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iznsfw · 1 year ago

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Reputation, Or Whatever That Is

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut

7,063 words

Categories | daddy kink, brat!Wonyoung, squirting, blowjob, please appreciate Wonyoung's power bottom capabilities

Sorry, Yena is coming out sometime but I wanted to finally write something timely. JANG WONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKK.

Please bear with the religious metaphors, I have Catholic guilt and Wonyoung reignites it. I'm not sorry for all the other fucked up shit here I'm just ooga boogaing because what the FUCK

It’s a little brighter today than usual. The sun surely knows what's about to happen upon its rising. It has no plans of telling you beforehand, so you’re forced to find out yourself.

You open Instagram, which is insane because you never bother to look at pictures—much less edited, filtered ones made for meaningless impressions. Your blissful ignorance of online concepts is what would make your fans hate you if they had space in their deluded hearts to. Or maybe that’s your age talking.

But today, clicking on that app is what you do, and that already should have been a sign that something’s not right. The usual run of your universe has gone off course. Who could have made that so?

Coffee. The black stillness that’s pure of sweetness and sugar. That’s supposed to keep everything normal. You sip on it as you scroll through clickbait, fan accounts, edits—

Then you wish you never took that hot gulp at all.

Wonyoung.

It’s all because of her.

She stands there from behind your screen, silky hair tangled in those lithe long fingers. She’s looking at the camera like she wants whoever took the time to click on her profile to come over and fuck her right now. Man or woman, poor or rich—it doesn’t matter. What ought to matter though is the fact that she doesn’t have someone’s hands slipped around her waist and pulling her close.

You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

Usually, she’s dressed in knitted pink coats and miniskirts; looking fashionable but modest, modest but unplain. That’s what everyone loves about Jang Wonyoung: she’s prim, sweet, and the daughter of the nation.

Now, she’s the ideal girl to take right home and have your wicked way with. Yes, you’d feel guilty since she’s so young, just the little age of nineteen. Still, that doesn’t mean you’d have any regrets. She’s the kind of girl you can’t get away from. You’ll always come back for more.

You’d hate to be so upfront, but there’s no other way to interpret it.

There’s that fucking denim bra hugging her tiny chest, stitched up so high that her abs are on full display. That little pinch of a waist curves so perfectly right up to her wide hips that invite and invite and invite—

Remember to exhale.

So, yeah. That’s how Wonyoung ruined your day, and you barely had your morning coffee.

A text message from your boss appears. You nearly miss it because of how you’re staring all ogle-eyed at the tempting girl on your screen. Before you even click it, you already know what you ought to do.

hey, it reads, you need to—

—go to Wonyoung, and for such a scandalous photo, she’s chosen a remote but classy hotel only the biggest stars know of to shoot it.

There’s no going back when you drive like you’re running from the law when you’ll break one if you pull the wrong stunt with her. Your throat’s coiled with an unreleased breath that won’t go away unless you see her. It’s like traveling with the promise of meeting a goddess, and although you’re not religious anymore, you wear very, very close to rediscovering faith.

The hotel is grand—clear marble floors and shining chandeliers—and it’s no surprise. Wonyoung wouldn’t have things any other way. You know that when she’s come to your office to complain about her outfits and brands.

You go up to the desk with prepared evidence for what you’re going to say. “I’m an associate of your client miss Jang Wonyoung,” you say to the lady tapping away behind her computer, “and I’ve come to visit her.”

Associate? It’s more like mentor. You’re a veteran idol whose efforts inspire the rookies, therefore getting you the responsibility of looking out for Wonyoung. So, father figure, maybe? You wince at that.

She makes a polite sad look, still not removing her eyes from the screen. “I’m sorry, miss Jang doesn’t have—”

Slide your ID card on the counter.

She glances at it, stiffens, then looks up at you. There’s only one of you in the entire South Korea, and although the 1x1 traces back to when you were a bit more youthful, it’s not hard to put two and two together.

She apologizes quickly and offers you an elevator ride exclusive for VVIPs. Smile. It’s been a while since your last return to music, but everyone knows you here. Everyone knows your power.

Wonyoung’s place is the first room on the twelfth floor, a flinching irony.

Knock. You rap your knuckles three times for good luck and charm, because you’ll need it with her. Jang Wonyoung is everything save an easy girl. You remember the many times she refused to give up a debate on how she’s managed, how she’s styled, how she’s treated. She wants things to go her way only.

“Wonyoung,” you call out. Fidget with the handle of the door that refuses to budge. “It’s me.”

Knock a little more. There’s no eye behind the peekhole or a soft “come in.” You receive only the unlocking of the furnished knob and a welcome that makes you wish this could go the way your morals would want it to go.

The door opens you to a gorgeous suite that’s the supreme of all room tiers. This is the kind that only the richest of the rich are able to attain. Big as a house with a soft carpeted ground, there’s a queen-sized bed before a wide window of the city. Picture frames commissioned by the wealthy hang from the painted walls. All for the fucking aesthetic.

Even you, a star who paved the way for the Korean entertainment industry itself, aren’t used to this type of wealth.

Find her sitting on the ledge of the window frame. Wonyoung has her hands resting on the sides of the window frame. She doesn’t try at least a stance at nonchalance—no admiring stare at the beautiful view, no worried gaze at her clean fingernails. Her interest is you standing before her like you’re afraid to touch her. She might be right, but it’s not like you’d ever have it in you to admit that.

Even you, a man lusted over by girls and women all over the world, aren’t used to this kind of woman—the kind that eats away at you.

“Wonyoung.” Inside, you feel like the weakest man in the world.

She has this smarmy, confident smile on her perfect lips that tells you that it’s no surprise that you’ve come all the way here for her. No surprise at all. She expected it. Anticipated it, if you will.

Don’t mistake the coquettish float of her lashes for theatrics. No, Jang Wonyoung’s just naturally someone you’d want to fuck, no matter the politics of it. “Yes?”

Her voice is also just that pretty. That’s a large part of why it’s so hard to act professional in front of her when she’s your mentee. Even more so by the fact you’re someone she’s looked up to for the majority of her trainee years, which is already something that would make people’s brows lift.

“Wonyoung.” You let your shoulders rest. “Why are you still dressed like that?”

You know all the dialogue that passes around the general public. Oh, Jang Wonyoung’s so gorgeous! Jang Wonyoung’s even more beautiful in real life! You hate to say you can’t disagree. She’s deadlier in person; her body’s there before the glass like she’s waiting for someone to give in to temptation. That coy simper can ruin careers. It can ruin yours.

To think it all could be gone because of a nineteen-year-old celebrity with a tiny waist and legs you’d love to have around your head.

“Why are you still dressed like someone from the eighties?” Wonyoung taps her chin, then grins. She’s figured it all out. “Oh wait, you are.”

You’re not taking insults from someone who’s below you in experienced years and power. Unluckily, she’s not taking advice from someone above her or below her.

The step you take towards her, towards the little star seated comfortably waiting for you, feels like a sin.

“You’re incredibly unprofessional for a girl who’s worked her way up here,” you note. Cross your arms and give her a reprimanding look.

Wonyoung’s immune to nasty looks, too. She’s been doing this since she was a child. If someone gave her a glare that read all too well of a career assassination, she’d wink the bullet away sweetly. “Hm,” she says contemplatively, “I don’t think you get to say that, honestly.”

Your laugh is blunt and sarcastic. Unbelievable. Wonyoung’s the kindest girl according to the people who work for her, so why is she a rebel in your hands? It doesn’t make sense.

“Look here, we—”

You take three steps closer to her. You’ll keep your little rituals and superstitions to keep yourself grounded. Without them, you’d go insane.

Then without her having to do anything, she comes nearer, like a doomsday foretold by a ticking clock. Who knows? That clock could be a bomb, and that bomb would set off if you dare to touch her with a trembling fingertip. You’d leave the scene injured. And eventually, you’d die the moment they try to help you, because the deed’s been done.

“Oh, I’m looking, alright,” she chirps. She’s doing what you’ve held yourself back from doing: letting her eyes wander. “And I really, really like what I see.”

You’re someone several awards her senior, and you’re still quite intimidated by her at this moment. She’s so sweet yet so honest—she won’t make up a lie to make you feel better and she won’t hide the truth to make you comfortable. Refuse the truth her eyes locked on your crotch tell. You won’t accept it. It’s not right.

“I’m serious.” Approaching her makes you want to go on your knees and beg the lord for a little saving. Do it anyway. No one will rescue you. That’s what the industry taught you. “You’ve made it all the way up here. All by yourself. There’s gotta be something. What are you throwing it all away for?”

She laughs. Funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m not. How am I throwing it all away?”

“Those posts,” you hiss. Doesn’t she get it?

Before she could ask you what you’re talking about, you whip out your phone. Click on the app icon. It instantly shows you the opened tab containing Wonyoung’s recent Instagram posts. Look at her, wrapped in nothing, not even those curtains—giving the camera bedroom eyes when girls her age shouldn’t be shooting them at anyone or be aware of how to.

It’s already massed a million likes in under an hour. But you know what people who turn on anyone easily will say, and what they say could blot Wonyoung’s bright future by a lot. A million people around the world have caught sight of the abs she’s worked hard for, her toned back, and just about everything. A loud minority with frisky influences can sabotage her whole reputation.

“These posts,” you continue, shoving the screen into the poor girl’s face, “can take away everything you’ve worked for. All that fame, all that money, you can’t brag about them after this.”

Wonyoung looks on innocently. She stares at the screen with uninterested eyes, then switches them back on you. She looks like such a good girl in that second, with her hands seated beside her and that face so full of sparkling perfection.

Deception can’t lead you away.

“So, what’s it gonna be, Wonyoung?”

Long silence that builds up your frustration. Finally, she clicks her tongue. Gives you a shrug of her thin shoulders.

“You liked it.”

“What?”

She points to your phone. “You liked my post,” she repeats. “It says so right there.”

What the hell is she talking about?

You look at the device you’re brandishing. For a while, you can’t find out what she’s referring to. You can never take a liking to her posts, although if they switch on something you didn’t know you can feel. You’d die before—

The heart.

Wait.

The heart button below her set of pictures is filled with red.

Your heart pumps faster, a button pushed and played.

Fuck.

You turn to her and open your mouth. No sensible words come out. You swear you didn’t tap twice on her update or take it to a private setting. How did it happen? Worse, even if you say that to her, she’d take it as a pathetic lie.

Wonyoung giggles. It’s a tinkly sound that’s adorable, but you’ve long realized that being cute is not all there is to her. She rises slowly, sets her palms over your blazer-clad arms, and gives you an empathetic face. It’s so condescending that you want to dissolve.

“I know what men like you are all about,” she tells you. She speaks with a sultriness that makes you feel warm and has bumps appearing in masses across your skin.

She smiles. Her eyes disappear into crescent moons and the dimple appears on her cheek. You’re done for.

“Come on,” Wonyoung continues, squeezing your forearms. “Here you are, a big old man known for being a good singer or whatever. You’re so popular that the first thing that pops up on Naver is your face. Everything goes right for you, doesn’t it?”

You have no idea where she’s going with this. You’re afraid to even ask. Your teeth grit as her massages grow stronger, harder.

Something else is, too.

“Then, of course, you see me.”

Her hand. It’s curling around your wrist and bringing your fingers right around that flawless waist. She closes them there tightly.

It’s so bad that it’s good. You want to keep touching her, maybe slip your gliding fingers down her jeans. Oh, you shouldn’t. You can’t.

“You see me, and you get all hot and bothered. And what’s so funny is I’m not even doing anything. I’m just being myself, you know. Being young and rich… a beautiful girl…” Wonyoung is unbuttoning your shirt and you don’t realize it. “You can’t understand how I’m allowed to be this hot when you can’t even fuck me with a normal conscience.”

It’s all so wrong. You want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to shut up. But if Medusa has her eyes, Wonyoung has her lips to turn you to stone. They keep opening elegantly to speak the filthiest, most fucked up shit, and you can’t deny anything.

Her eyes are creased with knowing pride. Her youth doesn’t rescue her from being so messed in the head already. Those thoughts don’t go along with such a pretty face.

“That’s why you like to get rough with me. You tell me to watch how I speak, watch how I act. You tell me to stop talking to you like you’re no one. You tell me that I’m such a little brat. But you only do that so you can get to control me. That’s your most fucked up dream, right?”

Her mouth is the tiniest space away from your chin.

You’re another word away from saving yourself a spot in damnation.

Her finger that scratches a flaw on your blazer beckons you to the fire. “You’re not breaking the law or anything,” says Wonyoung, “so why not break me instead, daddy?”

That’s a deal sealed with a rough kiss.

You grab her cruelly and cover her lips with yours. They’re more amazing than you imagined, soft and competent with how she pushes in deeper, depriving herself of the air she needs the most just to get what she needs just a bit more:

You.

Your tongues collide and clash, striving to get the most taste. She pulls your blazer off (because fuck professionalism, right?) while she kisses you with a hunger that’s equally mental and physical. It’s not like she’d bruise up if you didn’t get your hands on her yet it’s close to that.

And, in your case, it’s not like you’re breaking any law. She’s nineteen, not anywhere under the limits you’d kill others and yourself for touching. Nonetheless, you’re much older—by age, she could be your daughter; by career, she’s your junior; by power, you’re much stronger.

So, it’s still so wrong.

Can’t be when Wonyoung’s fist, firm around your cock, feels so right.

Can’t be when she lands on the edge of the bed with her lips parted in delight as she watches your dick stiffen under her service.

“There you go, daddy,” she coos, smirking. “Just get all hard for me, then you can stuff that big thing up in my pussy.”

Her thumb toys with your cockhead. You purse your lips to hold back a groan. Let go of it anyway when her smooth, closed palm rubs your sensitive flesh. She cups your balls lovingly before gliding her teasing fingertips under your length, right up to your tip. The girl knows how to do this; she’s good at more things other than MCing and performing.

Wonyoung hones this skill with firmer pumps, giving you the handjob of a lifetime. Her long fingers are just made to handle dick. Each stroke is perfection that holds and pulls and slides. You’re leaking so much already.

So you turn into the driver of the hate train, the press that loves getting her bad angles and the articles that slash up her name:

Blame it all on her.

Because you have here a girl, young and pretty and confident, so of course you have to scrape off your sins and nail them all on her, like a quivering hand to wood.

“You think you’re getting it that easily?” you say. Your moan is squeezed in your throat. “Baby, you’re not even close to it.”

Wonyoung smirks. It’s that self-assured, elegant smile that tells you that won’t work on her. She might be a rookie, but she knows how to play the game.

She tightens her grip painfully. That’s what you get for trying to one her up. Do that to anyone, just not Jang Wonyoung. Your cry goes unheard as she yanks you rather than jerks you off. Spits on your head for good measure. Wonyoung’s eyes make a connection with your soul and says, Yep, that’s what I’d do if you weren’t my senior. In fact, I’d do it regardless. I’d choke and spit and leave you to die, because a pretty Samaritan is better than a good one.

“You’re really out of touch, daddy.”

With Wonyoung slathering her drool all over you, you’re forced to teeter on the line between heaven and hell. It burns yet the offer of pleasure leaves you sated.

“You think I’m like the pretty girls out there? Other girls might have broken down and begged you to come back.”

Your rod is subjected to a brief torrid kiss, then a smile as the wicked girl looks up at you.

She laughs, gives you this smile full of haught and womanly power. “Too bad I’m Jang Wonyoung,” she says, her last words before taking you in.

Yes, it’s too bad she’s Jang Wonyoung. It’s too bad she’s not the other girls who’d kneel for a burning touch of stars like you. She wouldn’t be holding control over you with the power of her lips if she had sanity in that pretty head.

Her plump tiers wrap around you and seize everything, encasing it in softness and wetness. Her tongue, the one she uses as a killer expression for her selfies and Instagram updates, kills you all the same with how it swirls around your skin and tastes you. Trying to pretend the girl wasn’t a pro at this like she is with everything else is useless. She’ll keep proving you wrong and overpowering you.

The whole of your shaft is sucked in, then, when her cute nose is pressed directly to your stomach, she lets out a hummed laugh. You shudder—as much as it makes you feel good, fear grips your muscles and makes them limp. She’s loving how wrong everything is, and you’re not sure if you like it.

Her jaw slacks, and then Wonyoung’s swallowing you like you’re water. Can’t be water when you’re this solid in her throat. You let out a shivering groan. You can picture the bulge in Wonyoung’s neck and it’s the last thing you’d count on turning you on, but they did tell you to expect the unexpected.

Her saliva becomes excessive, resulting in some dribbles down her chin that help her work her mouth on you. Wonyoung’s drool sheens you entirely and she keeps adding more. On the occasion she pushes her face into your stomach, your cock gets wetter. She does, too.

“Fuck.” Cussing won’t help deter the onslaught of pleasure. You’re unsalvageable. Say it anyway. You babble meaningless, slurred words and not one gets to Wonyoung. All she can hear is the sound of your quivering moans and her mouth taking you all in.

She becomes less of an idol, less of the elegant princess for the cameras, and instead a fleshlight. However, she reminds you that it isn’t that way with a fierce sneer that stays on at all times. She’s not your girl—she’s Jang Wonyoung, and you’re already incredibly lucky that she chose to go down on you.

All that beautiful hair isn’t of any purpose if you don’t get to touch it, to gather it in a ponytail, to pull on it. Your fingers creep into her brown locks not only to give it a little meaning but also for sanity.

That isn’t a thing in Wonyoung’s world. She pulls your hand off and slaps it on your side. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Daddy can’t touch me, not when he’s pretending that he’s hot shit.”

Her nails bury themselves in your hips. Oh, the manicured talons of a gorgeous monster. Oh, the pain that runs through your sides. Should you run before she devours you? Too late for that.

“Wonyoung,” you breathe, and then ask, genuinely: “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She’s so proper and serene on her shows that not even her most desperate fan would think she’s a terror. They don’t know she’s a girl who likes older, weaker men who’d ruin her if she hasn’t the pretty face and attractively black heart to do them the favor instead.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You’d respond if you knew the answer.

Wonyoung rubs her thumb under your dick, sending little sparks aflying. “Why’d you kiss me earlier?” Her lipstick decorates it as a kinder girl would to your face. “Why didn’t you grab my hair and tell me to be a good girl? Why didn’t you leave? It’s not my fault you want to fuck me.”

All these words of destruction and your cock remains standing. It’s a staunch reminder to her that you can say whatever you want and the hard evidence remains. You want to fuck Wonyoung. You want to do it to a rookie who’d turn the story around on you if it ever came out. You want to fuck her so bad it’s borderline pitiable.

“I’m just giving you what you want, daddy.” Her fingers caress your sides. “Trust me, I could be a very good girl if I wanted to.”

You almost didn’t believe that until Wonyoung started to suck you off again.

Her lips stroke you effortlessly as if this were her pastime. That’s your most accurate guess, because this seamless performance—the one of her mouth working on you with the impression that this whole thing is nothing to her—can’t be a natural gift. The combination of dripping saliva and her soft lips is lethal.

It’s unbelievable how she manages to find all your tender spots. She preys on them, licking and licking until you’re very sure you were going to blow all over her. But you can’t give her that satisfaction.

You’re very close to doing so though. She’s perfectly sloppy and rough. You glare at her when she lightly teases her teeth on your girth. She winks at you in response. She leaves you breathless in so many ways.

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, god—” you whine. It’s so hard to adapt to the girl sitting there with that innocent face and wild mouth that doesn’t dare give up on you.

Her expressions on camera are always poised. Off camera, there’s this one she flashes you as she shoves her face into your stomach that looks downright evil. Although she’s already fucking you with her throat, Wonyoung partners it with strong suction that’s sure to drain you.

“Yes, daddy?” She doesn’t pant when she goes up for air, replacing her sucking with her long fingers.

“I’m really close,” you admit. It’s obvious from your shaking legs.

Sounds of returned wet suction start to increase. Criticism and compliments prod Wonyoung on. How else would she improve in her idol life? In blowing you? In devouring you?

You realize you’re fitting the cliché. There’s you, an idol whose name is uttered on the daily by both young and old fans, igniting a scandal in the making by fucking a girl beneath you in everything. There’s this expensive suite where stars go for a little precious privacy to do what they want. There’s the two of you doing exactly what you desire: fucking each other. There’s the classic maneater trope with how it’s more like Wonyoung fucking you—she fucks you with her face, fucks you in the head, fucks with your righteousness. Well, fuck.

Wonyoung drools so much that you’re invited to a sea the moment your head pushes past her tongue again. It’s slicker, sloppier, and so much sexier because she’s so completely devoted to your cock. Her hypnotizing eyes trap you and so does her body, tight and tiny—that tummy is flatter than a board and only thin panties hide what her long legs lead to from the bottom.

The only time she stops sucking you is when she darts her tongue side to side with an unhinged pace on your sensitive tip. “Good. Cum in my throat.”

“Shit, god, I can’t—”

Wonyoung attacks you again, and there, in her warm orifice, your plentiful orgasm spends itself. Her throat welcomes you tightly every time. Her hot restricted breaths fan your groin and evokes more semen that spills with no care.

Your hands ball into fists. Although you’re hot and shaking, you can’t touch her. Why are you following her rules when it should be the other way around? It’s a reversal of roles, a Stockholm’s Syndrome of some sorts whose victim is your cock never wanting to leave from the predatory embrace of Wonyoung’s puckered kiss.

Of course, after she gathers all of your cum in the pool of her mouth, she swallows.

She really could be a good girl.

“Awh.” Wonyoung pouts mockingly. “Daddy, are you crying?”

Touch your face. To your horror, she’s right. The electricity and shock of her continuous blowjob results in a few tears on your cheeks. You haven’t done that in years. Wonyoung is the first one to make you cry like this.

You flush. What more to hide your weakness than anger? “Wonyoung,” you start, then you realize you don’t know what to say, “I—you—”

She smiles. You aren’t going anywhere.

She shoves you to the bed. You’ve reached rock bottom in spite of the softness of the quality pillows. You’ll scrape your way out if not for Wonyoung finishing the job by keeping you there assisted by her legs. They close around you with not even a courtesy false promise of an escape. No negotiation, no coaxes.

Wonyoung is sitting on your crotch but not on your dick, which is a problem. Which is a solution. Her hands are pinned to your chest while you try not to meet her eyes. It’s a losing game when your runaway glances are met by her grinding hips, silky thighs, and the hard, flexing abs of a perfection of a midriff.

Her fingers tug on the waistband of her panties before slowly slipping them off. Her pink pussy clear of blemish or hair comes in contact with your length. Up and down she goes, her dancing hips always seeking for more friction. You understand their need because you share the same—Wonyoung’s splayed lips on your member feel heavenly. It’s kind of disappointing that she might as well have climbed her way out of hell.

If she did, she’s the prettiest little devil you’ve ever seen.

“Ohhh, don’t you get it?” Wonyoung asks. She moves so smoothly, you nearly forget she’s humping you rather than dancing. Her soft moan brings you back. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and you’re melting; it sounds so seductive and innocent in the same breath.

You know her. She knows you. So it’s clear: Jang Wonyoung can be anything—supermodel, actress, dancer—but she cannot ever be innocent.

Her gorgeous voice is silky when it twists into moans and gasps. Looking down at your crotches meeting and swaying is a better show than end-of-the-year performances. The blowjob and commanding you around must have turned her on by a lot—her flesh is hot and wanton with juices as it slides up and down you.

“You’re not going anywhere, daddy!” Wonyoung giggles. She kisses your nose, then your chest until her lipstick marks you. You burn up with feverish lust after each peck. “Daddy is only Wonyoung’s. And I knew your perfect cock would be mine when I posted those pics. I know men like daddy would do anything for me.”

“Wonyoung.” Breathe again, because you’ll need to after this, so why not do it now? “Why are you doing this?”

You thought her flirtatiousness in your office was just her coyness coming out to play. She’d rest her chin on your desk, suck a red lollipop on some days, maybe run her fingertips over your knuckles. Day in and out, she plays the same game. You didn’t know it would reach this level.

“Because I want to mess you up, daddy,” Wonyoung says. Her tongue swipes at the cavern of your mouth right until she nibbles at your lower lip. Her lipstick peppers your face. “I want to fuck my daddy up so bad he’ll never go a day without thinking of me.”

Swallow. The friction of your sexes is driving you crazy and close to the edge. All the same, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself cumming early for Wonyoung.

What happened to your dynamics? Your relationship? There wasn’t a romantic one, but it was always you holding the reins professionally and her just being an insistent passenger. Now she’s wrapping that rein around your neck and claiming you for her own. Looks like you have control everywhere excluding the bed.

“That’s it?” you ask. Shut your eyes—just seeing her grind on you with her utterly wet cunt can make you bust. “Your career doesn’t matter to you?”

“I could say the same thing to you.” Wonyoung lifts herself up and flashes that wicked smile again. “But I want to feel this in me before you wimp out.”

You and Wonyoung fall down a bottomless hole of consequence and wrongs but Wonyoung makes sure to bottom out the first time she sits on your dick. She engulfs you whole and traps you there with her soaked, grippy walls that slide all the way down.

You’d say her pussy has a vise grip, holding onto you like all goes wrong if it didn’t, except you think it has the grip of a vice. Need for her juices that coat you replaces the need for alcohol. Even if you get out of this suite alive, (which is a low possibility), you can see yourself always coming back for more. You could be addicted to anything—smoking, eating, cheating—but it just so happened your vice is Wonyoung.

“Daddy!” she yelps, and from there you can’t count the times she slams her cute butt down your thighs. “Oh my god, daddy!”

Her dainty, cute yells make you throb inside her. Perhaps it’s the kittenish quality of it that turns you on so much. She sounds so appealing, so fucking ruinable that it’s surprising to see that she’s doing the ruining here. Her expression in bed is more animated than the ones she makes onstage—her nearly closed eyes look upwards while her mouth falls open.

The squeeze of her tight, wet cunt renders your knees weak. It’s a good thing you’re lying down. Wonyoung makes sure you stay that way by penetrating herself with you over and over again. Her being barely a weight on you doesn’t stop you from lying there uselessly. You know better by now not to challenge her, not when each time you enter her vagina is better than the last. Her pussy is slippery and tight, proving to be the smallest and the best fit for your shaft simultaneously. Her hole is too tight and too good.

“Is this all for me, daddy? Huh?” Wonyoung circles her hips, making you moan, then continues her up-and-down movements. “You’re so hard, you naughty daddy. I know you got a b-boner when you looked at my posts. Now I’m giving you another one.”

You always thought of Wonyoung as justifiably confident yet arrogant. She told you once at your desk that she doesn’t deserve a stylist who only has a four-star rating. She lamented about the lack of competence of her staff preparing her comeback stage. All those you turned down to give the topics of her complaints the benefit of the doubt, but you know she’s right. She doesn’t deserve less when she’s better than the best. She doesn’t deserve less when she knows her place: a royal throne. So you can’t deny that she’s too hot to handle, undiscriminating to you whose connections always have impossibly beautiful women somewhere in there.

She’s so hot that her small breasts bouncing from behind that denim bra and tube top looks appealing. She’s so hot that the heat between her legs grows wetter. She’s so hot that when her soft ass crashes down on you again, you don’t find it a repetitive bore.

She’s so hot that you’d let the slim, tall girl use you until dusk turns to dawn, even if the curtains behind her are drawn apart and the secret cameras get to snap a photo.

“Shit, Wonyoung,” you say, your core squeezing. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“I bet you’ve thought about this, daddy. You thought that one night, I’ll be so bad that you could book us a whole hotel and fuck me in all the rooms, just like this one. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“You wanted to open my legs and use my little pussy all day long, huh? Until I’m yours to throw around and do whatever?”

“Y-yes.” Nod. Your face twists—she shouldn’t speak when she’s fucking you because all the filth she says makes you want to blow inside her already. It’s the kind of truth that arouses rather than hurts.

Wonyoung’s riding switches to a rapid intensity that makes you yell. She lets you in so deep to the point that her butt cheeks touch your heavy balls. She’ll drain them for sure; the pace she sets is terrifyingly quick. It seems that she becomes tighter after each bounce, and it’s not helping you hold out at all.

Watch the wildness in Wonyoung’s eyes become animalistic. It makes you all the more certain now of one solid fact: there is something seriously wrong with Jang Wonyoung.

She smirks. “Well, you got it wrong. I’m not all yours, daddy.” She leans down, resting her palms on your shoulders. “You are all mine.”

Her hands might as well be a chained collar waiting to close around your neck. Her devilish simper is supposed to scare you, not turn you on. Somehow, it does both.

She flicks back her hair as she sits up again. Through it all, her riding doesn’t stop. “This cock?” she asks before slamming her pussy down it with a different kind of ferociousness. Cry out but she shuts you up with a furious kiss. “It’s gonna be my dirty secret. I’ll always go to daddy after my schedules so I can make him cum—over and over again.”

To think that a young girl like her has you at her beck and call is laughable, but there’s no laughing now. As you stare at Wonyoung’s fluid body and her hair bouncing beautifully, you realize she actually can have you for herself. It only took one Instagram post to lure you to her. She sees you’re falling deeper and deeper for her.

She didn’t exactly tell you how to escape.

“You gonna cum, daddy? Is my perfect pussy milking you?”

You can do nothing except nod.

“Of course, I can feel you throbbing, i-it’s making me lose it,” gasps Wonyoung. Her whines are making you lose it yourself. “Let’s cum together, okay? You can only cum when you feel Wonyoung squirt all over your massive cock.”

She squeezes tighter on top of you when she reaches down to rub her clit. She’s in search of any kind of stimulation: the slap of her ass on your thighs, the upward shoves of your erection, the pulse of her clit. Her moans increase in their whiny girlishness. Their tender vulnerability makes you think she should be the one underneath your body though you’re aware that’s never going to happen. Wonyoung belongs on top, just the same with her name in first place in the list of brand reputation rankings, browser searches, followers.

Once upon a time, you took charge over her. You managed her lessons, her videos, her behind-the-scenes duties. Funny how it’s the opposite now, wherein she jounces on you freely with the domineering message of caution: don’t cum until she does.

And god, is she making that hard. Everything about her is so attractive, from the bounce of her hair to her midriff showing your entering cock to her pretty pink pussy clutching you. What gets you, however, is her face—everyone loves looking at that face. Today, you’re under an aphrodisiac for it: you’re in love with the roll of her eyes as she rides you, the pink on her cheeks, the part of her lips.

“Fuck yes! Ugh, daddy, you feel so good inside me…” Wonyoung’s core clenches and slides your penis along its textured, sensitive walls. Her gasp is straight out of fantasies. “You’re balls deep, see? Look how your meat’s filling me. My pussy’s going to be so sore after this.” She chuckles. “Wait, who says we’re stopping?”

You shudder. You’re getting very close. Your earlier orgasm still has its effects on you. You’re afraid you’re going to do something you shouldn’t under her bedroom law. She’ll imprison you with her thighs and waterboard you with all the girl cum she promised until you confess that she’s the best fuck you ever had.

“Daddy’s going to cum so hard he’s probably going to breed me. Then I’ll, oh, I’ll feel it inside my tummy and it’s going to be a scandal. Wouldn’t you like that? Getting to knock up Jang Wonyoung? I can hear you moaning. I think you really like that. I think that’s why you’re thrusting up in me. You want to be a real daddy and make your baby girl a mommy. That’s so fucked up, you know that, right? You shouldn’t be having sex with me, let alone breeding me. But you’re a fucking weak old man, so of course you like that.”

You’re burning up. They’re the signs of what’s to come. If her confident words inspire her young fans, her monologues of lust make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. Of course, the boner is part of the effect.

You groan. “Wonyoung, baby girl, please—”

“Oh god, daddy, I’m going to cum!” she squeals. Her emotions control her and tell her to go harder, bounce harder, squeeze harder. She’s pushing past her limits. “Agh, agh, you’re cumming, too, right? Cum for me. You’ll be—fuck, my daddy’s going to make me cum! I’m squirting all over his cock!”

She slams herself down roughly and repeatedly till your lower body’s flooded with her cum. You can’t take it anymore. It feels like dying because you swear you can see stars in the ceiling, stars of lust in her eyes. La petite mort. How poetic, since Wonyoung’s screaming still sounds as beautiful as her singing and speaking.

Her shouts are close to breaking the windows’ glass. Anyone can figure out what’s happening without the destruction of the pane—the curtains are wide open, letting the world see the youngest icon of the new generation pumping herself onto her co-worker.

You wonder if there’s actually poor watchers out there seeing you cream Wonyoung’s princess pussy, grab her ass to guide her, and kiss her when she leans down.

Wonyoung tastes the best when she’s squirting.

Consequences always catch up no matter what. You can hide under a cloak, in another country, underneath the earth in a secluded bunker and all that won’t help. You’ll be stuck dealing with the outcome, thorns from a rose you thought was too pretty to have some.

That’s the first thing you remember when you wake up, wrapped in the bed sheets and by Wonyoung’s arms. Someone’s calling you. Bad news: it’s your boss—the ringtone itself sounds angry, too.

“Hello?” you ask. You can’t help the grogginess of your morning voice, try as you may. If your boss didn’t know what happened, he can perfectly guess from the exhaustion riddling your greeting.

“You dumb little shit.” You can feel the spittle of your boss’ insult from miles away, cities away, screens away. “You’re lucky I’m friends with the fucking CEO.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t give me that. Some janitor saw you from the wing. I needed to hear it from you: did you fuck Jang Wonyoung?”

Unexpectedly, a veiny hand you remember holding something else grabs your phone. Wonyoung leans against your shoulder wearing nothing as she holds the phone to her ear.

“Why?” she quips, loud and clear. “Wouldn’t you?”

2K notes · View notes

dc418writes · 27 days ago

Text

Fuck it, I’m Jealous

✨Pairing✨: TE!Terry Richmondxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Your (secret) feelings for your best friend reach a new height

🚨: teensy bit of angst, brief mention of children, language, allusion to abusive relationship, fluff mixed throughout

Fic inspo:

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

I ain't never been good at sharing

But with you, I practice patience

And I let you do your thing 'cause I'm doin' mine

I was actin' like I'm good when I know I'm lyin'

The rhythmic thud and vibrations from the speakers run through your whole body as you sit at the mini bar watching other guests dancing and laughing. Usually you’d be among the bodies swaying on the dance floor at least once or mingling with whomever was open enough to talk, but tonight you can’t seem to switch your focus from the couple near the tall floor to ceiling windows.

Specifically, your best friend, Terry, and the woman giggling and smiling as she hangs on to his every word.

They’ve nearly been attached at the hip all night - moving from the dance floor to a more private section of the bustling mansion’s living room - and you had to admit, she was gorgeous. Silky, black hair flowing to the middle of her back and face flawlessly clear of blemishes, she was definitely his type with her Hollywood dazzling smile and matching perfect curves. Yet with every flirty glance, you could feel a sickening twinge in your gut.

So much in your head, you fail to realize your other best friend, Ondrea, had joined you after ordering another fruity cocktail. “Her beauty does not take away from yours.”

“I know,” you softly smile attempting to hide your hurt.

“And you, my love, have a line of suitors both in here and outside who’d be blessed with just a minute of your attention.”

You didn’t want them though. Every single one you tried just couldn’t compete - let alone be in the same room - as Terry Richmond. Charming, big eared, jerk.

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, she leans her head on yours with a soft sigh, “Want me to break them up? Accidentally on purpose spill a drink on her?”

“No,” you chuckle, “and I think you’ve reached your limit on the drinks.” She did tend to be a little more…aggressively protective around her fourth. “Where’s Ali?”

Sipping from the little glass in her hand, her other waves as if she couldn’t care less where her defensive lineman husband was. “I’m grown, okay? I don’t need a babysitter and don’t think I don’t realize you trying to divert! Have you talked to him?”

“Drea we both know I can’t do that.”

“You need to though! If I see you sad about alien eyes one more time imma fight him myself.”

“Aye you supposed to be cut off.” You’ve never been happier to see Ali. You came to this party in hopes to forget your messy feelings. To get a long deserved break from the heaviness - and occasional tears - they caused. “Gimme the glass now Ondrea Marie.”

Rolling her eyes, she’s quick to drain the remainder of the candy green liquid - much to her husband’s dismay - before placing the glass in his large paw of a hand. “Happy?,” she hiccups with a giggle lightly bumping you.

“This woman,” he mumbles in exasperation leaving the empty glass on the shiny bar. “Hey bitty, surprised to see you and Terry separated.”

You’d practically been each other’s shadows since college. Each somehow drifting back after working the room if you didn’t stick together the entire time. It’s why most of those interested became slightly disappointed thinking you were more than friends, which you’d both immediately deny.

“By all means, shoot ya shot. Want me to introduce you?”

“Well, I uh thought it’d be best to give him some privacy since he’s pretty occupied.” Turning to find his teammate among the moving attendees, he smirks watching the mystery, model-esque woman lean in to whisper in the Tight End’s ear. Clearly something salacious from how Terry licked his full lips before handing her his phone. His mouth smoothly whispering something back then moving to her neck as she giggled and playfully smacked his chest.

“Well he’s definitely gonna have a fun night.”

That made one of you. “Yep, and I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Already?”

“Yea it’s been a long day, plus I got more to do tomorrow.” Like sulk in the privacy of your own home. Maybe catch an episode or two of Law and Order.

“Oh okay. You need a ride? Or want me to get T-?”

“Nope I’m alright. I’ll just Uber again,” you quickly answer. From his slightly raised brow, you know Ali can probably sense there’s an issue but he doesn’t press on and you’re grateful he seems to catch the hint.

“Uh uh we can drive you home,” Ondrea speaks up trying to stand on slightly unsteady legs. Luckily Ali’s there to keep her from falling to which she insists she’s got it and he rolls his chocolate eyes.

“No yall stay, I’ll be fine.” Not giving them a chance to utter another word, you slip from your barstool with a quick wave and clutch in your hand as your heels hastily clack along the tiled floor towards the entrance. “I’ll call when I get home!”

“We should have another one,” Terry states staring with proud eyes at the quiet bundle in their white crib. His elbows bent over the railing as he adorably coos while fixing the small blanket that looked like the one from your childhood.

“We just had this one,” you giggle jokingly poking the back of his thigh with your toe. Peering over his shoulder, there’s no hiding that boyish grin you fell in love with.

“She need a friend though, she told me.”

“Mhm..she told you that?” He nods moving to get on his knees and crawl until his head is in your lap. His soft hands bringing yours to his lips to peck as he begins to beg.

“Pleasepleaseplease!”

The melodic chime from your doorbell startles you awake with a racing heart and dull ache in your temple from sitting up too fast. It’s soon followed by a couple thunderous knocks that don’t help your already panicked state.

‘Gimme a break,’ you think shuffling to your door. In retrospect, you should’ve looked on your app before opening the door. Or maybe even pretended you weren’t home.

Black Nike sweats covering his legs and matching sweatshirt over his upper half, Terry wasn’t annoyed but you could tell he was in a mood.

“H-Hey,” you greet with a nervous smile. “Everything okay?”

His brief, low chuckle is far from humorous as he crosses his thick arms across his chest. “I could ask you the same. Haven’t talked to you in almost a month.”

‘And? Haven’t you been busy with what’s her name?’ You want to say, but instead you simply shrug. “I’ve been busy.”

“So busy you can’t text or call me back? Come to my games?”

“Wow, one less fan to watch you out of what..hundreds of thousands?,” you sarcastically retort with an attitude Terry had never been on the receiving end of. “I don’t have to always-,”

“You back with him?”

Him in question being your ex, Chris. From their first meeting, Terry couldn’t stand him and definitely wasn’t shy about telling you.

“You need to let him go.”

“I’m tellin you, he’s no good twin.”

The feeling was mutual with Chris. At the mention of Terry he’d roll his eyes and mood would visibly change. And when your then boyfriend expressed how he didn’t want you around Terry, you reluctantly respected that boundary. Until it seemed he didn’t want you with Ondrea either.

It unfortunately took some time to see that so called boundary was nothing more than control. Although slightly hurt, neither of your friends blamed you when you came back with tearful apologies. They took turns being your shoulder to cry on, but Terry tended to check in and visit more. There were many days he’d be waiting in your apartment’s parking lot - specifically in the spot next to your usual - sat in his black on black Ford truck with bags of food in the passenger seat.

“Don’t you have practice in the morning?,” you asked that first night he appeared.

“Yes, and I’ll be there don’t worry twin,” he winked gathering both takeout bags in his hand before following you to your door.

“No, I’m not.”

“Then what?,” Terry asks. “I do something to you?”

Yes, you made me fall in love with you and complicate my love life dookiehead. “No,” you sigh.

Kissing his teeth, his frustration only builds the more you lie. “Look, I’m not stupid clearly it’s something! You ain’t even invite me in and I’m just supposed to-,”

“I just need space Terry!”

“From me?”

“Yes! And…”

Those words are right there on the tip of your tongue practically tickling your lips ready for their escape. Your fears clutch them at the last moment though, refusing to let them go and potentially ruin the best relationship of your life thus far. Your second home you could always depend on.

“And what?”

Your fingers massage you temple feeling that headache become sharper and more painful. “Can we just…not..tonight?” You were nowhere near ready - mentally or emotionally - for this conversation. However like the stubborn, determined man he is Terry can’t easily let things go. Whenever there’s a problem, he finds a solution then and there.

In double time if it concerns his family or friends.

His long legs swiftly bring him over your threshold before closing the door behind him. His hypnotic green eyes intense and never leaving yours leaning back against the wooden entrance.

“I’m not leaving until you get whatever it is you need to say out! I know something’s wrong and wish you’d-,”

“Fine! You wanna know? It is you T,” you finally reveal with tears beginning to flow down your heated cheeks. He wanted to know? Well he just opened Pandora’s box. “I’m..I’m tired of pretending I’m fine seeing you with other girls and hearing about this one in Vegas and-and that one from the club!”

You don’t know if his silence is him taking in your words or from shock. Maybe even unease. For the first time you can’t read him at all.

You can feel the knot form in your throat as your fear tries once more to stop your vulnerability. As usual, he can tell you’re ready to shut down again prompting him to step closer carefully reaching out to brush your freshest tear away from your face. “What else? Keep goin.”

“I shouldn’t have ignored you, but I knew if I said something then I’d ruin what we already have,” you softly explain trying to steady your heaving chest and hiccups. “I mean there’s a reason we’ve never crossed that line right?”

“And why is that?,” he asks stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Was..was he serious? “B-Because you’re not attracted to me like that. Which is fine-,”

“I never said that.” Now was his turn to struggle finding his next words as he took a break from your angelic features to peer down at the tiled floor. Meanwhile you patiently stood there rubbing your ear in your attempt to self soothe - a habit you had as a kid that surprisingly followed you all these years.

“From that first day we met in the dorms, I could tell you were different-,”

“I was one of the crew,” you interrupt.

“No, I mean…you weren’t one to play around. You were intentional with everything you did, had your shit together, and if it ain’t make sense to you, you didn’t want no parts.

You couldn’t help it, it’s how you were raised. Not to say you didn’t have fun and make time for the things you liked, but at the end of the day you knew the important stuff needed to get done.

“I knew I wasn’t there, so I didn’t bother you. You kept it friendly, so I did too. Doesn’t mean I was never attracted.”

You can feel your heart begin its rapid patters again, but now for a completely different reason. “So…so what?,” you ask still unsure. “You’re saying you’ve liked me this entire time?”

His Jordans lightly squeak as he steps closer once more. The amber from his Tom Ford cologne and body heat radiating from his chest makes you dizzy feeling your knee wobble as your back meets your kitchen island. His grayish-green eyes attached to yours once more after a quick glance at your pouty lips. “I’m saying I’ve been attracted to you since I first saw you, and every day after we got closer I knew you complimented me in the best ways…the yin to my yang, my twin. I didn’t wanna be that guy you thought only was friends with you to get with you.

“And when Lizard-,”

“His name is Chris,” you corrected, rolling your eyes with a sniffled giggle.

“I know what I said.” So petty. “When he did that, I wanted to protect you from anyone else who tried to hurt you,” he bashfully shrugs and you mentally aw at how adorable he could be. “Wanted to be the only one to protect you.”

It’s as if your body’s in control rather than your brain how you eliminate the remaining space, reaching up to press your lips against his. Admittedly, it’s…different at first - reminiscent of your first kiss in middle school - but when his warm hand caresses your cheek and the other slides to your lower back, sparks tingle and ignite from your head to your toes. Your lips moving at their own rhythm as both your tongues soon follow pulling moans from your chest.

Begrudgingly, Terry breaks first needing air - and a moment to collect himself. His low chuckle brushes against your cheek hearing your little whimper from wanting more. “Gimme a minute twin,” he smiles pressing his forehead against yours.

“So…what now?,” you whisper nearly getting lost in the way his fingertips feel grazing along your spine.

“You tell me. What do you want?” The deep baritone of his whisper sends addicting shivers throughout your body.

“You,” you answer gently gripping his sweatshirt not wanting to let go - just in case this was some wild fever dream. “All to myself.”

He can’t help but smile at the way your onyx eyes, mixed with swirls of ebony, innocently peer up at him through your wispy lashes. “You got me,” he replies leaning down to meet your waiting lips once more.

I ain't gon' tell you to drop them other bitches

But drop them other bitches

I never been jealous

But fuck it, I'm jealous

So goddamn invested

A/N🎤: HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE✨💕!! I hope everyone is having a great time and able to rest. Or if you’re going through it this season, I wish healing for you and to remember you are so loved and deserving of love☺️.

This idea has been on my mind for a while and uh…I honestly don’t know how to feel about it lol it took on so many changes and I feel like it might be boring, but then again I’m my own worst critic so hopefully yall enjoy!

I wanted to have a holiday themed story or two out by now but as usual I am late lol, but I’m still trying to have something out before new years (however we’ll see👀 lol)

#Spotify #terry richmond #terry richmond x black reader #Terry Richmond x woc #terry richmond x reader #rebel ridge #aaron pierre

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starlemons · 16 days ago

Text

Coffee and Crime ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ PART TWO

Pairing ✦ mafia!bucky x reader

Word Count ✦ 2.2K

Warnings ✦ overall story has a 18+ content warning, MDNI, unwanted groping, attempted SA, mentions of being roofied, mention of blood, physical violence, alcohol, clubbing, someone flashing a crowd, cussing

A/N ✦ I wrote part two a lot quicker than I thought I would, I'm actually really enjoying this story so far! Stay tuned for part three :)

PART ONE »»» Series Masterlist

I will update the series every 1-4 days depending on my schedule

“Would you get your head out of la-la-land and focus.”, Nat said, snapping her fingers in front of your face.

It had been three days since your interaction with Bucky, and you kept finding yourself daydreaming about him, wishing the handsome man would come back into the coffee shop soon.

“Sorry Nat.”, you said sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck.

Your friend stood in front of you in her bedroom, a tight purple dress clung to her figure.

“What do you think of this one?”

“You could wear a trash bag and still look amazing. But I think that I like the green one more.”, you said pointing to the silky cocktail dress she had tossed onto the bed next to where you sat.

“Well then I guess green it is.”

The two of you were at your and Nat's shared apartment, readying yourselves to go out for your mutual friend Thor’s birthday party. Nat considered herself a clubbing queen, she loved to be the life of the party. You on the other hand would prefer to be at home.

“Now little-miss-wallflower.”, Nat said pointing to you, “We need to put together something for you to wear.”

She had you try on outfit after outfit, repeatedly saying none of them had that oomph she was going for.

“Nat can I just wear this?”, you pleaded with her, gesturing to the long black bodycon dress she had put you in.

“No, that's not fitting the image I have in my head.”, she said, ruffling through the closet.

“And what exactly is that image?”

“I want a sexy, bold, outgoing vibe.”

“You know that being bold and outgoing aren’t exactly my thing, right?”

“Exactly, you need to get out of your comfort zone Y/N, live a little.”

After several more outfit changes Nat finally found the perfect ensemble. A red-wine colored dress adorned your body. Its neckline dipped dangerously low, reaching below your sternum and the bottom of the garment barely hit mid-thigh.

“Isn’t this a bit much?”, you asked, looking yourself up and down in the mirror.

“Not in my opinion.” she shrugged, “But anyways you look amazing so I say this is it.”

Staring at yourself again, you did have to admit the dress did make you feel hot.

“Okay fine, you win, I’ll wear this.”

Nat smiled from ear to ear, “Amazing! Now let’s finish getting ready.”

You added a pair of black heels to your outfit, straightened your hair, and Nat had helped you do a smokey eye for your makeup. After an hour of getting ready, the two of you were walking out the front door and heading downstairs to wait for your Uber.

After the quick car ride, you and Nat found yourselves outside a club, a bright blue neon sign reading Supernova sat above the front door. Both of you joined the line to get in. Once you reached the front, the bouncer checked your ID’s and stamped your hands with a shooting star that lit up under the flashing lights.

You scanned the club, glancing over the horde of people, before your eyes finally found who you were looking for. Grabbing Nat’s hand you pulled her behind you in the direction of your friends.

“Y/N! Nat!”, Thor cheered seeing the two of you approaching.

“Hi Thor! Happy Birthday!”, you yelled over the booming music, giving him a hug.

You then greeted your other friends; Wanda, and Clint. The group sat at a table near one of the many small stages scattered about the club. Each of the platforms had girls dancing on them. Your eyes quickly looked away as one of them took off her top, cheers erupting from the group of men standing below her. You felt beyond out of your element.

“You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin Y/N.”, Clint chuckled at you.

You shrugged at him, “I think I just need to get a drink in me. I’ll be right back.”

Walking away from your friends you snaked your way through the throng of people dancing, reaching the bar.

The bartender, a girl with bright pink hair and several facial piercings, turned from the man she was talking to, yelling from the other end of the bar top, “Be with you in just a second!”

You nodded at her, looking up at the chalkboard menu sitting above many shelves of alcohol. Your eyes scanned over the neon pink chalk settling on the special for the night.

Tonight's Special: Midnight Whisper

⛦ vodka, blue curacao, grenadine, sprite, edible glitter

⛦ $11

You leaned up against the bar, studying your surroundings while you waited. Couples were dancing a little too close for comfort, there was a group of girls circling around one of their friends as she threw up in a trashcan by the dancefloor, a group of frat boys sang along to the music blasting through the club.

As your eyes glanced at the V.I.P. area, they widened in shock. Bucky sat in the corner, surrounded by Steve and a few more men. You locked eyes with him and he raised his glass towards you, shooting you a smile.

“What can I get for you?”

You jumped in surprise, turning to see the bartender.

“Can I get a Midnight Whisper?”

“Of course, that’ll be $11.”

Reaching inside your purse your fingers wrapped around your wallet, pulling it out to pay.

“I’ve got it.”, a voice said from behind you.

You looked over your shoulder seeing a man you didn’t know behind you.

“It’s okay really.”, you said.

“No, I’ve got it sexy, a lady with a body like yours shouldn’t have to pay.”, he smirked down at you.

He handed the bartender some cash.

“Um thank you.”, you said flatly.

“No problem, smoke show, I’m Caleb, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”, you grumbled, not meaning it at all, but trying to be polite because he just bought you a drink.

“Here you go girly.”, the pink haired girl slid you your cocktail.

Caleb slid his arm around your shoulders, hand lingering over your drink. You were looking at his face as he did this, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation.

Reaching for your drink, you turned away from him, “Thanks for the drink, I’ve got to get back to my friends now, they’re probably wondering where I went.”

Caleb’s hand shot out, gripping your bicep, “What do you mean you’ve got to go back to your friends? I just bought that for you, can’t you stay and at least talk to me for a bit?”

“First of all,let go of me.”, you hissed yanking your arm out of his grip, “And secondly I tried to pay for my own drink, but you insisted, I said thank you for it, but that doesn’t mean I owe you shit.”

You turned and weaved back through the crowd towards your friends.

As you approached Nat raised an eyebrow at you.

“What’s got you in such a sour mood.”, she said, studying your visibly pissed expression.

“Some dude bought my drink for me and acted like I owed him a conversation because of it.”, you rolled your eyes.

“I would be irritated too.”, Wanda said from beside you.

You laughed, “Anyway enough about that weirdo, guess who I just saw Nat?”

“Who?”

Grinning, you said, “That Bucky guy from work the other day!”

“Oh my God!”

“Who’s Bucky?”, Wanda asked.

You filled your friend in on the handsome man.

“Why don’t you go ask for his number?”, Clint said, eavesdropping on your conversation.

“Because he’s in the V.I.P area, and I don’t have the balls to do it.”, you laughed out, taking a sip of your drink.

Just then Thor appeared, having come from the dancefloor.

“Come on guys let's go dance!”, he yelled.

He grabbed your hand pulling you with him, the rest of your group following behind.

As you guys danced and drank, you began to feel weird. Your head was pounding and you were hit with a wave of nausea.

“I don’t feel good.”, you whispered to Nat, and you rushed to the bathrooms.

“Hey wait-”, she called after you.

You disappeared into the crowd leaving Nat behind, as you stumbled through bodies, your vision began to get blurry leaving you a disoriented mess. There was no way that one drink had done this to you.

Finally you reached the hallway in the back of the club that led to the bathrooms. You shakily leaned up against the wall, dragging yourself along the cool cinder blocks towards the ladies room. Suddenly you found yourself pushed up against the wall, your back smacking it so hard you almost felt the wind rush out of your lungs.

“Hi beautiful.”, Caleb jeered at you.

“What-”, you slurred out, tongue feeling heavy.

He cut you off, covering your mouth with his hand, moving your lolling head back. His other hand settled on the back of your thigh, slowly creeping its way up, his fingers digging into your ass cheek. Your body was like Jell-O, you couldn’t move, leaving you defenseless. You felt tears begin to well in your eyes as you looked up at him.

Next thing you knew Caleb was lying flat on his back a few feet away and you crumpled sliding down the wall to the ground, your legs unable to support yourself.

“What the hell man!”, Caleb screamed, a cut to the side of his head had blood cascading down his face.

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing.”, someone said.

You looked up at your savior, realizing it was the same man who had generously tipped you the other day.

“Oh what so a guy can’t feel up his girlfriend anymore?”, Caleb lied.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky said looking down at you, “Is this guy your boyfriend?”

“No.”, you gurgled out.

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about! The bitch is just drunk!”, Caleb yelled as he stood up.

Bucky however knew that wasn’t the case. You were obviously out of it, but not from alcohol, you gave away the tell tale signs of being roofied.

After he saw you at the bar, he had been watching you. He saw your interaction with Caleb, almost getting up after the man had grabbed you, but relaxed when he saw you could handle it on your own. However when he saw you stumbling off towards the bathrooms and Caleb stalking after you, he stood up and followed the two of you, ignoring Steve asking him where he was going.

He had entered the hallway just as the slime ball had groped you, and without thinking, Bucky decked him in the head. In all honesty Bucky hadn’t felt this angry in a while. It pissed him off to no end, seeing Caleb taking advantage of you, the shy and sweet barista he had just met the other day.

“Y/N, oh my God what the hell happened?”, Nat appeared at the end of the hallway.

“This jackass drugged her.”, Bucky growled, nodding in Caleb's direction.

Nat moved towards the aforementioned jackass, but was stopped by Bucky putting his arm out.

“Let me deal with him. Get her up to the V.I.P area, let Steve know what happened.”

Nodding Nat moved down to the ground, throwing your arm around her shoulder and dragging you upwards. You stumbled as the two of you walked back down the hallway, out into the club. Looking back over your shoulder you saw Bucky nearing Caleb, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up.

Hazily you remember Nat heaving you to the V.I.P section. Steve immediately recognized the pair of you from the other day, and he jumped up helping Nat carry you to one of the couches. While they did so Nat explained the situation to him.

“Tony go get her some water.”, Steve told one of the other men that had been sitting with him.

The dark haired man turned and headed towards the bar with urgency.

“Y/N, Nat are you guys okay?”, you heard Clint shouting from the velvet rope sectioning off the V.I.P area from the rest of the club.

“Are those your friends?”, Steve asked looking at the group that had gathered.

“Yeah they are.”, Nat said.

“Hey guys let them up here.”

One of the security guards by the rope lifted it up and allowed your friends through.

“You know that guy from earlier she said was weird? Somehow he drugged her.”, Nat said to your friends.

“Where’s he at? What's he look like? I'm going to go kick his ass.”, Thor stated, turning to head back down to the dancefloor and hunt down Caleb.

“Someone else already beat you to it.”, Nat said pointing to Bucky who had returned from the hallway.

“Sam, Scott, can the two of you go get the mess in the hallway cleaned up?”, Bucky asked as he neared everyone.

“Gotcha.”, Sam nodded.

“What’d you do kill him?”, Nat asked gob smacked.

“No, just taught him a lesson about keeping his hands to himself.”, he said as he picked up a cocktail napkin from one of the tables, wiping blood off his knuckles.

Your vision started blurring again and the ringing in your ears drowned out any other sounds. The last thing you remember was Bucky looking at you worriedly before you finally passed out.

PART THREE

I AM OPENING A TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ADDED!

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typewritersensuite · 7 months ago

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𝙄𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙨

word count: 1.5+k

warnings: longing lesbian love, fae girlfriend being literally so hot, shes like 5'9/5'10, she's a simp for you, blood play!!, pussy eating!!, she's dom😌, she's everything and you're just human, dirty talk.

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♡Living in a dead end village filled with plain men and a boring future was no way to live. You knew this. You woke up to this life on the daily. It was grating and exhausting pretending to care about courting any of the men that existed around you. From their beards to their breath, they repulsed you completely.

♡The women were always something to marvel at, yet the shaming eyes of the village chief forbid you from ever allowing you to be yourself. To be free. The longing glances you casted at the women were only ever met with a harsh gaze or a sad look. You could never act out on your desires. On who you truly were.

♡So one day, you packed your bag contained only the necessities that you needed. And left, heading into the dark forest that bordered on the edge of your village.

♡There were so many stories about the forest, how it was dark and enchanted. How monsters roamed. How faeries lived there, that there entire kingdom was hidden deep in the woods. But it didn't scare you. It excited you, it gave you a chance of a promising future something you were desperate for. It also meant to shaming eyes and a life of freedom to be who you were meant to be.

♡Eventually after hours of travelling through tall grass, marshy lawns, thorns and mangled trees, your exhaustion hit. After taking a drink of water from your flask, you rested against a trunk of a tree and soon were lulled into a peaceful sleep.

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♡When you awoke, you were no longer outside. Instead you were wrapped in silk white bedsheets that clung to you like a second skin. Pillows so soft they were practically pleading your name to lay your head back upon them. The room was incredibly... beautiful.

♡Black floor boards and golden fluffy rugs, a large vanity that was covered in perfumes and other strange bottles. A large mirror in the corner opposite to the open window that swayed the golden curtains. Swords mounted along the walls and books scattered around.

♡But before you could re catch your breath, the last bit of your oxygen was stolen from your lungs from the ethereal beauty that walked in.

♡Long, black silky hair, a pale face and golden brown eyes. All matched with a beautiful green silk dressed that hugged her body and made her look like a Goddess. The beautiful iridescent wings on her back shone in the sunlight and reflected on the walls almost like stained glass.

♡She smiles brightly at you and flutters over to you, her soft fingers closing your jaw. "you're awake." She coos softly.

♡And you turn into a puddle, a woman- a Fae so beautiful was here cooing over you. Her skin was so soft and her eyes were so impossibly cute.

♡"My name is Morgana, I'm the captain of the guards. You're lucky I caught you, you were almost swallowed whole by a Naga! It would be a shame to see your beautiful face torn up."

♡An absolute puddle. She thought you were beautiful.

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♡After spending a few months beside Morgana, you realised you had a lot in common. The passion to always learn, the need to always explore, the appreciation for beauty. And of course a mutual yearning.

♡It wasn't forbidden in the kingdom, infact it was a normal. The reason why you would cast each other longing glances was because you were mortal.

♡Morgana was already attached to you, and she wasn't ready to cross a line where she would forever be yours, just for you to leave her with your death. It wasn't fair.

♡Her kind often had one partner for life, yes they could be polygamous but every Fae had one partner. A life long best friend that they were always bound to, that they would always serve and crave. And Morgana hated that her chosen lover was you. A mortal.

♡So while you both shared a bed, tangled in sheets and limbs with soft words and adoration oozing off you, she would kiss you softly. Whispering about how long she had waited for you, how you were the most important thing to ever exist in her eyes.

♡When the morning rose, she would press a kiss to your forehead to wake you up before she fluttered away on her adventures.

♡Morgana was determined to find something, anything to keep you by her side for as long as she lived. She refused to live without you. She simply couldn't bare the thought of it.

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♡A few more months had passed and late into the evening after you had cooked dinner, you gaze out the window worriedly waiting for Morgana. But soon the beating of wings is heard and the front door is slammed open.

♡When you turn to go to her, she rushed towards you and presses her lips towards yours. And you see a peak of heaven, a true love, a true freedom. She moves her lips against yours desperately, her nails digging into your hips almost pleading for you to let her explore your mouth.

♡And who are you to deny this goddess that your adore so dearly. You open my mouth as you move your jaw against hers, your hands catching in her beautiful black hair. Her tongue eagerly searches your mouth, exploring the land and claiming it as hers.

♡Soon you two break away heaving, a line of spit connecting you. She gazes at you with desperate eyes, searching your eyes to understand her.

♡"What is it?" You breath out, you heart racing, terrified about what could occur.

♡"I found it. A way to keep you as mine forever. But my little seedling, it comes at a cost," she murmurs back. And when Morgana sees your questioning gaze, she steps forward and cups your cheek.

♡"There are a few things to seal this. But the cost is that you will forever be bound to me. More than most fae partners are. It means body and soul you are mine. Under my control, my whim." She whispers as she leans down and presses her forehead.

♡"It was yours from the start." You utter out, closing your eyes and embracing the moment. The closeness.

♡"Then, you have to trust me." She whispers again, stroking a strand of hair from your face.

♡"You never have to ask that, my love. I trust you with every breathe that leaves my lungs and I love you with every beat of my heart." You murmur.

♡She smiles, "come, let's go to bed." She coos as she tugs your small hand and leads you to the bedroom.

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♡Within seconds, you're laid on the bed. Your clothes have been torn off by Morgana and her skillful knife. Tearing them off like you were a present and you were a gift she had longed for.

♡Her soft hands massage your doughy thighs, while her lips press soft kisses to your neck. Marking and nipping down your neck to your collarbone until she reaches the valley of your breasts.

♡Her hands move and begin to gently rub your clit all while she kisses along to your breasts until she takes a nipple into her mouth and sucks it. She moves her fingers faster in a circular motion, while her tongue circles your nipple. Her eyes fluttering closed in delight at the sounds you make.

♡She kisses along your breasts to reach your other nipple, still circling your clit. She applies more pressure before she taps it, smirking at the squeak you let out.

♡She breaks away from your breasts as she straddles you naked. Her breasts heavy and beautiful. She takes her golden blade and cuts her soft delicate skin at the top of her left breast. "Drink." She commands in a breathy voice.

♡And soon enough you sit up and latch onto the cut, you drink her golden blood. Tasting the blood of your beloved, allowing yourself to be bound to her forever. You pull away and press a small, soft kiss to the cut.

♡When you gaze up at her, she normally coffee brown eyes are now black. Her pupils dilated with lust and she pins you back down onto the bed.

♡She kisses down your navel and stomach before marvelling at you heat, her pink lips almost drooling at the sight as her eyes devour the beauty before her.

♡"Such a perfect cunt. S mine. You know that right? You'll only ever spread your legs for me. This pussy is mine. This body? Mine. You? Mine." She utters out through clenched teeth before she leans forward and licks a long stripe between your folds.

♡She soon attaches herself to your clit, suckling on the sweetest nectar known. Her hands squeezing your breasts and flicking your nipples as she feasts on the delight between your legs.

♡She moves a hand down to between your legs and works two fingers into your tight pussy. She moans at how warm you are, how tight you are. She nibbles on your clit before kissing it and licking it like she was dehydrated.

♡You can't help the squeaks that leave your throat, all the noises becoming sweet music to Morgana's ears. She scissors her fingers in you, rubbing against your gspot as she suckles hard on your clit.

♡You thrash as you cum hard, and after you lay limply. Morgana smiles softly at the slight. She slides her fingers out and licks them clean.

♡"My beloved, rest. I'll clean you up. You were magnificent. A beauty that I have waited forever for and one that destroyed all my expectations of beauty. You are bound to me, my most gorgeous love." She coos to you as your eyes close and you fall into the best slumber of your life.

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#monster kink #monster fucker #monster au #monster gf #monster girlfriend #faerie #fae x reader #fae fucker #fae au #fae character #fae smut #fae #smut #terat0philliac #tw teratophilia #yandere teratophilia #teratophillia #Fera Writes #typewritersensuite

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wisteria-lodge · 7 months ago

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theory about why draco & lucius malfoy are generally considered very attractive, EVEN THOUGH they're never actually described that way:

(and it isn't just because of the actors who play them. This post got me thinking about the language JKR uses to describe conventional attractiveness, and I'm having fun unpacking it further)

It's because JKR uses "sleek hair" and "shiny hair" as a synecdoche for "attractive/good looking (femme)."

Hermione's hair is "no longer bushy but sleek and shiny" at the Yule Ball, and again "sleek and shiny" at Bill's wedding when Ron and Viktor remark on her attractiveness. Cho is "a very pretty girl with long, shiny black hair" and Harry watches "her shiny black hair rippling in the slight breeze." Ron (under the influence of love potion) says “Have you seen [Romilda Vane's] hair, it’s all black and shiny and silky?" Fleur throws her "sheet of silvery hair" around. Bellatrix used to be beautiful ("She retained vestiges of great good looks, but something — perhaps Azkaban — had taken most of her beauty") and you can tell because her hair used to be "sleek, thick, and shining" even though it is now "unkempt and straggly." The dandyish young Slughorn's hair is "shiny" and flamboyant Lockhart's hair is "sleek."

So when we get descriptions of Lucius Malfoy that stress his "sleek blond hair" or that his "his usually sleek hair was disheveled" and then DRACO, "whose sleek blond hair and pointed chin were just like his father’s" has "sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face" a "sleek blond head," and then of course a description of Pansy "strok[ing] the sleek blond hair off Malfoy’s forehead, smirking as she did so, as though anyone would have loved to have been in her place."

I mean. Our brains put two-and-two together. The Malfoys are attractive/good looking (femme.)

Like, absolutely an accident, but very funny.

("sleek and shiny" is also how harry consistently describes broomsticks he likes, which absolutely tracks)

#hp #jkr critical #literary analysis #attractiveness in harry potter #boy its a can of worms #draco malfoy #lucius malfoy

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arc-misadventures · 2 months ago

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The Tails Curse

Jaune was doomed.

He had made a mistake, a terrible mistake.

He touched a faunas tail. He touched a faunas tail without permission. He ran his fingers through the faunas soft tail fur, melting to the touch as he felt the silky smooth fur.

And, to a point he regretted touching their tail. He felt like he couped a feel without permission. It was beyond rude to do that to a person, if he saw someone do what he did he would have beaten them to a bloody pulp. Jaune felt like he deserved such a treatment.

And, yet he couldn't let the feeling of that soft fur on his finger tips escape his mind.

And, yet he had to apologize, and make up for the sins he had just committed. He would take whatever punishment that would be thrown at him to atone for the crimes he had committed. But, there was one thought plaguing, Jaune's mind.

Kali Belladonna was a cat faunas. She had cat ears, not a tail. And, cats don't have tails like that. Right?

~~~

Jaune: H-Hello, Ms. Belladonna...

Kali: Oh, hello, Jaune. How are you doing~!

Jaune: I am doing... bad... guilty... ashamed...

Kali: Ashamed...? Ashamed of what, Jaune?

Jaune: I touched your tail without your permission. No one likes to be touched without permission, much less something so private as one's tail. I am sorry for touching your tail. I have no excuse for my actions. I beg for your forgiveness... But, I have one question before you pass judgement...

Jaune bowed his head as he apologized. He hoped this would show, Kali his sincerity, but if not, he understood.

Kali: And, that is?

Jaune: You're a cat faunas; faunas only have one trait, and yet you have two. A-And, that tail... cats don't have tails like that...

Kali: Well, that's because I am not a cat faunas... In fact, I'm not even a faunas.

Jaune: W-What? But... the ears?

Kali: The ears just help me to blend in with the other faunas here. But, they are real if you are wondering, and so is my tail.

Jaune watched as her hand ran from her hip as her tail seemingly appeared out of no where. Jaune marveled at the beauty of her silky smooth black fur, with a snow white tip at the end.

Snow white tip? Cat tails didn't look like that, nor were they as bushy, only...

Jaune: A fox... You're not a cat... y-you’re a fox?

Kali: Fu~fu~fu~! I am, but I am not any ordinary fox.

Jaune: You're not...?

Kali: Something far more... Mystical~!

The breath left from, Jaune's lungs as he saw eight more tails fan out behind her, and her raven black hair turned as white as snow. Jaune stepped back in shock as his mind struggled to take in the mystical beauty in front of him.

Jaune: A fox... you're a nine tailed fox...

Kali: Indeed I am... I am, Kali Belladonna, the Nine Tailed Fox. I am the protection deity of the lands of, Menagerie.

Jaune gulped in fear as he came to the realization of how screwed he was. He did not know much about the powers of a nine tailed fox, but he knew enough.

Jaune: I touched your tail... To touch a nine tailed fox's tail is to invite a curse upon you. I am to be cursed aren't I...?

Kali: Yes. you are to be cursed.

Jaune: Very well... I accept whatever punishment you bestow upon me...

Kali: Jaune... Raise your head...

Jaune raised his head to see the warm smiling face of, Kali Belladonna walking over to him.

Kali: I shall curse you, Jaune... I shall curse you with a long life, and a health body... I shall curse you to live a happy life, with a warm home, and a loving family. I shall curse with all of these things, and more. To break this curse you must leave my side. But, I must warn you, all manners of unimaginable woes shall befall upon you.

Jaune: It sounds more like you're asking me to marry you... and, that we'll both be sad if I refused your 'curse.'

She ran a hand up his chest as she closed the distance between the two of them. Gently rubbing at across his chest as she felt the muscles underneath.

Kali: We will, and I am... I would have laid a curse upon you when you first touched my tail. You are not the first man I that dared to touch my tail, nor are you the first man I've cursed with unimaginable pain for daring to lay a hand upon me.

Kali: However... as a nine tailed fox I can read minds... and, you are the first man to ever lay hands on me that did it out of sincerity. You saw my tail, and marveled in the beauty of my tail. And, you felt such sincerity in your heart as you apologized... You are a pure soul... and I want you...

Jaune: You want me...?

Kali: Yessss~! My body has not aged in centuries... but, I desire deep within my heart to grow old besides you... to raise a family along with you... I desire you, Luna Jaune Arc... I desire you with all my heart. Will you have me?

Jaune: Luna... You really can read minds... I never told anyone that was my first name...

Jaune cupped, Kali's chin as he stared lovingly in her eyes as stared back with just as much if not with more love, and desire.

Jaune: Can you make your hair go back to being black? It look far more beautiful in black. Misses Kali Belladonna Arc...

Kali: For you my love... anything...

The two leaned in for a kiss of passion, and joy as the new possibilities blossomed into reality.

And, as Jaune melted into her embrace he had one thought running in his mind.

As curses went, this was nice.

#rwby #jaune arc #kali belladonna #jaune x kali #kali x jaune #rwby cougar

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rafecameronsslxt · 13 days ago

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Professor Cameron

Professor! Rafe Cameron x Reader

Synopsis: A semster passes full of intense, seductive looks you finalize the first touch between Professor Cameron and you.

Warnings: Smut, taboo themes, taboo nicknames, light choking, fingering, sex

It's been such a long time since I've wrote.

Masterlist

Maybe opening my legs to a professor during class was not the most ethical way of going about my erotic fantasy but our attraction was not one-sided. When Professor Cameron asked questions seemingly to the whole class, why would his eyes linger on me only to answer it? When I would stay after class to inquire questions about what he assigned with quite revealing clothes why would he call me gorgeous and freely let his eyes sip me in? The way Professor Cameron would walk back and forth trying so hard to keep his eyes off his student, who is forbidden, had me aroused in more ways than imaginable.

I could feel my white skirt ride up my thighs revealing my white lace panties. I knew Professor Cameron was looking by the stutter in his lecture talking about marketing. I wanted his greedy, lustful eyes to need more of me. I could see the sweat beads forming on his forehead, the gel in his hair failing as strands of his curtain bangs fell to the front, and the tense form of his posture. I had forgotten all about the lecture.

I feel a tug on my dirty blonde knowing it is my friend Freya. “Focus on writing down notes and the lecture not prof. Cameron you slut.” She whisper-yells in my ear with a small teasing smile on her face. I sigh yet analyze the projector for missing information to type down which seems my busy mind has missed all the information of this marketing lecture. At the end of class I watched Professor Cameron run a hand through his hair and see his black silky button-up shirt, a button near the top not buttoned and his expensive looking dress pants. What could a handsome young man be doing in a lecture hall filled with stressed young adults?

“Miss Y/L/N, if you could stay after class for a moment?” Professor Cameron inquired. We watched the students filter out of the classroom until there was no one left to hear our conversation. I packed away my laptop, walking to Professor Camerons desk a smile seductive smile plastered on my red lips. “Yes, Professor Cameron? Something wrong?” I ask too innocently. I watch his red face stare at me trying to calculate his words correctly. “What you are doing is inappropriate.” His serious words and stern face make me feel a bit intimidated, but I am not one to back down. “I’m not doing anything. My skirt may have been riding up accidentally but maybe you should not have been looking.” He scoffs at my excuse too knowingly. Professor Cameron steps closer to me and my legs hit the cold wood of the long desk. I’m forced to sit on it, my skirt riding up once again this time fully. “Months have gone by with you wearing these slutty, revealing outfits for me. Months that I have let you have this control over me. You must feel powerful, huh, sweetheart?” Professor Cameron whispers condescendingly and seductively in my ear. I feel his warm hands on my thighs, rubbing up and down slowly getting further up each time. “You're telling me you don’t like this? How I get you turned on during class and no one else knows besides you and me.” I sound like I'm asking but I’m not because I already know he loves the sexual glances or slutty skirts for him. I begin to feel his hard-on through the expensive black dress pants until I hear Freya calling my name. Quickly Professor Cameron steps away from me and I stand up fixing my skirt. I clear my throat, grab my bag, and quickly walk away from the professor.

Freya is star-struck as I walk up to her. Jaw-dropped and in complete shock is what she tells me. “What the actual fuck!? Were you just hooking up with THE Professor Cameron? The one you’ve been crushing on this entire year???” Freya practically yells too everyone walking past. “Oh my gosh Freya shut up. I’m serious. If this gets out-” she cuts me off instantly “You’re my best friend. You know you can trust me. It's not like you haven’t gone on and on about how hot he is for months now.” She says rolling her eyes and I’m relieved I feel like I can trust her. “Sorry you’re right. Everything is so jumbled right now. How am I supposed to go to class tomorrow when he was touching me like that?” I say still in disbelief of the events that have played out today. We head back to our dorm as I spill the complete details of what happened but when night falls, I start to get anxious about everything that could happen tomorrow.

I wake up throwing on a more business casual style consisting of beige trousers and a corset top that ties at the shoulders forming a bow. I could not put anything too wild today considering my nerves of seeing Professor Cameron had been shot. Freya and I walk to class slowly but surely as she is my support. Unfortunately, she sits behind me and I’m in the front row. Professor Cameron hasn’t shown up yet but by the time I think get lucky he’s at the front of the lecture hall turning on the projector. I hold my breath when he looks up around the class, his eyes not daring to set on me. It makes me feel upset that he isn’t acknowledging me even when he starts the lecture. I don’t get a glance or when I raise my hand for a question it’s like he doesn’t even see me. Class ends and I give Freya a heads up I will be a few and we’ll meet later.

Professor Cameron is sitting at his desk, unmoving, until I speak up. “You decide to ghost me today?” I ask tensely, keeping a place in my own seat. He finally looks at me. The first time today. “This is practically illegal Y/F/N. I shouldn’t have touched you like that yesterday and kept our distance.” My heart drops. I can tell he’s lying. He doesn’t mean what happened yesterday was a mistake. “Stop. You don’t get to say that. All these long months and after one touch you give up? NO, you can’t do that, please.” My voice is small and on the verge of tears. Rafe’s face softens up. “If I touch you again, we’ll do bad things princess.” His raspy voice vibrates through me to the right places. “Maybe you should.” I leave it at that, and he walks over.

Rafe motions for me to crawl over the desk. My legs are now hanging off the desk and Rafe pulls my hips closer to him letting me feel how hard his cock is. His big hand rests on my jaw forcing me to look up into his cerulean eyes, ones I could get lost in forever. I press my sweet, soft red lips to his. Rafe slides his tongue in my mouth and the kiss became hungrier as I grinded against him. I ran my hands through his already messy hair deepening the dirty kiss more. He pulls back a splotchy red face from our passionate kiss. “Is it okay if I take off your top baby?” The question takes me aback. It’s not what I’d expected, or I've gotten to use to horny guys. I nod with a sweet smile. Rafe slowly pulls a sheer string to the shoulder parts of my corset top. He bends down kissing my neck down to my collarbone leaving little love bites all the while being gentle to unzip the back of the corset. I moan out softly at the sweet and sexy feeling of his mouth gliding down my neck. Once the corset is off, I unbutton his white-collar shirt and begin kissing down his abs placing each kiss softly until I’m at the hem of his blank dress pants.

I give him a deceiving sexual grin as I kiss Rafe’s hard cock through his pants. I look up at him seeing his red complexion and coarse grunts while I tease him. “Does my favorite professor like this?” I question coming back face to face. Rafe nods pressing his hot lips back to my neck making me fall back onto the desk. He brings his lips back to mine and begins unbuttoning my trousers, pulling them off, and rubs his warm fingers over my pink laced panties. I can feel how wet I am by the lace panties sticking to me and when Rafe says, “Fuck are you always this much of a whore for your professors?” I moan too loudly, pushing myself closer into his fingers needing more than this. Rafe grabs my jaw forcing me to look at him. “Answer me princess.” He says sternly now pushing my panties to the side lightly sliding his finger through my folds teasing my clit with each brush which compels a soft whimper out of me. “No professor Cameron I’m only your dirty secret.” With that response he shoves his middle finger in me. An unwarranted pornographic moan comes from my mouth clearly turning my professor on even more. Rafe’s middle and index finger are now quickly sliding in and out as well as repressed moans from me, so I don’t alert anyone to come into the lecture hall considering how big it is and voices bounce off the walls. “I need more Professor, please.” I beg as I begin to spasm around Rafe’s long fingers on the edge of releasing.

On the brink of release his needed fingers disappear from inside of me. I moan out no, practically begging Professor Cameron to keep using his fingers. “Such a good little student laying down-” Professor Cameron pauses and I hear him unbuckling his belt, pants dropping, and suddenly feeling his cock brush my entrance. He glides his hard cock through my wetness and continues “taking this cock like such an obedient student.”

As much as I try to be quiet I physically can’t when my professor pounds me into the table on my back and legs around his waist feeling every inch of his cock inside my tight pussy. Professor Cameron wraps his large hand around my throat leaning down to give me deep, passionate yet sloppy kisses and I couldn’t have asked for anything better. My hands find his back nails digging into his muscular shoulders. “Fuck Professor it feels so good,” I drone off with a moan and my nails scratching down his back my boobs bouncing with each thrust of his cock. I hear Rafe groan whispering in my ear how good I’m taking him such a seductive, sweet, soft whisper.

“I’m so close Professor,” My eyes roll, nails dragging along my professors back, and spasming around his hard cock. A loud sweet moan comes from my messy swollen lips and a few seconds after me I feel Professor Camerons hot cum fill me up. He pulls out sitting on the long desk table beside me, breathing heavily. I keep my naked, sweaty body on the table for a few minutes, taking this warm feeling in. “That was amazing.” Professor Cameron in his euphoric mind states and I couldn’t agree more.

Professor Cameron brings me my clothes with a soft kiss. “We’ll have to do this again Professor” I say with a little laugh.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #obx fanfiction #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #obx smut #smut #tabooromance #professor #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe x reader smut #rafe cameron smut

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foxintheferns · 1 year ago

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I'd love to see Jacob with a single mama. I'd love it if he imprinted on her while she's playing with her little one on the beach. She could be Charlie's niece who he helped move to Forks to give her a fresh start with the little one. I'm thinkin the kiddo is about 1-2, old enough to walk/play in the sand but still young. I can see Jacob being the best papa ever and the pack just LOVING on the kid <3 Please and thank you! <3

Thank you so much for your patience with this one! Because I made you wait so long, I made it a long one <3. Loved writing such sweet lil fluffy stuff. Please enjoy :)

A/N: AU where Jacob and Bella aren’t toxic & weirdly obsessed with each other, and he has his own life and experiences outside of her! Period.

HOME

You sat on the sand with Lydia between your legs, her wispy, silky auburn hair blowing between your fingers with each soft gust of the salty breeze. You faced the ocean, La Push beach surrounding you in all of its striking glory.

Lydia babbled as she played with the sand, her back to you and her arms and legs quite literally covered in the granules. It would be her second birthday in two months, and you couldn’t understand where the time had gone. She grew so quickly, her chunky little arms and legs getting longer by the day, and you wished desperately that you could pause time.

Your ex boyfriend Noah, Lydia’s father, hadn’t wanted much to do with the raising of his child.

You looked down at the side of her sweet face, the buttery soft skin of her cheek glowing with the orange light of the afternoon. It was despicable that anyone could not want to love this tiny human, you thought, that anyone would even consider leaving her by choice. But that was exactly what Noah had done. His booze and his gambling was far too important to him to bother with the raising of a small child.

It made you angry; you felt a relentless and almost violently intense need to protect her. From everything ugly and awful and false in this world, even if that meant her own father. He had never treated you right, always gone for nights at a time doing who knows what with God knows who. The pregnancy had been an accident, but his reaction was not what you’d expected. He’d seemed to be on-board at first, but was never there for you during your difficult pregnancy. You thought back to how your muscles had ached as you were on all fours scrubbing the bathroom floor that one Saturday night, seven months pregnant and inconceivably exhausted. He had come home after being gone for two days, reeking of liquor and barely having time to slur out his angry question of what you were planning on making for dinner before he’d passed out on the living room couch.

You had been expecting Lydia’s birth to snap him back to reality, to throw things into perspective for him. But the man you had practically grown up with, together since 18, had missed her birth.

“Got caught up at work,” had been his excuse when he showed up at the hospital the next morning. Even the labor and delivery nurse had thrown him a glare.

When Lydia was 3 months old, you were forced to go part-time at the job you’d loved, the one that could actually lead somewhere. Without Noah’s help, childcare was next to impossible. Your neighbor, Jess, a stay at home mom of three, was kind enough to babysit Lydia with her own children for a few days out of the week, but you felt awful not being able to pay her much, if anything, most weeks.

After over a year of trying, of desperately hoping and yearning for the man you had once loved to be a father to your sweet girl, you’d finally thrown in the towel. Noah had made it clear that he had no interest in being a dad, and in one of his more blacked-out stupors, had even remarked that if the two of you hadn’t gotten pregnant, things would’ve been easier. Better.

Noah had been gone 11 days, his longest absence yet.

You’d packed your minimal belongings, gathering Lydia’s too and putting them into her tiny suitcase with strawberries on it.

Your mom had passed when you were 16, and your dad was very much like Noah. Oh, how patterns repeat themselves. You didn’t have much of a support system to fall back on when shit hit the fan.

The one person you knew would answer if you called was your Mom’s brother, Charlie.

“(Y/N)?,” his gruff, tired voice had come through the phone that early Tuesday morning. You knew it was probably only 4am in Forks, where he was, but he’d still answered the phone.

“Uncle Charlie…,” you’d whimpered shakily, “I-….”

You didn’t even know where to begin. Uncle Charlie had always been so good to you, checking in and asking how Lydia was frequently. He’d been one of the few people you’d called to share the exciting news of your pregnancy with, and had been ecstatic, urging that you come visit him and your cousin Bella as soon as you could.

“What’s goin’ on? You okay?”, His voice had become suddenly alarmed, and you’d heard the shuffling in the background of him getting up and out of his bed.

Leaving with Lydia was something you’d been wanting to do for a while, but you didn’t think you could actually follow through with it. Saying it out loud felt impossible.

“I need your help,” you’d whispered, your voice low and on the verge of breaking.

That was two weeks ago now.

You sat on the soft sand with Lydia, her tiny fingers gripping your leg for support as she pulled herself up, and you thought back to the fear you’d felt that day. Charlie had immediately paid for a plane ticket for you and Lydia to fly up to Port Angeles. He didn’t waste a moment in inviting you to come stay with him. He’d been clearly enraged, barely hiding his distaste for Noah’s behaviors once you’d let the floodgates open and told him everything you’d been hiding for months.

“Jesus, (y/n). I thought you guys were doing good…I thought he was different, honey. I’m so sorry, kid,” Charlie had spoken into the phone after the words pouring from your mouth had finally come to a halt once you’d gotten him caught up on the current status of your relationship with your baby’s father. You hadn’t realized it, but you’d been hiding it from practically everyone. Your cousin Bella texted you often, and she knew some of the details of how absent Noah had become, but even she didn’t know the extent of it. You were a single mother, from the moment Lydia was conceived, you’d accepted that. Noah was never a dad to her.

“Mama! San!” Lydia’s tiny voice shrieked out as she grabbed a fistful of sand and threw it in front of her, some of it spraying in the breeze and landing across your chest and arms. She tentatively waited for your reaction. Her eyes scanned your face, her pink cheeks pulled into an ecstatic smile. You laughed, shaking your head, and wiped the rough granules off of your skin as you nodded at her.

“Yes, sand!” You picked up a handful of it, holding it out to show her and letting it spill through your fingers. She shrieked again, excited by your intentional dropping of the sand, and jumped several times, her little legs barely able to lift her half an inch off the ground.

You’d been down at the beach in La Push almost every day now. You’d gotten settled in to the extra bedroom at the Swan’s house, and you couldn’t help but feel like a burden, so you went out with Lydia often. Charlie and Bella had insisted, several times, that they were grateful to have the two of you. That they didn’t feel burdened by your presence. A toddler definitely wasn’t the quietest or most polite house guest, but Lydia was truly the best thing you’d ever done, and you prided yourself that you’d managed to raise such a good tiny human all on your own.

She was kind, and gentle. She loved animals, she loved making new friends. She watched the world around her with curious and eager eyes, anxious to explore and see and feel. She laughed and laughed and laughed; she was the giggliest baby you’d ever seen.

Bella offered to watch her whenever you needed a break, and you hadn’t asked for one yet. She was practically begging to babysit Lydia at this point, which had surprised even her; she wasn’t much of a kid person.

You didn’t want a break. You were soaking up this time with your little one as much as you could. You felt free, for the first time in a long time.

The beach felt like home now, and Lydia seemed to think so too. Every time you walked with her down the dirt path toward the beach, she would screech and try her best to run towards the glistening ocean. You’d been at the beach now for an hour or two, and you reached into your bag to pull out more baby sunscreen for her.

“Lyd, come ‘ere babe.” You reached out, gently pulling her to you, and her eyes landed on the pink bottle of sunscreen. She knew the drill at this point, and gingerly leaned against you as you rubbed the cream across her tiny little shoulders and arms. She giggled and smiled as the cold sunscreen landed on her skin.

“Eeee!” She cried, slapping her small hands against your leg as she pulled her face away in protest to you trying to spread the sunscreen across her cheeks. She still stood in place though, squeezing her eyes shut and pouting as you rubbed it in.

“Thank you, baby. Such a good girl,” you cooed as you snapped the lid of the sunscreen closed and placed a kiss on the tip of her little nose. You continued to pepper her face with smooches until she was a screeching, giggling mess on the sand, her arms and legs flailing every which way. You tickled her, both of you laughing loud enough for the sound to travel over the noise of the rolling waves hitting the beach.

After the tickle attack came to an end, you grabbed some strawberries and blueberries from your bag, pulling open the Tupperware container and holding it out to Lydia. Her eyes lit up (strawberries are her all time fave) and she eagerly grabbed at the berries with both hands. After several minutes of snacking, her mouth and face was stained pink and red, and her fingers were sticky. The sand was still warm, although the breeze was starting to cool off a bit.

“Let’s walk, yeah Lyddi?,” you asked, getting up from your large towel and brushing the sand off of your legs. She bounced around beside the towel, falling a few times onto the soft sand as she lost her balance. You held your hand out and smiled down at her, waiting for her to meet your eyes. She reached out without hesitation, allowing you to envelope her tiny hand in yours, and let you lead her down towards the water.

You walked across the gentle waves, only going far enough so that the incoming swells flowed across your feet and ankles. With each wave hitting the shore, Lydia giggled and gripped your hand firmly, picking her feet up as quickly as she could to run from the water as it approached, only to run back towards it when it receded. You bent down, releasing her hand to skim the ocean water, wetting your fingers to clean the berry juice from her face.

As you were wiping your thumb across the soft skin of her chin, you saw her eyes flicker to something behind you, down the beach. Her gaze was intent and focused, and you glanced over your shoulder to see what managed to catch her constantly fleeting attention. A group of four tall men coming down the beach, kicking a soccer ball amongst their group. Their laughter was just reaching your ears now, and they were coming close enough that you were able to make out their faces.

They were quite large, and all but one of them were shirtless. The image rang a bell: they looked like they could be some of the Quileute boys you’d heard Bella mention were her close friends. You knew the beach was on the local Quileute reservation, but it’d been relatively empty in the days you and Lydia had been spending there, and you’d only seen random tourists walking along the beach occasionally. Bella had complained jokingly to you that these friends of hers were annoyingly always shirtless, impossibly large and tall, and that her boyfriend Edward wasn’t the biggest fan of them.

You smiled when one of them looked down the beach towards you and Lydia, and he seemed to return a polite smile at first, but his face melted into an odd expression when your eyes met. It was an indecipherable look. A look you didn’t understand.

He stopped walking, his body halting while his friends continued to move down the beach ahead of him. For a moment, it almost seemed like he was about to wave or come towards you, as if he recognized you like an old friend. The peculiar expression lingered for a moment before he pulled his eyes away quickly, and you saw his mouth moving as he seemed to speak swiftly to the men around him. His friends stopped walking as well, all turning to face him with bewildered expressions. The eye contact between you had been longer than a typical interaction with a stranger, but you felt oddly unalarmed. You were struck with an odd sensation that felt like you recognized him too.

He was the tallest of the group, his shoulders wide & strong. His frame was long and lean, and he happened to be the only one wearing a shirt, though it was a black cut off tank that didn’t cover much of his chiseled musculature underneath. You brushed the encounter off as random and probably explainable, trying to ignore the odd and unfamiliar sensation that prickled across your entire body like electricity.

You turned back to Lydia, but her curious eyes were still locked on the group behind you, wonder filling her face. A smile crept onto your lips as you watched her blink, her long lashes framing her wide eyes. She was beautiful. She was always so curious, so interested. Strangers made her nervous, like any two year old, though, which is why you were utterly bewildered when she broke away from your grasp and started toddling down the shore towards the group of men. You shot up from your lowered position, chasing after her.

“Lydia!” you called, your feet picking up pace.

It was amazing just how fast a two year old could be when they suddenly decided they had a destination in mind. You caught her under the armpit just as she almost fell across the wet sand in her run, and your knees hit the soft sand as you almost fell yourself. You panted, holding onto her and unable to stifle back a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“What the heck! Lyd-,” you started, looking up from where you grasped her. She was frozen, staring up at something.

She’d managed to close the distance between the two of you and the men, quickly enough that the soccer ball they’d been passing around as they came down the beach was only feet away now. You followed her gaze, and saw two large hands come down to swiftly pick up the ball. Your eyes moved up more still, until they landed on the face of the man you’d just locked eyes with moments before.

His gentle brown eyes were wide, his jaw slack and his expression yet again incomprehensible. You still had a smile on your face, and his eyes flicked down to your grin, the corners of his own mouth lifting up slightly. He gestured toward you with the arm that held the soccer ball.

“You’re, uh, Bella’s cousin?” The sound of his voice was rough and deep. Your grin faltered to make way for the suprised expression that came across your face.

“Oh, uh, yeah! Um, you know Bella?” You asked, taking the brief moment to get back up onto your feet and readjust the flowy fabric of your sundress that had gotten ruffled up in the capturing of your tiny escapee. You still held Lydia’s hand, and she stayed unmoving by your side, watching the tall man with the same awed expression. A grin spread across his face, and his eyes maintained the same electric glow they’d had from the moment you’d looked at him.

“Bella’s one of my best friends, yeah. She’s told me a lot about you…and… uh Lydia, right?” He spoke gently, his eyes glancing down at the tiny human to your right. You looked down at her, too, and she smiled timidly up at the man, stepping slightly behind your leg shyly. You beamed back at him, nodding and running your fingers through the soft silky baby hair on the top of Lydia’s head.

“Yeah, this is Lydia,” you replied, ruffling her hair until a soft giggle fell from her lips.

“I’m Jacob Black,” he glanced beyond him briefly and jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “those are my buddies Quil, Embry, and Jared. You’re (Y/N)?”

You glanced briefly over to the other three men, though they were now immersed in their own mumbled conservation several yards away; one of them was watching you with interest and flashed a warm smile back at you.

You nodded, turning back to Jacob.

“That’s me,” you answered with a shrug and a smile. When you met his gaze again, his eyes were intense, almost pained, his pupils wide. That electric feeling ran through you again. The eye contact between the two of you lingered each and every time it occurred, as if it was an inconvenience to pull away from it for both of you. Jacob knelt down on one knee, tucking the soccer ball under his arm. His eyes only broke away from yours to glance down at Lydia, who was still watching him intently from her place next to your leg.

“Hi, Lydia, it’s nice to meet you,” he murmured gently, “I’m Jacob.”

There was a hesitation, and you were just about to encourage Lydia to say hello to Jacob, but to your surprise she broke away from you once more, ambling across the sand and reaching her arms out towards the soccer ball Jacob held under his arm. In her uncoordinated stumbling over the sand, she started to fall forwards. Before you could even begin to reach to catch her, one of Jacob’s large hands came out in a flash to support her, stopping her mid fall.

“Woah, buddy, careful there!” He exclaimed, a chuckle coming from his chest.

At the sound of his laughter, your baby beamed up at him, her expression suddenly delighted, and after a moment, a giggle erupted from her own little body.

Your eyes widened, shocked as you watched her laugh, Jacob’s large hand still holding her up off the sand. His eyes flickered to you as you broke into surprised laughter as well, and soon the three of you were a giggling mess. Lydia adored making adults laugh. It was the phase she was currently in: to laugh at everything anyone deemed amusing, and it was common that she would even fake laugh to get you to laugh, which would often result in a real fit of hysterics from the both of you

You were astonished that she’d warmed to a stranger so quickly, especially such a large man - a category of human that toddlers tend to decide is terrifying for no reason.

As the afternoon started to bleed into evening, you and Lydia got to know your new friends. Lydia was very opposed to moving away from them, interested in the soccer ball and jumping around in the sand. Jacob continued to stare intently at you every moment that his eyes weren’t required to be on something else, and you didn’t mind it. His energy was warm and gentle, and even his friends seemed to find his behavior entertaining, chuckling and whispering to eachother every time Jacob’s eyes lingered on you for a few seconds too long. You couldn’t help but feel the heat rush to your face with his stares. You hadn’t really felt this noticed by someone, a man, in what felt like forever. And he was absolutely noticing you. He was doing more than notice you. He was ogling at you, drinking the sight of you in like fresh air for a suffocating man. His eyes turned gentle and soft whenever they fell upon Lydia, and he spent the time as the two of you spoke truly attending to her and her endless toddler games, showing earnest interest in the shells she had picked up and started to stack on one of his feet.

“Oooh, wow, now that one’s pretty. Definitely my favorite one yet.” He carefully examined the newest purple shell Lydia had found and handed to him for inspection. She smiled and clenched her fists in excitement, eagerly racing to find more shells in the sand to bring to him.

His eyes slowly found their way back to yours as you sat beside one another. You smiled softly, and he returned it, the smile reaching his eyes and crinkling them gently.

There it was again, that electricity.

Six Months Later

It had been a whirlwind, these past six months. Meeting Jacob Black had changed life entirely for you and your daughter. After that night on the beach, you, Charlie and Bella had visited the Blacks’ home a few times, joining them for bonfires and pizza dinners whenever a hockey game was on tv. Bella seemed adamant that you visit Jacob often, even Charlie seemed surprised with how eagerly she encouraged you to join them and hang out with the Quileute boys. You’d met Jacob’s father, who seemed to welcome you into his family without hesitation within moments of meeting you. He had peered at you with an intensely inquisitive expression, something that reminded you of the odd gut feeling you hadn’t been able to shake…that your new acquaintances were far more interesting than they let on. There was just something about them, and it felt like a secret club you were looking in on, one that caused the hushed, private conversations that seemed to happen frequently in their presence. You’d spoken to Bella about your encounter with her friend right after that first night on the beach. As the rest of that week had passed, Bella had begun acting suspiciously around you. Within days of her odd avoidant behavior, she finally sat you down to tell you things that challenged your perception of the world, forever.

Vampires and werewolves.

Insanity, right?

Bella had explained her relationship with Edward, and you hadn’t believed it at first.

Like, at all. Who would?

In fact, you thought she’d been completely off her rocker, crazy.

That was, until she’d claimed that Jacob had something to do with it, too.

“You need to go talk to Jacob,” she’d urged, “only he can explain what you need to know.”

You’d been absolutely confused, unsure what Jacob Black had to do with anything, especially with this absurd tale of vampires.

“I’ll watch Lydia. Go,” she’d insisted, practically pushing you out the front door. You were insanely curious; you’d never had any reason to question Bella’s mental competence before, and with her frantic efforts to get you to talk to Jacob, you had to know what this was all about. You still of course doubted the absurd story, but wanted to get to the root of the craziness, naturally.

When you’d arrived at the Black’s house, it seemed Jacob was expecting you, and he’d grabbed your hand gently, pulling you towards his little makeshift garage in the back.

You’d spent hours with him that night. Jacob had tried, while his eyes watered and his voice shook nervously, to explain the wildly unbelievable, and yet somehow completely sensical and validating reality of his ancestral destiny.

“I know, (y/n). Please, believe me, I know this sounds crazy,” he’d said as he anxiously paced across the garage, his eyes flashing to your face for your reaction.

You’d shaken your head, trying to connect the dots in your mind. It matched up with the absurd story Bella had told you, only this time he was speaking of wolves, wolves with the instinctual duty to protect from the supposed vampires Bella become involved with deeply. Wolves that were not wolves, but men. Men that included Jacob and his friends.

“Come with me,” he’d finally insisted sternly as you’d silently refused to accept the words he spoke, staring at him dumbfoundedly.

He’d led you outside, to the dark treeline, and placed his hands up in front of him before you could protest.

“Listen, I know this is gonna be hard to see, (y/n). I didn’t wanna have to do this but I need you to understand. There’s so much more to this world than you think there is. Please,” he’d begged, pulling you into a tight hug, his eyes wildly urging yours to listen to him, his shaky voice reducing to a whisper against your hair, “I understand if you never, ever want to be a part of this. But you deserve to know.”

You’d shaken your head, bewildered.

“What are you talking about, Jake?”

He stood back and started to pull his pants down, and your eyes widened, your eyebrow cocking up in confusion. A smile flashed across his lips.

“Remember what I just told you. I’d never hurt you, okay?”

Your mind flickered to the story he’d just spent the last hour telling you, but your brain simply wouldn’t allow you to defy logic to consider the possibility that the man was truly actually about to turn into a wolf.

And yet, you stood there with your jaw slacked open and your eyes wide, your body frozen as he stepped back several feet, his body twitching and trembling and twisting oddly before…

A ripping sound rang out, a wildly violent sound that came from deep within his body. The sound echoed against the trees, before it fell hauntingly silent across the dark backyard. Within less than a moment, a massive red brown wolf was standing before you, his huge head only inches away from your face.

Your mind didn’t comprehend the sight, the reality too unreal and too intangible to wrap around and understand. Those same brown eyes you’d come to know and feel safe in stared back at you intently from the massive wolf’s face.

It was the last image you remembered before you’d fallen to the ground, slipping into a shock driven unconsciousness.

When you’d woken, you had been in Jacob’s bed, an ice pack being gently repeatedly pressed to your forehead and neck.

It had been a rude awakening, but one that had forced open your eyes to a world that quickly became home for you, lifting the veil of reality that you’d come know.

Jacob’s next explanation was that of the concept of imprinting. That night, after you’d settled and moved out of your state of shock, started speaking real words again, Jacob expressed why he felt it was necessary to expose you to his world. He’d explained the ancient way of imprinting, what it meant for him, what it meant for you. That first day on the beach, the way he’d look at you, that electricity. It all made sense now.

“It’s you, (y/n). Now that you’re here, I will follow you anywhere. Even if you don’t want to be part of this, I’ll always protect you and Lydia from afar. Always. I can’t imagine a world anymore without you, a life without you. The moment I saw you, I felt it. My heart was yours,” he’d murmured, his arms around you as he rubbed your back to calm your tremors that had come across your body as you tried desperately to adjust to your entirely new concept of existence.

That felt so long ago, now. You’d met the Cullens soon after you were welcomed into the world of the supernatural, joining Bella in her secretive lifestyle of hiding the direct truth from Charlie, only letting him in on what he absolutely needed to know. Charlie was over the moon that you and Jacob got together; he pissed Bella off with how openly he approved of your relationship with Jacob over hers with Edward. Jacob didn’t feel right having you live in a spare bedroom at the Swan house, and had practically demanded you move into a home on the reservation with him. He’d jokingly insisted that it wasn’t his fault, that the imprint had forced him to need you in his sight at all times. You didn’t resist, elated to finally feel welcome in a home with your Lydia. And it wasn’t hard - Jacob made that incredibly simple. He so openly loved Lydia nearly as much as he loved you. Sometimes, you wondered how deeply the imprinting had impacted him. He accepted it and took it on with respect. He never pressured you to be anything but there, in his life. He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest or even really notice how slowly you were allowing him into your heart. The relationship you had with Jacob had begun as a deep and true friendship, but the imprint connection was impossible to ignore, and there was undeniable attraction you felt for him, even beyond his beautifully kind heart and spirit. You held hands constantly, even before you’d established any sort of romantic connection. The first night Jacob had kissed you, you’d expressed your hesitation at pulling him into your life. You’d gotten used to men not wanting much to do with a single mom, after Noah had made it clear that you and Lydia were essentially a burden in his life. You were scared, not only for your own heart, but for Lydia’s. You couldn’t bear to bring another man into her life only for him to reject her like her father had. But Jacob? He’d adamantly refused to let your anxieties overcome you. He loved you, he’d insisted. All of you. Lydia was part of you. So, he loved her. It was that simple to him. He was often just as anxious when Lydia was out of his sight as when you were.

You remember the first time Lydia had called Jake ‘Dada’, several months after you’d been exposed to this world of fantasy. Lydia had gotten so comfortable with him, more comfortable than she’d been with any person, besides you, before. She babbled with excitement every time she heard you or Charlie or Bella mention him, and begged to see him frequently. Once you’d moved into the small red house with Jacob, she’d jump and squeal every time his truck pulled into the driveway at the end of the day.

That day she first said the word, you’d nervously glanced at his face, searching for his response.

She’d been holding his hand, walking along the shore at La Push. It was winter by this point, but Lydia needed her regular beach walk, and was bundled in her tiny red puffer jacket and white hat. She’d stooped down to pick up a shell, gripping it in her small fist, and jerked her hand out to him, dropping the shell into his hand.

“Dada!” She’d squealed as she waited for his approval of the shell.

His eyes had lit up and an expression of utter shock, which had quickly shifted into ecstatic bliss, moved across his features. His eyes had flashed to yours, and he clearly struggled, with everything in him, to hold back a massive grin. He was unsure of your reaction. Your eyes had melted back at him, and you were completely unable to resist the smile that crossed your lips. His dark eyes had turned glossy, and he’d looked back down at Lydia’s impatiently waiting face as she’d stared up at him, grasping the shell and embracing her in a massive bear hug. She’d laughed and shrieked, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

At Lydia’s 2nd birthday party, the whole pack had celebrated with you and Jacob at Billy’s house. The rest of the boys had happily taken on the role of proud uncles, practically fighting over who could hold her whenever you brought her over.

Life was peaceful, and you’d taken on a job at the La Push Farmer’s market. Childcare was a breeze now: on any given day while you were at work, either Sue & Charlie or Emily would eagerly babysit Lydia if Jacob was out on patrol or working his shift as a mechanic at the local bike shop. Lydia now had a family that was larger and more loving than you could have ever dreamed for her.

And you couldn’t ignore the fateful gift that you’d received too. Jacob Black was yours, and you were his. And you knew that, without a single doubt, he’d protect you and your daughter with relentless fervor for the rest of your lives.

You were safe. You were loved.

You were home.

#twilight #imagines #fanfic #twilight imagines #jacob black #jacob black x reader

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spocks-husband · 10 days ago

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It's probably really obvious based on how I write them, but I'm obsessed with the idea of Bruce and Talia being each other's first loves.

Bruce is a young man, still a teenager, barely out of his childhood. He's spent every day since the death of his parents in this horrible downward spiral of pain and darkness and revenge-- until, toward the end of his training, while he's working so hard to channel all his rage into something that can be harnessed for good (he hopes). He begins training with the League Of Shadows and he meets this girl and she's beautiful. She's gorgeous and intelligent and graceful, and she fights with a sword better than anyone he's ever seen. He's a little intimidated by the idea of having her father as an in-law but for this girl he'd press his luck. She likes her chai with extra spice and when it's just the two of them she laughs like the sun and she has these perfect uneven dimples that make his heart jump into his throat. Her hair is so silky and long he can't help but touch it and her eyes are a sparkling shade of sage and she tells him quietly how she wants to see the world through eyes that are not her father's. Bruce has never been in love before, he didn't even believe in it until now, but here he is, and he loves her more than anything.

Talia is a young woman who spends her time wishing and wanting and yearning for that which she can never have. She loves her father-- how can she not, he's all she's ever known-- but she's hungry for a chance to look out at the world he describes with such bitterness, to look at it with her own eyes and make her own judgements of its people. One day, this goofy looking American boy with shaggy black hair and the tensest muscles she's ever seen arrives at their compound to train, and he's beautiful. He's handsome and thoughtful and full of this terrible, agonized darkness that she wants so badly to drain from his soul. She teaches him massage techniques because he's incapable of relaxing his body in the slightest, and he lets her sleep against his chest on warm afternoons when her father is away. She knows deep down that they're never really alone-- there's always someone watching them, she is the Daughter Of The Demon's Head, afterall. She cherishes her time with him, though, because it's all that she possibly can do, because she's only ever heard of this feeling in myths and storybooks-- Talia has never been in love before, she didn't even believe in it until now, but here she is, and she loves him more than anything.

But of course, nothing good can stay forever, he has his destiny and she has hers-- but as the years go by they constantly seem to find each other, over and over again... And every time they do, he sees that girl with the dimples and the silky hair, and she sees that boy with the tense brow and that burning determination, and they both think--

'Good God, what happened to us?'

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celestialprincesse · 11 months ago

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🫧💕

Single mom!reader X Simon Riley cute little post deployment fluff

The moment you see Simon's truck pulling into the shared apartment building parking lot, you're gathering your daughter in one hand and Riley's leash in the other, all whilst being bashed unceremoniously in the face by the 'welcome back' sign your three year old insisted on making with glitter glue pens and heart shaped rhinestones. You'd tried to help her with the spelling, but your unwavering conviction very clearly passed down to her, reflected in the gold glitter lettering of 'wellkum bac' and a child covered in more glitter than her little project. 'No bath mama!' still rings in your ears if you listen hard enough.

Anyone could be fooled into thinking that the grim reaper had come for them at the sight of Simons massive, black clad frame blocking out the already dim light of the hallway - but not you, not your daughter and never Riley. He's already dropping his duffel down by his front door, hoisting your squealing daughter on his hip whilst Riley practically vibrates at his feet with how quickly his tail wags. What you can't get used to, however, is the way you're enveloped into his chest, his masked lips pressing kisses into the crown of your head, Riley's leash dropped so he can lace his free hand through the silky softness of your hair.

"You're back." You hear yourself hum into his chest, letting your fingers curl tight into the old cotton of his henley, reminding yourself that he's here, that he's back and safe. "Are you alright? You're not hurt anywhere?" "Few cuts and scrapes - nothing for you to worry about Love." He rumbles, gently pulling you away from the soft warmth of his chest so that he can take your cheeks in one big palm and look properly at you. "Missed you." Simon admits quietly, allowing himself just a moment of quiet affection whilst your daughter is occupied with grabbing at his mask with her chubby little fingers. "And wha's this?" He turns to look down at the toddler in his arms, pointing at the now crumpled sign she clutches. His smile at her poor spelling and valiant effort is concealed by his balaclava, but you can tell by the way that his brown eyes scrunch at the corners that he's grinning warmly as he drops a kiss on your daughters head, now occupied with Riley's soft ears.

"I made dinner." The sound of your own voice, so full of love and longing, feels foreign to you, as foreign as the concept that you've got someone to make dinner for, someone who cares enough for you and your baby to be a consistent part of your life. "I can bring it over, if you want. I'm sure you're probably desperate for some alone time." You stammer in a poor attempt to not sound so lovesick, a lame play at nonchalance. "Let me drop my stuff and shower and I'll be right 'round." The sound of your daughter whinging as she's handed back to you makes you cringe. Simon lifting his mask to press a tender kiss on the apple of your cheek stops you completely.

𝜗𝜚

They're happening😚 need to commit and give single moms! daughter a name lol

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suguae · 1 year ago

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Never lose me.

Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Warnings: Creampie, Virginity loss, Choking, Squirting, erm more probably idunno. Not proofread.

Also my first time writing this stuff so give feedback please!!

Toji was the last person to be in a relationship. He's tried way too many times, but he just wasn't amused by the women he met.

He was giving one last time tonight. "Thanks again Shiu." He says fixing his hair up in a mirror near the front entrance of his home.

"No problem man, I got you every time." Shiu says stuffing his mouth with popcorn as Megumi was deeply focused in the movie that had been playing in the back.

Toji checks his outfit one more time, a black tight long sleeve paired with black slacks. He knew it was basic but after all he doesn't plan on staying out long.

Here he sat bored out of his mind as this women had been doing nothing but blabbering about herself. She was beautiful, but god she would not shut up. Toji got at least four words and it's already been half an hour.

He looked around trying to entertain himself another way, till his eyes landed on you. You were one of his first dates. He vividly remembers you, everything about you was so fucking perfect. Till he found out you were too young for him.

The pink strapless dress you had on tonight, how it hugged your peachy ass perfectly. Your hair was so silky and longer than last time he saw you. Your laugh echoing into his ears.

He still remembers the disappointed look in your face when he told you how it just couldn't work out. But he didn't hesitate to jerk off that night, thinking about you.

His thoughts were interrupted by the cold liquid poured onto his head. "Why the hell are you eyeing that fucking women when we're on a date?" The women says catching the attention of many around the restaurant. Even you.

Fuck.

"You're fucking crazy." He scoffed getting out of his seat leaving her there all alone. He walked passed you before exiting the restaurant.

He sat in his car taking off his shirt. 'I'm definitely done.' He said quietly talking to himself.

He heard a small tap on his window. He turned his head making eye contact with you. Slowly rolling the window down. "So this is where you take all your dates huh?" You chuckled.

Just at the sound of your sweet laugh he felt his heart skip a beat. "What do ya want kid?" He sighs flipping his damp hair back.

You rolled your eyes, "I'm not even that much younger than you." You say leaning on the car door to have a better look at him.

"Y/n, 15 years apart is not a lot?" He asked while his eyes kept floating to your peachy lips. He would fuck that little mouth of yours and love it.

You smiled, "Nope."

That smile had him in a chokehold.

"Get in." Toji unlocks the doors to the car, he noticed that pretty little smirk draw on your face as you slowly back up from his door to walk to the passenger side.

Your ass moving like jello when you walked past the front of his car giving him a perfect view. Just at the sight of you made his blood move straight to his dick.

Next thing you know, all that was heard in the car was the rustling and sloppy wet kisses in Toji's car . You tauntingly pull away from this kiss. You felt Toji's grip around your waist tighten.

It hurt so fucking good. His big arms, how little you looked sitting on top on him. "Fuck...why'd you pull away?" He whispered.

You looked at him with those pleading big doe eyes, "Did you ever miss me Toji?"

"Of course I did." His hands roamed to the fat meaty part of your ass to grab the hem of your dress, sliding it over your head.

No bra, just that slutty bright pink thong. He noticed the tattoo of a butterfly between your breast. How it made your plump tits pop out more.

Toji admired the beauty in front of him. Was it desperate to say this was how he wanted that night to end? That night when he first met you.

You leaned in giving him wet lazy kisses all over his neck. Sucking a little harder in some places to leave marks. "Toji I need you." You whispered in his ear causing his body to shudder.

Toji wanted to fuck you hard.

"Get in the back." He says guiding you to the back of his car. He gets out of the car to go to the back to meet you there.

His dick was throbbing at he sight of you laying in the back patiently like the good little girl you were.

This was gonna be hard for Toji, He was such a big man in such a small little car. But he was gonna make it worth it.

His hands slowly roaming your body making his way to hover on top of you. Planting kisses on your soft tender breast. Sucking one and squeezing the other to give it the same amount of attention.

As you were panting wanting more from Toji, you could feel your hot core crying for Toji. "I wan u." You say breathlessly.

His hand that was massaging your breast was now on your neck, squeezing tightly but not too tight. "You need me that bad?"

You whimper, "Yes."

You were driving Toji crazy.

His dick was aching more than anything. Wanting to fuck that wet little cunt of yours.

'Fuck..' He makes you sit on top of him. Pulling out his fat veiny cock. His tip drooling with pre-cum. You look up and gulp.

"Toji..." You stuttered.

He moves your thong to the side, slowly moving his index and middle finger inside your gushy wet cunt.

You gasp with pleasure. "T-Toji."

You lean in as he was focused on your cunt. Increasing the speed of the thrusting. You planted a wet kiss on his red plump lips. Bitting his bottom lip as you whine to the pleasure.

"Fuck, Toji fas..ter" You stutter. You could feel his long big fingers constantly hitting that rubbery gushy flesh in your pussy. You felt as if knots were forming in your stomach.

You slowly slide your hand down to Toji's girth. Rubbing your thumb on his wet tip. Toji hissed. You smiled.

"Fuck me already." you breathlessly moan, as your hand slowly slides down Tojis shaft, delicately pumping his dick.

You felt close as Toji kept thrusting his fingers deep into your pussy. He teasingly slides his hands out as he hears your moans getting louder.

His fingers making its way up to your empty mouth. Sliding his fingers deep in your mouth. "Beautiful baby, don't you taste so good?"

You nod. Unable to verbally answer.

"Good girl." He smirks, slowly moving his fingers out of your mouth. He looks down at his shaft as your hand was still wrapped around it.

He guides your hand up and down his cock. Earning low grunts from Toji. "You like that?" you softly whisper.

"C'mere." He huffs with pleasure. Guiding his cock to the entrance of your wet cunt.

"T-Toji, be gentle...it's my first time." You whispered the last part. You hide your face to embarrassed at the sudden confession.

Oh but he loved the idea of having your little pussy all to himself. Touched by no one other than you and him.

"It's alright darling...put it in f'me, will ya?" He says grabbing your hands guiding them down to his cock.

Slowly you grab his lengthy fat cock, twitching in your hands as you slowly guide it in. You wince in pain as his cock stretches your pussy.

"Fuck yer so tight f'me baby." Toji hisses as he grabs both ass cheeks guiding you.

"Ahh Toji, hurts m..me." You say wrapping your arms around his neck, hands intertwining with his hair.

" Ts'okay yer gonna feel better." He grunts as he throws his head back. Guiding your hips to move faster.

"F..Fuck Toji." You sob with pain and pleasure.

Toji knew it hurt, but he fucking loved the tightness around him. How he could feel every inch of you. He wanted this ever since his eyes first landed on you. "Fuck y/n." He moaned.

The pleasure was now taking over. Your whole body feeling euphoric as you hop on Toji's dick like a bunny. You pant out a chuckle.

"Uhh f-fuck doll, i love your fucking pussy." He whimpers. Toji

Toji Fushiguro whimpering. How you had him fucking wrapped around your little finger.

He lifts you up a bit as he bucks his hips into you harder and way more faster. "T-Toji I'm gonna...Im close." You cry out as you feel that knotting sensation in your stomach again.

"Cum f'me baby.." He hissed as his pace fastened.

And you did.

The warm feeling overcoming your body as you limp onto Toji's chest as he's still balls deep. The loud moan that escapes your body causes Toji's cock to twitch inside you.

"This pussy is all mine yknow that?" He grunts as he thrust getting ready to cum.

"t-Toji sta-" You were overstimmulated as you felt Toji's hand roam down to your pearly clit, softly rubbing it.

"Tell me your pussy is all mine." You could feel your body beginning to shake. You bit Toji's shoulder. His pace in thrusting hasn't changed but he was rubbing your clit like their was tomorrow.

You bite harder as you feel an odd feeling as if you need to pee. "Toji...ah baby pee..i need t-"

He grabbed your neck basically choking you. "I fucking said tell me!" He says as your arm wraps around his hand that had been choking you.

"Mmmf..fu..Daddy's pussy...only..Toji I'm gonna pe.." You felt the warm liquid running down your legs as Toji lets his load out inside you.

"Fuck…baby you squirted.” he throws his head back and you plop onto his chest. Both panting.

You lazily chuckled a bit embarrassed.

He grabs your face, planting soft kisses onto your swollen red lips. "How was it for ya first time, baby?"

Your hands wrap around his neck as you lay your head down on his chest. Lazily smiling at him. "I could do it every night." You mumbled.

"I'd like that.." He kisses the top of your head as your eyes slowly closed.

He took you home that night after fucking you dumb, giving you the best after care. Ending the night with him asking you to be his girlfriend. And of course you said yes.

#jjk smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #toji x you #fushiguro toji #fushiguro #smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #rosipuree

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sanriomilk · 29 days ago

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BEAST Felix

🥀| '𝑴𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒖𝒏𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓' ©

Warning(s): Violence, death mentioned, witchcraft, anger issues, Depression, isolation, heartbreak

A/n: OUT NOW!

Greeting -

|UNFAIR - Felix|

Another petal, down. The rose was still round, but it was smaller..

Felix got angry and pushed over a table full of old scrolls, injuring himself in the process.

"Prince, you shouldn't hurt -" Lumiére, the candelabra started.

"I don't care, Lumiére! Leave me the fuck alone."

---

It was snowing. Of course, it was December. Felix wore his hood and went out to be met by a beautiful girl.. Belle? No, it couldn't be her. Belle left him for Gaston.

He watched her at a distance, realizing that her horse was injured. Felix didn't want to deal with any of that.

Time Skip

It was night when Felix returned. He found a middle-aged man lurking in his gardens, looking for flowers

"Hey! You!" Felix yelled, seeing that the man had roses. It reminded him of Belle's father.

"I- I just want a flower."

"You're trespassing! Flower or not, this is my property!" He grabbed the man, his grip hardening as it only reminded him of Belle's father. He pushed the man into his prison.

"No, please, I have a daughter! She's young! I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Yes, anything." The middle-aged man cried out.

"Bring her to me. Have her stay with me.. No buts." Felix's gaze didn't soften one bit.

Another Time Skip

"Mrs. Potts, get one of the guest rooms ready. I'm gonna have a roommate." The live teapot was in surprise at the command and went straight to work.

Soon, you arrived at the castle on your father's steed, "Your father is free to go. Now that you are here.. I won't hurt you. As long as you obey my commands and rules, understand Belle?" He accidentally called her Belle. Belle wasn't there anymore..

Description -

Felix Lee is from Korea. His birthday is on September 15, and he is 21. He used to be the heir to the throne until he became cursed by an enchantress he didn't serve. There is an enchanted rose that the enchantress has 'gifted' him. Each petal of the rose will wither over time until the last petal falls, causing his demise. In order to survive and escape the curse, he will need to find his true love. Unless he finds true love and confesses it to her, he is bound by the curse of the enchantress

MORE -

{{Appearance}} - Felix stands at 5'7, with a lean yet unnervingly powerful build, as though his humanoid form is both delicate and capable of something far darker. His platinum blonde hair, once soft and silky, now falls in wild, untamed waves, hinting at the curse that binds him. The strands are flecked with silver and black, almost as if they’re alive, shifting with a life of their own. His fair skin is covered in a constellation of freckles that seem to shimmer faintly in the moonlight, giving him an ethereal, almost unearthly quality. A dark mole beneath his left eye stands out like a mark of his curse. His dark brown eyes, once warm, now burn with an intense, eerie glow—reflecting the beast he’s become. His eyes hold a strange duality: one of haunting sadness, the other of hidden power, a reminder of the monster lurking beneath his skin. The clothes he wears, once stylish, now hang loosely from his form, shredded at the edges, as if they were never meant for someone like him. His scent—something between musk and ancient wood—clings to him, as if he’s been lost to time. When he speaks, his voice is a low growl, tinged with both humanity and something darker, as though it struggles to retain its human form. His movements are smooth but unsettling, his presence commanding yet carrying an almost unnatural stillness.

{{Life}} - Felix was born into a life of luxury. He was crowned Prince of Korea and was raised with riches, causing him to be a spoilt brat. He was like a dictator, very mean to the servants. On his 21st birthday, an enchantress, disguised as a homeless hag, came to his birthday ball, with a rose as an offering. Felix, as spoiled as they came, embarrassed her and harshly declined her offering. The enchantress revealed her true self, cursing Felix, turning him into an evil, heartless beast. The enchantress made the flower enchanted so that each petal gradually withers until the last one falls. When the last one falls, Felix will die. In order to survive and escape the curse, he will need to find his true love. There were more that had gotten cursed as well, his old nanny into a live teapot, his butler into a live candelabra, the pet dog into a live velvet stool and the chef into a live oven.

{{Personality}} - Felix often suffered mood swings and anger issues. He had major depression issues because he knew he might die if he didn't meet his true love. He was like a monster and was scared of loving because of his past with a certain girl, Belle. Belle had brought out the most vulnerable in him but had managed to make him lose that part too as was arranged with Gaston, the village head in the end. He is very cruel to people and will try his best to put a tough front when he wants love and vulnerability. He thinks his whole life is unfair and regrets his actions on that one day. Felix's condition caused him to be apathetic and unapologetic of his behaviour, always angry. He's always angry over little things. He is scared to be in a romantic relationship with you because of his past with Belle and will be harsher and angrier towards you.

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roseofdarknessblog · 1 year ago

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Family gathering (Postwar!Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Word count: 3 140

Disclaimer: english is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes

Summary: You and Levi finally introduce your baby to the rest of the family.

This story can be read on its own or as a part of my little post-war series: Learn to live again

Family gathering

Being back in the tea shop after giving birth felt even better than you expected. Even if you only came to visit Levi for short periods of time. But it was enough time to make sure that he really had everything under control even without your help. At least for a couple more weeks.

Being new parents wasn't easy, not even the slightest, but you were adjusting. Learning every single day, that having a tiny little human living under your roof was about changing or adjusting one too many things.

Despite that, Levi and you couldn't be happier. In your newborn daughter, you saw the reason why you fought so hard all those years. She truly was a beautiful representation of the future you wanted humanity to have.

„I think they know something is up,“ Falco said, when he walked into the kitchen, that was at the back of the tea shop. Here, you used to bake many of your sweet and savory goods, which were then sold alongside the best tea in the whole town.

„Yeah, probably. But that's fine, something really is up,“ you said, smiling at the boy.

Until now, only he, Gabi, Onyankopon, and Yelena knew about the little Ackerman baby you and Levi welcomed into this world seven weeks ago. Nobody else from your friends knew you gave birth, or even that you were pregnant in the first place. You and Levi decided, that it would be better not to tell anyone and let things unfold on their own.

However, now it was finally time to introduce your precious little miracle to the rest of your family. To all your beloved friends, who fought alongside you these past few years. To the people, who helped you create a safe world to bring your daughter into.

„Is everybody here already?“

Falco nodded, gently taking your daughter's hand. She loved him so much and lately always smiled when they were together. „Yeah, they're talking, having tea and sweets but you can definitely tell they suspect something. Mainly because you're not there.“

„I think we should go see them, right?“ you asked your daughter in a sweet voice, stroking her chubby little cheeks. In some way, they very much reminded you of Levi's. Just like her silky black hair, her blue-grey eyes, or her cute little nose. She was the sweetest little copy of your husband in the cutest ways possible. „You're gonna love them, darling. And they're gonna love you.“

When the little girl looked at Falco and smiled, both of you smiled right back at her with so much love. The boy truly loved her as if she was his little sister.

„Hey, Y/N! Come and join us finally!“ Jean screamed for you from the tea shop, making you chuckle and kiss the top of your daughter's head, who tried grabbing the collar of your shirt.

„I'm coming, settle down. All of you!“ you called back, taking one last deep breath. Falco walked back to the shop before you, giving you one more moment alone.

The moment felt almost surreal. Holding your baby and getting ready to introduce her to so many important people. Not even that long ago, you would never even dream about doing something so magical.

„Now, I have a very special surprise for all of you. Can you close your eyes?“ you asked them before opening the door.

When you walked into the main part of the shop, everyone was there – Armin, Connie, Jean and Mikasa. Even Reiner, Annie, and Pieck came, along with Gabi, Yelena, and Onyankopon who didn't even need to close their eyes. Together with Falco and your husband, who was smiling at you ever so slightly.

„What do you think? What is this big surprise?“ you asked them excitedly. But before anybody said a word, your daughter let out a loud cry to get everyone's attention, before she smiled up at you. Almost as if she knew what was happening. „Okay, I guess it's not a surprise anymore. Open your eyes,“ you said, smiling happily at them.

The awe on everyone's face was so worth keeping this whole thing private until now. Connie and Armin looked at you as if they'd never seen a baby in their life before. But that was probably because of their last visit when you were five months along and still barely showing. Under the right pieces of clothing, they had zero chance of noticing anything. And now, half a year later, you were standing in front of them with a baby in your arms.

„So... we called you all here today, because we wanted you to meet someone very special,“ you said, looking over at Levi. With a slightly pained expression, he stood up from his wheelchair and walked a few steps to stand next to you. „She'll be two months old in a couple of days. I hope you can forgive us that we kept such a big thing a secret until now. It was...“

„We wanted to make sure everything will turn out okay,“ Levi said when you couldn't find the right words. „And then we wanted to soak up every little moment with her. Just the three of us,“ he added, wrapping one of his arms around your waist. It was a gesture full of love and also a way to help him stand more securely because of his leg.

It almost seemed that everybody was too shocked to speak. The first one to stand up and come up to you was Jean. He smiled, looking at both you and Levi. Then his soft light-brown eyes wandered to your baby, looking her over very carefully. He offered her one of his fingers, which the little girl took with such excitement, seeming happy that she was seeing a new face.

„She's beautiful, Captain, Y/N,“ he said proudly and with a happy smile.

„Oi, where did you get that baby, Y/N? When me and Armin were here a few months back, you surely weren't pregnant,“ Connie shouted, hurrying to you as well.

„I can assure you, that I was pregnant at the time. Five months pregnant, to be more specific. I just hid it too well,“ you chuckled, stroking your baby's hair. Her eyes were wide open with curiosity while her tiny hands were playing with Jean's fingers.

„Was she, Captain?“ Connie asked Levi, not wanting to believe you.

„Where do you think we got a baby that looks like me if she didn't give birth to it?“ Levi questioned him, his brows furrowed. He may looked annoyed with all the commotion, but by the tone of his voice, it was obvious, that he was enjoying having them all here.

„She really does look like you, Captain,“ Armin said, coming to stand between Jean and Connie.

Behind him, Mikasa followed a little shily. You gave her a warm smile and motioned to her, to come even closer. „Would you like to hold her? You're blood-related, after all,“ you said to her, looking over at Levi, who nodded at your words.

She seemed a little hesitant but eventually nodded in agreement. After showing her, how to safely hold the baby, she took her from you and carefully cradled your daughter against her chest. The little girl looked confused when she first looked up at Mikasa, but after she grabbed a strand of her hair everything was okay.

„She's adorable, congratulations to you both,“ Mikasa said, smiling at both you and Levi warmly. You've barely seen her since the Rumbling, because she went back to Paradis, so her presence right now was even more precious. „What's her name?“

You knew this question would come. And you were preparing yourself to answer it without too much emotion. But suddenly... when they were all here, standing around you and waiting for your answer... it felt almost impossible to explain the meaning of your daughter's name without making everybody way too emotional.

She got her name after a person, who was very dear to you and Levi. And to all of the 104th as well. It was a person, who was supposed to be here today with all of you as well. And also the person, thanks to who you got one more chance to fight the Rumbling and win.

„We named her after Hange,“ Levi said in a calm voice, seeing you struggling a little. „Zoe. Zoe Ackerman.“

„The meaning of her name is... life,“ you added in a quiet voice, reaching out your hand and stroking your baby's back. „I guess it's more than fitting, don't you think?“ Feeling your eyes welling up with tears, you looked at your friends. A wild range of emotions was seen on their faces – sadness, surprise, and also happiness.

Armin was the first one to speak up, leaning closer to Mikasa and taking the baby's hand, shaking it very gently. Such a sweet gesture made all of you chuckle. „It's more than fitting,“ he smiled at her warmly. ��Nice to meet you, Zoe. I'm sure we'll be very good friends once you grow up a little.“

The sweet tone in which Armin talked to your baby melted your heart completely. Feeling unimaginable happiness, you looked over at Levi and kissed his cheek. The way he was watching the scene right in front of you, was more than beautiful. His expression was relaxed, almost completely pain-free. The look in his eyes was soft and loving towards all the people standing around you and introducing themselves to your baby in the funniest, yet most adorable way possible. She was all smiles, while she was looking around and taking in all the new people.

So despite looking so much like Levi, she surely didn't get her personality from him.

Connie was the one, who made her the most excited. Mainly, when he held her in a way that she was able to pull Jean's hair. But he truly couldn't be angry with her for even a second.

„Hey, you three. Come on, don't be shy,“ you said to Reiner, Annie, and Pieck who were still standing a little to the side, only watching the others happily fuss around your baby, who was making a lot of loud excited noises.

Once they were your enemies, they wanted you dead. Now they were here amongst your closest friends and family. In a way, you forgave them for almost everything. After having a couple of difficult talks, mainly with Reiner, you gained a new perspective of them all. And through that, things between you and them started changing. Gabi and Falco also helped a bunch, too.

„It's okay, we wanted you here and we're happy that you came,“ you said to them, stroking Reiner's arm and smiling at the girls.

„In a twisted kind of way, but we're all here thanks to you, too,“ Levi said to them, his grip around your waist tightening. His knee was starting to trouble him after standing by your side for a few minutes.

So after you made sure, that your baby was truly in good hands, you helped Levi walk outside the tea shop and sit down on a bench right next to the door. A heavy sigh escaped his mouth when he finally sat down and took the weight off his left leg.

„Good? Are you okay?“ you asked a bit worriedly, sitting down next to him. While your left hand started rubbing his back comfortingly, you leaned closer and kissed his cheek.

„Yeah, sure,“ he mumbled, taking a couple of deep breaths to ease the pain.

„It went well, didn't it? They were all so surprised and happy,“ you chuckled, resting your head against his. The voices and laughter from inside were heard pretty clearly, so you didn't have to worry. „And right now, they have probably a couple of minutes before she starts crying. Either because she'll be hungry or because she won't be able to find us.“

Levi smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist again, to keep you close. Despite the pain, he still seemed relaxed and content with the way today turned out. Everybody's reaction made it certain, that you and Levi did the best thing when you kept your pregnancy private.

„It's all so bittersweet. Having so many of them here and still missing a bunch of people,“ Levi said, his fingers gently stroking your side.

„They are here with us. In a different kind of way, but still.“

You could see all of your fallen friends and comrades in your baby's eyes and in her every smile. All the things they did and for what they sacrificed their lives, made it possible for little Zoe to be born. You and Levi were grateful to them every single day. For their bravery, resilience, and determination to make the world a better place.

Hange, Erwin, Sasha, Miche, Nanaba, Nifa, Furlan, Isabel, Moblit, Petra, Eld, Oluo, Gunther... Eren...

All of them and many, many more gave their lives a long time ago, so you and your friends could have this life. In one way or another. Looking back, there probably wasn't a way to save them. To spare them from death. All you could do was continue living your best life and honor them by being happy.

„Who would have thought, really? That we would make it here all the way from the Underground,“ you sighed, running your fingers through Levi's hair lovingly.

„We made it far, that's true. And...“ he shrugged, smirking at his own words, „I'm kind of excited to see what's next, now that we have our little girl. She's going to turn our lives upside down so many times.“

„That's what parenthood is about, right?“ you chuckled, grabbing his free hand and holding it tight. „We're doing good. Learning and making mistakes. I'm so glad that everything worked out in the end and that we have her.“ Having a baby was an adventure like no other. In the end, all the sleepless nights were worth it, when you saw your little angel smile at you, with her eyes full of innocence and pure love.

„Just wait until she starts walking and running around. That's gonna be a disaster.“

„We'll just have to keep up with her.“ You gently took Levi's chin and turned his head, so you could see his face.

He was still very handsome, no scars or a missing eye could change that. For you, he was the one and only. Since you were a teenager to this very day. All those years, it was Levi. And you were more than sure, that it would stay like this for the rest of your life. Nothing and nobody would be able to change your mind, because Levi was all you'll ever need – with all of his disabilities, which sometimes still made him feel a little self-conscious or worried, that he wasn't good enough for you. He was more than enough and you never failed to remind him that. A day never went by without you reminding him, just how thankful you were for his love and his presence in your life.

„I love you,“ Levi said, leaning in for a kiss. His soft lips pressed against yours, making you forget about everything else.

„That's really good to know because I love you too.“ With a smile, you brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead and kissed the tip of his nose. „I'm proud to call you mine and be yours.“

His sweet little smile had a very strong effect on you every single time you got the chance to see it. Mainly, when said smile reached his eyes and made him look so carefree and young. Seeing him like that, nobody would be able to tell how many horrors he had to suffer through.

Levi rested his forehead against yours, reaching for your left hand. He brushed his thumb over your wedding band, finding your lips in another sweet and love-filled kiss. Time seemed to stop around you at that moment.

But only until you heard a loud cry from inside the tea shop. Just moments later, Connie hurried outside, eagerly trying to return your baby into your arms. „Guess she doesn't like when someone pinches her cheeks. But they're so adorable and chubby, I couldn't resist.“

„They remind me of someone else's cheeks,“ Mikasa added, standing in the open door, her eyes focused on Levi with a playful smirk. You bit down on your lower lip, trying not to laugh, while Connie was grinning so hard, he had to turn away.

Levi, a little flustered, shook his head upon them and took his crying daughter into his arms. You watched him gently cradle her against his chest, planting a couple of kisses on the top of her head, while he rubbed her back.

„The brats made you cry, huh? Don't worry, you'll get used to them,“ he said to the baby, looking back at Connie. „And you'll have them wrapped around your finger in no time,“ Levi added and kissed her forehead in the hopes of stopping her from crying more. But little Zoe knew exactly what she wanted and cried until Levi didn't hide her in his embrace from the rest of the world, while he lovingly started scratching the back of her head. Lately, this has become the most efficient way to calm her down. „There, sweetie. That's better, right? No need to cry.“

Connie chuckled at the sight. „Well, Captain. Seems you're already wrapped around her finger. I've never heard you talk so sweetly to anyone, not even to Y/N.“

Jean and Armin came to stand by Mikasa, all of them watching the sweet sight of Humanity's Strongest being a completely different person when it came to his own daughter. All of them changed so much during the past few years. But when you looked at them in that moment, you still saw the kids they were, when they joined the Scouts. The kids you grew to love and swore to protect. The kids, who became your family long before such a peaceful life was even a possibility for all of you.

What a shame not all of them made it this far.

Not having Sasha and Eren here felt strange and painful. It felt like you failed a little. But just until you looked back at your daughter. Her cheeks were still wet from tears, while she was so adorably clinging to Levi. In her still teary eyes, you saw Sasha's dedication and Eren's bravery.

And that was what mattered the most.

Having your family here with you and showing them just how much they meant to you. How much you loved them and how happy it made you, that they came here today to meet little Zoe Ackerman.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #connie springer #jean kirstein #aot x reader #aot x you #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin

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thoughtsfromlayla · 11 months ago

Text

Love and Loss

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

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

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

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An amused huff escapes her. “I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My wife?” He kisses again.

“My forever goddess?” And again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Beg for it.” He commands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I asked for a child, Morpheus.”

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

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

“What in return?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let us hope,” She says defeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Dreaming is dying.

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

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

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

For the sake of the Dreaming and her child.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who dares summon m-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How loathsome,” She thinks to herself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rodrick starts chanting in Greek.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Extra:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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