaps Anthony will challenge me to a duel if he finds us.”

“Don’t even joke about that. Besides, he would have to challenge me to a duel since I am currently dishonouring you.”

“And whatever would you duel in? Who can vex me more?”

“Do I vex you, dear?”

“You do, s-so much. Ah.”

“And how so?”

“Do you really have to ask, you little temptress? How am I expected to wait another week?”

His patience has run thin. Before you can react he has swivelled around. Two broad hands grab at your hips and he pulls you into his lap with a fluent turn of his upper body. The stool wobbles precariously under your combined weight but somehow, miraculously, Benedict manages to balance it out. His thumb feels wet when he swipes it over your cheekbone, drawing you in for a proper kiss.

Benedict has a tendency of getting carried away when you’re alone. You slow him down with a tug at his unruly hair. His tongue swipes across your lips and you allow him to lick against yours for but a moment. Somewhere in the back of your mind, prudence and common sense battle with the unhinged desire that his touch provokes at all times. You pull away with a regretful sigh.

“Do not think I am handling this any better than you,” you whisper.

His lust-filled expression has you doubting your own sanity. You are close to losing your composure at the way his lips curl in discontent when a childlike squeal outside reminds you that you are in fact not the only two people in the world. Benedict reluctantly eases his grip on you and you manage a safe distance.

“I shall let you get back to your painting,” you say. “I expect someone will be looking for me soon.”

“I will join you outside in a moment.”

You smile and make for the door before your senses leave you yet again. The corridor feels violently empty without his presence but you are not yet around the nearest corner when you are met with the broad frame of another Bridgerton. Anthony spots you with an expression that borders on disapproval but carries the same hint of perpetual fondness he cannot shake ever since marrying his wife.

“Has your… game ended, my lord?” you ask, trying to appear innocent.

“Hm, I see yours has as well. You should… wash your face.” He gestures to your cheek with a raised brow, brisk steps carrying him past you. “And I shall have a word with my dear brother.”

When you bring your fingers to your face you are met with the wet texture of undried oil paint, apple-red. You notice another stain by your hip soon after, fingerprint-shaped no less. Even though you will have to change into a different dress now you can’t bring yourself to regret your impromptu visit, not when Benedict’s taste still lingers on your lips. The shouting from the other room stays out so you assume his brother found mercy on him as well. No duel today after all.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

4 Picnic

The weather is most pleasant as you traverse the vivid green meadows with Benedict by your side, hand placed securely in the crook of his arm. It was decided that two days before the wedding the whole party would embark on a picnic to enjoy the outdoors. The chosen destination is a nearby lake and while the servants set up the location you are all taking an extensive walk across the countryside to see more of the surrounding lands of the Bridgerton’s ancestral home.

The walk is short in distance but with both of your family’s making the trip it is a rather time-consuming endeavour. Your relatives have decided to inspect every single tree and field on the way, complimenting the Viscount and his mother on the beautiful piece of land his family calls their home. The smaller children are meanwhile distracted by pebbles, sticks and the odd insect that crosses their path, particularly intrigued by the colourful butterflies that flutter excitedly over a plethora of blossoming weeds and flowers and refuse to be caught by their eager little hands.

You and Benedict use the time to focus on each other. You have fallen back just enough to speak freely and you count the amount of love-sick smiles you receive every time he lures a giggle from you. He is adorable when he’s with others, more adorable still when he is with you.

By the time you reach the lake you are at twelve smiles. The set-up is too lovely and serene, a shame to be disrupted by two dozen people swarming to it for refreshments. In the shade of high broadleafs and so close to the water the heat is much more bearable.

“Benedict, fetch your betrothed a lemonade, will you?”

You find Violet, as you are now allowed to call her, with her hand reaching for your gloved elbow. Benedict and her exchange looks that speak of their intimate knowledge of the other’s thoughts, his challenging and hers that of a mother who has to remind her son of his manners. You fight off a smile as he excuses himself. He never likes to leave you alone with his family.

“Will you sit with me, dear?” Violet asks. “It is rather difficult to catch either of you alone these days.”

“Forgive me, I know we are toying the line of propriety by spending so much time together already–”

“Oh, nonsense! I am sure neither Anthony nor your family mind. In fact we are rather excited to see you getting along so well.” She leads you to one of the blankets by the side of the picnic arrangements, littered with pillows of sky-blue embroidery that invite you to rest. “You must know that a love match is all I ever wanted for dear Benedict.”

You do your best to find a graceful sitting position on the uneven terrain, keeping your latest encounter with Anthony to yourself. “I daresay it is rare to find a love that is so genuine.”

She smiles at you, a motherly smile that is all the proof you need that you have long since been accepted into the family. “I am inclined to agree, my dear. It is rare indeed.”

For a moment you sit in comfortable silence as the breeze sweeps through the clearing, leafy-green canopy swaying and rustling to the rhythm of the cooling wind. You spot several ducks gliding across the lake, some more sitting in the gras by the shore. It is idyllic. If a life with Benedict means spending more time in this part of the country you know you will spend many a happy summer with him.

When you focus back on the party you notice your betrothed approaching the scene with a somewhat hesitant smile, still adorable in its crookedness. A reassuring look is exchanged and he slowly lowers himself to your level, hands occupied with refreshments.

“I shall take my leave,” Violet says. “I hear Daphne and sweet Augie require my presence.”

You are certain that they are alright on their own but you will not miss an opportunity to be alone with Benedict if she offers it so willingly. Once she is out of sight Benedict hands you the lemonade. The first sip is just what you need after the walk.

“And… since you are so fond of strawberries,” he says, “I secured you the last few before the children get their hands on them.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

He smiles genuinely now and you lean a bit closer. A comfortable silence settles between you, even though the party more than makes up for it in noise. The strawberries are sweet as they only come in June, picked ripe and fat with juice, staining your gloves red at your fingertips. You care not. Not when Benedict secured them for you, not when his eyes are fixed on your mouth with every bite you take as though he envies them every sinking of your teeth.

You offer him one but instead of taking it he leans in and presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, sucking the juice from your lips.

“Ben–” you warn.

“Shhh.”

Another kiss before he pulls away. You glance around nervously but everyone seems too occupied to notice. On the blanket you place your hand next to his and toy with the ring on his pinkie, hooking your finger in his bigger one. Benedict looks at the strawberry still in your hand, then back to your eyes, a honey-sweet smile gracing his lips.

“Perhaps I would like one after all,” he says, “now that I know how delicious they are.”

He is a tease but you lift the fruit anyway, holding it up to his mouth. He takes his time to take a bite, eyes intensely glued to yours. Perhaps you are too far gone to care, perhaps it’s the way he commands all of your attention with a mere look, but the world around you blurs into nothingness. It is unfair, you think, how every freckle and dimple you discover on his face makes him even more beautiful.

As he swallows you finally notice a few pairs of eyes on you. Heated cheeks have you sitting back, covering the worst with a press of the back of your hand. But before you can compromise yourself any further one of the children squeals in terror and the whole party shifts their focus to sweet Augie who has got too close to one of the ducks. The bird has spread its wings to run to safety, quacking in sudden irritation. The other ducks follow swiftly and soon the whole swarm flutters back to the lake in a whirlwind of feathers and chatter.

You use the distraction to grin at Benedict. His eyes are fixated on you as though the turmoil around you is of no significance to him, a soft, affectionate expression no doubt prompted by your flush. You dare to lean in once more, kissing the sweet strawberry juice form his lips. He looks down to your intertwined fingers, removing his in favour of fully grasping your hand.

You cannot bring yourself to care what it looks like to anyone else as you both let yourself fall back into the pillows, watching the fluffy white clouds travelling across the sky.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

5 Night

A sudden bang like thunder has you shooting bolt upright in bed. You are momentarily confused, the room not as familiar as your own quite yet. Bright moonlight, blue sheets, sheer curtains. Aubrey Hall.

It is the night before the wedding.

You can’t remember falling asleep, only the anxiety that kept you up all evening. Another, quieter bang and you realise that it is your door. Not a knock though. It sounds like someone is using their entire body to get it to open.

You think the whole house must have woken up but beside the ruckus at the entrance to your bedroom everything is eerily quiet. You’re entirely too trusting. Perhaps bringing a makeshift weapon would have been helpful but you approach the door in just your nightgown, barefoot, empty hands. Intruders would attempt to be quiet, would they not?

You are met with Benedict tumbling straight into you. His body is heavy with the lack of his own coordination to support it and you struggle to hold him upright. He recovers before you can fall, stemming a hand against the doorframe.

“Whatever are you doing here?” you yell-whisper, sleep still clinging to you in such a way that it seems absurd and almost dreamlike to find him in your room.

Benedict giggles. He does not laugh, he giggles. “I am here to see you, of course.”

His lull is evident and reality clicks into place. “I believe you are quite drunk!”

“I believe I am quite in love,” he corrects. “And is that not the same thing?”

Suddenly you feel very bare in your sheer, lace-trimmed nightgown with your hair undone and face still crusted with sleep. Benedict is hardly noticing your state, half-leaning on your shoulder, half-leaning in the doorframe. He smells of liquor and smoke.

“Where are you coming from?” you ask, trying to steady him with your hands. He is falling against you again, though you suppose he is doing it to be closer now and not for lack of balance.

“Spent the night with my bro‘ers,” he explains. “A ugh… tradition.”

“Getting drunk the night before our wedding? You are going to feel awful tomorrow!”

“I am not that drunk,” he argues, though his pupils appear wide in the relative darkness of the room. “Just enough to… calm the nerves. Now, do I get my goodnight kiss, pretty please?”

“You are too drunk for a kiss,” you argue, even though his exaggerated pout is rather convincing.

“I am not that drunk, love, I swear.”

“Too drunk to know that you should not be here. Have you lost your mind?”

Another pout, this time, unfairly so, combined with that pleading tone you can never resist. “I had to see you. Make sure you’re… still here.”

His words confuse you more than they enlighten you and you know that the noise combined with your talking might wake someone else any moment now. You cannot draw attention to the rather compromising position you find yourself in, no matter how soon the wedding takes place – if only to save face in front of your relatives.

He may not be too drunk to walk but his unsteadiness is concerning you enough to make an impromptu decision. “Let me take you to bed.”

He giggles again, clearly misunderstanding, and rubs his nose against your cheek. You stop, returning the clumsy embrace you find yourself in. He continues to nuzzle, inhaling deeply in a way that tickles your neck in all the sensitive spots and his hands wrap so tightly around you that he squeezes the very air from your lungs. Your heart swells. Being in his arms unties every tense knot in your body. It is the home you never knew you were missing.

“Oh Benedict,” you whisper, “whatever have you done to me?”

“To bed, hm?”

You gently push him off of you. “Yes, but not mine.”

He grunts but his complaints stay silent as you usher him back into the hallway. You can tell he is more coordinated now but when he uses you as his crutch you allow it anyway. To your dismay, you realise that it is going to take you forever to get to his room. His pace is sluggish, multiple times you have to shush him and he refuses to walk without touching you in some shape or form.

By the time you finally arrive at his bedroom, you are not sure if you’re sleepwalking or actually awake, the sudden rush of excitement upon waking up now slowly catching up with you. It is sheer luck that you enter without anyone taking notice. Benedict exhales a loud yawn that rivals the roar of a lion. You use the opportunity to undress him.

Perhaps it is for the greater good that you do not get further than his waistcoat. He rather suddenly drops himself onto his bed and drags you right with him. The impact has you tumbling across his body, landing in the soft sheets and pillows that are as yet untouched. Benedict pulls you close, eyes half-lidded and heavy. His hands roam your body but it is not sexual at all. He follows your curves as though it is the natural thing to do and with only your nightgown covering your skin his hands feel closer, warmer than ever. You raise a hand to brush back his curly hair, tracing the tired lines of his face, connecting each freckle like the stars in a constellation of your own making.

You think he must be falling asleep, lulled by your gentle caress, but then he suddenly furrows his brow. His eyes find yours as though he suddenly remembered something important.

“You won’t say no, will you?” he asks. “Leave me standing by the altar a fool?”

You smooth out the crease on his forehead. “Are you truly afraid that I would?”

“You must admit… this all rather feels like a dream.” His hand stops at the dip of your waist, resting in the natural valley underneath your ribcage. “A part of me is still waiting for the painful morning after when I wake up and realise that none of it was real.”

“It is real, so very real, Benedict.” You smile, reassuring him. “Though I daresay it is natural to be nervous the night before your wedding. Is this why you came to my room?”

He ignores you, fingers denting your flesh in insistence. “Tell me that you will say yes. Promise me.”

“Of course I will. I promise. There is nothing I want more than to marry you.”

He seems satisfied, eyes falling closed again. His lashes tickle his reddened cheeks. They feel hot underneath your thumb as you smooth it over his skin and you hope he won’t feel too exhausted tomorrow. Even now he is so very beautiful, so lovely, so yours.

“Don’t be scared, please,” you whisper, and then, because it feels right, “I love you.”

His eyes blink back open, the words, so explicit, a novum between the two of you. Your reward is the crooked smile you so adore and he presses his forehead to yours. “I love you.”

You decide that he earned his good night kiss now. It is soft, unexcited, but it lingers and he does his best to kiss back. You note a bitter hint to his taste but it does not bother you. When you break away Benedict is practically asleep and by the time you finally control your love-sick smile you can hear his quiet snores.

You slip from his bed on the empty side and bring your hands to your lips, touching them as though you just kissed him for the very first time. The way back to your room feels like a dream in itself. But you know, you are so perfectly sure, that you will wake up to the happiest day of your life.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

+1 Wed

Mornings start with a soft press of his lips to your shoulder.

No matter which position you find yourself waking up in, it is always the first thing you feel. The kiss is so soft that it tickles and you can never pretend that you are asleep for much longer. Benedict won’t let you because the first kiss is always followed by another and another and another. So many kisses that you can’t hold back your giggles, not when he reaches the ticklish spot by your ear.

You think it is the very reason he does it.

A heavy freckled arm wraps around your front, dragging you across the mattress until you are met with the solid chest of your husband. He is warm against your back, familiar, welcome.

Benedict hums, a hand closing around your breast and squeezing. His lips return to your neck but they are less soft now. If you do not pay attention you have to walk around with your silk scarf again. Paying attention, however, is hampered by his other hand sneaking down your belly and dipping between your legs.

“Good morning,” he whispers, “my beautiful wife.”

“Good morning,” you echo, still quite hazy with sleep.

The bright light streaming in through the curtained windows tells you it is rather late already. However, your eyes flutter closed the moment his fingers slide between your folds. He rubs you gently, waking up your body with the tingles of carefully built pleasure. You can feel his hips shifting forward as well, his cock growing hard against the small of your back, and suddenly getting up is the last thing on your mind.

By now you are customarily late for breakfast.

For the past few days he has done nothing but explore the previously unknown land that is your body, map out its hills and valleys and find the sweetest spots to linger. No matter how much information you thought you had clandestinely gathered, nothing truly prepared you for what it means to love someone, to lean into your passions so freely. But then perhaps Benedict makes it easy.

You gasp when his finger probes further down, slipping into you effortlessly. He adds a second digit soon after. Even so he remains unhurried, taking his time to gift you the sweetest strokes, the gradual build-up of warmth and desire you now know is the most rewarding. The rhythm of your bodies is slow like a dance to one of your ballads but soon your moans grow louder and you roll your hips into his hand with impatience. Your peak draws near and his other hand knowingly rolls your nipple between his fingers, lips pressed firmly to your neck. The touch is enough to take you to the release you so crave. You keen and shiver in his arms as it tears through you, one hand grasping at his biceps and the other buried in the sheets.

“Ben–” you whisper and he chuckles at your breathless voice.

It is evident that he enjoys showing you how good he can make you feel. That it pleases him to worship you whenever an opportunity arises. Mornings in bed are drawn-out, nights short and sleepless, slow hours during the day filled with spying for empty rooms and available surfaces. You wonder if you could extend your honeymoon indefinitely, to spend your days like this forever.

Benedict gives you a mere moment to breathe before his hand releases your breast and cradles your cheek instead. He gently turns your head, thumb pressed to the tender underside of your jaw, and then his lips descent with an impatient hunger. You bury your hand in his soft hair, one of your favourite things to do, and he groans when you tug at his strands. His body has become familiar to you as well, your own map of him ever-expanding.

Slow as your mornings begin, they quickly turn sensual and needy. His other hand grabs your thigh and opens you for him, spreading you apart. You can feel his cock hard against your wet cunt, an anticipatory whimper leaving your throat. Benedict slowly pushes into you, making sure to avoid any discomfort you might feel before he finds a more satisfying pace. Your limbs are still tangled in the sheets, every movement bringing forth a symphony of rustling of fabric and the rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin.

Kisses deepen, lips swell and your bodies move in practiced sync. You feel the warm tingles spreading into every corner of your insides, his softer moans and your higher ones drowning out the world around you until all you know is him. You are still tender and when you come the pleasure feels like liquid fire in your veins. You hiccup as he picks up his pace with you still tight around him, prolonging the sensation. Then he rather suddenly stills, smothering a deep moan with an uncoordinated kiss. You feel his release warm inside of you and smile.

As the world comes back into view, you begin to stroke his hair and lace your fingers with his. He laughs, satisfied, then kisses you again with less insistence. His arm once again wraps around your middle, pulling you close while his lips stay firmly planted on yours. His chest is damp and your own body feels hot as well. You’re grateful for cool sheets and silken pillows.

“I don’t think we should rise today,” you decide, eyeing the window.

“Mhm, I don’t think we should either.”

───── ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ─────

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed – kudos, comments, reblogs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlists || my Ao3 || Join my tag list

[heartfullofleeches]

Tucker [Poison Dart Frog Yan] tormenting a timid, easily frightened reader whilst wearing their hazmat suit at night for the opportunity to comfort them during the day. Creeps outside Reader's window and mysteriously vanishes into thin are whenever they call for outside help. (They climbed onto the roof.) They feel kinda bad, but at the end of the day it's all in good intentions (not) and maybe Reader and them can laugh about it someday-

-

[Faint tapping wakes Reader from a deep slumber - a familiar shadow printed onto the glass of their window. Heavy breathes shroud the figure's face in fog, its blank stare fixed on Reader as they quake in terror]

"Shhhh... Go back to sleep.... I just want to watch-"

[Timid Reader pulls the covers over their head, willing themselves back to a dreamless sleep as the breathing outside their window continues]

-

Timid Reader: Th...that thing came back last night.

Tucker: Dang- Sounds like you have a ghost on your tail. Probably best to do whatever it tells you before it kills someone.

Timid Reader: Y-you really think it'd do that?!

Tucker, shrugging: I dunno- but according to the movies I've seen, Ghosts are just kinda assholes like that.

[Later that night - the tapping returns]

"I think you should go on a date with that frog friend of yours.... They seem lovely."

[bloomries]

Hi I was wondering if you could make a part 2 worth the dateables for the “in another universe” fic. I just read it and it was amazing and now im crying 😭.

in another universe...

includes : diavolo, barbatos, simeon, solomon.

summary : what could have been, in a better universe.

warnings : gn! reader. angsty angst. death & mortality (solomon). prob a little ooc but shhhh. italics indicate the 'other universe.'

part one here.

DIAVOLO

...you weren't the prince of the devildom.

It was another day filled with princely duties, and another day you find yourself all alone. It was painfully empty in the large bed, and you knew you couldn't do a thing to fix it. Instead you close yours eyes and wish you could have woken up in his arms.

In a perfect world, you'd wake up in the arms of your beloved. Not Prince Diavolo, just Diavolo. You'd wake up to the feeling of kisses peppered against your face, and giggles would fill the room as you try to push him away but he won't relent. "G'morning my love," he whispers between kisses, "We gotta get up~"

"Noo," you whine, and he chuckles, pulling away to look at your cute scrunched up face. "Let's just call in sick and stay in bed allllll day." You peak an eye open to see Dia, who grins.

"Sounds like a perfect idea." And thus the day was spent burning making food, watching shitty tv drama, and cuddling- and of course kissing too.

But when you open your eyes, the coolness creeps in, and the emptiness of the room is unsettling. A knock on the door alerts you of Barbatos' presences, and he speaks from the other side of the door.

"Are you awake?... Lord Diavolo asks me to send his regards, he has another day ruling over the Devildom, and wants to let you know to not expect him until late." Pulling the sheets over your face, you decide to indulge in your fantasy world a little longer before facing the harsh reality.

BARBATOS

...i came first.

It's not that you didn't understand, no you knew perfectly well that Barbatos' job was very important and required him to be away from you for long periods of time. What you didn't understand was that he refused, almost too eagerly, a day off. Diavolo noticed he'd been working him too hard and offered a little vacation. You thought he'd take it, so he could spend what little time granted he could with you, but instead...

"I was thinking we could head to the human realm, and have a nice date there."

"Oh yeah?" You coo, leaning closer to him and grinning. "And what should we do there?" He hums, deep in thought. A nice restaurant, perhaps dancing involved, walking around a fairy-light lit park, being in each others arms. Yes, that sounded nice, and thus he informed of you such thoughts. "That does sound nice, it's a date then." You press a kiss to the corner of his lip- tease. He's quick to correct your mistake, placing a proper kiss to your lips.

"You... You rejected the offer?" Barbatos undoes the buttons of his shirt, glancing over his shoulder at you with a slight frown.

"Obviously. As much as I'd like to trust him..." He tsks and shake his head, pushing away the thought. "Nevermind. Shall we turn in for the night?" He slips into more comfortable clothing, giving you that cool, unwavering smile. Ah, you don't know how much more you can put up with this...

SIMEON

...you stayed the night.

"Goodnight." Simeon spoke in a soft, quiet voice, his smile kind. It makes your heart do somersaults. You bid him a goodnight as well, and as he goes to turn, you hesitantly catch his wrist.

"You know... You could stay the night... If you wanted." His eyes widen. Stay the night? Something inside him shifts, his eyes filling with what seems to be pity.

"I'm sorry... I can't..." He speaks, gently removing your hand off his wrist and giving you a weak smile. "Goodnight." And then he leaves, not a single glance back. Did you just ruin your friendship with five words? You just wanted him to stay a little longer, just be near you for a while more...

"Stay the night?" You nod, fiddling with your shirt. "Well... I suppose that would be okay." Your eyes widen in delight. Really? He'd stay? He chuckles at your obvious enthusiasm and allows you to drag him back into your room where you set up a spot for you to sleep on the ground.

Simeon shakes his head at this. "I'll take the floor." After a little arguing, you both end up on the bed, both too jittery with excitement of staying near your crush to properly sleep. As you try to close your eyes, try to calm your mind, however, you feel a pinkie brush against yours- and feeling a little bolder, you move your hand even closer. Eventually, your hand in Simeons, and his in yours, you both with small, dorky smiles as sleep comes for you both.

Tomorrow will likely involve a long talk.

SOLOMON

...we could grow old together.

"You're going to be the cutest grumpy old man." It was an offhand comment, something you didn't really think about, you were just teasing him... But then the mood in the air shift, and it got real quiet, and you were suddenly reminded that you wouldn't be growing old with him.

"Shit... Sorry." You, but Solomon waves his hand dismissively, forcing a smile as he claims it's no big deal. It is, though, it's an incredibly big deal. Not only feeling the despair of it, but Solomon too- if he could, he'd most definitely choose mortality with you than whatever he's got going on now.

Sitting in your own separate rocking chairs, holding hands. You reading a book while Solomon nags about 'children theses days' or something or another. Getting up and then having to help him because his knees are what they used to be. Listening to a song considered old, dancing close to each other and remembering all your beautiful memories together. Eventually dying together.

Ah... But none of that will happen. He'll eventually watch you pass away, and he'll try desperately to hold on to your memory but when your face fades away from his mind who will he become? Solomon gingerly holds back tears that sting his eyes. Damn his immortality, damn it all. He truly wishes he could give it all up for a lifetime with you- it'd truly be worth it.

[mischiefmaker615]

Cat Got Your Tongue?

Summary: Loki decides to amuse himself by turning you into a cat. it's all fun and games to him until he finds it hard to turn you back.. not because he can't, but because he doesn't want too. he's having to much fun!

Rating: PG14

Note: Happy (early) Halloween! Black Cat Inspiration Lol

~Not to kink shame, but I am not promoting sexual relations with animals. “but Loki had sex with a hor-‘’ shhhh

‘’what’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

The comment made you frown from where you sat on the floor- or at least, from what a frown looked like on a cat. Either way you hoped the message would be clear up to your boyfriend that lounged himself upon the bed, clearly amused as he rested on his side to gaze down at you.

‘’meow..’’ you could hear leave your lips, though the translation would have been ‘Bastard.’

‘’now now darling, there is nothing wrong with receiving your daily dose of mischief, you had prepared yourself for it the day you agreed to be with me.’’ Loki tsked, holding back a chuckle while your tail flicked from side to side while you tried to figure out your next move.

‘I expected mischief, yes, but none such to last the next day.’ You seethed at him, not bothering to attempt to speak anymore if he could just read your mind while out loud it just came out as cat sounds anyway.

You were dating the god of mischief, and as such, expected to witness and take part of his little amusements throughout the tower. They were harmless, one that could be easily fixed and forgiven- by you anyway, the team was less than open minded. But today- no, yesterday seemed to go a bit to far when you woke up to find yourself a feline.

Your fur was as black as Loki’s hair, a few white shades to indicate perhaps where your clothes had transformed and weight that felt like you were but a feather. Walking on all fours seemed to feel natural, but jumping to try to gain his attention was a bit of a challenge in itself and would catch him holding in a laugh when you would- at least gracefully- land back on all four of your paws.

When you had successfully gained his attention, your pleas would quickly be forgotten when he would bend down to rub behind your ears- almost feeling the same pleasure as if he was kissing you while you were human.

Were..

To get him to focus and not tease you, another scratch mark would join the rest on his hand, making him quickly withdraw before he would send another comment your way to have you hiss.

‘’if it is dinner you would like, I believe I’ve seen a few mice scurry that way,’’ ‘’scratch me all you like kitten, I like it’’ ‘’knocking things off the coffee table will only provide you work when you are changed back, don’t think for one instant that I will be cleaning that up.’’

‘’Loki!’’ you begged, a long meow leaving your lips while your ears flattened to match your mood.

‘’alright darling, you wish for my attention? Come here,’’ he patted the spot beside him upon the bed, making him lay back down on his back and causing the left-over buttons on his shirt to strain by his toned muscles.

Sighing, if it were possible, you carefully calculated before you jumped upon the bed, claws sinking in to catch yourself before you quickly scrambled for stability. Made it! An exhale left your little pink nose before a slender hand could be felt running down your back, all the way to your tail slowly. The action at first had your body flinching at the sudden attention- that you should have known- before it slowly became pleasurable and you relaxed under his hand.

‘’that’s a good girl..’’ Loki cooed, his voice soft with hidden amusement by your reactions but you were to far gone to care as your eyes began to close and a low hum vibrated your throat. Purring??

Your eyes quickly opened and you shook him off, creating a little distance to sit yourself facing him, doing your best to stay calm and not kill him now. ‘’pranks shouldn’t last till the next day Loki, you’ve had your fun, now change me back.’’

‘’aww but darling, you are so adorable in this form, I would very much like to keep you in it..’’ he sighed, almost begging himself as he sat up on his elbows to look at you.

‘’I am human Loki, I have human needs, and grow tired of-‘’

‘’what needs are you referring to darling, am I to find out you actually miss my touch in your human form?” he smirked, down right wanting to milk this as much as he could while your claws shifted out a little to knead the sheet beneath you.

‘’job, social life, food,’’ you noted with held back frustration in your voice, a few meows leaving your lips while your mind tried not to yell at him.

‘’and?..’’ he pressed, a hand slowly reaching out to gently curl a finger under your chin before he drew it up to stroke your cheek, your whiskers making you flinch ever so slightly at the sensitivity but the touch wasn’t.. unwelcomed.

With a small, frustrated exhale, you knew there was no chance of gaining his good side- aka getting turned back- until he got what he wanted. Just for extra measure, you gently stroked his finger with your tongue before leaning your face into his touch, saddening your eyes as best you could while your tail flicked away at your sides.

‘’I need you Loki.. I cannot offer myself in this form and long for you properly..’’ you begged him gently, still mad at him, but it was the truth. ‘’please turn me back, I need you..’’

Loki hummed in approval, capturing your tiny chin in his hand as he looked upon you lovingly. ‘’this has been quite fun darling.. but I am in need of you as well..’’ he told you, his voice holding back the same amount of desperation while he leaned forward and picked you up, holding you in front of him with his hands under your arms.

You hung there, paws pulled in close to your chest while you gazed at him pleadingly. With a small inhale, his eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration. Your body began to tingle and glow in the sharp white and green light before a gasp left your lips, feeling like someone had just dunked a bucket of cold water over you without the.. liquid part? Peaking an eye open, you could see Loki smiling at you while his hands now moved down to your hips.

Looking down at yourself, your cheeks heated up red to find you naked, quickly using your arms to cover your chest while his hands held you firm to stay straddling his waist. ‘’you’re never naked when you turn back!”’ you whined, embarrassed even though he’s seen you naked several times.

‘’yes, but this was for my own benefit darling.’’ He chuckled, his eyes looking you over while a hand left you hip to try to pry your arms away.

‘’I have half the mind to cut you off for a week for leaving me like that-‘’ you mumbled, tightening your arms to keep covering your chest while you noticed his growing pouting lip.

‘’that is fair love, but I know as much as you do that you want it just as much as I do..’’ he purred, eyes flicking to yours lustfully as you felt yourself raise a little, his erection making itself clear under you through his pants while your cheeks reddened.

‘’promise me no more pranks- at least none that last that long..’’ you asked him gently, your arms finally leaving your chest to rest your hands on his shoulders, his eyes immediately flying to your breasts.

‘’are you requesting a safe word?-‘’ he asked, half paying attention while his hands gently grabbed at your globes, causing him a smile and shudder at the feeling before you cupped his face to make him look at you.

‘’there’s nothing sexual that comes out of pranks-‘’

‘’don’t under estimate me darling, there are many things to be done to be lead to being sexual.’’ He challenged coyly.

‘’you know what I mean.’’ You warned, not truly sure on what he meant though but he relented anyway by sighing with a nod.

‘’alright darling, say the word and I shall cease. Now if you don’t mind,’’ he smirked and rolled over, suddenly on top of you with your wrists pinned above your head.

‘’there’s a particular pussy I’ve missed..’’

My other one shot involving Lokitty LOL called: PURRFECT

Tag List: @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @babycheech420-blog @yelkmelk @beaniemoon @eleniblue @kathren1sky-blog @liminalpebble @foxherder13 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz @nervouseden

[moyokeansimblr]

Caio Sunkissed Collection

I COME BEARING GIFTS! (and Moyo is drunk atm shhhh)

This is Caio's Sunkissed Collection, which I really hope nobody already converted, I couldn't find it if so. There's a whopping THIRTEEN items for you guys! Because it's summer and it's stupidly hot where I live and I saw the Barbie movie so I'm good at beach 😉

Because there's 13, it's all AF only for now. Everything has morphs except the yoke doesn't have preg morph because tbh I lost patience with it. Everything's compressorized and includes swatch. Everything is in one rar but in separate folders so feel free to delete anything you don't like.

❗ I should point out the straps on the swimsuits are wonky, they ended up like that during texture baking and I'm admittedly not comfortable enough with gimp to have edited the textures. So you get some off-the-shoulder moments I guess.

As with always I can't claim perfection, and with a set this size please do not hesitate to point out any issues you find to me!! I'll never be upset and am happy to fix issues! (Did I mention I've had alcohol idk why I feel like that's obvious...) (I forgot how I do my posts.......)

🌴🏖️ Caio Sunkissed Collection download on Patreon (FREE)

But please consider becoming a patron if you want to show me support or make requests! ❤️🙏 Any support is extremely appreciated and really helps me out!

Shoe credits: @platinumaspiration, @deedee-sims, @sanneke94

(Also because moyo's drunk pls tell her if she forgot anythingggggg)

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Love and Loss

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

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

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

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

================================================

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An amused huff escapes her. “I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My wife?” He kisses again. 

“My forever goddess?” And again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Beg for it.” He commands. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I asked for a child, Morpheus.” 

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

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

“What in return?” He asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let us hope,” She says defeated. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Dreaming is dying. 

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

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

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

For the sake of the Dreaming and her child. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who dares summon m-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How loathsome,” She thinks to herself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rodrick starts chanting in Greek. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Extra:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

[sillywittleprincess]

Modern AU Mahito x fem reader

Warnings: SMUT, dub-con (reader is intoxicated), inexperienced reader, sub reader, fingering, teasing, use of the word slut (once), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, semi-public sex, not beta read

Word count: 4.2K

It has been a long week of cramming homework and you needed a break. Needed something to distract you from the hell they call college. You decide to text your friend Nobara to see what she's up too. Despite being a year younger than you, she already doubles you in popularity and always knows when there's a party.

Y/N:

Hey girl! Sorry we haven't seen each other much this week, professor nanami has no mercy when it comes to assignments.

Nobara:

Haha you're all good gorgeous. What's up? You texting me out of the blue is like hell freezing over.

Y/N:

>:0

It's not like I NEVER text first. But you're right, something is up.

Nobara:

LMAOO why did you phrase it like that 😭

Y/N:

Shhhh! Anyways, do you know if any parties happening tonight? Like ones where I won't get kidnapped?

Nobara:

Oooh quiet y/n is entering her party era?!

Yeah I'm actually going to a party tonight with Maki. I'll send you the address ;)

Y/N:

How'd you convince Maki to go to a party with you 😭

Also thanks girl! When does it start?

Nobara:

She doesn't know she's coming yet, but you know I'm dragging that girl by her ear to come with me :P.

And it starts at 8, so that gives you time to get ready. Hopefully I'll see you there girl!

Y/N:

Hopefully <3

You look at your phone again and see that Nobara has sent you the address. You smile at the message, she's such a good friend. The clock on your phone says it's 6:58pm so you decide to start getting ready now so you don't run late.

You first pick out your outfit. "Something cute but not too showy...." You think to yourself.

After rummaging through your closet for a few minutes, you finally find an outfit that you like. A pleated black skirt that goes down to your mid-thigh, a light pink oversized sweater, some white leg warmers, and some Mary Jane's that you bought online a few years ago.

You put on your cute and casual party outfit and press the power button on your phone, looking at the time.

"7:11" you say aloud to yourself. You walk over to the vanity in your room and sit on the chair, looking in the mirror. You didn't look bad at all, you just wanted a extra cute factor.

You turn on some music and open your makeup bag, finding yourself in your own world. You flinch slightly when the dollop the cold moisturizer onto your face before quickly rubbing it in. Then you reach for your blush, rubbing your brush against the powder compact before buffing in onto your cheeks. You also put a little on your chin to blend out the duller color it has compared to the rest of your face.

Then you grab your highlight and fanning brush, rubbing the brush in the glitter. You swipe the brush above your blush before dabbing your finger into the glitter. You put some on the inner corners of your eyes, on the cupids bow of your lips and on the tip on your nose.

Then you dig your hand in your bag and grasp onto your tube of mascara. You swipe of one layer of it before checking your phone once again.

"7:30..." You think out loud to yourself. "I should probably start on my hair."

You find your comb on your vanity and brush through your hair after fixing your part that got messy during the day. You put your hair into a cute half up, half down style, bringing the front two strands of your hair loose so they can frame your face.

You grab your phone and look at the time. The clock says 7:39pm. You turn off your music and look around your room. The floor is covered in clothes.

"I clean it up when I get home" you think to yourself.

You spritz on a few pumps of your favorite body spray before giving yourself a once over in your full length mirror. You definitely look cute.

You type in the address that the party will be at. It's a 18 minute walk, but you've walked further in worse weather so you'll be fine. You sigh softly as you exit your dorm and lock the door behind you.

...

The walk wasn't actually that bad. You wished you had your headphones with you but your thoughts were enough to entertain you on the walk to the house. You realized when you arrived that the party was at a frat house. It was to be expected, I suppose.

You check your phone, and 8:00pm stares back at you. Getting there the moment the party starts is a little embarrassing but that just means you get first dibs on drinks.

You knock on the door and you hear music blasting from behind the thick wood. A few moments later the door opens and you see a man that looks slightly familiar.

"Oh...I didn't expect to see you here y/n". The male in front of you says in a slightly surprised, but monotone voice. You give him a once over and it hits you. Two messy buns, pale skin, black stripe tattooed on his nose. Choso Kamo! A quiet boy in your English class.

"Hi choso. Am I here too early?" You ask, hoping he'll say no.

"Nah you're good. We finished setting up a while ago. There are a few people who can earlier than you if that helps you feel better." He gives you a soft, comforting smile then opens the door wider so that you can pass through. "Come on in"

You thank you and walk inside, the music blasting loudly. You swear you feel it vibrating in your bones.

"I'm on door duty but you make yourself comfortable okay?" Choso says a bit more loudly than before so you can hear him over the music.

"Thank you choso. I hope that I see you later." You also say in a louder pitch before waving him goodbye.

You look around the living room and see a few people either scrolling on their phones or talking with their friends. That reminds you of Nobara. You pull out your phone to text her

Y/N:

Hey I'm at the party. Where are you and Maki at?

Nobara:

Damn girl, you got there early. I wasn't planning on coming until 9. So just chill until I get there okay? Maybe get yourself a drink to pass the time.

You groan out. Now you're stuck in a new environment with nobody that you know. But you decide to take Nobara's advice and head towards the kitchen to look for some alcohol. And when you enter the kitchen the music becomes more mellow and that's when you see him.

Sitting on the counter in the kitchen in mahito. He is well known around campus for beating some guy into a pulp last year so absolutely no reason. You've always tried to avoid him in the hallways out of fear. This is your first time being in such close proximity with him. His casual outfit of baggy jeans and tight long sleeve shirt make him look approachable, but you know better.

Looking down at the floor to avoid eye contact, you open the fridge and see it's practically busting at the seams with booze. You're about to grab a can when you hear the sound of feet plopping on the ground.

"Hey...you looking for alcohol? The fridge is where we keep the cheap stuff so I wouldn't recommend it when we have better options."

His voice is a lot smoother than you thought it'd be. It seems to relax you, but only for a moment when you remember his reputation again.

"Um thanks for the heads up." You say awkwardly, still looking at the fridge. "Where is the not cheap stuff then?"

"Turn around and look at me and I'll show you" you can hear the smirk in his voice as he talks. Hesitantly, you turn around and look at him. He's tall, at least taller than you. The first thing that you notice is the stitches on his face. If they're real or fake, you're not curious enough to ask. Then your eyes drift from his face to his hair. He has such nice, long hair. You have to resist the urge to run your fingers through it.

"Ahh a girl who's not too afraid to look me in the eyes. That's quite rare these days." He says before sighing out dramatically. "Anyways, the good stuff is in the basement downstairs," his voice drops to a slutry tone. "Do you want to come with me to get it?" Then his tone changes once again to a more cheerful one, "that way, you can pick out what you want."

His constant change in demeanor confuses you. He seems to mean well but you can never be too sure. "That sounds good, just give me a moment"

Mahito smiles down at you as you pull out your phone, tilting it away from him so he doesn't see. You open you messages app and text Nobara.

Y/N:

Just so you know, I'm going to the basement with mahito to get drinks. If I'm not in the living room by 9, check in there to make sure he didn't kill me or something.

I turn my phone off and look at Mahito. "Sorry about that, I'm ready now".

Mahito shrugs, seeming not to care. "Follow me" he says before opening a door in the kitchen that you assumed was a pantry. But you stand corrected as you see stairs going down to a grey concrete floor.

You follow Mahito, closing the door behind you. You don't want anyone else to see that you're getting the good stuff and they're not. As you walk behind him down the stairs, the silence feels heavy. You don't know if it's awkwardness or fear of his reputation. Probably the second one.

When you finish walking down the stairs, mahito is already way ahead of you, opening a mini fridge. He kneels down to peer in. "So we have vodka, rum, some leftover champagne and a bottle of wine. The wine's mostly used for cooking but I'm sure the guys won't mind if a glass goes missing."

You nod as he lists off the multiple types of alcohol. "Can I have vodka?" You ask. Mahito hums in acknowledgement and grabs a small plastic bottle before handing it to you.

"It may not look like a lot, but this will get you drunk for sure." He says with a smirk.

You nod once again before twisting open the cap, taking a small sip. You cringe at the taste of straight vodka and Mahito laughs loudly in your face.

"Have you never drank before?" He asks in a teasing manner. This makes your eyebrow twist and you feel like you have to prove yourself. Without a moments hesitation, you bring the small bottle to your lips before chugging it, holding back your body's reflex to spit it out.

Mahito whistles lowly at your prideful action. "Wow, you could have just said no, but damn." Then his voice gets a teasing lit to it "you might wanna sit down. Can't have you wobbling up the stairs now can we?" He gestures towards a worn in looking sofa.

You're about to say that you're fine but then a wave of nausea hits you and you decide to follow mahitos advice. You slowly make your way towards the couch before plopping on it.

Mahito giggles and sits down next to you, leaving a cushion in between you too. "I didn't expect you to be so eager to prove me wrong pretty girl" he says, his voice still teasing. He lets out another giggle as you groan. "Don't worry, the nauseous stage will be over soon" he scoots closer to you to run his flat palm on your head, trying to comfort you.

You originally flinch when he touches you but your mind becomes as woozy as your body and you relax into it. There are a few minutes of silence, only broken by your heavy breathing. Despite your original fear of him you feel comfortable in this moment. "It's probably the alcohol, you think to yourself".

The comfortable silence is broken my Mahito suddenly speaking up. "Are you feeling any better?" You nod in reply, distracted by the comfortable feeling of Mahito's hand on your head.

Mahito chuckles. "You like my touch that much ,huh?" He says before pulling his hand away. You pout and look at him, wondering why he stopped.

"Put your hand back, it felt nice" you demand.

Mahito smirks. "Ohh so you're an honest drunk... how about this. You do something for me, and I'll go back to petting your head."

You may be drunk but you still know how dangerous that situation sounds, especially with a person like him. You bite your lip anxiously then say "before I agree, what exactly is it that you want from me?"

Mahito smiles at your question. "You're such a smart girl. I'll tell you what I want. I want you to do something that is truly unique to you. Something that will touch my very soul. What I want you to do..." he stops his monologue to look at you, reveling in your confused expression. "I want you to crawl into my lap and whisper your deepest desires into my ear. Will you do that for me sweet girl?"

The sexualness of his request makes you blush.

Mahito smirks when he sees you blush "Awe, are you embarrassed baby? I promise I won't do anything...until you want me to." His sultry tone makes you feel a tingle run down your spine.

You think about his request for a moment. Maybe it was the alcohol but it didn't seem like a bad deal to you. And he promised not to do anything.

"Okay... I can do that. B-but only if you promise not to judge me! And you have to promise that you'll go back to petting my hair!" You say looking directly into his eyes.

"I promise baby" he says bringing the hand the was once touching you to your hand, intertwining your pinkies. "See? I pinkie promise to keep my word. Now come here and crawl into my lap like a good girl." He says, removing his hand from yours and patting his thigh.

You awkwardly move so that you're straddling one on Mahito's thighs. You can feel how toned they are against your panties even though his jeans. "This is so embarrassing" you say, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as I feel my cheeks grow hotters.

Mahito sighs, enjoying the feeling of your weight on top of him. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about sweet girl. Just let it all out." He runs a finger up and down your spine, making you shudder.

You decide to get down to business right away, lowering your voice to whisper in his ear. "Well...I'm a virgin. I've never done anything too sexual before. So... it's my dream that when I do have my first time, it's with someone experienced that can help me and...take control." You shift my hips side to side, not knowing if you're doing it because you're anxious or because of the delicious friction that it provides.

Mahito smirks, his breath hot against your neck "Ah, a virgin. How quaint. I assure you, my dear, I have plenty of experience in this department. And as for taking control...you have no idea how much I enjoy doing just that." The long haired man grasps onto your hips, making you gasp. "And stop squirming baby. If you want I can relieve you later"

You blush at his words and stop shifting your hips. You decide to continue saying your desires, your hormones taking control over your mind. "And I've never...um...fingered myself. so I want someone to do that to me too."

Mahito hums softly in response, his voice low and seductive "Ahh, that's not the first time I've heard a girl talk about fingering." He runs his thumbs over the fat of your hip. "Very well, I shall do all those things for you. Now then, why don't you let your guard down and give me full control?"

You pull your head away from his neck and look at him with a slack jaw and wide eyes. It was probably the alcohol. It has to be the alcohol. That's the only reason why you were considering his offer. Yes, that had to be it. You can just blame it on the alcohol later.

"You'd...do those things for me?" You ask bashfully.

Mahito's smirk widens, his eyes filled with lust "Of course. I've been wanting you since I say your cute self walking into the kitchen looking to booze. And if getting to have you means fingering your virgin pussy until you scream my name in ecstasy...then so be it."

You whimper softly at his dirty words, going back to burying your face in his neck, feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed.

Mahito's hand gently massages hips, trying to soothe your nerves. "There's no need to be embarrassed pretty girl. You were born to feel pleasure, and it's my pleasure to help you find it."

You nod into his neck. "I know...I'm just not used to this. I don't even know how to start this..." You felt embarrassed and shameful about how inexperienced you were when it came to sexual encounters.

But as promised, Mahito was there to take the lead. Mahito's fingers moved up from your hips to your back, lightly trace designs, his touch gentle and soothing. "You can start by relaxing. Let all your muscles go lax, and let your body melt into mine. I'll take care of the rest."

You shivered when you felt his comforting words said against the skin of your neck. You do your best to do as he says, taking a few deep breaths and letting your muscles grow relaxed against his body.

Mahito hums softly, pleased with your response. "Good girl. Now let me see what else I can do for you."

You gasp when his hands make their way down again, but this time going slightly lower than your hips, massaging the gloves of your ass.

"Shhh it's okay" Mahito hums out, "I've got you".

As he says this, Mahito's fingers find the hem of your skirt, gently pushing it upwards. He then reaches your panties, his fingers tracing the outline of your virgin pussy, making your body tremble. "You're so wet for me already. Did talking about your horny thoughts get you all worked up?" He teased.

You whimper softly "sorry" you apologize, unsure of what to say. "that's a little embarrassing..." You didn't want him to get turned off by how unused your body was to this type of attention.

Mahito's fingers dip into your panties, feeling the slickness of your arousal. He smirks against your ear "Embarrassing? No, it's quite endearing baby. You're excited for me to touch you. To be honest, that's hot as hell."

His praise makes you want more. You try your best to stay relaxed like he said, but you can't help softly grinding your hips against his hand.

Mahito's fingers slip out of your panties pulling them to the side. Placing his thumb and forefinger on your cunt, he gently part your lips, teasing the entrance of your pussy "You want me to finger you? To make you scream my name in pleasure? Let everyone upstairs hear you?"

"Please..." you whine out, feeling yourself grow wetter at his words, feeling yourself clench around nothing.

Mahito's thumb presses against your clit, while his forefinger begins to slowly enter you. He goes slow, savoring the tightness and wetness of your virgin pussy "Mmm, you're so tight...so perfect," he groans out, throwing his head back. You followed in suit, slightly arching your back and moaning out a little more loudly and high-pitched than intended. The foreign object inside you feels new and different, but it definitely doesn't feel bad.

Mahito smiles, hearing the pleasure in your voice. He begins to move his finger in and out of you, faster and harder. "Come on...move your head. Look at the person who's making you feel good for the first time"

You do as he says, anything to keep him going. As you lean back to sit down fully of his leg he smirks at you. Only one finger was in and you looked a mess. You had a slight sweaty look to you and you were panting. It'd look like you had just finished running a marathon if it wasn't for your eyes, half-closed in pleasure. "I knew you'd be a good little slut for me."

You open your mouth to object but only a moan comes out as mahito slides in a second finger. The stretch was painful at first until he did something that made you grip onto his wrist. He curled his fingers inside you, hitting a sensitive spot that you didn't know you had.

"You like that, don't you?" Mahito questions, but it's more of a statement. "Being filled up by my fingers? Feeling me touch you where no one else has?"

You whine loudly and he pumps his fingers in and out of you. "It feels so good Mahito... I love it so much!"

Mahito starts to feel you clenching more tightly around him and he smirks. He rubs your clit with his thumb, having forgotten that it was resting there in the first place.

Your moans grow louder and louder and all it takes is one, two, three swipes of his thumb on your clit before for cumming on his hand.

But mahito doesn't stop. No, his smirk turns to more of a sadistic one and he pumps his fingers faster, rubbing his thumb against your clit in hard, fast circles.

"N-no!" You babble out. "I need a minute, I can't take any more"

Mahito chuckles as you beg. "You can and you will. You're a big girl. Remember when you chugged that vodka? I think you can give me one more."

You squirm your hips, trying to get away, but Mahito's other arm wraps around your waist, keeping you in place.

Your grip on his wrist tightens and you look at him with pleading eyes. "Mahito please stop! I feel like I'm gonna pee!" You sob out, tears of overstimulation pricking at the corners of your eyes.

You immediately regret saying that because mahito starts giggling like a psycho and goes as far as to add a third finger.

"W-wait..!" You try to start, but the second Mahito curls all three fingers inside you, a hot gush of liquid shoots out of your pussy. Some of soaks into Mahito's jeans and some socks into the plush couch you both are on top of.

You sob, hot tears of pleasure and embarrassment running down your face.

Mahito has stopped giggling now and looks at you in concern. He slips his fingers out of you and pushes you underwear back to its rightful place, though it is a little wetter than before you came down to the basement. "I'm sorry baby, was that too much?" He wipes his cum-soaked hand on the sofa and uses the other one to wipe your tears.

"I just... didn't know what was going on... everything felt like it was too much" you sniffled out.

Mahito frowns when he realizes that he's done something more than make you feel pleasure. He made you feel unsure. He brings his clean hand to the back of your head and guides you down so that your head in in the crook of his neck. "Shh it's okay...I'm sorry I scared you." He strokes your head, keeping his promise that he would do that afterwards.

You smile softly and you feel yourself begin to relax again. That was until the basement door slams open and you hear footsteps pounding down the stairs.

You turn around wide eyed, and you blush shamefully when you make eye contact with Nobara, Maki trailing not far behind her.

You see rage in Nobara's eyes as she takes in your appearance, disheveled hair, post-crying eyes, mascara smearing off. But then maki whispers something to her that you can not hear and you see Nobara sniff the air.

Her angry face turns into a lopsided smirk.

"No...fucking...way. I thought you were getting murdered down here but it turns out you were getting your back blown out!" Nobara laughs at her own joke and Maki looks at the two of you, pushing up her glasses before speaking. "Just so you know, it reeks of sex in here. You both should probably spray some air freshener before coming back up."

You smile awkwardly, feeling like your face is on fire. Mahito just laughs and wraps his arms around you before saying, "that's a good tidbit. But why don't you two girl go back upstairs now. And make sure to close the door. I wasn't quite done with y/n," he says with a smirk.

[tac-the-unseen]

Howdy!

I was going through your master list for all of your questions and notice you had something down for sleep demon?

I don't know what that is but I'm sold! So can you make a creepy fluff for whatever it is?

Please and thank you'

Love,

Anon <3

Of course! I had an old draft of this so I just only needed to finish it lol

Sleep Demon x reader

(Creepy Fluff) 

You lay in bed with your hands over your eyes. You really need to sleep but your mind won't stop. You can feel a dull drum behind your eyes, pounding away like you don't have an early shift tomorrow. 

Your brows furrow tightly hoping the painkillers you took 10 minutes ago start working their magic soon. You toss yourself over to look at the time in your charging phone.

 1:20 AM

You're screwed. 

Your shift starts at 5:00, Your alarm is set for 4:30. Even if you fall asleep now you'll only get three hours in. A small panic settles into your stomach and you let out a pitiful groan. 

“Shhhhhh…” 

You freeze, But only for a moment. You quickly whip your hands off of your face to look for whatever made that noise.

Your search doesn't even last 2 seconds before you see…it?

The slender human-like creature stands by your doorway. Its  face is white with black holes where the eyes should be. It has No nose and no mouth. It's wearing the darkest shade of black you've ever seen and a pair of matching gloves. You don't know what tells you it isn't human, But your mind immediately removes humanity from the situation. 

The creature presses its gloved hand against where its mouth should be and makes another “Shhhhhh…” it creeps closer to you and moves delicately across your floors. 

You try and sit up but are met with the most resistant pull backwards. You try to lurch forward again but your muscles won't comply. To your absolute horror you realize you're stuck. Frozen in place. Your breathing starts to get sporadic and uneven. 

“Shhhhhh….” It shushes you again. 

Finally the thing is looming over you. It softly taps your nightstand and rubs his gloves together. “Shh..shh..shhhh.” it whispers to you. Just out of your field of vision it reaches down to its side. Your mind runs wild. Will it pull a knife? A gun? But no, it reaches down and pulls out a chalkboard and a packet of chalk. 

It taps the board gently above you and makes light whooshing sounds. “Shhhhhh…..” it whispers again. It's attention turns to the board and it takes a piece of chalk and begins to slowly drag it across the board. 

After a few seconds it turns the board to face you. ‘Hello.’ was all that it had written. It looks around slowly and slowly rubs away tears you didn't know you were shedding. It looks back at the board, wipes away the previous message and begins to work on a new one.

When it turns the board towards you it reads ‘Be patient…’ It sets the board back down and starts writing again. ‘...With me.’ is the new message. 

So far this thing has greeted you and told you to quit your bitching In all of 5 minutes. It begins to write again ‘You belong here…’ and again ‘Let me fix you.’ 

You have no fucking clue what that mean. Fix you? Fix? What is there to fix? What does it think needs fixing? 

The creature sets the board aside and rubs away the chalk from its fingertips. Slowly its hand brushes your cheek and rubs its thumb over your temple. The gloves are soft yet cold, the leather is smooth and well taken care of. 

The creature lets in a deep breath and uses it's other hand to press onto your sternum. It gently taps your chest and uses it other hand you make you look at it. It takes another deep breath and breaths out. 

This thing is telling you to take a deep breaths. This thing is telling you to control your breathing. You take a deep breath and shakily exhale. It taps your cheek softly like It's praising you. 

Both its hands slide up your body and reaches your head. It softly begins massaging your temples and using its thumb to gently pet your eyebrows. “Shhh…” it whispers again. Its fingers delicately worked into your hair and over your aches. Slowly you began to feel your headache disappear. 

Oh…That's what this thing meant. It's not fixing you, it's fixing your headache. 

You're a little relieved now that its intentions seem slightly more pure than you thought. It clicks its tongue at you soothingly and lightly pressed into your temple. Quickly it's like a weight is lifted off of you. The pressure on your head is slowly lifted. The throb in your temples dissipates as if its fingers just pulls it from your skull. 

Your body lets out an involuntary groan of pleasure. It lets out a noise akin to a chuckle and slowly its hands slowly leaves your head. You let out another groan of disapproval, it again lets out that strange chuckle noise. 

Its hand slowly reaches back for the place you know its clipboard rests. You hear the tapping and scraping of chalk and once again the chalkboard is put back into your field of vision.

‘Are you doing okay?’ it slowly taps on the board and a makes a gentle whistling sound. It's lowers the board, erases it's previous message, and taps away to write a new one. When it's finished it lifts the board back up ‘I know this is a bit much…’ 

Again it writes a new message, this time it's quick. ‘but…’ And then it's on to the next. It dips its head down and works just out of your sight. When it comes back up  ‘I know you can do it.’ This thing is encouraging you. 

You're not sure if it's the moment, The relief, or an odd version of Stockholm syndrome, but it’s message strikes a cord deep within your heart. Your mind starts to reflect on your relationships with people. 

Why is it that this thing with no face is saying everything you've been wanting your loved ones to say? Why is it that this monster who broke into your house is nicer to you than your family is? I'm most importantly, Why have you oh so suddenly want to develop a deep connection with this thing? 

While reflecting on all these questions and genuinely considering a psych ward visit, it's able to pull an object from it's pocket. 

A comb.

It carefully begins to comb your hair. The gentle scratching of your scalp is damn near intoxicating. If you could move your foot would be thumping on the bed like a dog. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your body lets out another groan. 

Seeing as you clearly like the combing, it keeps brushing for 9 minutes. The whole time it shushes and clicks at you soothingly. Your eyes closed as you enjoyed the feeling. When the sensation of your hair being brushed abruptly stops your eyes open. It reaches down and begins to write again.

 While it's writes, you try to shift into a more comfortable position, as the spot You've been laying in for a while just isn't doing it for you anymore. 

You mentally call yourself stupid, knowing that you're paralyzed, but You still managed to turn your head. And then your fingers…And then your arms…. Your legs…. You're no longer paralyzed…It dawns on you that you've just been letting everything happen and that you've had the ability to move for a little bit now. 

With that realization you do shift into a more comfortable position. That seems to startle the being, and it stares at you for a couple seconds. It quickly erases whatever it originally said and starts furiously scribbling down something. For a moment you're scared of what it will say And when it holds up its chalkboard you're almost too scared to look. 

But curiosity killed the cat and you looked back at its message ‘Won't you stay?’ It's asking…not telling….

It's asking….

It erases the message and writes something else ‘evolve with me’ It flips over the board ‘You are worth it!’ 

Besides your better judgment, You're able to mutter out words before hashing it together in your brain. “You can come back tomorrow night…We can see each other then…” 

It looks a little sad at your response, it erases its board and starts writing again. Even though it's been quiet this whole time, the room seems even quieter. It's a different quiet…But you're not given too much time to think about that before it has its final message. 

‘Goodbye….see you again….’ It softly puts the board down and gently nods at you. It caresses the side of your face before finally putting you to sleep. And after all it's hard work you're put into darkness and sleep well the rest of the night. 

Thanks for reading <3

This fic is based off of an ASMRist I found called Sleep Demon. In fact it's based off of his first video!

I think that they're really cool and have some pretty sweet scenarios.

Link to Video

If you're into ASMR and creepy little guys, you really need to check them out! (Yes that gif is of the Actual channel!)

(also I didn't know what pronouns to use so I used it/its/it's)

[megbanned]

Ik I said the Doll one in a reblog but shhhh

Evil AU ideas ig?? Idk I just woke up from a nap my mind is going in circles

Evil!Doll:

-Never committed a murder in her life

- you know what? In fact shes Hemophobic (or whatever the equivalent term is for oil instead of blood) and will faint at the sight of oil

- Her worst crime was stealing Evil!Uzis pink cat eraser and glitter pen

Evil!Lizzy:

- Not popular

- not a cheerleader

- is the nerd outcast instead of the one bullying need outcasts

Evil!Thad:

- Hates sports

- Isn't as nice and chill and cool :( he's kinda an asshole instead

- despite that he's secretly s coward, when the DDs attack he hides instead of trying to fight

Evil!Cyn:

- NOT POSESSED BY THE SOLVER?! Real!!

- we don't see a lot of her as herself, but instead of her and N having a caring sibling relationship they instead have a rivalry & argue a lot

- Instead of being kinda shy/hiding behind N and clinging to him like in Ep5, she's instead overly confident

Evil!Absolute Solver

- Not Evil

- Instead of destroying planets they either fix them or create new artificial planets

- Hasn't killed Tessa!

Evil!Tessa:

- Not dead (yay)

- Hasn't actually rescued any of the manor drones, her parents did instead (in this Tessa would dislike them whilst her parents like them)

- Annoyed by N

HOHOHO

Some of these ideas are canon! Let's see 👀

Evil!Doll:

-She is very talkative and maybe a little jealous of Evil!Uzi since she is the sweetest person in the class and with whom everyone gets along well while Doll only appears to be good, because she is hiding something... (I still need to think about this)

Evil!Lizzy:

-Yep!, that's correct with her!

Evil!Thad:

-Yes too!, he is the bully until DDs appears just to hide!

Evil!Cyn:

-Originally brought to Tessa being affected by the AS, however she begins to regain consciousness. -As she regained consciousness and control of her body she became more confident. -Has a certain rivalry with N, at certain points she makes him look bad on purpose. -Tessa's favorite drone. -More will be added-

Evil!Absolute Solver:

-Created by humans as some form of hacking the JCJenson company! -The AS was implanted in Cyn to cause a disaster and boycott the company, but now Cyn is aware of this and thinks that humans only want to kill each other using other drones, she will prove them wrong, and will end them... humans should never have given uncontrollable powers to an IA -More will be added-

Evil!Tessa:

-She's alive!! -Yep! -Her parents brought the drones for her to give her more company (although they are both loving and care for her a lot), Tessa still had to continue learning to live with other people (in this case the drones), but J was somewhat lazy, V was very uncontrolled, N looked very tormented and Cyn… she was different, she was very good to Tessa, but it was just a mask. -Yep, was annoyed by N (caused by V and Cyn)

[wonyrs]

rainbird

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

‘ school life with the enha maknaes! headcanon style

kim sunoo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yang jungwon

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

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

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

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

he still takes the chance to lovingly bully ur ass

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

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

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

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

nishimura riki

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@ wonyrs 2023

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

[diminuel]

After the asks about WB and the wire trapping I now need a comedy of errors in which the "old" guard reacts to the revelation that Dragon knocked up WB's son: Sengoku absolutely setting Garp free on purpose ("Yes ofc, you should definitely get to know the future parent of your grandchild") because he is absolutely done with these shenanigans and is thriving on spite; Garp, knowing that Sengoku hopes he will take out WB but he definitely wants to know who the hell fell for his son into bed with his son and he's also stoked that he's getting a second grandchild!! Cue Garp hunting down the Moby to pester WB about his son and their shared future grandchild, WB swinging between crying that his son is pregnant and didn't tell him, crying about getting a grandchild, and wanting to punt Dragon into the sun for sleeping with his son. Buddy comedy of these two trying to find their sons while bickering all the while about everything while the WB pirates play the peanut gallery in the background also a fix-it because at one point Teach gets killed offscreen or something because Garp is there shhhh. Dragodile is in blissful ignorance to their fathers joining up and in their honeymoon phase while Tsuru is absolutely judging her friends and sends Dragon her congratulations because she's smart enough to know that the revolutionaries definitely also have their den dens wire trapped. Even funnier if at one point Garp gets Ace on the Moby to show off his superior grandpa skills and subsequently looses him to the WB pirates.

Absolute love seeing all the different takes and ideas from people on your blog, it's such a nice corner of the one piece fandom and it's giving me brain worms!!

(Wire tapping ask)

Haha, yes! And in all of this neither Garp nor Sengoku have any idea that this mysterious Dragon bedding son of Whitebeard's is their very own Warlord Sir Crocodile?

Garp can't lose Ace permanently to WB, because he needs to be around to grow up with Luffy and Sabo! But I can imagine WB taking one look at the kid and deciding that's going to be his one day. Maybe predominantly to piss off Garp who insists that Ace must become a marine! (And WB's just "??? how is he going to become a marine if you make mountain bandits raise him? What the hell did Roger ever see in you moron?")

(Also, Teach is only 20 here, maybe he's still redeemable and doesn't have to die off-screen! Baby Ace can pee on him though as revenge for what happened in a different timeline *lol*)

And I agree, it's so fun what people come up with! I don't know if my passion wouldn't have burned out quickly if it weren't for the cool people in this fandom sharing their thoughts and ideas with me! And yes, the brain worms are still hard at work. :D

[linkito]

Kiss prompt #10 desperately for Scarian <3

this went in a direction i didnt expect so hopefully it's enjoyable<3 also ft. a very scribbly doodle at the end

Scar tilts his head, baring his neck in offering to Grian’s blade. His words almost don’t register to Grian. 

"You may slay me—"

And he was about to, wasn’t he? He already struck Scar once, only hesitating because of the man’s clear unwillingness to strike back. Why wouldn’t he fight back?? 

Nothing stopped Scar before, when a stupid piece of paper escaped Grian’s grasp. 

After everything they’d been through, nothing stopped him then, so why now?

Why is Scar smiling, laying down his life for Grian like it’s the easiest decision he’s ever made?

“I can’t,” Grian stammers. “I literally can’t.” His  sword slips from his grasp, cutting a thin slice down Scar’s neck as it falls. Scar doesn’t as much as flinch. 

His eyes do travel upward, however, a weakly hopeful look flickering across the crimson red. “Oh,” is all he says at first, as if he still doesn’t believe what Grian said.

Grian doesn’t either, to be honest.

Not because it isn’t true, but because it ultimately might not be up to him. 

He’s heard them— the voices of players passed. Their cacophonous rage has been blaring in Grian’s ears from the moment he awoke on his last life. A symphony of violence calling for blood, for an end to this nightmare.

The spectators want a fight.

They want blood. A victor. An end.

“Then—“ Scar says tentatively, that hope still alive and blazing behind his red eyes— eyes that should crave violence, not— “do you want to fix the sand castle? Can we… can we win together?”

Grian can hear the symphony rise, a unanimous no ringing through the air, suffocating Grian where he stands. They won’t have it. The ghosts won’t allow it. But—

Grian’s legs buckle, falling to his knees before Scar, meeting him down at his level. Scar’s hands hover on either side of him, worried he may faint. The gesture isn’t lost on Grian, that Scar was still ready to catch him if he were to fall. 

It only makes everything hurt that much more.

Fight, fight, fight, FIGHT.

Their chanting is relentless and Grian looks up at Scar with such fear, he— can Scar not hear them? Does he not feel the pull? The call for death and destruction?

Or perhaps Scar grew numb to it long ago.

“Scar…” Grian says, his voice hoarse, entirely drowned out by the grating shrieks of those they have killed. 

Scar’s hands are on him in an instant, fingers threaded through his feathered ears, sheltering him from the cacophony. “Shhhh,” he says, and against all logic, the chorus subsides, merely a whisper carried along the ripples of the pond. 

With what little clarity Grian can grasp in the momentary silence, he grasps onto Scar the same way, hands tangled in his hair, palms covering his ears— urgent and desperate— and he pulls. 

While he can still hear the rapid heartbeat in his throat, Grian kisses Scar with all the sanity he has left, taking this moment for them alone— no care for the audience they never asked to have. No trace of violence they never asked to embrace. 

Just lips against his, passionate and dear, loving and anguished— something urgent, yet drawn out, neither of them willing to part, the awareness of what is to come burning at their insides. 

Please.

Not yet.

[honeyblonde8929]

Our Home - Ellie X Reader Fanfiction.

TW - mentions of blood, bruises, wounds, swearing, slight NSFW

• You were injured during a patrol walk and Ellie tends to your abrasions. While talking, things get a little… heated.

*

“Fuck! Is she okay?”

Joel bought you to Ellie’s house by horseback. Your head was on Shimmers hips, it was making your head sway uncomfortably. The nauseous headache that was creeping through your forehead made you want to throw up. Though, it would be a bit embarrassing if you did that in front of your favourite people. Ellie rushed to you, clomping her boots into the thick snow. She was breathing rapidly, you could see the clouds of frost exhaling her lips. She was cradling your head when Shimmer stopped at the porch.

“Yeah.” Joel sighed, turning his head to you.“She’s just a bit banged up that’s all.”

Ellie swallowed a lump in her throat. Slightly rubbing her hands together in an anxious jitter. You could feel the vibrations tickling the back of your scruffed-up hair.

“…Infected?”

Joel got off Shimmer and you felt Ellie’s biceps poke into your ribs as she carried you through to her house.

Joel cleared his throat. “Not that I know of.”

“Okay. I’ll check her through.”

Ellie sat you down onto her sofa and propped a pillow under your knees. She stroked the back of your hand, noticing the cuts on your fingers. You enjoyed the way she was in charge and taking care of you, even though this wasn’t the best of moments.

“Thanks, Joel.” Ellie spoke, her voice cracking a little.

Ellie went up to Joel and gave him a small hug, they may not have been on the greatest of terms, but she wanted to still have a relationship with him. He held onto that hug like his life depended on it. He gently kissed the top of her hair, exchanged a few words and left. Ellie appreciated how hard he wanted it to work, to fix things. You should always be grateful for who you have. You don’t know how much time you have with them.

Ellie directed her attention to you. Thoughts circling her head, begging that you weren’t infected. It would break her.

“E-Ellie?”

“Shhhh. I’m here, alright? I said I would be, right?”

You chuckled slightly, blush tinging your cheeks, making your dimples poke through ever so slightly. Your head was in a blurry haze, a foggy mist, but having Ellie comforting you demolished the darkness and shone a beautiful light in between.

Ellie helped by taking your clothes off and heated some warm water in a bowl to soak your swollen feet, blisters cascaded across your heels. You’ve never exposed yourself to Ellie before, but you only trusted her with tending to your body.

“This’ll sting a bit okay? I just need to clean your cuts.”

She started by patting softly on the gashes running down your arm and upper chest. It hurt like hell, but you knew that this would quickly pass. Whinging from the stabbing pain, she went back to stroking your hand in reassurance. It sent warm tingles over your thighs, sending goosebumps from the chill. It made your lip quiver, you had to keep as quiet as possible to not freak her out.

“This is a bitch.” You locked your jaw to contain the agony. She was stitching your forearm with a thread and needle, you couldn’t tell which one was worse. Well, at least the bleeding has subsided now.

“You’re doing really well.”

Ellie looked into your eyes, examining them.

“I hope so!”

You tried to laugh but your ribs said otherwise, your lungs felt very weak, breathing in and out quickly to get oxygen in them.

“I said for you to shush.”

She whispered, Jesus that sent a hot flush over your body. She finished stitching your arm, thank fuck that’s over. And then she took your jacket and shirt off, luckily you were wearing a bra today, that would be a bit embarrassing.

There was a sharp exhale from Ellie, reverting her eyes away from staring at your black laced bra, you could feel the heaviness of the air around you both. It wasn’t uneasy, just… natural.

“Right, I can’t see any marks on your front. Can you turn over for me?”

You nodded, more than compliant to her orders. She supported your shoulders as you laid on your chest, feeling your stomach go up and down onto her springy sofa.

Ellie placed her hands on your spine, following her fingers, going downwards slowly. It was an unexplainable feeling, having her hands glide, cleaning your wounds and pressing into your bruises. Despite the soreness, her rough veiny hands brung you feelings you never felt for her. You shouldn’t be getting turned on from your friend gliding her fingers near your hips, but you savoured this moment, indulged in it.

“Thank God. Phew. No infections.”

You curled your toes in relief, you had some close calls on your patrol today, but made it through successfully by a thread. Your neck relaxed a little more onto the pillow and you rolled your strained writs, releasing clicks from the tension.

“Well, this calls for a celebration, El!”

She scoffed in amusement back to your response.

“Sorry, missy, I don’t have any Champange on me. I think that’s what it’s called.”

“No! I just-“

You sat up too fast and clutched into the grazes on your stomach. Ellie crunched her eyebrows together, giving a concerned look.

“Hey! None of this getting up. Stay put.”

She got up for you, what a gentlelady.

“Do you want a cup of coffee? I only keep it here for Joel-“

You butted in unexpectedly.

“Because you think it tastes like shit? Ha, Dina thinks so as well doesn’t she?”

Ellie snicked at you, holding the kettle in her hand.

“Stop it, you know i’m right. Now, you want some or not?”

You stared again into her eyes, they get you every time, sending butterflies fluttering in your lower stomach and making your heart twist and turn in God knows how many positions.

“I’ll annoy you and say… yes.”

Ellie’s teeth poked out, smiling wildly and shaking her head at the same time. She was cautious to say anything back and let it slide.

The brew warmed your fingertips while your thumb pulsated from the affection you received from her. She didn’t even bother to put a hoodie on, she still had her white bra on, not that you were complaining.

You sipped your coffee, it soothed your dry throat. You started up the conversation this time.

“So, are Jesse and Dina back together again? I haven’t caught up with them in a while.”

“Yes… I think? Jesse keeps telling me what a shitshow their relationship is.”

She sat by you, inches away from the back of your arms coming into contact. She continued her sentence.

“Dina doesn’t know what she wants, she just needs to figure things out, as always. But I couldn’t deal with the pressure of being on and off in a relationship. I’d rather stick together than take breaks all the time. Joel has taught me that if a person is worth it, you’ll see that you’re more compatible than you realise.”

Ellie fiddles with her hands, getting rid of the dirt under her fingernails.

“I realise that too.”

Your eyes, for the third time, locked in synchronised timing. It felt like you found the last piece to a complicated puzzle, you complimented each other, and now was the perfect time to become lost in it all.

“Hey…. I, um.”

Ellie was completely lost for words. She dropped her gaze onto your lips, looking so luscious and… kissable.

Your hand rubbed the back of her hair, becoming knotted by the motion. You put your coffee down with the other hand and glided it to her neck. A slight noise that you couldn’t make out swept out of her lips. And before you knew it, you shared your first kiss to her.

The rush of emotions flooded every place imaginable. You pulled her hair and she lifted your back onto the sofa, wary of you being hurt and controlling her thirst for you. It was so much in a few seconds but the ecstasy was worth anything.

Fuck being friends.

She was ravaging your bottom lip and bit into it, pulling back and kissed deeply into the corner of your neck. Your moans echoed the living room as your hands explored the muscles on her back, impatiently wanting to get the belt of her jeans off. Her quickened breaths salvaged your mind, and following suit to down below. You were soaked from the moment she first stared into your eyes this evening, and it certainly won’t be the last.

“Shit, Ellie, what are you doing to me?”

She was on top of you, pinning your wrists but careful of avoiding the stitch on your forearm. Ellie took your bra off, showing an arousing view on her perspective, her pupils dilated, in awe of how submissive and lovable you are. She grabbed them, placed her mouth near one of your nipples and looked up at you. You’ve won the lottery of a lifetime.

“What I should’ve done a long time ago.”

[average-hyperfixator]

Oh wait I should post these too….

Eeping Ted. Gif included. Shhhh be quiet… it’s his 5 minutes of rest. Look at him <3 precious. Also I know the gif messed with his colors I don’t know how to fix I’m im sorry :[[[