#so i'm just releasing that string of words to the wild like this

[thekenikaridevblog]

fun lil kenikari fact:

originally the game was meant to have a sub-name (like she-ra: princess of power or your turn to die: death game by majority)

it was meant to go "Kenikari: darker day and brightest night"

it ended up being scrapped because i always shortened it to kenikari in my mind and it didn't really add anything to the story or themes. or was even remotely relevant to anything that happened in the plot. it was just a random phrase I came up with

and also because i legit forgot i had a sub-name when i was making the title screen and itch.io page

[talesofesther]

I told the moon about you

Wednesday Addams x OC/Reader

Summary: Wednesday finds herself enchanted by the black wolf who always watches her play the cello in the dead of night.

A/N: This was written for a request sent by @roleplayfandom and I combined it with an idea of mine that I've had for a while, hope you don't mind and can still enjoy it. Arguably one of the most important stories I've written, because this oc has been my baby for so long, and I'm so happy to finally have the opportunity to include her in one of my stories; just hope I was able to do her justice with this. <3

Word count: 6,4k (sorry)

Masterlist

There was a drizzle in the air, the wind carried it around easily; tiny droplets of rain landed on the strings of Wednesday's cello that shook with each note she played.

Past the thin rain and clouds, the brightness of the full moon was nothing but a faded blur, casting a silver glow over the Addams girl and serving as the only witness to her spectacle.

The strong melody traveled with the wind same as the rain did, reaching the deepest parts of Nevermore and undoubtedly waking up a few students from their slumber. It only served as incentive — Wednesday could feel the burn on her fingertips as her song reached its momentum. The pain was welcomed, embraced.

When she released the strings, a soft sigh was let out as well. She blinked up at the moon above her, silently thanking it for its loyalty in keeping her most vulnerable moments a secret.

With uncanny delicacy, Wednesday lowered her cello, closing the case with a soft click.

The rain looked like it was starting to pick up, bigger droplets started to kiss Wednesday's cheeks, making their way down to her chin. The sky was darkening, with the moon fighting for a chance at a last goodbye to the one responsible for her favorite lullabies.

Wednesday walked up to the railings, her hands leaning against the wet concrete there. Save for the howling wind, it was strangely quiet.

But there was something different with today. Wednesday could feel it. She could feel the weight of a mysterious presence nearby.

As expected, her instincts never failed. It was dark, pitch black, the shape of trees blending together with one another in the distance.

But in the middle of the darkness, a pair of caramel eyes were spotted. They belonged to what appeared to be a black wolf; big in its size, ears pointy and tail long, fur a little spiked as it glinted from the raindrops that fell on it, almost resembling a starry night sky. It was just sitting there, on the grass of the gardens outside. Its golden eyes fixed intently all the way up to the balcony where Wednesday was standing.

The Addams girl expressed no reaction other than angling her chin up with furrowed brows, a dare; and the wolf understood, because it slowly stood up, its ears resting back against its head before it trotted out of sight and into the woods.

Wednesday remained under the rain until she could feel the wetness of it seeping into her clothes. Her hands held onto the railings tightly.

Turns out the moon wasn't the only witness tonight.

—

Those same golden eyes followed Wednesday in her dreams, and she woke up frustrated for not knowing who they belonged to.

Was it just a wild animal passing by or a student braving the woods past curfew?

The thought of the wolf being a student seemed… unlikely, because it looked much different from Enid when compared to her 'wolfed out' form. The black wolf was simply that, a wolf — albeit a tad bigger. Yet Wednesday didn't discard the possibility of it being someone. Someone who was watching her.

She tried pushing the thought out of her mind during the day for the sake of her grades.

"Miss Addams?"

Wednesday snapped her head up, only to see her anatomy teacher and the whole entirety of the class with their heads turned her way, eyes expectant as they waited for something to happen.

A scowl came to Wednesday's face at the unwanted attention. She rested both hands on her table, briefly realizing that the board had three extra paragraphs of lessons written on it that weren't in her notebook yet.

"I made you a question," the teacher continued, one of her hands coming to rest on her waist, "for how long can a gorgon stone a person?"

Wednesday gulped, her lips hovering open as she searched her mind for the useless information yet came empty-handed.

The teacher was annoying, one of the least liked by the Addams girl. She was old and wore long and colorful skirts, with obnoxiously large glasses resting atop her nose.

"It depends on the gorgon," a familiar voice suddenly said, "but usually from two to four hours."

Wednesday glanced beside her to where the owner of said voice sat, and was met with a smirk being directed at her. She huffed in annoyance, visibly rolling her eyes.

You had transferred to Nevermore a little over two months ago — adorning a pair of dark sunglasses you never took off and dressed in all black, save for the light pink pendant of your necklace — instantly getting into Wednesday's nerves the moment you stepped foot into the school and called her 'sweetheart'.

"Very well." The teacher looked between you and Wednesday, not entirely pleased that Wednesday wasn't the one who answered but deciding to let it pass, and turned around to write on the board again.

Wednesday didn't know what your deal was, no one did. No one knew who your family was, what were your abilities, or the reason you enrolled in Nevermore; not even Enid knew, and she was the gossip queen. Despite the ever-present sunglasses, one thing Wednesday knew for a fact was that you weren't a vampire, just by the way you scrunched your nose at the mere sight of blood; but that's about everything she knows so far.

Too smug for your own good, you leaned back on your chair. Wednesday could feel your gaze roaming up and down her body, before you said, quietly; "you're welcome-"

There was sunlight coming through the dusty windows. Wednesday could see her reflection in your glasses. "Shut up."

"Sweetheart," you finished with a grin.

The pencil that was thrown in your direction missed you only by an inch.

—

When Wednesday walked out onto the balcony of her dorm the next night, the wolf was already there.

She got a little taken aback by it, halting in her steps and gripping tighter onto the case of her cello. Wednesday immediately discarded the possibility of it being a coincidence or just a wild animal passing by. The wolf was there for her.

Those caramel eyes held a staring contest with Wednesday, and they eventually won. Satisfied, the wolf then lay down on the grass… and waited.

Long beats passed by until Wednesday finally sat down on her chair and adjusted her cello to be played. Her movements slow and calculated, all too aware of the heavy stare on her.

The moon was bright in the night sky, and Wednesday briefly glanced up at it, partly searching for some kind of reassurance but only finding that it wasn't a night of full moon.

When her gaze found the wolf again, she saw it looking up at the moon as well. The sharp silhouette of its muzzle being highlighted by the silver glow, fur flowing like silk with the wind.

Wolves sing for the moon, maybe that's why this one took a liking to the Addams girl.

There was hesitance on the way Wednesday's fingers hovered over the strings. Save for the occasional twitch of its tail, the wolf was unmoving on the grass, patiently watching.

Wednesday could tell the wolf to leave again, part of her knew it would obey. She didn't. She only closed her eyes, and started playing.

—

The next day, Wednesday made a trip to the school's library. She dug up every single book about werewolves and lycanthropy that she could find — some of them old, pages fragile to the touch and covered in a thick layer of dust.

The place was mostly deserted as per usual, and Wednesday saw no harm in staying. A table waited for her in the middle of the tall bookshelves, the only one hidden from sunlight.

She would be lying if she said she wasn't at least a little thrilled at the prospect of a new mystery. Things have been dull at school without an evil pilgrim trying to destroy it.

Though she was able to read in peaceful silence for all of ten minutes.

"What's with the sudden interest in furs?"

A heavy sigh left Wednesday's lips when she heard your voice. She sat straighter on her chair and chose to ignore you, pointedly turning the page of her book and focusing on it.

You hopped up on the table, sitting there cross-legged so you could face Wednesday, "you know your roommate is one, right? I bet she'd be happy to answer your questions."

See, there's a reason why Wednesday is bothered by your presence. Every time you're near, every time she can hear nothing but your voice or feel nothing but the warmth radiating from your body; Wednesday's little black heart gains a burst of color that should never exist, it picks up a faster rhythm and makes her skin crawl uncomfortably. It's a feeling that's been there once before, fleetingly, much smaller than it is now. But she's no stranger to what comes with it.

"I don't remember asking for your advice," Wednesday said, still refusing to look at you, her bangs hiding her eyes from you.

"Ouch," you mumbled, leaning back on your hands, "was just trying to help."

No one else but you could make Wednesday feel the slightest bit of remorse for snapping. And it's not like she paid attention to the last three lines she just read in the book anyway. Begrudgingly, Wednesday glanced up at you, and the moment her eyes found you, she knew it'd be a whole challenge in itself to look away again; the dim golden light of the table lamp framed your profile and the way your hair fell over your shoulder — for a second, it reminded Wednesday of her wolf.

Her wolf. The thought jolted her back to reality and she cleared her throat, heat rising to her cheeks as if you'd be able to read her thoughts.

"When are you gonna stop chasing after me like a lost puppy?" Wednesday didn't sound half as confident as she should for those words.

You raised an eyebrow at that, almost as if you wanted to be challenged. You leaned forward, bracing your elbows on your knees, so you could cast over every twitch on Wednesday's expression, your personal space shy of mingling with hers. "When you ask me to," you whispered.

The air felt electric, there was something enticing about the way you refused to back down sometimes. Wednesday felt the hair at the back of her neck rising with a shiver. If looks could kill, you'd be six feet under already — or at least fighting for air between her and this damn table. Wednesday couldn't decide which outcome she liked best.

Wood scratched against the floor as she suddenly pulled back the chair beside hers; "sit down properly, stay quiet," without looking at you, she shoved one of the books in your direction, "we're looking for a werewolf who can transform without a full moon."

—

Nothing. There was nothing in any of the books.

Wednesday walked back to her dorm without having learned a single thing. None of the books in the school had anything remotely close to the creature she saw the past two nights. Frustration was eating at her insides because she was running out of leads to follow, a dead end steadily approaching.

She went up the stairs of Ophelia Hall in a haste, pushing the door to her room out of the way and causing a loud thump that got Enid jumping on her bed, almost throwing her cell phone to Wednesday's side of the room.

"Jesus Wednesday, what did the door do to you?" Enid grumbled, sitting up on her bed.

Wednesday didn't respond, she threw her black backpack by the feet of her bed and came to stand in front of Enid. "What do you know of werewolves that can transform without a full moon?"

Slowly, a frown came to Enid's features. She turned off her phone when Wednesday kept glaring at it. "Nothing? Werewolves don't usually change without a full moon," Enid explained, confusion evident in her tone.

"And what if they did?"

"Then they're most likely not a werewolf."

Wednesday clenched her jaw in annoyance, she tugged at the tie around her neck, taking it off and messing up her hair in the process.

"Uh- my mother used to tell me about people who could shift into wolves at will, when I was younger," Enid kept going, wondering if that's what Wednesday was after.

The tie fell to her feet and Wednesday came to sit beside Enid; "tell me."

"Well, I don't know much about it, just that they're technically not werewolves. At least not like me," Enid shrugged, her colorful nails tapping her knee as she searched her brain for the stories she heard as a kid. "Oh, people used to call them hellhounds… pretty creepy if you ask me," she grimaced momentarily, "because they could change form whenever they pleased, and their… looks didn't help either, it made others scared of them. Most of the hellhounds succumbed to the fame and lived up to the name back in the 1850s I think, from what I know."

Wednesday narrowed her eyes, "lived up to the name?"

"Killers," Enid gulped, "or hunters, as they'd call it. My mother always told me they were no good, so I guess the bad rep still follows," she shrugged, "maybe that's why no one has seen one for the past twenty years or so."

—

Wednesday didn't sleep that night. She kept staring at her ceiling and going over everything that Enid had told her. And the only other thought on her mind was you. It was inevitable, too fitting for it to be a coincidence.

Every time she's seen that wolf she felt the exact same tug on her heart that you so inconveniently brought. It couldn't be a coincidence.

For a week straight, Wednesday waited for the wolf to appear every night so she could start playing her cello. And every night without fail, the wolf was there; same place, same time. It would lay down, watch her, and then leave.

—

On the tenth night, Wednesday wasn't on the balcony of her dorm. She decided to break the pattern.

There was no moon in the sky tonight, it almost looked like a storm was brewing. The air was frigid outside, the grass already coated with a thin layer of ice. Wednesday enjoyed the cold, but even she was reprimanding herself for having only one coat on.

Glancing down at her phone, Wednesday saw that it was already five minutes past the usual time the wolf showed up. She wondered if it saw the empty balcony and left. Or maybe it wasn't going to show up at all tonight. She felt strangely disappointed at the thought.

A twig snapped behind Wednesday, causing her to hastily turn around with a gasp lingering on her tongue. The trees stood tall in front of her, creating a blanket of pure darkness between them, nothing could be seen. Nothing, except a pair of golden eyes. For a moment, they looked like they were floating on nothing, intently watching the girl in front of them as if she was prey.

For several beats, Wednesday waited. And then, one paw stepped out of the woods and into the grass, causing a chill to run down her back — not from fear, at least not only fear.

The name hellhound has never seemed more fitting. One paw in front of the other, white air huffing from its nose with each breath, fiery eyes, and fur as black as the night. It was almost as if darkness became alive.

Admittedly, it was bewitching.

The wolf, even on all fours, was almost as tall as Wednesday; and still, it kept its distance. If she didn't know any better, Wednesday would say it was afraid of her.

The night was suddenly calm, with not a single soul around to witness. Wednesday had come all the way down here tonight to put an end to things, discover who this wolf was and the reason behind all this… stalking?

Yet any words had died on her tongue and she found herself taking a step closer. The moment felt strangely delicate. When the wolf didn't move, she took two more steps.

Wednesday was reaching out before realizing it. The wolf's ears twitched, caramel eyes following her every move until her hand was barely grazing the dark fur. It was silky, engulfing her hand in a blanket of darkness as it sunk into the wolf's cheek.

Wednesday didn't dare breathe, trapped in a moment that felt unreal. But her attention was soon caught by a glint of color, dangling from the wolf's neck.

The wolf backed away as soon as Wednesday tried to take a closer look, bright eyes looking at her one last time before it bolted away into the woods.

—

The next night, her wolf didn't show up. And Wednesday sat on the balcony of her dorm in silence, waiting for something she knew wouldn't happen. She didn't play. Loneliness clawed at her heart.

A loneliness that shouldn't be there, but it was.

Wednesday found herself slipping away when the moon was highest in the sky, her bare feet feeling the cold of the wooden floor as she walked the empty hallways of Ophelia Hall. Maybe a walk out in the cold would take her mind of off foolish matters.

She walked until she eventually reached the main doors that led outside, stopping short of crossing the threshold. There was a figure sitting on the grass just ahead, cross-legged and looking up at the moon.

Wednesday would recognize you anywhere. She wondered why, for a fleeting second. "What are you doing?"

You tensed when you heard her voice. You had heard her coming, you heard the soft pattern of her steps down the stairs. You just weren't expecting her to talk. You didn't turn around to face her when you spoke; "admiring the moon."

Subconsciously, Wednesday's gaze shifted to the natural satellite in the sky, before settling back on you. She could barely make out the silhouette of your nose and cheeks, but she could tell you were smiling. Foolish. She thought to herself.

Why would you look at the moon as if it held your heart's affection?

Why would look at the moon like that, when Wednesday was standing right there?

The Addams girl let out an indignant scoff at her own inner thought, reprimanding herself for even coming up with it. She couldn't possibly be feeling jealous of a floating rock.

"What are you doing up?" You eventually asked, your voice gentle into the night.

If you turned around, you'd see Wednesday chewing at the inside of her cheek as she tried to chase away the mess of feelings swimming in her stomach. You'd see her take half a step toward you before deciding against it, and instead rushing back inside without giving you an answer.

But you didn't need one. Part of you already knew why she was there. It was the same for you, and it was bittersweet that you ended up meeting in the middle anyway, even if for a moment. Part of you wanted to run after her and just tell her.

—

You weren't sure why you did it.

On the first night, it was mere curiosity. You could remember the coldness of the grass beneath your paws, announcing the inevitable arrival of winter. You could remember the howling wind, causing your ears to twitch as the fur there felt sensitive to the force of it. You could remember the first drops of rain hitting your nose as you walked and how that's when you heard the first note of her song.

You followed it easily, soon finding yourself in the gardens that her balcony overlooked. And even seeing her all the way from down there, she was nothing short of entrancing. It was like you could feel her emotions through the music.

You never meant for Wednesday to see you though, even if all she'd see was a black wolf. But it happened, and yet you kept coming back, night after night; you couldn't help yourself. You started missing her. Because listening to her play felt like an escape from your unfortunate reality. It put you at ease.

But you should've known Wednesday would not settle for so little, you should've known from the moment you found her in the library, already digging up every last bit of information on anything regarding werewolves. You should've stopped then.

You didn't. Instead, you allowed her even closer, close enough to touch. On that night, part of you knew she'd already figured it all out.

—

It was a gray day outside. Fitting, you thought to yourself; as it was also your most dreaded day of the year. There was no more dodging it, you could fake sickness or an injury only so many times until it gets too obvious.

From your dorm's window, you could already see the familiar car pulling up in the parking lot. There was a bitter taste on your tongue, a suffocating feeling weighing down on your chest for what was to come. It felt like drowning.

It's tradition. That was what your father always told you. It's keeping the memory of our ancestors alive. As if they were anything worth remembering.

You couldn't care less. Part of you wanted to yell at him to stop living in the past, but you'd probably lose your tongue for that. Literally. He had called you yesterday to let you know he'd be coming, as if you weren't stressing over it for a whole week already.

There was a chilly air outside, you could feel it even before walking out the doors that led to the quad; and it was right as you were making your way out, that she bumped into you. A quiet grunt left her lips at the impact, and she only didn't fall to the ground because your hands steadied her; your hold warm on her waist, keeping her body the closer she's ever been to you.

Now, you never intended to fall for the resident Addams of the school. It just happened. Maybe it was your incredible bad luck; or those dark eyes that sometimes put the midnight sky to shame with their beauty. The teasing came with the package of your growing feelings for her, it was your natural defense mechanism whenever your heartbeat skyrocketed at the mere smell of her perfume. Though you could swear that, sometimes, you managed to get her cheeks a tad rosier than normal. It got you wondering if it was wishful thinking to consider the small possibility of her returning your affections.

"You good?" You asked, subconsciously squeezing her waist.

Wednesday stumbled back when she realized that if she leaned forward just a tad more it would result in her nose brushing yours. She blinked multiple times to focus back on you, yet the first thing her eyes found was the light pink pendant of your necklace, the very same she saw on the wolf the other night.

For someone who's always so hard to read, she let the facade slip pretty easily this time. Wednesday's features did something complicated, as if she wasn't sure what she should be feeling.

"You're my wolf," the words rolled off her tongue against her volition, her wide eyes darting from your necklace to the dark sunglasses resting on top of your nose.

An awkward chuckle escaped you. You felt a lot more timid than you thought you would, "what?"

Wednesday clenched her jaw, she felt anger but wasn't sure towards what; "you're the wolf I see every night, aren't you?"

Your lips hovered yet no words came out, you took a step away from her. If it where any other time, you'd be happy to bounce arguments off of her until inevitably confirming her idea; but her timing wasn't ideal, "W-Wednesday, now is not a good time-"

"Why did you hide it-"

"What part of 'hurry up' did you not understand?" A gruff voice interrupted both you and Wednesday. You only gulped and looked down at your feet, while Wednesday turned her head to see a tall man walking towards you. He wore a dark red suit and had the same golden eyes Wednesday saw on her wolf every night, though his held a much darker undertone to them. The man's gloved hand closed around your arm with a tight grip. "We don't have all day."

"I'm sorry, father," you mumbled as he dragged you away and you tried to keep up with his steps. You turned around to give Wednesday a last tight-lipped smile, "see you later, Wednesday."

—

The sun was nowhere to be seen when your father dropped you back at school again.

You had brushed your teeth three times already, but it still felt like the taste lingered, making you nauseous.

Part of you was grateful to have come back late, Nevermore's hallways were mostly empty at this hour already so you didn't have to explain your looks. It's not like you couldn't have freshened up at your family's cabin, you just didn't want to stay a minute longer than necessary.

So you hurried into the first bathroom you found, not really considering the fact it was a communal one and anyone could walk in on you.

—

Wednesday wouldn't call herself obsessive, more like committed. She had pending matters with you, and she was going to get to the bottom of them.

So of course she kept an eye out for when you'd return to school. She saw the car drop you off by the gates, following after you as soon as you walked inside.

When Wednesday pushed open the bathroom door, you were standing in front of the mirror, damp paper towels in your hand as you tried to clean a rather nasty cut on your cheek. Your sunglasses rested atop the sink, giving Wednesday a clear view of your eyes; they were a shade of caramel she was all too familiar with, the same ones that have been keeping her company at night.

You tensed up when you noticed her, your hand freezing midair as you were about to throw the paper into the trash can.

There was a silence that stretched uncomfortably as none of you seemed to know what to do next. You were shifting on your stance, breathing unsteadily and Wednesday feared you might run away, again.

She took a single step in your direction and asked the one thing she came for; "why have you been stalking me?"

As if breaking from a trance, you looked down and away from her; allowing your hair to fall from behind your ear and hide your profile. "I wasn't stalking you."

"What would you call standing outside my window at late hours of the night only to watch me play the cello?" Wednesday raised her eyebrow pointedly.

You chuckled humourlessly, "now you make me seem like a creep." You felt small under her piercing gaze, embarrassment twirling inside your stomach. Sure, when she said it like that, it sounded weird. But you were just enjoying good music, right?

You slowly turned around to face her, your hands gripping tightly onto the sink's edge behind you. "You never told me to leave," you said quietly.

Any words Wednesday might have thought of died on her tongue. She felt uncharacteristically shy knowing that it was you who'd been witnessing her late-night lullabies. Yet she was also glad that it was you, and not someone else.

You shrugged weakly, focusing your gaze on your feet, "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just- I heard you one night and-" you glanced up at her with a bittersweet smile, fragility still lingering on your heart and making your vision blur over. Even under the cheap artificial light of the bathroom, she was the most beautiful person you'd ever seen; alabaster skin contrasting with soft dark hair, sharp eyes, and burgundy lips — she had your heart on a leash.

"And I was blown away," you continued quietly as your feelings escaped you, "it was like I could feel what you were feeling through the music, and it was so freeing… I had to come back to it."

There was a distant ache in Wednesday's lungs, because she refused to breathe. Her heart was thundering against her ribcage as she took in each of your words. No one has ever made her feel as if she was a piece of art, worthy of a display at the most renowned museum, like you just did.

"I'm sorry if it seemed like I was stalking you," you breathed.

"Why keep it a secret?" She asked then.

Her sudden gentleness startled you. You've never heard her voice so soft. "I feared you might hate me." It went beyond just late-night encounters with a wolf Wednesday didn't know was you; you feared she'd hate what you could turn into; you feared she might see you as the thing you least want to be if she ever found out what you try to hide behind sunglasses and a snarky attitude.

It's because of the way your voice breaks at the end, that Wednesday finally looks at you. And she sees the tiny splatters of blood on your cheek, a cut running from your lip to near your ear, scrapes and bruises in your hands — you're nothing short of a mess.

And you weren't hers. Wednesday knew you weren't hers to worry about, to care for, to protect. Yet she had the annoying urge to do it all anyway.

She wordlessly closed the distance between you, the sound of her boots loud against the bathroom tiles. Taking a few paper towels, Wednesday dampened their edge under the running water of the sink. She hesitated before coming closer, it felt like crossing a line, walking down a road with no way back. Her eyes never left you as she came to stand in front of you.

Your grip on the sink's edge was bruising, knuckles white. You were so quiet, so on edge, so shaky; your eyes had a darkness around them, your lips quivering. It felt all wrong. Wednesday hated seeing you like this, without your usual light.

She raised her hand slowly, stopping short of reaching your cheek, "may I?"

You nodded, feeling a warmth rushing to your heart at the delicacy you didn't know she was capable of. A barrier had fallen between you. When you leaned against her touch, Wednesday started gently cleaning the few places still stained with blood on your skin.

"Did he do this to you?" Wednesday couldn't hold the question back anymore. A different kind of anger bubbled in her chest — one that was mixed with an unusual sense of protectiveness. "Your father?"

"Not him," you choked out, unable to look her in the eyes — not wanting to, "not directly."

Wednesday frowned at that, her eyes tried to chase after yours but you avoided her.

"He makes me do it." A tear rolled down your cheek, you bit into your lip to contain a sob, "he always makes me do it."

Wednesday would never dare call herself an empathetic person, but her chest clenched in pain to see you hurt. One of your tears fell on her thumb that rested on your cheek, and she wanted to take all the pain to herself.

"But I hate it, Wednesday," you told her fiercely, desperate for her to believe you, a new batch of tears coming to your eyes when you finally looked up at her, "I hate the killing."

The moon was high in the sky when Wednesday walked out of the bathroom, with you close by her side. The darkness of the night easily hid the way her hand was holding onto yours.

And as you walked through the gardens together, Wednesday could feel the shift in the air. You had told her about the 'stupid tradition', how your family gets together once a year for the hunt, and how you felt dirty, disgusted at the feeling of sinking your canines into the white fur of the rabbit. Yet they still make you do it.

The door to her dorm came before yours. You stopped in front of it with her, nothing but the dim yellow light hanging from the ceiling to make you company. The moment felt more intimate than it should be. Wednesday didn't look like the girl who threw pencils at you in class — there was a faint blush to her cheeks and her pupils were blown wide — she looked like someone you could love.

"Why don't you ever take it off?" Wednesday asked, shooting a brief glance at the necklace hanging from your neck.

You take the light pink pendant between your fingers, tracing the nooks and crannies in it, "it was my mom's," you said softly, "she was the only person who ever told me I didn't need to be what others said I was. That I didn't have to carry the sins of my forbearers."

Wednesday nodded softly, glancing up at you before she turned around. Her hand left yours and she instantly missed the warmth there, it made her think of how lonely the nights started to feel when her wolf wasn't there.

Her fingers hesitated on the doorknob, she looked at you from over her shoulder, "if you wish to see me play, stop lurking around," she pushed the words out quickly, "Enid is out until nine most nights."

And with that, Wednesday closed the door in your face, not giving you an opportunity to ask about the abrupt invitation.

On what was usually the worst day of the year for you, Wednesday managed to make you go to sleep with a smile.

—

There was suddenly an unspoken thing in the air.

Wednesday went about her day as per usual, following her routine precisely. But there was something making her feel as if spiders were crawling around inside her stomach; it happened each time she walked into a room hoping to find you there, each time she'd feel you looking her way and doing a poor job of pretending otherwise, each time she found herself checking the time on the clock to see how long was left for the sun to set, and especially, each time Enid pointed out her looking at you.

When night came, Wednesday had her cello already set up outside, and she sat on her bed with her eyes fixed on the door. She felt a little silly, waiting on you like this even if you hadn't given her the slightest hint you'd be coming at all.

But she hoped you would.

It was two minutes past the usual time she'd go out to play her songs, that Wednesday heard three knocks on her door. She opened it to reveal you on the other side, looking as nervous as she felt.

"Hi," you greeted with an awkward smile.

"Hello," she bit back a smile of her own.

You followed after her when Wednesday quietly made her way outside. You felt a little out of place, up here instead of down there on the grass. But when Wednesday played the first note on her cello, it was as if the whole rest of the world went quiet, and it was just you and her.

You figured you'd never be able to settle on watching her from a distance anymore. Not when you'd just had a taste of listening to her music so loud and clear, of watching her up close, following each small movement of her fingers on the strings and the twitches on her expression as she immersed herself in the melody. She captivated you in a way no other soul ever did.

Wednesday had her eyes closed the whole time, she knew she'd stumble on the notes if she blinked them open and saw the way you were looking at her — she could feel it though, the weight of your gaze; it was enough.

Only when the last note stretched out, that she did look back at you. And sure enough, the song ended with abruptness as she lost her focus.

Because Wednesday realized that you were looking at her the same way you looked at the moon. Maybe you always have been, for all of those nights you laid outside in the cold only to watch her play. She wondered for a moment if that is what love looked like.

And maybe that's the reason why, before even getting up, she decided she'd take that gamble.

"You are so amazing," you breathed out, your lips hovering as you gestured around in search of words good enough to describe your feelings.

Wednesday put her cello aside, getting up from her chair to take the few steps that separated you.

"I mean, every time that I hear you play I'm just-" you choked on your words, your eyes finding hers when you realized that with each beat of your frantic heart, she was coming closer, closer.

"I'm just in love," you told her in nothing but a whisper.

Wednesday had taken a hold of your jacket, and she halted only for a second when the word love left your lips. She didn't say it, but the way she was looking at you with the softest of eyes held a lot of love too.

The kiss she pulled you into might have been long overdue, given both of your eagerness. You were quick to grasp her waist and pull her body as close to yours as humanly possible.

Wednesday cupped your cheeks, holding you in place as her nose bumped yours and she gave a gentle nip on your lower lip.

She kept her lips on yours until her lungs screamed for air, pulling away slowly, feeling each one of your deep breaths grazing her lips. Wednesday felt your nails gently pressing against her spine, she felt you trace a path from her jaw to right below her ear where you chose to place a lingering kiss.

And she knew, right then and there, that she'd never be able to look up at the moon again and not think of her wolf.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

A/N: This is a storyline I'm definitely willing to expand, so if you have any requests regarding Wednesday and her wolf, feel free to send them in.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @jjsmaybank20 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany @v1ci0us @the-nightshades-library @tundra1029 @aahdiieb @greyscxle-is-taken

[moonselune]

hey hey! Can we get a drabble of overstimulating bg3 girls?

oooooOOOOOooooOOooO

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Karlach lay on the bed, her body glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Her breathing was heavy and erratic, her chest rising and falling rapidly. You hovered over her, a mischievous grin playing on your lips as you ran your fingers gently over her heated skin.

"Please," Karlach whimpered, her voice tinged with both desperation and delight. "I can't take anymore…"

You chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss her tenderly. "But you look so beautiful like this," you murmured against her lips, your hand trailing down to her core, drawing another gasp from her.

Karlach's body trembled under your touch, her muscles twitching in response to the overwhelming sensations. "You’re such a tease," she managed to say between ragged breaths, her hands clutching at the sheets in a futile attempt to ground herself.

Your fingers moved with deliberate slowness, drawing out every moment of her pleasure. Karlach's moans grew louder, her head tossing from side to side as she struggled to maintain control. "Please," she begged again, her voice breaking. "I'm going to… I can't…"

You increased the pressure slightly, watching as her eyes rolled back in her head. "Just a little more, love," you whispered, your lips brushing against her ear. "You're so close."

With a final, agonizingly slow stroke, Karlach's body arched off the bed, her cry of release echoing. She collapsed back against the pillows, her body quivering with aftershocks as you held her gently.

"You're amazing," you whispered, kissing her forehead. Karlach looked up at you with dazed, adoring eyes, her lips curving into a satisfied smile.

"I… I can't believe you did that to me," she murmured, her voice weak but filled with affection. "But I loved every second of it."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

Minthara lay before you, her body relaxed as she recovered, but you could see her muscles tense with anticipation. Her eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours as you trailed a finger down her sternum. A shiver ran through her, though she tried to mask it with a glare.

"Don't think you can break me," she growled, her voice laced with challenge. "I can handle whatever you throw at me."

You smirked, leaning in to kiss her neck, your hand moving lower to tease her relentlessly. "We'll see about that," you whispered against her skin, feeling her pulse quicken beneath your lips.

Minthara's body responded despite her defiant words, her muscles twitching under your touch. You pushed her further, your fingers working with precision to drive her wild. Her breaths became shallow and ragged, her control slipping with each passing moment.

"Damn you," she hissed, her voice wavering. "This… this is nothing…"

You increased the intensity, your movements relentless. Minthara's bravado began to crumble, her moans growing louder and more desperate. "Stop," she demanded weakly, but there was no conviction in her voice.

"Just a little more," you coaxed, your eyes locked onto hers. "I want to see you come undone, my love,"

Minthara's body betrayed her, arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Her cries of release were raw and primal, her body trembling uncontrollably. You held her through it, whispering soothing words as she came down from the peak of ecstasy. When she finally stilled, her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at you with a mix of frustration and awe.

"You, I-" her words were jumbled but eventually she managed to string a sentence together, her voice weak. "That was a lot."

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "But you loved it," you whispered, kissing her softly. Minthara's lips curved into a reluctant smile, her eyes softening.

"Perhaps," she admitted, her voice filled with a new, begrudging respect. "But don't think I'll let you do that again without a fight."

You chuckled, holding her close. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Lae'zel lay back, her muscular body relaxed but her eyes filled with challenge as she recovered from her previous orgasm.

A smirk playing on her lips as you continued to play with her. "I know my body well. I doubt you can offer me anything new."

You smiled confidently, leaning in to kiss her, your hands exploring her familiar contours with a newfound intensity. "Let's see about that," you whispered against her lips.

You started slowly, teasing her with gentle touches and kisses, building the anticipation. Lae'zel's smirk faded as her body began to respond, her breaths growing deeper and more uneven. Her eyes widened slightly as you expertly found her most sensitive spots, drawing soft moans from her lips.

"Impressive," she muttered, her voice tinged with surprise. But you weren't done yet.

You increased the pressure, your hands and mouth working in perfect harmony to push her further than she'd ever been. Lae'zel's composure began to crumble, her moans turning into desperate gasps. She clutched at the sheets, her body writhing beneath your touch.

"By Mother Gith," she breathed, her voice breaking. "I… I can't…"

You continued, relentless in your pursuit of her pleasure. With a final, intense movement, Lae'zel's body arched off the bed, her cry of release echoing through the room. She collapsed back, her body trembling with aftershocks as you held her gently.

"How did you…?" she began, her voice filled with awe and disbelief.

You smiled, kissing her forehead. "I know your body too, Lae'zel. And I adore surprising you."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart lay before you, her eyes filled with a mix of determination and desire. "You think you can top me. then?" she asked, her voice challenging but slightly wavering as she recomposed herself from your previous round. "We'll see about that."

You smirked, leaning in to kiss her, your hands moving with a confidence born of knowing her body intimately. "Let's find out," you whispered against her lips.

You started slowly, teasing her with gentle touches and kisses, building the anticipation. Shadowheart's determination faltered as her body began to respond, her breaths growing deeper and more uneven. Her eyes widened slightly as you expertly found her most sensitive spots, drawing soft moans from her lips.

"You… you're good," she muttered, her voice tinged with surprise. But you weren't done yet.

You increased the pressure, smirking as you moved your hands and mouth in a way you knew would make her come apart. Shadowert gasped and twitched as the overstimulation gave way to pleasure, her composure beginning to crumble, her moans turning into desperate gasps. She clutched at your shoulders, her body writhing beneath your touch.

"I can't… I can't take it," she gasped, her voice breaking.

"Yes, you can," You hummed back, as you continued, relentless in your pursuit of her pleasure. With a final, intense movement, Shadowheart's body arched off the bed, her scream of release echoing through the room. She collapsed back, her body trembling with aftershocks as you held her gently.

"Okay, you did it," she whispered, her voice filled with awe and disbelief. "You topped me."

You smiled, kissing her softly. "I told you I could."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

Jaheira lay back, panting after your previous entanglement, you looked over her with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"I trust you, to know what you are doing" she said, her voice filled with a mix of apprehension and desire. "But I don't know if I can handle this."

You smiled reassuringly, leaning in to kiss her, your hands moving with a confidence born of knowing her body intimately. "Trust me, you can" you whispered against her lips.

You started slowly, teasing her with gentle touches and kisses, softly overstimulating. Jaheira's tension began to melt away as her body responded, her breaths growing deeper and more uneven. She would try to instinctively jerk away but you kept her close. Her eyes then widened slightly as you expertly found her most sensitive spots, drawing soft moans from her lips.

"I… I don't know if I can take this," she muttered, her voice tinged with uncertainty. But you weren't done yet.

You increased the pressure, your hands and mouth working to push her further, past the point of pain and into pleasure. Jaheira's composure began to crumble, her moans turning into desperate gasps. She clutched at the sheets, her body writhing beneath your touch.

"Please," she gasped, her voice breaking. "It's too much…"

"You've got this, beloved," You assured her and with a final, intense movement, Jaheira's body tensed then arched off the bed, her moan of release sending prideful pleasure through you. She collapsed back, her body trembling with aftershocks as you held her gently.

"How did you…?" she began, her voice filled with awe and disbelief.

You smiled, kissing her forehead. "I know your body, Jaheira. And I love giving you the best pleasure."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you all enjoyed it, struggled a tad with this one hence why it may seem a bit repetitive but hey ho - Seluney xox

[cornykrameri]

Silco x OC

PS from the author: This is a fragment from the fanfic I'm writing. Full will be posted soon on AO3 TW: Knife Play

I watched his hands as took the cigar, lit it, and let the flame briefly illuminate his face before it died. The sharp, bitter aroma of tobacco filled the air around us. I swallowed a hard lump in my throat as I watched him take a long drag.

Looking back at me, he held out the cigar. Without hesitation, I took it. As I thought about how it had just touched his lips moments ago, I inhaled. The thick smoke hit hard, and I coughed—cigarettes were much easier than this heavy, bitter taste. My head spun almost instantly, and I handed the cigar back.

— I still regret that you gave me that knife. Maybe, without it, none of this would’ve happened, — I admitted, feeling the words grow heavier on my tongue.

Silco took a slow drag from his cigar, releasing a cloud of smoke that seemed to envelop us in an unseen veil. His face was obscured for a moment until he set the cigar down deliberately in the ashtray and said:

— Give me the knife.

His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. Obediently, I pulled the blade from its sheath and handed it to him by the hilt. His fingers curled around the blood-streaked steel, and his thumb traced the edge with a touch so light it felt almost reverent. His eyes flicked up to meet mine—a piercing gaze, sharp and unreadable.

— Hold out your hands.

I hesitated briefly but did as he asked, extending my palms. He placed the hilt back into my grasp and wrapped his hands over mine, steadying them.

Locking his hypnotic gaze on me, he guided my hands upward until the blade rested against the pale skin of his throat, just above the collar of his shirt. My insides coiled tight as a spring, but I couldn’t move—I was frozen in place, like a puppet held in invisible strings.

He released my hands, leaving the knife poised at his neck. One wrong move, one stray thought, and I could slit his throat. In my mind's eye, I saw it all: blood spilling down my fingers, his healthy eye dulling with death while the glassy implant froze in eternal stillness.

A strange cocktail of exhilaration and fear surged within me, and I wasn’t sure if I could resist it.

Silco smirked and leaned forward, pressing the blade more firmly against his neck. I went completely still, forgetting how to breathe.

What the hell is he doing? My gaze darted to his face, searching for some explanation. Did he really trust me this much?

— You see, — he murmured, his voice low and intimate. — The knife isn’t the issue. It’s just an object. You did what you did because you wanted to kill him. And I know you wouldn’t dare try that with me.

Forcing my trembling hands to move, I pulled the knife back from his neck and exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. But in the moment of hesitation, a wild, reckless thought streaked through my mind, sparking something primal and twisted deep inside me.

Without thinking, I shoved him, forcing his body down onto the couch. He didn’t resist; he yielded easily, allowing me to straddle him.

I hovered over him, my right hand still clutching the knife near his throat, while his thigh pressed firmly between my legs. His expression remained calm, curious even, as though he was indulging me in some sort of game.

Breathing heavily, I glanced between the blade and his eyes.

— Are you sure you trust me that much? — I asked at last. — What if I’m a born killer?

I traced the edge of the knife from his throat upward, skimming the curve of his jaw until it rested near his slightly parted lips.

— What if Muriel was just the beginning? — I continued, letting the blade’s tip follow the scar on his left cheek.

I wanted to see fear in his eyes, to watch him falter. Instead, he seemd intrigued, as though he was daring me to push further, to cross whatever boundary still remained in me.

His hand slid onto my knee, creeping under the hem of my long shirt and gliding upward along my thigh with maddening slowness and certainty.

My heart pounded, caught in a dangerous rhythm of desire and danger. I brought the knife back to his throat, leaning closer to his face.

— Then let it be the beginning, — he whispered, his breath brushing against my lips.

Desire flared in my chest like a wildfire, and just as I was about to give in and kiss him, he beat me to it.

His lips crushed against mine, demanding and unrelenting. I gasped, tightening my grip on the knife as his mouth devoured mine. His kiss was commanding, greedy, and when he bit my lower lip, a small moan escaped me, causing my hand to tremble.

His fingers gripped my thighs, pulling me down against him as the kiss deepened. Through the layers of fabric and skin, I could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, as though it matched my own chaotic pulse. His lips moved against mine with such perfect intensity that I couldn’t tear myself away.

My mind screamed that this was wrong, but my body refused to listen. It wanted him, and it was clear the feeling was mutual.

Without breaking the kiss, Silco shifted, lifting me slightly as he leaned forward. Now seated on his lap, I felt the unmistakable hardness between us. My grip on the knife slackened, and he seized the opportunity to snatch it from my hand with a sharp, fluid motion.

Fear flickered through me for a moment until his voice, rough and low, broke the tension.

— Don’t move.

He pressed his thumb against my lower lip, gently parting it. I obeyed without question.

— Don’t move, — he repeated, bringing the blade to my lips.

My pulse thundered in my ears as I watched the raw fascination in his eyes. Slowly, he slid the knife into my mouth, its edge resting against my tongue. This was madness—pure, unhinged madness—but I didn’t want it to stop.

The blade pressed lightly against the roof of my mouth, making it hard to breathe. One wrong move, one slip, and it would slice into the delicate skin of my lips or tongue.

His smirk was wicked, taunting, as he withdrew the blade slightly and tilted it to press against my tongue, pinning it down. With his free hand, he traced a finger down my chin, along my neck, and over the center of my chest, pausing just before it could venture lower.

It was agonizingly pleasurable. If not for the knife in my mouth, I might have begged him to keep going.

Finally, he pulled the blade free, and we both froze, caught in the weight of what had just transpired and what it meant for us now.

[thefallennightmare]

Fwb with Noah and accidentally getting pregnant hc?

@thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @lookwhatitcost @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @burning-outx @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @pathion @flowery-mess @tashka

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

Fuck.

You stared down at the positive test in your hand and felt bile rise in your throat.

One of the reasons why you took this test.

Another was because your period was two weeks late.

"This can't be happening," you groaned while falling onto the closed toilet lid and ran a hand over your face.

Would Noah be upset?

You had no idea how he would react, especially since this wasn't part of your agreement.

When the two of you started sleeping together, that's all it was supposed to be.

No relationship. No strings attached.

Just casual hookups when one of you needed to release some pent-up aggression.

But pregnancy was a huge string that was attached with a thick knot that couldn't get undone.

"Y/N?"

Noah's voice rang out in your apartment and your heart sank, trying to think what to do.

He texted you earlier in the day asking if he could come by tonight to "catch up."

Code word for sex.

You knew you had to tell him, he deserved to know.

But you were so afraid of how he would react.

His schedule with Bad Omens and everything else he had going on did not have room for a baby.

And to be honest, you didn't know if you were ready for a baby yet.

"Y/N?" His voice was closer now, in the doorway of your bathroom.

The positive pregnancy test was still in your hand as you glanced up at him, tears welling in your eyes.

Noah's eyes landed on the test then back up to your face.

"Is that-?"

You nodded. "I'm pregnant."

He stood still, not breathing, for a long moment and just as you were going to speak, Noah knelt in front of you.

"From the time at Matt's? In the bathroom?"

You thought back to the memory of a month ago when you all were hanging out at Matt's house and you and Noah snuck away for a quicky in the bathroom.

Both of you weren't smart that night but you didn't think it would be that easy to get pregnant.

"Are you upset?" You asked with a quiet breath.

Noah gave your knee a gentle squeeze. "I'm scared to death but no, I'm not upset. I was there that night too, Y/N. This is something that we can deal with together. Whatever you decide, I'll support you."

Your bottom lip trembled. "I don't want you to feel like you have to stay with me because of our baby."

Noah's lips twitched at the mention of our baby.

"I actually had plans on asking you out on an official date tonight," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You did?" You wondered with a raised brow.

He nodded before pulling out his phone to show you a text between him and Jesse.

There's no way she won't agree to a date, Noah. Y/N is crazy about you.

Your heart soared into your throat.

So Noah linked your hands together and brought your knuckles to his lips for a kiss. "We'll figure this out together."

You brushed away the hair from his forehead so you could lay a kiss there, "Okay."

[copiousloverofcopia]

I could also use some more Papa Terzo getting his face sat on by anyone. nemA. 🙏

Hey there ghestie!!!

I have so many things in the works for you lol but to start here's a little taste....no pun intended.

For your reading pleasure....

Smeared Paint

Featuring Terzo x reader for some face sitting/riding fun 😏

Also available HERE on AO3!

Definitely NSFW below the cut

"Are you sure about this?" you asked him. Your thighs tingling in anticipation. Trying hard to stop your legs from shaking as your wet core hovered just above his painted lips. 

"Si, sorella…now sit. I'm growing impatient." Terzo whined. Licking a trail up your thigh. Teasing his hot breath at your folds. You let out a sigh, ready to feel his mouth on you—insides pulsing just at the thought.

After all, he preferred it this way. Face buried into your folds. Ready to give his life in worship of your cunt. And though you had been his altar many times before, you always hesitated, worried you may facilitate his meeting Lucifer before his time. 

Before you could say anything else, the choice was made for you. Terzo quickly wrapped his arms around your thighs. Fingers dug deep into the flesh as he pulled you down hard on his face. The tender flesh of your cunt meeting with his mouth. 

"Ah!" You cried out. His sinful tongue slithered its way from your taint to your clit. Dipping into your opening a moment before he continued on. Lapping at you like melted gelato on a hot summer day. Both of you moaning as you instinctively rolled yourself over his face. The vibrations from his enthusiasm—heading straight to your clit. 

"Hmm... Sorella, la tua figa ha un sapore così buono. Come il frutto divino dell'albero proibito…" Terzo praised as he came up for air. His decadent words–followed by a string of moaning and indiscernible Italian. 

"Mmm…yeah…mmm…" you moaned. Your pussy gliding with ease across the broadness of his tongue. Terzo, kissing and nipping and sucking on your folds and you rode his face. You became lost in pleasure, grinding on him with wild abandon. Overwhelmed in your lustful haze.

You tried to raise up, but you were quickly forced back down. Terzo holding you, like a vice grip against his mouth. Your whole cunt dripping with his saliva—messy and wet as he continued. The pressure built up inside you, slowly starting to release. 

"Oh Papa, I wanna cum." You mewled; hand grabbed firmly on a tuft of raven black hair before you. Terzo staring up at you as he devoured you. Gently sucking on your lips and sliding his tongue once more over your cunt. 

"Then cum." He told you, his voice full of that suave, devilish charm that had made you fall for him in the first place. "Give me communion sorella." 

That was enough to send you over, yanking harder on his hair. Terzo hissing, his paints smeared all over his face and the inside of your thighs. Mixing for a perfect shade of gray. 

You came. The third Emeritus son drinking you down like the richest of wines. Savoring the notes of pleasure, divined in the way you tasted. Your fluids running over the corners of his smiling mouth. Still refusing to release his hold on you. 

You were breathless and spent, finding yourself falling. Collapsing down beside him in the ocean of violet sheets. A smile on your face—speaking to your lover's skill. Maybe you'd be the one to die from the sheer ecstasy he brought you.

You kept your eyes closed. Enjoying listening to the sound of your shared breathing, when you felt Terzo get up. Taking hold of your legs and flipping you onto your stomach. Pulling you up on your knees before you could even speak. 

"Ass up sorella. I'm not done with you yet." Terzo teased. 

"Oh!" You called out as he guided the swell of your ass higher in the air. Marveling at the sight of it, before adding two fingers carefully into your entrance. Pressing hard and deep into the bundle of nerves. Cloaked within you—a place only he was able to find. 

"That's a good girl sorella." Terzo praised you as you rolled your hips back against his fingers. Terzo glided his hand across your ass. His fingers sprayed out over it before giving you a good smack. Your cunt, jolting back even harder onto his hand. Face pressed against the bed, trying your best to quiet your moans. The mid-morning rendezvous, proving to be more noisy than you intended. 

"Tell me how bad you want his cock sorella. How much you long for my fingers to be replaced with it. So I can fill you and have you dripping with me." Terzo commanded. 

"Uh! Fuck…Yes!" You called out as he made you cum again on his hand. 

"Tell me what you want." He ordered you, removing his fingers and stroking himself with your slick. Cock hard and at attention and ready to do as promised.

"I want your cock. Please…"

"Please, what?" He taunted. Allowing the plump, leaking head of his cock to tap against your core. 

"Fuck! Papa! Please!" You cried, desperate for it now. Terzo, giving a sinister smile as he obliged you. Slamming himself through your folds and taking hold of the lush curves of your thighs. Pounding inside you with full fervor. 

"See…all you need is to ask nicely…" 

"Mmm…Papa, yes. Ah…ah…." You moaned, feeling him spreading you out. Pressing all around inside, your body tugging against him with every thrust. You began to compress around him. Clamping down on his cock as you began to cum. Practically screaming now in your pleasure. Both sure the whole of the Abbey could hear you. Not that either of you cared. 

"That's it…ah…yes…sorella…" Terzo groaned. Quickly losing his stride as your pussy fluttered around him. "Your. Cunt. Is. Mine." He growled as you felt him kick inside you. His burning seed, flooding deep inside. Your Papa, continuing his movements until he was sure you were stuffed full. 

He hung limp over you. Kissing the small of your back as he pulled his softened cock from inside you. Continuing his row of kisses as he met with your ass. Coming to lay beside you and shielding you from the cool air with the cover of his sheets.

"That was incredible…" you began before you realized what day it was, "...uh…Papa. Isn't it your day for confession?" You asked. 

"Oh shit, yes!" Terzo panicked. Springing up from the bed in a fury. Rummaging around the room for his discarded vestments. Quickly redressing before giving your forehead a kiss. "I'll be back for you later." He smiled attempting to head out the door. 

"Wait! Wait! You can't go out like that!" You told him. He turned to face you, eyebrow perked and that puzzled look on his face.

"And why not?"

"Your paints!" You told him, half laughing, motioning to your lap that looked like a grayscale painting. 

Terzo smirked, "Hmph…let them see."

Notes:

Hmm...Sister, your pussy tastes so good. Like divine fruit from the forbidden tree. -Hmm... Sorella, la tua figa ha un sapore così buono. Come il frutto divino dell'albero proibito.

[alltheweirdkidsinoneplace]

Eddie Munson + potential Iron Maiden references

because I'm hyperfixiating and desperate. Also apparently not everyone was raised on 80s metal, so this might be new to some people and gatekeeping is lame. None of this is confirmed obviously and I'm probably reaching but here we go

let's start with the most obvious one: This is Iron Maiden's mascot. His name is Eddie. He's been on every single album cover, most single covers, merch, posters... He looks a little different every time, but he's always undead.

This is the cover artwork for the 1982 album The Number of the Beast. It features A huge version of Eddie, controlling the strings of a red, devil-like creature, which in turn holds the strings of a tiny version of Eddie. The Devil (Vecna, there I said it) is not shown to be aware of Big Eddie controlling him. It's all very double agent, The Spy parallel. Also if you take just the frame of Big Eddie's hand and the devil, it looks A LOT like Eddie Munson's puppetmaster tattoo. With a little fantasy and even more reaching there's also some vaguely mindflayery shape in the background of the image.

(probably irrelevant but still fun fact: This album was released on March 22nd 1982 - EXACTLY four years before Eddie Munson became the main suspect in Chrissy's death)

This one speaks for itself. We've all seen the Eddie prequel book that's gonna come out later this year with literally the same title as this 1983 song.

Interestingly, Eddie has batwings here, aka KAS THEORY CONFIRMED?

This one, holy shit. This is the artwork for the 1986 (!) album Somewhere in Time, and if the year and title weren't enough, there is so much more.

1. Again starting with the most obvious: There is a graffito on the wall to the very right that literally says EDDIE LIVES.

2. Under the graffito we see a hand reaching up from the ground (grave?). The version of Eddie that we get here is a cyborg, and the hand on the ground looks very cyborg-esque as well. The band members are seen a little towards the left as normal humans, so it's not like everyone's just a cyborg in this world. Ergo the hand belongs to a second Eddie, which is very in line with the whole "there is another timeline with shadow selves"-theory.

3. The red clouds in the background are very vecna-y.

4. The little winged figure from the Flight of Icarus cover is seen left of the big tower in the middle.

5. The neon sign of the movie theatre to the very bottom left contains the words "Live After Death" (illegible here, but it's there!)

6. The lyrics on this album! In particular Wasted Years, featuring the lines "But now it seems I'm just a stranger to myself

And all the things I sometimes do, it isn't me but someone else"

- again, very much in line with shadow selves. And even more Stranger in a Strange Land:

"Was many years ago that I left home and came this way

I was a young man full of hopes and dreams

But now it seems to me that all is lost and nothing gained

Sometimes things ain't what they seem

No brave new world, no brave new world

No brave new world, no brave new world

Night and day I scan horizon, sea and sky

My spirit wanders endlessly

Until the day will dawn and friends from home discover why

Hear me calling, rescue me

Set me free, set me free

Lost in this place and leave no trace

Stranger in a strange land

Land of ice and snow

Trapped inside this prison

Lost and far from home

[...]

They found his body lying where it fell on that day

Preserved in time for all to see

No brave new world, no brave new world

Lost in this place, and leave no trace

What became of the man that started

All are gone and their souls departed

Left me here in this place so all alone"

Does that sound like someone left for dead in the Upside Down or is that just me?

7. idk a fuckload more in the cover probablay because it's wild.

Bonus Metallica fact: Master of Puppets was released on March 3rd 1986. Eeven if he bought the album the day it was released (he would) that would have given him under three weeks to rehearse it so much that he could give the most metal concert ever on March 27th.

Anyway that's just from the top of my head; I might add on to it if/when I think of more. PLEASE spam me with your theories I beg you.

Side note: Contrary to popular belief, if you got into metal because of Eddie: That's awesome! Welcome! Again, gatekeeping sucks; we've all had our minds blown by a Metallica song for the first time at some point, so let's be nice to the newcomers.

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

Worth noting that we're almost two weeks into 2024, and there are still two undetermined films on this year's Disney slate...

One of them is just simply "Untitled Disney", and it's set for release September 8, 2024...

The other is the annual Thanksgiving Walt Disney Animation Studios offering.

According to some screenshot of a supposed Disney movie/series slate that was floating around a month ago, Disney took both of these movies off the calendar... But I concluded, for multiple reasons, that that screenshot was fake. As it did not resemble the kind of PDF document that Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures usually puts out when there's a change in the release schedule. The formatting was all different, and it included Disney+ shows, which these things never do.

So, I rule that the 9/6/2024 release - whatever it may be - and the 11/27/2024 WDAS movie are still on the boards. At the moment... Of course, that's always subject to change!

Disney would've kicked this year off with the Pixar space adventure ELIO in March, but that got pushed all the way back to the summer of 2025... The year instead begins with theatrical releases of the three Pixar films that went straight to Disney+ on their initial release... So the year actually begins, in terms of a NEW theatrically-released movie, with a 20th Century Studios release: Horror reboot THE FIRST OMEN. April 5th.

And earlier today, they moved their new PLANET OF THE APES movie up two weeks, to avoid duking it out with FURIOSA and GARFIELD. Plus they can get all the large-format screens to themselves for a lil' bit.

Anyways, we're in 2024 now... And we know nothing about these two movies. I'm guessing 9/6/2024 is going to be another 20th Century Studios movie, or a Searchlight movie. Sometimes "Untitled Disney" is a placeholder for that kind of movie, and September's usually the time to release one of those kinds of lower budget, more adult-oriented movies.

But we know what's been happening with WDAS' latest pictures at the box office, and who knows what morale is like over there. They too are developing shows for Disney+, like Pixar was, until Iger recently mandated cuts to Pixar after Disney+ continued to lose money for the larger company... I'd imagine WDAS might be in a similar predicament? Maybe not? But it's unusual that we don't know for sure - as in, not through leaks or word thru the trenches - what the 2024 WDAS movie is. Even STRANGE WORLD, we knew about it a year away from release... They're kinda cutting it close with this one?

Unless WDAS takes 2024 off completely, for whatever reason. I figured the very possible animation strike would affect this movie anyways. But even without a strike, their recent woes might lead to a back-to-the-drawing-board moment, as often is the case when a studio has a string of money-losers. It often leads to a week or so of everyone wondering, "What should we be doing? What kinds of movies should we be making??" And then they try that, and they see how that goes...

Anyways, should all go swimmingly, I wouldn't mind seeing the new WDAS get delayed. Especially if it's still having its kinks ironed out. Also, kind of a wild opinion, but WDAS doesn't always have to do the Thanksgiving thing, ya know? STRANGE WORLD and WISH weren't saved by that slot, neither was something like TREASURE PLANET many moons ago. WDAS did do a March release with ZOOTOPIA in 2016, and almost did that again in 2018 (at one point GIGANTIC, at another point RALPH BREAKS THE INTERNET) before abandoning it... Like, a WDAS movie doesn't always have to be the summer or the holiday season. Many other animated movies have proven that, too.

Heck, WDAS movies used to show up at the randomest times of the year. Before the world of blockbuster filmmaking, during a time when the movie theater industry was a whoooole lot different.

Did you know that SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS, which had its world premiere on December 21, 1937, went into general release... In February of 1938? February. Yes, cold-ass February... And still managed to become, at the time of its release, the highest-grossing film of all time? (A record swiftly usurped by GONE WITH THE WIND a little over a year later.)

PINOCCHIO, CINDERELLA, and PETER PAN were February releases, too. DUMBO and THE JUNGLE BOOK came out near Halloween in their respective release years. BAMBI was a late August release. SLEEPING BEAUTY and 101 DALMATIANS came out in late January of their release years.

Summer slots became more of a regular thing for Disney starting with THE RESCUERS in 1977, which was a June release. THE FOX AND THE HOUND originally was eying Christmas 1980, but because of the Don Bluth-led animator exodus, ended up being a July 1981 release. THE BLACK CAULDRON, similarly, was out in July 1985. THE GREAT MOUSE DETECTIVE? July 1986.

But then once the Renaissance fired up, it was initially all about Thanksgiving. OLIVER & COMPANY, LITTLE MERMAID, RESCUERS DOWN UNDER, BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, and ALADDIN all did the holiday thing...

When THE LION KING broke all records for an animated movie in summer 1994 - the June date given to it after production problems delayed it from its original Thanksgiving 1993 slot, then Disney was all about the summer again. Barring WINNIE THE POOH (2011), the last time WDAS had a summer movie was... 2002... LILO & STITCH. From BOLT-onwards, it was almost always towards the end of the year with their movies. Again, ZOOTOPIA an exception, RAYA AND THE LAST DRAGON as well because of COVID-19 (it would've been Thanksgiving 2020 if nothing had happened).

Maybe it doesn't have to be Thanksgiving/Christmas all the time?

Suppose we see the new WDAS movie in, say, March 2025? And the next, maybe at another time of the year?

[alteon77]

*IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm copying everything over from AO3 to here because this series has a sequel coming out in the Fall, and I'd rather be prepared just in case AO3 goes down again. This is an old, complete story. So if you recognize it, you're not imagining things. 😂

Chapter Publication Date: 10/30/22 | Word Count: 4,905

All the Precious and Fragile Things (so easily do they break): Chapter 5

Part I: All of This Past

WARNINGS: 18+ for smut, depictions of childbirth

In a flashback, May remembers Morpheus proposing.

In the present, May tries to find her footing in a new situation, and her brother pays a visit. Morpheus is not pleased.

Chapter One here, AO3 here, Masterlist here

FOUR YEARS PAST...

In the flickering light of the candles, Morpheus puts his lips on her and methodically takes her apart.

His mouth on her sex is nothing less than revelation, and she can't help her whimper as his tongue traces pathways over the bundle of nerves there, as his fingers move inside of her like he will summon every ounce of pleasure possible to the core of her womb. The reverence with which he strokes her body reminds her of the way a lutist might gently pluck the strings of a favored instrument, her gasps and moans and desperate cries the notes of a melody that he's strumming on it by practiced memory. She writhes while he ravishes her like this, while he pushes her higher and higher to the peak of her ecstasy until she can do naught but topple over the edge for the third time since he'd laid her out on her bed earlier that night.

As May trembles with her climax, Morpheus raises his head, the wetness of her release glistening on his mouth and chin when he glances up from under thick lashes to watch her. He likes to see this, she knows, likes to bear witness to what he does to her, to how thoroughly he undoes her until she is naught but a wrecked mess of his making.   Only he is allowed this complete surrender from May, and he is all too aware of it. His gaze, half possessiveness and half pride, is steady on her as he uses the back of his hand to wipe his face clean, something almost feral, wild, in the gesture despite that usual gracefulness he has while doing it.

“Again?” he queries, one corner of his lips pulled up in a smirk like he already knows her answer. The question sends a rush of heat through her regardless.

She huffs out a shaky laugh. “You might break me if you do that again tonight, my love.” 

"Will I indeed?" And because he clearly can't resist, his finger brushes against her sex, teasing where his mouth had just been. She's oversensitive in the afterglow of her orgasm, and so she jerks at this touch, her hips twitching once as she inhales sharply.

"Rude," she gasps, and he chuckles softly at her before sweetly dropping a kiss on each thigh, on her hip, on the soft curve of her stomach, on the gentle swell of her breasts, and on her right clavicle while he unhurriedly crawls his way up her body. When he reaches the slope of her neck, his breath caresses the skin there for a moment, a matter of seconds at most, before he leans down to suck the spot forcefully, driving a low moan from her as he no doubt leaves yet another lovebite to mark her up as his.  

As if she has any doubt of who she utterly and completely belongs to, of who she has utterly and completely belonged to for these sixty-seven years past. 

His lips meet hers then, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as he deepens the kiss into something splendid, something intoxicating that leaves her dazed in the wake of it. When he finally pulls back, after she's gone boneless beneath him, he seems inordinately pleased at the sight of her so undone.

“I would appreciate it greatly if you were to properly fuck me now,” she tells him, a grin on her face that's all enticement and playfulness at the way he skims a slow hand down her side and hip.

His eyes darken, his grip tightening on her thigh as he hitches her leg up and around him, his hard length throbbing insistently against her. “As you wish, beloved,” he growls, promise in his tone, before he thrusts forward, burying himself fully inside of her in one swift movement. 

Like this, she thinks distantly while she arches at their joining, he is her very world, both enveloping her without and rooted deep within her. His weight baring her down is the gravity, his breath against her the air she needs to keep breathing. His love is nothing less than the hallowed spark of creation. She is enthralled and then overcome in the push and pull of him as he rolls his hips first steady (like the ebb and flow of the low tide on a moonlit night) and then almost desperately (forceful and erratic as he loses the tempo of their lovemaking amidst its deafening lust). The crescendo builds to a fever pitch, and she feels like a string stretched too tight, all of her nerve endings lit up with their power, with their need, until the tension snaps. She clenches around him in release, her whole body shuddering, color exploding behind her eyes. His rough groan vibrates against her throat as she comes apart around him, as he comes apart within her.

He stretches out beside her afterwards, hauling her into his hold so that she's half atop him. Settling into his embrace, both of them relaxed and sated, she feels his heartbeat against her cheek and thinks it is as vital as the steady thump of time, the most sacred sound, the cadence by which she seeks to set every song of her life. 

“I love you.” She places the offering of her devotion before him as she often does and is distinctly aware that it feels a paltry thing, like she’s cursing him with it. In her most self-deprecating moments, she thinks that all she loves is inevitably lost, that misery follows her around the way a predator might stalk prey. She worries for when it will finally open its great bloody maw and tear their love apart too as it always does everything.

“And I you, May,”  he tells her simply. She winces internally at that. It’s not even her real name, but she thinks of how he’d look at her if he knew who she was. Perhaps he loves her enough that it would not matter, and May entertains the idea for a moment that if she wasn't so scared to hope, she would believe that he did. But May had learned long ago the devastation that hope can bring. She’d learned to carefully avoid touching it like a human might keep their hands out of a fire. The burn, she knows, isn’t worth the heat from the flames. The ashes it would leave of her are never worth its pretty light. 

And yet, with him, for his love, she thinks that she could incinerate herself a million times over and only crave more of the destructive, all-consuming fire of him, of the everything he is to her.

She feels the steady pace of his heart increase, a slow accellerando, as he brings his hand up to take hold of hers where it rests on his chest, twining their fingers together.

"Morpheus?" she asks, worried at this odd change in his typical behavior, that usual calm of his that he gets after sex.

He hesitates and then seems to gather himself.

"I wish to bond with you," he says carefully, as if it takes some courage for him to speak it aloud. He brings their clasped hands up and presses a tender kiss to her knuckles. "Make your home with me, May…. Make your home and your life at my side. Bond yourself with me, and I will cherish and honor and love you until eternity is no more, until my function ceases and we are both at rest." 

Hope swells within her, beautifully fragile and strong at the same time. "Do… Do you... Are you sure?" she asks tremulously.

He grins in amusement, his ease with her making him all the more devastatingly handsome. "It is hardly the type of thing I'd ask if I were not."

Unbidden, tears spring to her eyes at what he's proposing, at what he wishes for, at the wonderful dream he has for them. She doesn't even need to think on what her answer is. "Yes….. Of course... Of course I'll bond with you."

For several moments, he does not speak, does not move, until her answer seems to register with him and he's leaning down towards her in a desperate rush. He captures her lips with his then, gentle and sweet, like she's something precious that he wishes to handle delicately, to venerate and hallow in his immeasurable love for her.

"Truly? You are certain?" he questions when they finally break apart, his blue eyes shining with stars and universes as he searches her face for any sign of reluctance.

“It’s hardly the type of thing I’d say if I were not.” May ribs him with his earlier words while she repositions herself to lay further atop him, straddling him so that she can reach up to nudge his nose with hers. She smiles, sudden merriment in her manner as she teases. "Yes, my heart. How many yes's will you require? How many yes’s can I give you? Every yes I've ever said. Every yes in the waking world. Every yes-"

He makes a noise in his throat that devolves into a breathy chuckle. "Your sense of humor is…." He grimaces in mock pain. "Astoundingly terrible."

May can't help but to laugh, feeling curiously light as she does. She notices the growing hard press of him between her legs, and she raises an incredulous brow at him. "Already? Hmmmm. I suppose somebody must really like my absolutely terrible sense of humor."

Secretly, she thinks that he does, in fact, like her jokes, likes the way that she makes him laugh, likes that he feels comfortable enough to make her laugh in return. He'll probably never admit this, she knows, but it doesn't stop her believing it. 

"Your terrible sense of humor is most assuredly not the cause of that," he returns with a playful groan as she sets about sucking a spot at the base of his throat, trying to mark him up like he so often does to her, though she knows anything she can get to stick to him won't last for very long, his healing abilities having removed the last lovebite she'd left in only minutes. It still doesn't stop her from trying nearly every chance she gets, however.

All of him humming in sudden impatience, he does not let her finish her likely pointless attempt as he tugs her face up to his. Opening his mouth to hers, he slots their lips together in a toe-curling kiss, one that doesn't fail to ignite that familiar, heady desire between them again. She barely has a moment to giggle at his eagerness until he's flipping them, settling between her parted thighs for a matter of seconds before he sinks into her with a strangled moan.

PRESENT DAY...

Aurora is crying again, the sound of it high pitched while May blinks into awareness. She'd been dreaming of Morpheus, of their happier times, and the juxtaposition from that to this is a harsh one. She allows herself a minute to fully wake up, cataloguing the various aches of her body as she's grown used to doing in the months since her rescue. Everything on her seems to hurt these days, a dull throb of pain that constantly thrums right down to her bones.

It reminds her of bad times and bad things, of long ago history she'd rather not remember. Not now. Not with all she's grappling with given the current mess of her mind. May stands slowly and shuffles over to the crib to gather up her daughter, starting first on a nappy change before she lifts up her baggy sleep shirt and lets the girl latch on to feed. 

I wish I wouldn't wake up tomorrow, she thinks, her breath shuddering out of her as that irritating thought, that unwanted longing, flashes through her mind. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to shove it back into the recesses of her consciousness. I don't wish that, she tells herself firmly. I have Aurora, and she needs me to take care of her. I have a responsibility to see this through.

"Oh, wonderful. You're awake," Lucienne says suddenly from the door to May's bedroom, startling her where she's sitting on the bed. Her friend's voice, May notes, is more chipper than usual, like she's forcing herself to stay positive and upbeat no matter May's own admitted hesitance in speaking.

"Yeah." May clears her throat, determined to say a little more to her friend today than she typically does. "I, um… I'm awake."

"I thought we'd have breakfast together if you'd like. I will be working outside of the library today, and so I'll scarcely have another chance to see you until dinner."

And I want to make certain you eat, is the unspoken part of that sentence, May's sure. She can't help her wince at either the thought of eating or how much worse it's made by Lucienne's dedication to seeing that it happens. "I'm… not really hungry, Lucienne."

Her friend's stare goes a bit more sterner than it had been. "Nonetheless, it would be best for you to attempt to have something."

Right. She has to keep trying, has to keep fighting to get better even though it feels like she has no fight left in her at all. May isn't unaware of the fact that she's a hollowed out thing now, a casing of skin and bones that are wrapped around… well, nothing, she thinks. Once, she had been able to make entire worlds, had been able to summon creation from the void of nonexistence and breathe life into it. But… now she's just empty. Her magic is essentially gone, so far removed that to ever access it again would result in her death. Her heart has been shattered into an infinite number of pieces, and the only reason she even gets out of bed in the morning is because her daughter needs her. 

What's going to happen, she wonders, when that's no longer the case? When Aurora is grown and May has no argument against that terrible voice suggesting to her that she’d be better off dead? That she’d be doing everyone a favor by making it so they don’t have to worry about her anymore? Will she be mended enough by then to find her own reason for carrying on? To find some new duty that she can wield against those aberrant longings of hers like a shield?

Is she even… able to be so healed? Is she capable of fighting that pull to end things for the rest of her life? 

"I'll… get dressed," is May's offer to Lucienne. The truth is that May doesn't think she'll ever be okay, that she'll ever find that fire within her that she used to have. But it doesn't give her the right to snub her friend's concern, to treat her as if it's inconsequential. May might feel empty, might feel used up and discarded by life, but she owes those she cares for better than to give up.

Or, at least, that's what she tells herself. As half dead as she feels these days, that's honestly what she must tell herself if she has any hope of carrying on. 

The raven arrives at Viego's house in the morning as he stumbles, bleary-eyed and still half asleep to his coffee maker. Viego stretches and yawns (and possibly drifts back to sleep for a minute or two with his head perched in his hand) as the precious, holy liquid percolates into his questionably clean pot. 

There's a tap on the window, however, that instantly wakes him right up, his instincts causing him to summon a ball of glowing gold power in his hand immediately, the outer edges of it tinged with shadows as he gets ready to end any threat he might encounter. Especially one that has the absolute fucking audacity to start this shit with him before he's had the luxury of caffeinating. Cautiously, he moves to the insistent tapping, finding himself more and more pissed off with every step he takes.

"Whoa! Whoa, man!" The bird caws when he sees him, and he looks kind of alarmed. Or, Viego guesses, as alarmed as a corvid can reasonably look. Still, he settles himself then, albeit a little reluctantly as he tucks his power away at the sight of Dream's raven, who has obviously not shown up for a social call.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, his tone gruff with aggravation while he flips the latch on the window and opens it, allowing that bastard's messenger to fly in and swoop over to his table, the bird's talons clacking noisily on the wood surface as he lands.

"Boss man wants to invite you to visit."

From where he'd been focused on relatching the lock, Viego's eyes narrow at the raven, suddenly suspicious. "Is she okay?" 

He doesn't elaborate on who she is. They both know he's talking about May.

The bird hesitates, and Viego feels his gut swoop, an uncharacteristic panic flooding through him. "No, man. She's…. She's not doing so good. She's not dying or anything, but she's…. just not herself."

To his credit, the raven sounds concerned, and Viego supposes that he's not shocked by that. His sister has a tendency to gather people and creatures into the folds of her love and affection as easily as a little girl might collect wildflowers in a summer field.

"Let me get dressed, and I'll head that way," he tells him quickly, shooting one last mournful look at his coffee since he doesn't think he has the time for it now. May... needs him, and like it always has been, her need is like the gravitational pull on a planet to him. Knowing is all it takes to motivate his ass to hastily get ready, to hurriedly throw on his clothes and boots before he splashes a little water on his face. Less than ten minutes later, and Dream's bird is alighting on his shoulder, apparently hitching a ride as Viego shifts them both into the Dreaming. He's not at all surprised when he realizes that he's in the throne room of the palace, coming face to face with that broody Endless bastard who'd broken May's heart. Dream regards him coldly, disdain and haughtiness oozing out of every stupidly pale pore of him while he looks at Viego like he's nothing more than dog excrement in a paper bag that's been lit on fire and thrown at the realm's front door. 

"Where is she?" he asks Dream anyway, noting that the anthropomorphic personification seems about as happy to see Viego as Viego is to see him. Which is fine with him truthfully. That moody asshole can pout here all day as far as Viego's concerned. He just wants to lay eyes on his sister, to help her if he can, and if he has to tolerate this douche to do it, then tolerating this douche is what will be done. 

"In her rooms," the Endless answers impassively, emotionlessly, like Viego being here is nothing of importance, but despite what many believe Viego isn't actually an idiot. He knows that Dream summoning him here is a concession of some sort from the male, and Viego can't stop wondering who it was that made Dream give it.

He resolves not to think too much on it, though, unwilling to waste the time while he makes his way to May's rooms, a discordant chord of worry echoing out through his song while he traverses the winding hallways of the frankly ridiculous layout in this place. It takes longer that he would have liked, but once there he finds himself standing outside her open door for a minute, listening to her humming as he gathers himself for whatever is waiting for him on the other side of this threshold.

"Knock, knock," Viego calls out from the doorway, a smile he doesn't quite feel on his face when he steps forward. 

And his sister, who looks like she's been hollowed out and remade as some sickly pale, gaunt copy of her previous self, freezes for a minute before it's like she comprehends that he's really there, and she's rushing at him to fling herself in his arms, holding as tight to him as she can, which worriedly isn’t very tight at all. She's a wraith in his embrace, and he thinks that he can still feel the poke of some of her bones even through her shirt. Her embrace is almost desperate, as if she wants to climb inside of him and hide, and Viego's heart wrenches in his chest at the misery he can sense in her song. 

"Hey sis," he says into her hair and tightens his hug, burying his face against her. "I've missed you."

They cling like that for a long time, and when they finally separate she's crying. "What are you doing here?"

"Tall, pale, and melancholy summoned me," Viego answers, still keeping hold of her hands, feeling as if he can't bear to let them go. "He thought maybe you might want to see me."

May's face shifts, going tense in a way that he doesn't like. She is resonating with a fragile brokenness that cuts at him, a fragile brokenness that he hasn't seen in thousands of years, and he's alarmed at the way that she’d just reacted to the mention of Dream.

"How's Aurora?" he asks, trying to change the subject, frightened of what she might say about the Endless, especially since he's under no illusion that there aren't eyes somewhere on them in this place. 

"She's fine. She's.... babbling now, trying to talk. She loves Lucienne and Minnie." May seems to go calm when she looks back at her daughter, who's currently sleeping peacefully in her crib. 

"How have you been?"

It's supposed to be an easy question for her, but a shadow crosses her face as she glances away, seemingly unwilling to meet his gaze. "Fine," she says at last, quietly. 

His stomach lurches in fear and fury. What the hell is going on here? Why is she so... bad off?

"Hmm." He comes to a decision quickly, suddenly sure that he must free her of Dream and his spies if they are going to have even a chance to properly talk. "You know what I think you need?" He grabs her hands again. "To get out of here for a while."

"Viego-"

"Come on, sis," he wheedles with false playfulness. "Go take a shower or bath or whatever you do here and change your clothes…. because I'm pretty sure that you've got baby spit up or something on that shirt- I don't want to know. Really-  and we'll get out of here for a bit."

"But Aurora-"

"Can come with us. I don't know if you know this, but they allow babies in the waking these days. Totally new thing, but those Earth people seem to love 'em." At her hesitation, he continues on. "I'll get you coooffeee…." he promises temptingly.

May's smile is as brittle and worn down as the rest of her, but she offers it to him anyway, obviously ready to cave and accept his proposal. "We'll have to wait until she wakes up from her nap."

"Perfect! You go start doing what you have to, and I'll inform Lord Broody that we're heading out soon. Let's blow this popsicle stand, sis."

May frowns in confusion. "Popsicle stand?"

The two of them have always made it a point to immerse themselves with whatever humans they live around, from learning the culture to the language to all the nitpicky things that mankind tends to fuss over. He forgets that she had spent decades in the Dreaming before her brief stint of being pregnant in the Waking, though, definitely not long enough for her to have absorbed all of the new lingo. It's okay, he assures himself. He'll teach her what she doesn’t know, bring her up to speed, so to speak, so that if she needs to leave this place she'll fit in among the mortals again. There’s safety in fitting in, safety in the ability to hide so completely amidst a whole world full of people. "I'll explain it later. Now gooooo and do the cleaning thing. I want to eat. I'm starving."

Feeling weak, all of her aching in that horrible way that she's grown far too familiar with since her time in the binding circle of Alexander Burgess' hell, May strips off her clothes and steps into the shower. The hot spray of the water helps slightly, relieving her sore muscles and joints as she scrubs herself clean. When her hair is washed and rinsed, May allows herself a moment to just be still, to think over this strange sense of anxiety curling up tight in her belly, twisting it almost viciously. It's a frightening thing that Viego's proposed, leaving the realm. After all, the last time she'd been away from the Dreaming, she'd been captured and tortured and, though none of them will admit it to her, she's pretty sure she had been only a hairsbreadth from death in that basement as well. 

Her fear is sickening in that moment, the rusted hooks of it tearing violently at her insides as memories flood through her mind. 

(She's so diminished, vulnerable, more hurt than she's been in millennia, and as she curls into a ball on the cold stone floor, it's all she can do to shield her stomach from a hard kick against her torso. Only by twisting away at the last second does she spare her baby, but in sacrifice the tip of Alexander Burgess' boot ends up landing on her kidney instead, eliciting a sharp gasp from her as pain explodes through her body, making her vision go white. 

"I wanted Dream of the Endless," her captor snarls. "Why did the spell bring you here?"

May shakes her head, unwilling to admit the truth. She'd been summoned here because she carries a part of Morpheus, and the magic had found that part easier to pull in than an Endless safe in the protection of his own realm.

"I don't…" She coughs, blood splattering near her tormentor's shoe, the iron tang of what's left behind sickening in her mouth. "I… don't know."

He crouches down beside her, his demeanor shifting to something more pleasant, like they're nothing more than old friends getting ready to chat. "Are you certain?"

May nods quickly. She's been captive before, and so she well knows that information in a situation like this can be a power in and of itself. If he knows that this kid growing inside of her belongs to Morpheus, there's no telling what he might do, and May can't risk that. 

"I cannot help but to believe you're deceiving me," he snarls, his expression changing in an instant as he pulls his fist back. Faster than she can work out a response, May feels it hit her in the eye, her mind going curiously blank as she gives into unconsciousness.)

No. May squeezes her eyes shut, trying to calm her shallow breathing and the rapid thundering of her heart. When she feels okay enough to open them, she's alarmed to see that she's sitting in her shower, holding her knees against her chest, her back pressed into the cold tile of the corner, all of her feeling like she's trying to shrink back into herself. 

She doesn't need to be afraid, she tells herself firmly. Being captured will never happen again, no matter how many trips she takes to the Waking, since Viego is there to keep her safe and Alexander Burgess is…

Well, she's pretty sure he's dead.

Not that she has any confirmation on that, of course, but she knows her brother. And because she knows her brother, she wouldn't be surprised at all if Alexander Burgess had been made to suffer unspeakable agony before Viego finally gave in and killed him, like a cat toying with a mouse prior to growing bored and eating the poor creature. 

Although, it's impossible to deny that a part of her is… happy about the idea of that bastard being dealt such a fate. She considers for a few minutes whether or not that makes her bad, whether her satisfaction at the possibility of her captor dying painfully and slowly is a terrible thing. Objectively, May knows she's not good, per se, given that here's too much proverbial blood on her hands to ever be that again, despite how she attempts it anyway. Granted, she's almost perfected her kindness by now, having done it so frequently that it's become most of who she is, but her actual past is… horrific, a bleak symphony of dark deeds that she can never atone for, no matter how much she tries.

That poor spark, she thinks. That wonderful world that I-

No. No, no, no. She can't do that right now, not with everything being so dismal in her head currently, threatening to drag her down into the open maw of its icy misery if she loses her footing. There's plenty of time later to engage in self-loathing, but not this minute. Not with the mess her mind is in.

Her stomach cramps, clenching so that she's certain she's going to retch again. Working herself to her feet, May turns off the water, stepping out of the shower. The chill creeps back over her, and with it comes that relentless pain she's grown so used to as Aurora pipes up, her cries nothing more than shrieks of irritation or hunger or discomfort. 

May sighs, wrapping a towel hastily around herself, and without meaning to thinks that things might not have been this bad if only Morpheus had just left her to die in that basement. It's another one of her unhelpful thoughts, those biting little snippets of hopelessness that pull and push at the already frayed threads of her sanity, and she can't deal with it at this moment. It takes a gargantuan effort (like most things these days), but she manages to will it away as she prepares herself to face this trip with her brother, knowing as she does that he's going to want to talk, even if May... isn't quite sure she can do that anymore. 

Blankly, Viego stares at the Endless personification of dreams, unsure of how exactly he should approach the refusal he's just been given.

"I would rather she stay here," Morpheus repeats with finality, as if he's dismissing Viego, as if that's the end of that. He can imagine that the Endless is used to laying down an edict and having it unquestionably followed, but Viego only narrows his eyes in irritation. He had expected for a little resistance, but this is... well, insane.

And worrying, if he's entirely honest. Dream seems to be suffering under the delusion that he owns her or something, and while Viego is aware that the possessive bastard is keeping her alive with his power right now, every alarm bell he's got is still sounding out at that particular impression. "Listen, Dream King. I know you'd rather her stay here under your creepy watchful eye, but she needs a break. She's fucking miserable right now."

"Why would she be miserable?" he questions blandly, as if such a thing is beyond the scope of his understanding, which Viego thinks there's a real possibility it might actually be. Hell's teeth, what did his sister ever see in this jackass? "She's well cared for here."

"First, she'd not a prized Cocker Spaniel. She's a little more complicated than I think you're thinking. Her getting better involves more than just a warm bed and the offer of regular meals. She's traumatized, and I don't know if you've bothered to look her way lately, but she is not good right now. So, don't stand there and tell me that she's well cared for when she looks like a weak breeze could blow her away. Second... and I really hate to have to say this out loud, but this whole realm is you. She's plainly got a broken heart on top of everything else, and instead of getting some distance and healing it like she needs to do, she's stuck here utterly and completely surrounded by your essence. Literally. You might not realize how pervasive it is, but it's this whole damn place. Trust me, she needs a break."

Dream seems ready to dig his heels in further, but the raven- Michael, Max, Mushroom? Viego can't remember- pipes up from where he's perched on Dream's throne. "I could go along, keep an eye on her, sir."

"Them," Viego clarifies. "She's bringing Aurora."

"Absolutely not," Morpheus growls out. The change in the Dream King's demeanor is instant. The throne room they're in seems to darken with his shadows, and he goes rigid, his power swelling in him, his voice rumbling out rough and unyielding. 

"I wasn't asking for permission," Viego tells him just as firmly, impressed not at all by Dream's shadows. He'd seen more horrifying darkness, suffered from more horrifying darkness even, before he was old enough to walk. 

"She will not take my child-" he grits out as if the words hurt to speak.

"Her child, Dream Lord. Her child. She's not leaving without her."

"Aurora can stay here while May visits the Waking with you," Morpheus allows tersely, as if he's offering some magnanimous boon.

Viego snorts and barks out a harsh laugh. "She won't even consider going for that."

"I won't even consider allowing my daughter to leave this realm."

"Not for you to actually consider. She will not leave without Aurora," Viego reiterates.

"Why ever not?" Menace is written on every angle of Dream's stupidly pale face.

"Listen, you Endless fuck, I wasn't going to mention it since we're trying to play nice and all, but I seem to recall her being forcibly thrown out of this realm once and banished from ever returning. She couldn't even dream while she was sleeping you crafted the banishment so thoroughly," Viego reminds him, his annoyance starting to tip back into anger. 

"You dare," he hisses, voice low and charged with the fury of his power.

"Yes, I do,” Viego bites out, completely disregarding his icy rage. “Because she's terrified of you doing it again and stealing her daughter from her."

Dream stills, his expression going tense, and his eyes flicker in something like realization. The shadows even seem to lessen in the room. 

"I would... never do such a thing," Dream answers, his tone oddly soft, as if he's appalled at the very suggestion of separating May and Aurora. Viego thinks that's a good thing at least, that he’s as disgusted at the idea of dividing a mother from her daughter as any normal person might be. 

"Again," Viego forges on anyway, because Dream needs to understand how very afraid she is of him, how afraid she is of what he could do to her. That fear, Viego knows, is definitely not helping her heal. "You've already done something like it once. Are you that surprised that she's scared of it happening again?"

The Endless clearly takes offense at this, glowering like he's going to start yelling at Viego for having the the audacity to bring up the truth, which is absol-fuckin-lutely fine by Viego. He's got other revelations concerning this asshole's behavior that he'd just love to air aloud in this creation forsaken throne room.

"Listen, sir, I'm happy to tag along. If anything happens, you can get there in a second," the raven interjects, despite that Dream is still glaring at Viego like he's conconting a very special, very horrific nightmare just for him. Which is just fine by Viego, too. No matter how pissed Dream seems to be, Viego's honestly about as frightened of him as he'd be of a wet, sulky cat that'd been declawed. 

"I'm going to take her out for a bite to eat. It might be good for her to get something in her that'll stay down," he informs the Endless levelly. "And then we're going for coffee. I'll have her back here in a few hours, and if we run into trouble, I'll send up the bat.. er, bird... signal."

Morpheus is clenching his jaw so hard that Viego thinks he might crack a tooth. "One of you will alert me if you feel anything is amiss. Even if you think it might be nothing, do not hesitate to send for me." 

It's a compromise of epic proportions for a being that is unused to anything other than blind compliance, and Viego's almost proud of him for it. Almost. "We can agree on that."

"Very well. I will see you all upon your return, then."

And that, Viego knows, is totally a dismissal, not that Viego's going to fight the bastard on it. He's happy to be sent away now that he's achieved what he's set out to do, which is to get May away from this anthopromophic asshole's watchful eyes for a while. "Come on, Mushroom," he calls to the bird.

"Um… it's Matthew, Viego," Dream's raven corrects him, his tone much kinder than his master's had been. 

Viego only shrugs at him, though. "Whatever, my feathery friend. May should be ready now, so let's go."

Matthew likes May. 

He's pretty sure all of the subjects in the Dreaming like her if he's being completely honest. The way they've all came together to care for her speaks to that fact. From Minnie and the girls in the kitchen fussing with finding things she might eat and doting over little Aurora constantly, to Fiddler's Green sending his most beautiful flowers to her rooms everyday, to Lucienne's fretting over May's, well, everything. He doesn't know how Dream can be so oblivious to it. Matthew, for his part, has taken to just talking with her. As quiet as she is these days, he still thinks that she hates the silence, and so he plays with the baby (who's got a hell of a grip on her already) and chatters at May about the most ridiculous things (baseball for an hour one time) to fill the unnatural hush around her. 

And he gets why she might hate the silence honestly. For weeks, he had snuck away from Dream under the instruction of Lucienne and searched for May in the waking world, a dodgy task considering that he and the boss lady had both had to lie to Morpheus a few times each to prevent being banished to the dungeons. And then he had finally found her, and his heart had broken at the sight, seeing her hurt and scared and very, very pregnant while she was trapped. Matthew had spent an inordinate amount of time after that watching her through that damned window, the tense quiet of her ordeal broken only by the pain and screams and threats that Alexander Burgess, the disgusting bastard, had delivered. 

She's not doing much better now, really, and so he hadn't thought twice about piping up with his offer of going with them, as it helped to facilitate her temporary (but necessary in his opinion) escape from the realm. He'd thought at first that it was the right thing to do. Until Dream had ordered him to essentially spy on them, that is. Matthew….. really doesn't want to do that to May and Viego. May is not okay, and reporting back everything they say feels wrong somehow, like repeating what's discussed in a therapist's visit or something.

At the restaurant, the siblings choose to eat outside. Though in May's case, to say she's eating is a generous term for the way she's just picking at her meal in the bright sunshine, its golden light somehow making her look even more sickly than usual. And five minutes into their meal, Matthew realizes he’s not actually going to have to tell Dream anything, because he feels the boss man at the back of his mind, watching the two through his eyes. Which is... highly objectionable of him, if the raven is being truthful. Downright stalkery, he'd even admit if he wasn't so terrified of Dream's wrath.

"Is he mistreating you?" Viego demands once the waitress sets their food down, his question as blunt as any other thing that comes out of his mouth. Not that Matthew thinks that's a bad thing, exactly, but he's pretty sure that Viego's inability to temper what he says had nearly gotten him utterly destroyed by Dream earlier today. Matthew's also pretty sure that if he hadn't intervened when he did, a fight would have broken out, and the whole realm would have seen May's ex and her brother trying to kill one another. And that, he knows for certain, would have upset May even more than she already has been lately.

"What is this? An intervention?" is May's attempt to deflect, given as she breaks up one of her chips and takes the smallest bite Matthew's ever seen in his life. Viego's approach to feeding his sister had mostly involved ordering her every starchy carb on the menu that she might be able to keep down, which... Matthew can totally respect that approach. 

"No, sis. I'm worried about you."

"V…" She sighs and sounds as tired as she looks.

"I know he's Endless, but if we had to, we could go somewhere he'd never find us. Hell, we could even jump realities if you wanted."

"Viego… look, he hasn't done…. anything that should cause you concern. I know the two of you argued-"

He leans forward, his voice suddenly quiet as if he's aware he's being watched. "Because he didn't want to let you leave. That causes me concern, May. That's a red flag if I've ever seen one. It's a red flag the size of the Atlantic Ocean."

"He's just worried about Aurora. Given what happened while I carried her, I don't blame him for that." She's trying to be fair, Matthew thinks, despite whatever went on between her and Dream in the past, and the raven finds that he respects her for it, even if it's not the call he would personally make if he were in her... er, shoes. Not that he can really be in shoes anymore. Not in a literal sense, anyway. But metaphorically, he'd probably run screaming for the hills if he were her. He'd at least yell a little more at the boss than she seems willing to do these days. The change from that old May, who had definitely been ready to fuss when she'd called Dream out on his temperamental bullshit, to this new version, who seems scared of her own shadow, is just about the saddest damn thing he's ever seen. He misses feisty May, misses her energy and her liveliness, misses her smiles and her kindness.

"He doesn't own you, sis. He has no claim on you. I know you've had his kid, but you also figured out a way around the bonding issue, so you could run if you needed. We could run if you needed."

"Have you forgotten that I've got some of his power right now? That it's keeping me alive? I won't... I won't steal it from him." She glances down at her food like it's particularly interesting before she repeats, "And again he's been completely fine, so we don't have to do that."

He studies her, his eyes narrowed, his expression one of total disbelief in what she's saying. "You… seem so unhappy, though." His voice is low and gentle, as if he hates admitting this aloud.

"I…. I am unhappy, Viego…. but that doesn't have anything to do with anything he's doing. You're reading this situation all wrong." 

"Maybe…. But, sis…. it’s like you're suffering," he settles on at last.

She doesn't answer that, preferring to turn her attention to a french fry that she fidgets with like she might actually eat it. Which of course, she doesn't.

"Have you thought about just... I don't know? Telling him about the thing? About what happened then?"

"No. It's... none of his business after... after everything, and... I don’t want you getting involved in it. At all."

Viego holds his hands up, palms forward in a gesture of surrender. "Hey. You know me. I'm not a meddler like you, but... May, it really might smooth out some tension, maybe lead to... forgiveness? On your part, of course, because fuck his delicate fee-fees where the thing is concerned."

"I kind of… well, forgive him, I think," she offers after a few minutes. "My powers… I mean, he clearly doesn't love me anymore. I wouldn't have expected him to bond with me in that situation even with Aurora. It would have poisoned us both." She plays around with another fry off her plate, tearing it slowly apart with trembling fingers. "I…. wish he wouldn't have banished me, though. I hate him for that. So much…. I still have nightmares about that place, about the fear. It was dark there, and.. it was too much like … like it was when we were kids." 

When they were kids? Matthew is torn between curiosity and the urge to leave, because he doesn't think this is any of the boss man's business at all. 

"We're not kids anymore, sis. We're not...." He takes a deep, shuddering breath, as if whatever he's trying to get at is painful for him to talk about. "We'll never be hurt like that again. And Alexander Burgess won't ever be able to lay another finger on anyone anymore, least of all you."

"Because you killed him?" May asks, though it doesn't sound like much of a question if Matthew's being truthful. More like a foregone conclusion, like she knows exactly what he's going to say. 

"Yeah. I did." Viego goes tense when he confesses this, straightening up in a way that makes him look like he’s preparing for a fight. And given May's tendency towards forgiveness and compassion in all things, Matthew thinks he's probably going to get one.

Instead, she surprises them both by fixing her gaze on her brother and quietly murmuring, "Good."

Viego is obviously taken aback by this, his forehead creasing while he scrutinizes her further. "Gotta be honest, I didn't expect that from you, sis. Not these days."

Not these days? Matthew's pretty sure that's an... odd thing for Viego to say. What could he mean by it? Has May ever been anything but kind? Matthew can't imagine that actually being the case, because she's... well, she's May. He tells himself, though, to ignore her obvious hatred for Alexander Burgess at this moment since it's so understandable. Even to Matthew. The man had, after all, violently tortured her and promised to do the same to her kid. Who wouldn't want a bastard like that dead? But seeing it is still... chilling to Matthew for some reason, like there's this whole secret layer of a person he'd thought he knew really well, and he's only just figuring out that layer could be dangerous.

"He threatened my daughter. He would have killed her, would have... hurt her. If I had been strong enough-"

"Don't do that," he orders sharply, firmly. "You survived, May. We both know how it is to be trapped like... like you were, and you... came out on the other end of it alive. Sometimes, that's the only way you can be strong."

She's completely still, her chest not even moving to show she's breathing, before she seems to come back to herself, nodding slowly as she wipes roughly at the tears on her face. "Okay."

"Look, I'm sure the memories are absolutely fucking with you right now… because trauma is a real salty bitch." Viego reaches across the table and lays his hand on hers. "But is it just that, though? Are you sleeping? I know you're not eating."

May takes her hand back, folding in on herself, and it strikes Matthew that she looks very small then, very fragile and broken. Like a baby bird with a damaged wing, one that's fallen out of its nest and can only lie there, waiting to be swooped up by a larger predator and devoured. "I can't…. I hate eating. It just makes me feel sick. I spent….. months…. in that circle, the hunger and the thirst and the morning sickness and the pain wrenching my stomach. I…. I threw up in there so many times… even after I didn't have anything left to throw up. When I eat, and it inevitably makes me sick, because it always makes me sick, it…it…."

"Reminds you of it," Viego finishes for her, softening his expression as she trails off.  

"Yes."

"You still have to try. You're going to waste away if you don't, and Aurora…. She needs you."

Tears fill her eyes again, and when she blinks they travel down her cheeks to catch at the edge of her jaw, where they plop down in fat droplets onto her lap. "I know."

"Is there anything I can do?" he asks, and it's the simplest question in the world, but Matthew wouldn't be shocked if no one in the Dreaming had actually thought to ask her that. They'd all just assumed or did what they thought best, him included.

May frowns, clearly considering. She seems to think about it for several long minutes. "Could we go to the farmer's market? I want to see the flowers. They sound different here than there, and I think… I think I'd like to…. be around them."

He chuckles and gives an overly theatrical groan. "I hate the farmer's market, buuuut if it'll make you look less wretched, I guess I'll suffer through it," he agrees dramatically. "You've gotta have some of that food, though. If I take you back and you haven't eaten, he might not let you come out and play with me anymore."

May's own laugh is a faint thing, but Matthew likes hearing it. She used to laugh so much all the time, and the palace has sounded sadly empty without it. "Did you just call me wretched?"

"Well, calling you pathetic-looking sounded mean in my head."

May kicks out at him under the table, but it's a sluggish, feeble gesture, and Viego doesn't even bother to move out of the path of May's foot hitting his leg. 

"You're horrible," she accuses lightly.

"I know. Try the mashed potatoes." He points at the bowl in front of her glass of water. She takes a small bite and frowns at the taste of it before Viego sobers for a minute, as if he's steeling himself to say something he doesn't want to. "Listen…. I hate that Endless bastard. You know that. I mean, I'm sure you know that, but…. but he's not going to let you get taken again… I mean, I thought I was going to have to throw down or arm wrestle him or something today to get you out of there for lunch and coffee, and if there's nothing happening I need to know about-" He gives her a meaningful look at that "Then he's probably just being really fussy about your safety. So, maybe…. you should let yourself feel a little safer? I mean, not a lot of creatures will go against an Endless, you know." 

May sighs. 

"And I don't think…" He blows out a breath. This part of the conversation seems hard for him. "I don't think he's going to try and take Aurora from you or anything."

May freezes, her face paling, and the fear Matthew can see there is nauseating to him. "I… What makes you say that?"

"Because I might have…. maybe….. probably…." He huffs out a heavy sigh. "Definitely accused him of the possibility today."

May sets her fork down. She's visibly stiff with unease at his confession. "Ah." 

"He looked disgusted at even the idea." Viego puts his hand on hers again to settle her. "He looked like he would never even consider doing something like that."

May swallows thickly, like she's attempting to rein her emotions in. "The Dreaming is her home by right, but…. but it's not mine. Not anymore. I am…. painfully…. aware that he could rescind my…. invitation there whenever he wants."

"He won't, May." Viego gives a tight smile. "I wouldn't take you back there if I thought otherwise."

May returns his smile with a watery frown of her own. "If you say so."

"Yeah, sis. I say so. He might be an asshole, but he…. he won't do that to you. I'm sure of it."

"Okay." She wipes her eyes again and nods. "This food is disgusting, by the way," she tells him a few minutes later, sniffling loudly.

Viego puts a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "You did not just insult my mashed potatoes, french fries, and macaroni and cheese combo. I've been told by numerous lovers that it's the best thing for when you're sick."

"Hungover, you mean."

"Hungover is a kind of sick." He tsks indignantly, and May lets out a little teary laugh. "Nonetheless, we gotta get some food in you."

"Plums," May blurts out, her forehead creased as if in thought. "Maybe I could eat those?"

Viego sighs exaggeratedly. "Boooooring…. but okay. We'll find you some plums. Is she still asleep?" He gestures towards Aurora, and May leans over to check the stroller. 

"Yeah. She likes to doze all day and party all night," May supplies with a grimace. 

"Well, gather your little night owl and let's go look at some flowers. I gotta get you back before curfew or Lord Vitamin D Deficiency is gonna come down here and collect you himself."

At that, Matthew almost snorts out a laugh, though he manages to contain it. Barely, but still he's proud of himself for not guffawing at the name Viego's assigned his boss. Lord Vitamin D Deficiency. Really. It's frickin' hilarious, and he thinks that when he gets back to the Dreaming, he's going to share it with Lucienne and Merv, see if they think it's funny too. The other stuff he'll keep quiet on, because it's absolutely nobody else's business. Not even Dream's, if he's being honest, though he won't tell him that, scared as he is to risk the boss man's anger being turned towards him.

That night, his sister finally having eaten a few bites of something that seemed to agree with her, Viego hugs May goodbye and kisses little Aurora before promising to come back soon. As he passes the throne room, however, Morpheus calls his name, summoning him with all the entitlement of a ruler ordering a subject. Not that Viego really has to answer, of course, but he finds himself stopping anyway.

"What?" Viego asks at last, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares at the pale bastard in front of him..

"You were worried that I was hurting her?" the Endless questions, perplexed, as if it's really that confusing, as if he really can't work out why in any world Viego might think that. 

Viego sighs. He's tired, and he doesn't really want to go toe to toe with him right this moment. He wipes a hand over his face.

"Let's not pretend you've never raised a hand to her. I saw her after that big fight of yours, saw the bruises all over her arms. I know that you almost killed her with your power. And then I show up here today and she looks terrible and she practically flinched when I said your name… So, yeah… the thought that you might be physically abusing her or something crossed my mind."

The Endless seems to consider what he's said, seems to consider Viego, really, like he's sizing both him and his concern up.

"I should not have physically hurt her that night, and I most assuredly should not have leveled my power at her," he admits, his eyes burning at Viego, but it's not anger there. It's something else, something like regret maybe? Insistence? "But I will never raise my hand or my power to your sister again," Morpheus vows fiercely, and it sounds like he's swearing an oath of fealty or some crap. 

Viego studies him, weighing the honesty of his words. It really doesn't come across like bullshit to him. Finally, he nods his acceptance. After all, if Dream does dare to try any fucking thing like that again, Viego will absolutely find a way to end him, Endless or not.

"Okay. I believe you, but... maybe you should tell her that," is his simple response, given as he moves past Dream, intent on leaving. It only takes a minute before he stills and thinks better of it, turning back to face the jerk as an odd, kind of unwelcome pity comes over him. He hopes that Dream might really be sincere in wanting to see May healed, but to do that, this clueless idiot is going to need alllll the tips he can get on how to manage it. And Viego... He wants May to be okay again too, even if it means he has to team up with his enemy to see it happen. "She likes the flowers from the Waking. I don't know if you can make that happen here, but she likes the sound of them better," he offers, only to snort out a sudden derisive laugh afterwards. "But, then again, if you were listening to us today, which I’m pretty sure you were, then you probably knew that, right?"

Dream doesn't even look ashamed of his blatant eavesdropping. The asshole. It's laughable to Viego that he'll obsessively spy on her now but barely a year ago, he couldn't be bothered to give her the chance to explain why she'd contributed to that damned grimoire in the first place when they'd been kids. Words would have been all either of them needed then to unfuck this situation before it got so bad, to keep May from getting banished and stop Alexander Burgess from getting his torture-happy hands on her. But noooo, Dream was probably too pissed off to permit that, and May... May's always been too traumatized to just talk about the horror of what had happened to her all those millinia ago, especially at the drop of a hat. She has to feel safe, Viego is aware, and he didn't have to see a play by play of what went down between her and Dream to know that the anthropomorphic personification currently standing in front of him had likely made her feel anything but safe that night they separated. 

But Viego's not supposed to get involved with it. His sister had made that crystal clear earlier, and unlike some assholes he knows (coughDreamcough), Viego has always respected the hell out of her wishes.

"I will speak to Mervyn on whether or not such a thing is possible," is Dream's response, delivered with all the gravitas of a king granting a pardon, and Viego wants to do nothing more than roll his eyes at him for it. 

He seriously doesn’t understand what his sister ever saw in this jerk. He thinks that the Endless bastard must have been a magnificent lay or something for her to have ever willingly put up with this shit. Still, this is the path she’s chosen to walk, and Viego, as ever in his loyalty and love for his sister, refuses to let go of her hand while she treads it.

After all, she's never let go of his, no matter how terrifying and gnarled his own way had grown.

He huffs out yet another sigh. "May's a maker. Even without her power, it might help her to put her time into a project making something. Maybe let her help Mervyn?"

"She is free to do as she wishes here, but I will ensure that she knows as much." Dream tilts his head to the side, and Viego's expecting a few questions about what he'd heard while he was essentially snooping on them earlier in the Waking, but that's not what comes out of Dream's mouth. Instead, to Viego's great surprise, he asks,"What did you eventually give her that she was able to stomach?"

Bastard must not have been listening to everything they'd said, then. It had likely been impossible for the raven to hear what they were talking about in the actual buildings, and Viego makes a mental note to have whatever private conversations he needs to have with his sister inside from now on.

"Plums." He scoffs and shrugs. "I know. Of all the things, it's boring old plums."

"Plums?" Dream clarifies. "I will make certain she has them going forward then."

Right. The power of an Endless. He can probably just manifest them at will or something. Viego goes to leave again, even makes it a few steps this time.

"Viego Westin," Dream calls, and the maker tenses up, looking back once more to face the Endless. "I thank you for your care of her, of them both. You….. are permitted to call on her whenever you wish…. and take her to the Waking when she desires."

Now it's Viego's turn to rock that confused expression that Dream had started the conversation with. Coming from Morpheus, this is practically an open invitation to his realm, something Viego didn't even have when the anthropomorphic personification had been happy and in love with May. So, it's not super surprising at all that he's immediately suspicious of this boon. There has to be a catch. "And Aurora with her?" 

Dream falters for only a few seconds, before he seems to come to some sort of decision, nodding once in agreement. He's hesitant to offer this, Viego can tell. He obviously doesn't want May and his child out of his realm, but he must know that May might need it, and so he's relinquishing his control in this matter. The weight of that surprises Viego. He never thought he'd see the Endless surrender even an teeny tiny scrap of his authority.

"Aurora as well," Dream says at last, and the words sound as if he's had to forcibly drag them out of himself, as if he’d fought with his mouth and his tongue to actually give voice to them. Reluctant doesn’t even begin to describe how opposed to this he seems to be, but he goes on anyway. “However, my raven must accompany them at all times, and if you allow any harm to befall either of them, I will-”

"Yeah. Yeah. Of course." He cuts the douche bag's threat off because it's unnecessary. Viego's been taking care of his sister for his entire life, far far longer than Dream has known her, and Aurora is his niece, his sister’s daughter. He's never required a command to protect his family, so the issuance of one from this outsider is kind of insulting actually. “I’ll keep them safe.”

Morpheus looks fit to say more, but instead he merely nods stiffly at him, obviously ill at ease. "Very well. I bid you farewell then, Viego Westin." 

And then he just… disappears. 

For several minutes after he's gone, Viego stares at where he was, puzzling the mystery of that enigmatic asshole’s actions. Maybe, he reasons as he thinks over the exchange, maybe there's a chance that May and Dream can manage this weird co-parenting thing when it's all said and done. The Endless certainly seems... invested enough in May and Aurora's well being for it to be a possibility. Really invested, if Viego's being honest. As he shifts out of the realm, however, he forces himself not to focus overly long on Dream's rather large concession, over the way that his uncomfortable capitulation, the selflessness in it, had reminded Viego a little too much of love, which is not a thing he wants to associate with May and the bastard who'd broken her heart. 

Because falling back into a relationship would be a colossally stupid idea on both their parts. Though, Viego thinks, who knows better than him- someone who’s observed love for millennia with that detached curiosity of his- about how utterly idiotic it can make some people? He barely understands love, but he’s aware of how similar it looks to insanity. And he hopes against hope that his sister has more common sense than to ever even consider tipping over into the madness of getting involved with Dream again.

NEXT CHAPTER

[lame2882]

Would've put these in the tags but then found myself rambling so we're doing a normal text reblog instead

I have a few (mostly abandoned) wips that all happen at the same school. They were all based around supernatural events. I tend to call this little universe/school/city Devil Towne. I guess that's the "official" name but I'm still debating on an actual name for it. Anyway, these wips include (Also bear with me, I made a lot of these stories in middle school, but I like to look back on them fondly):

☆An Angel's Mercy (Semi-Abandoned): So Merci may have set heaven on fire. The good news, she's off guardian angel duty for a while. The bad news, turns out by setting heaven on fire she also released a lot of demons on earth. As punishment, she's sent to earth to put all the demons back. Her cousin Percy gets to come along too, because who's better to help out with demons than the prince of hell himself (even if he has a few screws loose).

(Note: This story above is kinda the reason why everything below is happening)

☆ White Eyed Freaks (Abandoned): Mysterious creatures are possessing students and the few people that are immune to being possessed are in charge of exorcising the weirdos

☆Seer on a String (Abandoned): Beatrice comes to find out that she can see the ghosts and demons at her school. With the help of a mysterious entity, she tries to help these supernatural beings find peace and leave the school

☆Ghost Freaks (In Progress): Rei woke up on the side of the road one day with no memory of who he is and an arsenal of strange, ghost-like abilities. Cole is the quiet boy that's been able to see ghosts from a young age. Cole thinks it's a coincidence, Rei thinks it's fate, but regardless they work together to figure out Rei's past and why in the world he's half ghost all of a sudden.

Ghost Freaks actually has its own tumblr blog from 2020 when I thought I was ready to start the comic. It has a prologue, a cover for chapter one, and that's it. Regardless, if you want to check it out, you can at @ghost-freaks-comic

The art is kinda bad and I'll probably redraw everything when I get the motivation and straighten things out and sew up some plot holes.

But I thiiiink that's it. I'm not sure, Devil Towne's stories are literally all over the place among various google doc accounts, Word, thumbdrives, etc. from several years of just letting my brain run wild with my fixation with the supernatural. There's one story that was a collaboration with an old friend but I'm not counting that one because I don't talk to that friend anymore.

Maybe I'll return to these wips and improve on their original storylines since I think 5+ years of writing experience will really do them a favor.

Curious: are any of your wips connected to each other? 👀

[here2bbtstrash]

heartless (explicit)

genre: pwp, smut, exes hooking up - a part of the jeju shore collab !

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: after a wild summer at the shore where he made more than a few mistakes, jungkook is ready to remind you why you always take him back.

word count: 7.4k

other works in this collab: You DTF? by @haliiimede and Himbo Hours by @gimmethatagustd

contains: explicit sexual content!!! set in 2009, member POV, established relationship (exes), mentions of infidelity, mentions of alcohol and drug use, jk blows a stranger (definitely not anyone we know 👀) in a bar bathroom, some good ol' fashioned 2009 biphobia lmao, EXCESSIVE use of petnames (kookie and jagi) like it's really too much, cunnilingus, fingering, a lot of pussy appreciation bc of who i am as a person, they make a sex tape 🎥 (reader films jk going down on her), hot tub sex, jk makes reader come with a hot tub jet, unprotected sex (smh 😔), nothing in this fic is sexually healthy pls do not replicate, multiple orgasms/overstim, a lil bit of marking, jk is toxic and i kind of love him oops, don't fight me for the ending

A/N: it's here it's here it's here!!!!! happy jeju shore day 🥰 i'm so excited to share this one with y'all, it really was supposed to be a joke thing like ~sammi and ron vibes~ yknow and then idk.... this fic ran away with me,, like tell me why i ship kookie and jagi lowkey 🥺 over here like maybe one day they'll work it out 🥺 ANYWAY uhhh heed the warnings, this one's a doozy, have fun, stay hydrated 💦 and make sure you check out jai and hali's fics toooooo for your full ~weekend at the shore~ !!!! love you babes, thank you as always for reading 😘💜

read on AO3 !

“Shit, gonna come.”

Thank god, Jungkook thinks to himself. This guy has some impressive stamina, which he’d normally appreciate, but he’s in a bad mood tonight. Getting his throat fucked hasn’t helped like he thought it might.

Even though the guy is cute, with a big body and a sweet set of dimples, Jungkook is just going through the motions. He’s annoyed by the way the bathroom floor is digging into his knees, the way his jaw is starting to lock up with how long he’s been at this.

He shuts his eyes, remembers to breathe through his nose, and then a hand presses hard to the back of his head and his mouth starts to fill, bitter and heady. Careful not to spill a drop, Jungkook keeps his suction tight through the cock-twitches of this guy’s— he didn’t get his name, because he really doesn’t care to know it— orgasm, until he finally feels the fingers in his hair release.

Jungkook gets to his feet and stumbles to the sink, gripping the porcelain edge while he spits out the glossy strings of a stranger’s load. He’s not a swallower, because he’s not gay. He’s just good at sucking dick— and Jungkook likes doing things he’s good at.

“Appreciate it!” The stranger’s voice echoes over his shoulder, followed by the sound of the bathroom door swinging on its hinges and slamming shut, leaving him alone with a sink full of cum.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

Jungkook stares himself down in the mirror, runs a hand over his hair to make sure it didn’t get fucked up from that guy’s truly obscenely large hand. Thankfully his extra-hold gel seems to be doing its job.

At the realization that his teeth are grinding together, he presses a knuckle into the hinge of his jaw, trying to encourage it to relax. He’s been clenching all night, and he’s not sure if he should blame the six redbull vodkas he’s thrown back or the keybumps of something he did off the bar: it was either coke or molly.

Coke, he thinks. He’s on edge.

He can’t shake this feeling, like he’s a wild animal trapped in a cage, as he pushes the bathroom door open and presses his way back into the mass of bodies in the club. He’s gone out every night this week looking for something, but he can’t find it. It’s not at the bottom of a bottle or in white powder snorted through a rolled-up hundred. And it’s certainly not in any of the random strangers he’s taken in the bathroom or the back alley or on the hood of his car in the parking lot.

He misses you.

It’s been almost three weeks since you last came around, and even then, it was only to scream at him while you dug your clothes out of his dresser and threw your spare toothbrush in the trash can. All because someone left you that stupid fucking note detailing the night Jungkook went blackout, where the last thing he remembers is Jimin convincing him to switch to Malibu.

If what Jungkook’s been told is the truth, he apparently started a bar fight and had a foursome that night— just, unfortunately, with three people who weren’t you. He kind of wishes he could remember at least one of those.

Fuck this, he thinks to himself, surrounded by trashed club-goers on all sides, bodies slick with sweat and tanning oil, the floor sticky from spilled drinks and probably a few other things. Jungkook knows exactly where he wants to be, and it’s between your thighs, not at one of the seven shitty clubs he and his hyungs have been rotating through all summer.

Figuring Taehyung and Jimin are fine to handle their own shit, he shoves through the crowd a little more aggressively than he needs to, and definitely knocks one drunk girl flat on her ass without bothering to look back.

The slight chill in the air when he steps outside is a welcome relief from the stale heat of the club. It’s the last weekend before everyone packs up and heads for the mainland, which means he’s running out of chances to see you, to try and convince you to get the fuck over this latest bump in the road and take him back.

Jungkook knows he loves you, he’s sure of it. He wants to marry you someday, get a little house in the suburbs, pop out a few kids, all that shit. But right now he’s young, and he just wants to party and have fun. He doesn’t understand why you care so much.

Driving home with the windows down, going a cool 80 in a 40, he grips the wheel with one hand while the other digs his Razr phone out of the pocket of his ripped jeans. He hits the first speed dial where your number is saved and has to call three times before you finally answer. The fact that you picked up at all means he has a chance tonight.

“What, Kookie?!”

Probably the greeting he should’ve anticipated, but his stomach still flips at the nickname. You’re the only one allowed to use it: he’s strictly Jungkook to most, JK to his hyungs.

He fidgets absentmindedly with the car lights, the AC, the button for the windows. This is always the hard part, talking about feelings and shit. But it’s what you want, so he’ll do it for you.

“Wanna see you,” he murmurs into the phone, as if he needs to keep his voice down so he won’t get caught being soft.

“Fuck off,” you snap instantly, but you don’t hang up.

Jungkook’s played this game enough times to know what it means: he’s got a rapidly shrinking window of opportunity to say the right thing. He clicks his tongue against his teeth, trying to buy himself some time. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” You huff.

Stopped at a red light, Jungkook tips his head back against the car seat and shuts his eyes for a second, trying to keep up with the rapid pace of his thoughts. “Don’t be mean to me. I already told you I’m sorry, it’s not fair for you to hold this shit over my head.”

“I’m not holding anything over your head, Kookie, you fucking cheated—“

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, and he has to hold himself back from stomping too hard on the gas pedal when the light changes. “Yeah, I fucking know, okay? But it’s the last weekend. Is this really how you want to leave it?”

The silence on the other end of the line is more than enough to answer his question.

“Just… come over. Let me see you. Please?” Jungkook grimaces, embarrassed to be begging. He wouldn’t do it for anybody else.

Gravel crunches under the tires of his car as he pulls into the driveway, and he’s only sure the call didn’t disconnect when he hears the way you sigh softly on the other end. It’s a sigh he knows well.

“Fine.”

You don’t say anything else, and neither does Jungkook. He doesn’t know what else there is to say, or why any of this has to be such a big fucking deal. But he waits, until finally you hang up, and then he flips his phone shut. Girls.

Once inside, he makes quick work of getting everything together: sweeping the empty beer cans on the kitchen counter into the trash, spraying on a little more Hugo Boss, a mouthwash rinse to rid himself of the lingering taste of cum. The place you rented for the summer is just down the road, so it’s as he’s spitting in the sink for the second time tonight that he hears you bang loudly on the front door.

Time to turn on the charm, Jungkook thinks to himself, and then he exits the bathroom and reaches a hand between his shoulder-blades to pull his shirt off over his head. He drops it to the floor of his bedroom before heading down the hallway to let you in.

Jungkook swings the door wide and leans one arm on the frame as he takes you in. You’re standing on his stoop, arms crossed angrily over your pink crop top, belly button piercing glinting in the porch light. He smiles fondly, remembering the summer you got it done, the way you squeezed his hand so tight when the needle went through that he nearly lost feeling.

It was nice then, the way you acted like you really needed him. You used to be so sweet. He wonders when that changed.

It’s been too long. “Hi, jagi,” he says, and it comes out softer than he would’ve liked. It makes him sound weak.

“Fuck off. Answering the fucking door shirtless. You did that on purpose.” You roll your eyes as you brush past him to walk inside.

He turns sideways, purposefully taking up most of the doorway so you have to squeeze through, and when you do, his fingers hook in the belt-loops of your jeans to pull you closer.

“Just like you wore these?” There’s no way you don’t know what those white low-rise jeans do to him. Jungkook always tells you they make your ass look so fat, and even though you complain every time, he means it as an honest compliment.

Clearly still trying to act pissed off, you pop your gum at him, but he knows better than to believe that you’re really mad. If you were, you wouldn’t have come here. And you certainly wouldn’t be looping your arms around his neck and tilting your head up like that, moving so close that he can feel the heat of your breath ghosting over him.

“Maybe. What are you gonna do about it?” You purr, like you don’t already know the answer.

Jungkook’s lips find yours at the same time his hands slide around your hips, fingers sinking into the denim stretched tight over your ass. You squeak a little at how hard he grabs, and he takes the opportunity to swipe his tongue into your mouth, deftly retrieving the wad of gum from between your teeth. He pulls back with a cocky grin and spits it halfway across the yard.

“How about you come inside and find out?”

“Jesus.” You make a face when you step in first, leaving your Gucci flip flops in the front hall, and Jungkook turns back to shut the door behind him as he follows you. “You guys trashed this fuckin’ place.”

He frowns at your utter disregard for his cleaning efforts, but he follows your gaze and, well, you’re not wrong. He probably could’ve done something about all the half-empty liquor bottles, the overflowing ashtrays, the sink full of dishes. But right now he really doesn’t give a shit.

Jungkook closes the distance between you again, arms slipping around your waist from behind, head ducking down to nuzzle in the crook of your neck, to make you squirm the way he likes. “This is the bachelor life. We need a woman’s touch,” he murmurs against your skin, and you scoff a laugh.

“I’m serious,” Jungkook protests. He pauses to suck a mark into your skin, only stopping when he manages to coax a soft whimper out of you. “Why don’t you and I get a place together next summer? I’ll tell Jimin and Tae they’re on their own.”

You hum softly, in the way that tells him you want that, too. But you’re still playing coy, even as your hands slide over his arms locked tight around you. “That’s very presumptuous of you.”

“Maybe I should do some convincing,” Jungkook’s lips brush over the shell of your ear, and you wriggle out of his grasp, crossing into the living room and tossing your purse on the couch before dropping down unceremoniously next to it.

The wild animal feeling hasn’t dissipated— when he follows after you, Jungkook can’t help but feel like a predator stalking his prey.

It’s probably fucked up, but he likes the chase.

Leaning back on your hands, you gaze up at him, jeans sunk low enough for Jungkook to see the pink straps of your thong that peek out over the curve of your hip. The visual makes his own pants start to feel tight.

You tilt your head expectantly. “I’m listening.”

“I wasn’t gonna talk,” he admits with a smirk, standing over you, one leg teasing your thighs apart.

You reach forward to trail a hand down the defined lines of his stomach— the gym has been good to him this summer— and blink your long lashes innocently. “Will you at least use your mouth?”

“Well, now I know what you came over for,” Jungkook growls. His hands drop to brace on the back of the couch behind you, arm muscles flexing as he cages you in, and he leans down to capture you in a heady kiss. He missed it all: the way you smell, how soft your lips are, the way you still taste like spearmint. Your needy little noises when he licks his tongue into your mouth and the way you suck so diligently on it. You’re always so good for him, always so pretty when you come back.

“Take your pants off, jagi,” he breathes into your mouth, shifting to grip your neck with one hand as he kisses you again. He can feel a soft whine in your throat under his palm when you do as you’re told.

Jungkook pulls back once your jeans are kicked all the way off, knees digging into the carpet as he settles between your legs. His biceps wrap under your thighs and he tugs your bare ass to the edge of the couch, pausing to slip a finger under the thin string of your thong and gently snap it against your skin.

You spread your legs wider for him, leaning back against the cushion. “Don’t tease,” you huff. The desperation in your voice just turns him on more.

“Impatient,” Jungkook notes with a smirk. “And I haven’t even told you what I want yet.”

“What you want?” Your attempt at sass is undercut by the moan Jungkook works out of you when he sucks another hickey into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He pulls back with a final lick over the mark that sends a shiver rippling through you, makes your nipples stiffen against the thin fabric of your crop top and your hips tilt up instinctively for more.

His eyes find yours again. “Let’s make a movie.”

“Kookie,” you whine, and Jungkook cups a hand over the front of your panties, rubbing circles into the thin material, then gently squeezing your pussy lips together to help argue his case. He can feel the muscles in your thighs twitch in response— always so sensitive.

“Come on,” he murmurs, pushy. “I know you have that camera in your bag.” You take your Sony digital camera with you everywhere, like it’s a third limb, like you believe nothing really happens unless it’s documented on Facebook.

Jungkook reaches for the strap of your Coach purse and drops it between your spread thighs. “I want you to film me while I go down on you. That way you can watch it back when you need to remember why you keep me around.” He punctuates the request with a wink, because he knows you can’t say no to him. That fact is made evident by how quickly you dig in to retrieve the little pink camera before tossing your bag aside again.

“I don’t watch porn, Kookie,” you scoff, already turning it on and fiddling with the settings. “I’m not nasty like you.”

“You’ll watch this one,” Jungkook corrects, hands pressing on your thighs to encourage them to spread further. Your skin is smooth and warm under his touch as he slides his fingertips back up to the line of your panties. “Now shhh. The only thing I wanna hear talk is this pussy.”

When the telltale beep indicates you’ve started recording, Jungkook stares pointedly into the camera with a cocky smirk. “Missed you, jagi,” he says, both to the you on the other side of the camera and the you who will watch this in the future, when you inevitably get mad about some dumb shit and break up with him again. As if you could ever really stay away.

His eye contact doesn’t falter as he licks a long, slow stripe up the front of your panties, taking his time, tongue laid flat to fully soak through the fabric. When he leans back, one hand snakes between your thighs to tug the damp material to the side, tattooed fingers pressing into a V to spread your folds apart. It always makes you squirm, but he loves to admire you like this. He’s not ashamed to like pussy.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, reaching the hand that isn’t parting your pussy lips up to beckon for the camera. “Let me film. Won’t get your face in it.”

You hand it over silently, clearly already too turned on to make a big show of protesting. Jungkook turns the lens on your pussy, holds it up close as he traces two fingers over your folds, keeping the pressure light enough that you squirm and flutter cutely beneath it.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs when he teases his touch down to your entrance. There’s already enough slickness there to earn him an audible wet noise as he goes, his pattern a slow, lazy circle. He presses a finger in just to drag it back out, and a thin, glossy string of arousal comes with it. “Your pussy loves me too much. That’s why you can’t stay mad.”

Jungkook paints the wetness he pulled out of you up to stroke over the hood of your clit, and it’s enough to edge your breathing with shy sounds. You bring your palm up to your mouth, clearly trying to keep quiet, and it only encourages him to dip back in for more. He uses two fingers this time, slipping past your entrance into the tight velvet heat of your cunt, always so warm and willing for him.

You sigh at the loss when he pulls back, more arousal drooling out of you to chase after his fingers. Jungkook loves to play with you like this: you squeak when he squishes the whole of your cunt up in his hand, reveling in the noise of your slick folds pressing together, in the way your pussy’s gone needy for him. All swollen and puffy, all soft, dripping juice like ripe fruit.

He works up some saliva in his mouth and lets it dribble down over your slit between his fingers, then follows it with another pass of his tongue.

“Oh my fucking god,” you whimper.

“You know I’ll always treat it right, jagiya.” Jungkook purrs, releasing his grip on your pussy lips to pinch at your clit while he passes the camera back. “But let me show you in case you forget.”

He firmly tugs your panties down your thighs and leaves them to dangle off one ankle before guiding your legs to hook over his shoulders. After a final glance up to make sure you’re still filming, he leans in to properly trace his tongue through your slick folds, lapping at the arousal pooled at your entrance while his thumb brushes over your clit to work up more.

Jungkook’s brows pinch together and he grunts in appreciation of your taste, thick and familiar; he’s gone too long without it. He’s eating properly now, alternating between dragging his tongue flat and flicking it gently over your clit in the way that makes you gasp and shove your hips up towards his mouth, rough and wild, no good-girl pretense left in you.

His arm locks across your stomach to keep you where he wants you, and he pulls back with a smack of his lips and a cheeky smile for the camera.

“Relax. I’ve got you.”

This is the part he loves: when you start to come undone, worked up enough to be responsive to every little touch. Jungkook licks broad, showy stripes up to your clit, eyes fixed on you through the lens, enjoying the way your soft sighs blossom into full-out moans, matching pace to the steady rhythm of his tongue. 

“Kookie,” you groan, “nnh, fuck— f-feels so good.”

He hums a laugh against your folds, and the vibrations make you cry out so he does it some more, lips closing to suck firmly at your clit while his mouth buzzes sweet, low notes around it. You arch up beneath him and your moan scrapes rough against the back of your throat, desperate.

It was a stroke of genius to have you film it, Jungkook thinks absentmindedly to himself. Documented proof that nobody else could ever do you this good.

“Fuck.” Your voice brings him back to attention as he continues to pulse suction against your clit, tongue fluttering out again to lap at the sensitive bud. The sounds you make are slightly muffled by the manicured hand you’ve clapped over your mouth, but you’re so loud now that he can still hear every word. “Oh god, Kookie— I-I’m gonna come, oh fuck, ohhhh—”

Your hips tilt up as your orgasm overtakes you and he shoves them back down, practically growling as he forces you to stay there and take it. He can feel your legs shake, the way your bare heels kick listlessly against his back as he sucks and licks you through the peak of your climax. Your pussy throbs in his mouth and drips down his chin like honey, with a taste so good he doesn’t want to stop.

“God fucking dammit,” you moan, and he keeps going until you bring one foot up to press into his shoulder to push him away. “Kookie, p-please, it’s too much.”

With a final swipe of his tongue, Jungkook pulls back, wiping at his chin with one hand. “You’re sensitive, jagi, I know.”

But there’s a reason you haven’t stopped filming, and it’s one you both know well. It was back when you first started dating, when you could never keep your clothes on around each other and barely left his room, that Jungkook learned your body expertly enough to figure it out: after you come once, your pussy gets so sensitive that he can easily work you up to a second orgasm, even from just the curl of his fingers against your g-spot.

He hopes no one else will ever get the chance to know you like this. 

You barely manage to stifle another sob and almost drop the camera when he slips two fingers into your cunt, pressing to the hilt to feel how swollen-tender you are inside. Your walls squeeze so tight around him that his cock twitches in his pants with jealousy.

Sliding one of your legs off his shoulder, he presses your thigh firmly into the couch and groans a little at the way you spread wide for him, glossed folds all flushed and pretty. It gives him a head rush to watch his hand work you open, to see the thick white cream of your arousal paint his fingers each time he pulls back just to thrust in again.

You’re wet enough now that the sound is obscene, a juicy squelch every time he fucks into you, and Jungkook can’t help but smile. He glances up. “You’re dripping on my couch, jagiya.”

You can only whimper in response.

“You want to come again?”

You nod desperately until you manage to find the word. “Please.”

“Anything for you.” Jungkook winks for the camera as he starts to flex his fingers to pet over the ridges of your front wall. You keen as he puts more weight into his strokes, your free hand reaching to cling to him and dig your nails into his bicep. He’s too keyed up to feel it, can’t focus on anything that isn’t your pussy squeezing him like a fucking vice grip, tight and hot and soft inside.

You’re past the point of being able to talk, reduced to breathless moans— “ah, ah, nnh”— because Jungkook knows exactly what to do to take you apart all over again.

This time he makes no move to stop you when your hips buck up. Instead he lets you let go, lets you fuck yourself on his hand, fluttering around his fingers and trembling all over as you start to come.

Jungkook goes a little slack-jawed watching you and momentarily forgets about the video, looking over the camera to see the expression on your face as he works you through your second peak. He loves the way you grip tight to him with your nails and your pussy, like he’s special, like you need him.

Your knees reflexively pull towards each other as your cunt-pulses slow and you finally start to come down, thighs clamping in around Jungkook’s wrist to still the motions of his hand. When he hears the whir of the camera shutter retracting and sees you toss it aside on the couch, he finally relents. You open yourself up enough that he can slip his fingers out to suck the excess off.

“What the fuck,” you finally manage as you collapse against the couch cushions, sounding beyond dazed.

Jungkook presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his smug smirk, and gets to his feet. As he watches your head tip back and your eyes flutter closed, he can’t help but wonder if you got what you came for. If this is the last he’ll see of you until god knows when.

Fuck that. He’s not letting you go that easy.

In one swift move Jungkook leans forward, slipping an arm between your back and the couch and sweeping the other under your knees. He tosses you over his shoulder— completely naked from the waist down— like it’s nothing at all, delivering a swift slap to your ass with the hand that isn’t wrapped around your hips.

“Kookie!” You try to sound mad but the laugh that bubbles up gives it away. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Come on,” Jungkook replies as he carries you across the living room, impervious to the way your hands claw at his back. “It’s a perfect night for the hot tub.”

“I didn’t bring a fucking bikini,” you sputter, feet kicking softly in the air. “Put me down.”

“That’s okay,” he reassures you as his free hand easily slides the back door open and he takes you over the threshold. “Tae and Jimin won’t be back for a while. It’s just us.”

Tae and Jimin have also already seen you naked… probably dozens of times at this point, if Jungkook had to estimate, but he doesn’t mention that part. Not when he’s trying to get his girl back.

Instead he crosses the yard to set you down on the hot tub deck, your legs dangling over the side, and makes quick work of stripping out of his jeans and boxers, half-hard cock hanging heavy between his legs. He hopes it might give you some incentive to stay a little longer.

When he turns back to face you, your bottom lip is jutting out in a bratty little pout as your feet swing aimlessly off the deck. It makes him want to fucking ruin you.

Jungkook steps forward to close the distance, thumb running down your mouth to pet over your lip. “Put this back in your mouth and take your top off, jagi.” His voice is low, his mouth ghosting over yours. 

Your bare foot knocks into his shin, but it only hurts a little. “Make me.”

He can’t help but smirk at your attitude. It’s cute. He likes you feisty. “That’s a lot of sass for someone who was just screaming my name.”

You smack a hand against his chest with a play-scowl. “Shut up.”

He sweeps your arms behind your back before you can do it again, easily enclosing both of your wrists in one of his hands. “Why are you always so mean to me, huh?”

“Oh, I’m mean?” You look like you’re going to say more, but he pushes your crop top up with his free hand and watches the way it makes you shiver, your nipples tightening in the cool night air.

“You are,” Jungkook says softly. “And I’m just trying to love you.”

The same hand cups one of your breasts, and he ducks down to suck the stiff peak of it into his mouth, enjoying the airy little moan he coaxes out of you and the way you arch up into him. His grip on your wrists doesn’t falter as he pulls off, switching to roll your other nipple under the pad of his thumb.

“You should get these pierced,” he remarks, gaze shifting between your tits as he imagines silver barbells studded through the buds of them. “I’ll get one too. We can go together. Next summer.” His eyes find yours in time to watch your expression soften, just barely. It’s enough.

“Yeah, sure,” you deadpan, wiggling a little in his grasp. “Until you decide to stick your dick in some strange and fuck everything up again.”

Jungkook sighs. You’re fucking relentless. “I don’t want to talk about that. Can’t it just be us?”

Your reaction isn’t what he expects: he’s surprised to see the fight go out of you, to see how defeated you look as you lean in and press your forehead against his chest. Even your wrists go slack in his hand, and he releases his grip.

“That’s what I’m saying, Kookie,” you murmur. “That’s all I want.”

Jungkook’s fingers sweep under the line of your jaw. “I know.”

He tilts your head up for a kiss, and your hands come to cup his face, as if to pull him closer— to hold him in place so he can’t run away.

It’s the way it always is: he’s not going to promise he’ll change, and he knows you’re not dumb enough to ask him to. He can’t be anything but what he is, but he can hope you’ll love him anyway.

Your thumb strokes over Jungkook’s cheek as he pulls back, and he smiles a little. “Will you please get in the hot tub?”

Jungkook settles into the water first, sighing dramatically loud at the welcome warmth, and you giggle as you peel your top off before following after. When you slip in politely across from him, he grabs you by the ankle with a growl, and you don’t fight as he pulls you close again.

His hands guide your thighs apart to straddle him, so your knees rest on either side of the ledge he’s seated on. Between the heat of the water and your body on top of him, he’s dizzyingly hard in seconds.

The two of you make out like teenagers, more tongue than anything else, doing your best to hump and grind against each other despite the water slightly inhibiting your motions. Jungkook can’t stop touching your tits, obsessed with the weight of them in his hands. His fingers pinch and tug at your nipples to make you whine into his open mouth again and again, and his cock twitches in response every time.

“K-Kookie,” you finally manage to groan, nails dragging down his back as he presses sloppy kisses, all tongue and teeth, to the slope of your neck. “Need it, please. Your cock.”

His mouth finds yours again, and he bites down on your bottom lip with a smile before pulling back to answer. “You’ll get it, jagi. Wanna try something first.”

You whine a little and he gives a teasing pinch to your inner thigh, shifting you off his lap so he can stand up.

“Come here.”

Jungkook’s hands slide to your waist when you get to your feet, and the added weightlessness from the water makes it even easier for him to move you where he wants you. He guides you to spin so your back is flush with his chest, then encourages you to kneel on the ledge again, pushing your legs further apart.

“Can you stay like this for me?” He murmurs in your ear. You look up at him over your shoulder with wide, shining eyes, reflecting back the blue glow of the mood lights filtered through the water, and you nod.

As he ducks down to kiss you, Jungkook’s hand fumbles blindly against the edge of the tub until he finds the button he’s looking for. When he presses it once, the jets roar to life, including the one positioned right between your spread thighs.

You gasp into his mouth, and Jungkook wraps his arms tight around you to keep you in place, letting you collapse back into him as the jet pulses onto your pussy. “Oh my god, oh fuck, Kookie.”

“Feels good?” He murmurs in your ear, and you can only whimper and nod, hips circling against the stream of water, stimulated past the point of coherency. Your eyes practically roll back in your head. “Yeah, you look good like this.”

Jungkook can’t help himself now— his cock aches from lack of attention, and he starts to grind into you from behind, rutting himself against the small of your back, the curve of your ass. His hands grab at the soft skin of your thighs for leverage, and he can feel the way you’re shaking, already close, your breathing going ragged.

“K-Kookie—” you whimper. “I’m— fuck, g-gonna—”

“Want you to come for me,” he groans, tongue darting out to trace the shell of your ear. “Come for me like this so I can fuck another one out of you.”

Your arms scramble back behind you for something to keep you grounded, nails scratching and digging into Jungkook’s shoulders as your orgasm starts to crest.

He keeps rocking his hips into you, which only serves to move you closer to the jet and make the pressure that much stronger. You’re moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear, and Jungkook has to grip your hips to keep them still as you come fast and hard, shaking apart in his arms.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Jungkook talks you through it, petting broad strokes down your thighs that make you jolt under his touch. “How was that, jagiya?”

“Fuuuuuck.” Your answer is a soft whine, and he can feel the aftershocks still rolling through your body. You shift to pull your thighs together, shivering all-over, and Jungkook releases his grip on them, hands moving up to squeeze at your tits while you recover. He can feel the way your heart is racing beneath his palm.

Your eyes slowly blink open, heavy-lidded, and you start to untangle your arms from around Jungkook’s shoulders. His back stings a little— he’s sure he’ll have pretty pink scratch marks to remember you by.

He presses a kiss to your temple, chaste in spite of how fucking hard and horny he is. “Love you. Stand up for me?”

Your legs are still shaking, so Jungkook helps haul you to your feet. Taehyung is always telling him he shouldn’t actually be penetrating girls in the water, something about vaginal health, so he has you bend at the waist to lean over the edge of the hot tub. The arch in your back when you press your ass up towards him makes his cock start to leak against his stomach.

Your head lolls forward to drop down on your forearms, and he laughs a little at how fucked out you already are as he gives your ass a firm slap. “Stay just like that. Face down ass up.”

You wait patiently as he climbs out of the water to search the deck. It only takes a few seconds for him to spot what he’s looking for: the bottle of lube Jimin’s always leaving out “just in case”. Jungkook makes a mental note to buy him a thank-you shot.

“God damn,” he murmurs appreciatively when he returns to you, rubbing three fingers slicked in thick silicone lube along your puffed-up slit before pushing them into the velvet heat of your pussy. “Wanna come in you so bad.”

“Please, Kookie,” you whimper.

Jungkook withdraws his hand to squirt more lube into his palm and fist it over his length, hissing a little at the sensation and the squelching noise his hand makes when he fucks into it. Tossing the bottle over the edge, his hands come to frame your hips, and he can’t help but moan as he starts to grind the head of his dick against your folds. “Fuck.”

You push your hips back on him, all wrecked and needy, your voice wrung-out. “Fuck me, Kookie, please— wanna take your cock, wanna feel it.”

It’s so hot when you beg for him. With another soft noise, Jungkook lines himself up to your entrance and gives you what you need: the whole of his thick cock sliding into your grip-tight pussy, slow for the delicious stretch of it, so you can feel every inch until he’s pressed in to the hilt.

It feels the way it always does. You were made to fit together.

You whine into the crook of your elbow, your walls already fluttering, split open and filled up and so sensitive. Jungkook leans forward, hands bracing the edge of the tub on either side of you, until his chest is flush with your back and the tip of his cock presses into your g-spot.

“Oh shit, right there, Kookie,” you gasp, like he doesn’t already know.

Jungkook grunts, nipping at the skin of your shoulder, and he starts to grind his hips against you, rubbing his cock into your g-spot over and over, until your legs threaten to give out. 

Your pussy feels so good, the little moans you’re making in time with his motions are so pretty, it’s like he can’t get enough of you. He brings a hand up to run over every inch of your skin he can reach, all of it smooth and gorgeous under his fingertips— he really can’t stop touching you. 

Maybe those bumps he did back at the bar were molly, he thinks absentmindedly.

“So fucking sexy,” he groans as he strokes a little harder, hips rolling fluidly. “So fucking beautiful.”

“F-fuck, Kookie,” you whimper, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts, and you let out a choked moan when he starts to pound more firmly in response. “Ah, fuck— don’t fucking stop, oh god—”

Jungkook hooks his arm across your chest, and his hand gripped tight to your shoulder gives him more leverage to hit deeper. Being squeezed so close by your walls is nearly overwhelming, your pussy all hot and wet inside, it’s like he can barely fit. “God, you’re so fucking tight, jagi.”

“F-feels so guh— good, nnh,” you can hardly get the words out, and Jungkook can feel the way your whole body is starting to shake.

He can’t stop himself now, not when it’s this good. “Missed you so much, jagiya. Wanna marry you, wanna put a baby in you.” His cock twitches hard, enough that you whimper a little, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“Come with me, jagi,” he grunts. “I want to feel you come again.”

“C-can’t,” you gasp, but he knows you can, can tell by the way you’re gripping around him that you’re already close.

The clapping of skin on skin echoes out as Jungkook fucks deliberately into your g-spot, no longer holding back, and you cling to the edge of the tub for dear life as your muscles start to contract. “Oh fuck, Kookie, fuck, fuck, I’m coming, I—”

With a loud cry, you collapse forward, knees nearly buckling as your orgasm hits you. Jungkook is helpless to the way your pussy pulses around him, like it was made to milk his cock. He tips his head back with a throaty groan as he comes with you, comes for what feels like an eternity, thick white ropes spilling into your cunt with every dick-twitch of his orgasm.

“Oh my god,” he groans, working the last of it out with a few shallow strokes, his breathing harsh and ragged. “So fucking good.”

You whimper softly with your head dropped down into your arms, your pussy still shuddering around him.

Jungkook squeezes at the curve of your ass as he pulls out with a hiss of oversensitivity. Deciding not to bother with the mess running down your thighs, he takes a second to catch his breath, then climbs over the edge of the hot tub, wiping absentmindedly at the beads of sweat dotting his temples.

You’re clearly too fucked out to walk now, so he scoops you up to carry you across the deck and back inside through the open sliding door, bridal-style this time, cradled in his arms. He smiles at the way you’re still trembling a little, your face now buried in his chest.

He deposits you onto the couch, then stretches out next to you to prop up on one arm, admiring how your hair fans out beneath you as you curl into him with a small sigh.

It takes you a while to come to, lashes fluttering prettily over your cheeks, and when your eyes finally blink open, you sit up rather abruptly.

Jungkook brings a hand to your low back to rub gentle circles. “Hi, jagi.”

There’s a look on your face, like you’ve just realized where you are.

“Fuck, I should go,” you murmur, looking around until your gaze lands on your purse. You lean over to retrieve it and dig through the contents until you finally find your phone and slide it open. “My roommate is gonna figure it out if I don’t come back, and she’ll fucking kill me.”

“Stay with me,” Jungkook says softly.

“No, Jungkook,” you snap, and he can tell by the way you’ve dropped the nickname that he’s lost you for the night. “I shouldn’t have even fucking come here.”

He should probably take this more seriously, but he can’t help his instinctive reaction, or the smirk that pulls up the corner of his mouth. “But you did come. Four times, if my memory is correct.”

“Fuck off,” you grunt, already up and starting to pull on your clothes that are scattered across the floor of the living room. You briefly disappear outside to retrieve your shirt.

“Does this mean we’re not back together?” Jungkook tries when you slip in the door again.

You shoot him a look he’s all-too-familiar with. “Not at all.”

“Will you at least unblock me on Facebook?” He asks sweetly, and it’s a joke, but he can see from the way you roll your eyes that you’re clearly too pissed off to have any more fun tonight.

“Facebook?! That’s seriously what you care about right now?! You are so fucking shallow, Jungkook.” You grab your purse in a huff and storm off down the hallway.

Jungkook knows he should get up and fight for you, at the very least stop being horizontal on the couch— but honestly, he’s fucking tired. That’s the thing about your hot and cold shit: he knows you’ll be back eventually, whether he makes any effort right now or not. And it’s so much easier not to.

So he says nothing, hands folded behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling, and waits until he finally hears the front door slam behind you.

Whatever, he thinks to himself with a heavy exhale.

After a minute, he gets up and heads into the bathroom, turning the shower on extra-hot. It’s still early. He can rinse off, get dressed, go see what Tae and Jimin are up to. Maybe he can jump on a grenade for one of them and take his mind off things for a bit.

He unlocks his iPod, docked on the speaker he keeps on the bathroom shelf— can’t shower without a good playlist— and spins the wheel until he gets to one of his favorites, simply titled fuck bitches. The opening 808s of Kanye West kick on like a heartbeat as Jungkook steps under the spray of the shower-head.

[just-some-random-blogger]

A Goth & An Emo Walk Into a Room

Dream of the Endless x Wayne!Reader, Bruce Wayne & Sister!Reader

Summary: "He's literally an anthropomorphic personification of dreams," Bruce says, making me roll my eyes. I place my hands on my hips as he continues, "the attraction you feel to him is just-" "It's literally just a coffee date!"

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, overprotective older brother!Bruce, THERE IS NO INCEST IN THIS FIC I WILL CHOP YOUR FINGERS OFF, i said this would be short idk why i did this to myself, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: i'm in a goth/emo bf brain rot and i thought of this last night so i had to write it. ALSO I WANNA SAY I HAVE 3 REQUESTS PENDING BUT DW I WILL GET BACK TO YOU MKAY I LOVE YOU Part 2 ig??? "Vengeance & Nightmares"

Alfred stops what he is doing and heads for the entrance the moment he hears the doorbell buzz. The moment he opens the door, one thing is very apparent to him.

"Lord Morpheus," the old butler with white hair greets, nodding.

Alfred takes in his attire, the long trench coat that reaches his ankles and the shiny, black, heeled, leather dress shoes that were barely visible because of it. He takes in his dark hair, wild and unkempt, the darkness of his water line that makes his blue eyes more teary than it already is. He takes in his black leather pants and black cotton shirt, and its stark contrast to the bouquet of wildflowers and peonies in his grip.

He was exactly like his master Bruce.

"Alfred," the King of Dreams regards with his deep voice that vibrates in the butler's thorax.

The said man sidesteps and motions, "the young masters have been despairing over the dress that our dearest-"

"DREAM!" I call from the top of the curved staircase. I grin breathlessly as I tighten my grip on my silken robe and run down the steps and rush towards them.

I release a breath as I make my way between Alfred and my date, eyes falling to the flowers in his grips.

"Are those for me?" I ask, painted lips curving in endearment.

"They are indeed," Dream's stoic face barely softens as he hands me the flora.

I release a chuckle and accept them gratefully, "you've been taking my pointers to heart, it seems."

"I have," he responds, lips curving, though not nearly as much as mine.

I inhale deeply the fragrance of my flowers before releasing a chuckle, "well they're beautiful, Dream. Thank you."

"You are welcome."

"Might I suggest that the lord wait for his date in the parlour while I prepare him some tea?" Alfred says, turning from me to Dream.

I release a huff and pull the flowers away from me, "I swear I was nearly ready but then Bruce ripped my dress, and I tackled him, and because of that I had to redo my makeup, but then he became five and hid my highlighter, then I heard the door, and I had to make sure to got here before-"

"It is quite alright," Dream mutters airily, brows knit slightly, "I do not think waiting for you to finish dressing will wear my patience at all."

I chuckle, pursing my lips in a soft smile, "still. I did say 12 o'clock."

He shakes his head, "Cast away your worries. I will wait as long as necessary."

"I will wait as long as necessary," Bruce echoes when I make it back into my room.

I roll my eyes at him and shove him, "stop being insufferable, you sewer rat."

Bruce raises his brows as he reels back at my violence, "you look like a sewer rat."

"Oh, thank you," I coo, going to my walk in closet, "I really tried my best," make my way behind the folding screen, "but you make it look effortless, babe."

Bruce scoffs as he plops on the bed, lying down on the cushion, "you've clearly never seen a rat, nor a sewer, seeing how disconnected you are with reality from the view up on your high horse."

I release a long string of chuckles, "what do you mean? I'm literally related to a sewer rat; how could I not know its filth?"

Just as Bruce props on his elbows, I changed into my backup dress and throw my robe at him.

He pulls the fabric blocking his vision and watches me as I make my way to my vanity and press two pumps of perfume on both sides of my neck.

He examines the green dress on my body, snorting at the drop back and the slit, "if he so much as even breathes the wrong way around you-"

"Bruce," I roll my eyes.

"I'm serious," he blurts, quick to stand on his feet, "I don't care what he is, I will destroy him."

I press my lips into a thin line and look up at his darkened expression. I smooth the fabric on his shoulders then pat his cheek, "okay, Batman."

Bruce is hot on my trail as I head out and make my way down to the parlour, putting on my pumps along the way.

"He's literally an anthropomorphic personification of dreams," Bruce says, making me roll my eyes. I place my hands on my hips as he continues, "the attraction you feel to him is just-"

"It's literally just a coffee date!" I quip, grabbing onto his arm as I struggle putting on my shoes.

Bruce catches me, knitting his brows, "tell him that," he is exasperated when he adds, "the man literally proposed to you when you met."

"He's a literal endless being; our mortal concepts are merely quaint suggestions for him," I say, suddenly thinking, "do I have lipstick on my teeth?"

He makes a face as I bare my teeth at him, "no, just spinach from last night."

"Ha," I pull away from him, "you honestly think between the two of us, you have better dental care?" I walk away again, "your front two teeth are literally fake."

"Your whole personality is fake," he quips, walking by my side.

I scoff, "come on," I take his arm once we make our way down the stairs, "your elderly is showing. Your roasts are getting so lame."

"That's because hang around you all day."

"Pssh."

"Or should I say I worry about how you constantly insist on getting yourself into exceptionally venturesome situations," Bruce turns down to me with a hard look.

"I'm literally the best thing in your life, don't even," I snort, I shoot him a similar look, "you'd literally be twice as lame without me. And that's apart from the fact you'd have turned the entire estate into a cave of darkness."

"Hmm, as opposed all your rackety house parties?" He sighs, "sounds like bliss to me."

Once we are two steps away from reaching the floor, I shove Bruce off me. Of course, he does not fall and lands on his feet with a jump, then shoots a look of daggers at me.

I faux gasp and place a hand over my lips, "oops, sorry chummy."

I push back my hair as I make my way to my date.

The moment he feels my presence, Dream turns to me and rises from his seat. He meets me halfway as I walk over to him. Once I am in front of him, I raise my hands and tilt my head, "so, what do you think? Good enough?"

He holds his hand out for me and I take it, "you put all others to shame with your radiance."

I cannot withhold my giggle as he kisses the back of my hand.

Dream pulls away when he hears the annoying cough behind me.

I huff as I hear my brother speak, "Dream."

Bruce makes his way to my side as Dream nods, "Bruce."

"Take care of my baby sister," he says dryly.

I roll my eyes at him, "I'm literally 2 years younger than you."

"That already goes without saying, but I assure you," Dream turns to me, "she will be under my constant protection."

"And can you protect her from yourself?" Bruce snips.

I sigh and grab onto his stiff arms, "alright, that's enough," I push him away, "go listen to My Chemical Romance of something."

Bruce does not listen to MCR at all, and only eyes us from the corner of the room as we make it to the door.

How funny. Reminds you of anyone?

Dream is unfazed as he stands outside the open entrance, still as the wind catches his coat.

Alfred helps me wear my coat.

"I do admit, your brother's dislike is ironic," Alfred notes as he pushes my coat up my shoulders, "when they are clearly cut from the same black, brooding cloth."

"Exactly!" I chuckle, spinning to look at him, "I'm thinking it's because he wants to be the only black sheep around."

Alfred measures my words before speaking as he hums, "then it appears you must like the King of Dreams very much."

I involuntarily chuckle, feeling as though I was caught, "it's just coffee, Alfred."

He hums once more as he nods, "very well then, miss."

Dream turns to me, then to his hand that I take in mine once I am beside him.

I release a breath, "I really like holding hands when I walk with people. Will that be a problem?"

"Certainly not," Dream mutters, his relaxed hand firmly grips mine.

[soulcheri]

It's been awhile since Brooke's felt this desired by someone. The way Gage touched, tasted, and groped her was enough to drive her wild. She couldn't keep her hands, her lips, or her pussy to herself. With every roll of his hips or flick of his finger against her clit - Brooke threw her head back and mewled. She probably looked like a whore. She felt like one as she clung to him and wouldn't let go. She wouldn't care if he railed her so hard, he broke her. At this point in her life, she'd probably let him. "Oh my god, Gage! Fuck. That feels so good. Keep going... keep fucking me...." Desperate, Brooke fights for control of her hands so she can cup his face and smash her lips to his in a dark, messy, unruly clash of their tongues. She invites his into her mouth to explore while she attempts to latch onto it and suck it between her teeth.

She nearly loses all sense of control and herself, when she feels him palm her boobs. Brooke can't take much more but she lets herself be rammed like she's his little rag doll as he chases his orgasm. And for a second, she feels herself panic while he nears closer to it. She's worried he might not have heard her or had chosen to ignore her when she pleaded for him to pull out. Sure, Brooke was reckless but she wasn't so reckless, she desired getting pregnant. She didn't want to end up knocked up like her mother had been before she was born.

"Jesus Christ!" Brooke curses, after she feels his release shoot up her in the stomach. The rest trickles down her thighs as she runs her hands through his hair. She notices a huge difference between the length of his and the length of Tyler's. Tyler's was a lot longer. Brooke loved pulling on it whenever he got too close to the edge and the pleasure he pounded into her was too much for her small pussy to bear. "I thought maybe you didn't hear me...." she didn't want to accuse him of not listening to her without any proof. "Small fry..." there goes her signature eye roll as she pushes on his chest so he'll let her get down.

Though she has a difficult time doing so, and finding her footing again. Her pussy's so sore and her legs feel as though they'd just run a marathon. But even in her haze, she still finds the time to admire his billboard-style abs while he struts over to retrieve his shorts and pull them back over his toned hips. "I know," Brooke gulps. Mostly because she's distracted by how hot he looks following their post-coital bliss and because she can't even imagine what the actual rave will be like if this was her first introduction to it.

"Will this pick-me-up be just as intense?" For her first time trying Grim, Brooke can see what all the hype is about. She makes a mental note to try it again in the future. Part of her wonders if Isadora would like it or be down to try it with her. "I feel...." Brooke couldn't even formulate words much less get her bikini top back on. She felt shaky but in a good way as she struggled to tie the strings behind her back upon looking ahead at him. "I feel like you're going to get me in a lot of trouble and I'm not mad about it..." To be honest, she was excited and nervous to see what other tricks he had up his sleeve. After all, the rave was his idea and he knew his way around this place better than she did. Brooke was flying blind, while he was a pro.

"Gage---" Brooke whimpers, as she can't breathe. That's how hot the atmosphere had grown around them. The heat was too much for her little body and her little pussy to bear. But it didn't stop either of them from continuing to chase their pleasure.

With her fingers still curled around the table, Brooke rocks back against him meeting his thrusts with passionate pirouettes of her own. She learned those in ballet and perfected them during sex.

"But---" As he instructs her to turn around, Brooke sucks in a deep breath. Her protests soon get swallowed by his mouth fiercely attacking her lips. Their kiss is full of tongue and teeth and heavy breathing that it makes Brooke grow even wetter as he sloshes in and out of her. Sounds played such a huge part in this. But so did, Gage's dominance. Brooke got off on being manhandled. The way Gage forced her into a new position, instructed her to hold on and didn't wait around long enough for permission was incredibly hot.

Then again..... the grim could've been clouding Brooke's judgment. She couldn't listen to reason. Hell, she didn't want to. Her body was too busy chasing its high to an endless state of euphoria. Had she been in a more stable or right frame of mind - she most definitely would've protested against fucking someone she barely even knew without a condom. Naturally, Brooke saved that privilege for people she trusted, having gone through a pregnancy scare once already and not wanting to relive it again with a complete stranger. At the moment though, she wasn't given much of an option and even if she had - she's not sure she would've been able to think about it rationally.

Part of the appeal with Gage was the unknown. Sinking deeper and deeper into mystery and poorly thought out decisions.

Clenching her knee, Brooke met Gage's thrusts in the dark while her tits dripped in sweat, stuck to his chest and occasionally bounced up and down from the frantic momentum of their frenzied fucking. "Oh my god!" Brooke had to grip onto Gage's shoulders just to steady herself as she felt the first wave of her orgasm hit her stomach. Her chants of "yes! yes! yes!" were both a distant answer to his questions and encouragement to keep going so she could cum around him.

Which is precisely what she did, not a few seconds later. Brooke's forehead eventually collapsed against Gage's neck while she let out a series of cries, moans, curses and whimpers as she came in rivulets down his aching cock. The grim percolating through her system was starting to sizzle out. Just in time for her to realize what was happening. "Gage---" she begged and pleaded, in between digging her nails into his biceps "---you have to pull out." She doesn't care if he cums on her so long as he just doesn't cum in her.

[jakesavocado]

Written All Over Your Face || P.SH

Pairing: Tutor!Sunghoon x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut. (Fem Receiving, Male Receiving, Unprotected Sex)

Words: 1.77k

Warnings: 18+ content, read at your own discretion

Synopsis: Your tutor notices the way you seem to be paying more attention to his lips than what he's teaching you and figures it doesn't hurt to give you what you're craving for.

﹅﹅★

Studying with Sunghoon was a terrible idea. For the past two hours, you hadn't been able to focus on your notes for a second even, far too awestruck by the sheer beauty of your tutor. The way he would lick his lips after explaining a topic to you or run a hand through his shiny black hair was making your mind run wild with extremely lustful and inappropriate thoughts. You couldn't help yourself. Sunghoon was just too hot for you to stop drooling over. Sitting so close to him was making it impossible for you to concentrate on your studies.

Sunghoon began to notice. Your eyes lingered on his face a second too long and your breath always hitched whenever he leaned closer to you. Though he seemed clueless, he wasn't dumb. He knew you weren't paying attention. Luckily for you, Sunghoon wasn't in the mood to teach you any longer.

"Did you understand this part," he asked, trying to suppress his smile? You nodded even though you hadn't. That didn't surprise Sunghoon. Regardless, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Let's take a short break then. We've been going at it for a while now."

You were relieved by his words. Slamming your textbook shut, you got out of your seat and stretched your body. Sunghoon's lingered on your figure. You turned to him unknowingly. "I'm gonna go get something to drink. Do you want anything?"

Sunghoon nodded. "I'll just have whatever you're having."

You smiled and skipped off to the kitchen, pulling a carton of juice out of the fridge. Pulling the cabinets open, you reached up on your toes to take out two glasses. Sunghoon bit his lip as he watched you struggle. He smirked and quietly left his seat, making his way over to you. Sensing something behind you, you froze in place. Sunghoon easily retrieved the glasses you were straining for, setting them down beside you. "Thank," you mumbled, feeling anxious. Even though he had given you what you wanted, Sunghoon didn't move. Instead, he tapped your waist, making you spin around. It was only until you faced him, that you realised his proximity. He placed his palm on either side of you, caging you between himself and the counter. You leaned back, wanting to create some distance between you, only to have him shorten the gap again.

Sunghoon was smiling. You had no idea why. Something told you that you would be better off not knowing.

"I see the way you look at me y/n," he said, sounding amused. The colour drained from your face. Were you really that obvious? Sunghoon chuckled. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I think it's cute." That didn't help your case. Sunghoon trailed a finger up your arm, giving you goosebumps. You swallowed nervously when he took his hand away, placing it back where it was, beside you.

"Do you want me," he asked candidly, eyes turning serious all of a sudden? You feel like he's caught you off guard. "Come on, don't be shy love. Just be honest. I swear you won't regret it," he assured you, smiling kindly. You didn't know what to say. You didn't have the guts to be truthful. What if he scorned and rejected you? You wouldn't be able to handle that humiliation. Sunghoon noticed the conflict in your eyes. "Just so you know. It's written all over your face. So whatever you tell me, don't lie to yourself."

Squeezing your eyes shut, you decided to ignore your nerves and just say it. "Fine. I do want you," you admitted, feeling a weight lift itself off your shoulders. The giddiness in your stomach remained, however. It felt more exciting than nerve-wracking. Sunghoon beamed and lifted your chin, keeping you from staring down at your toes. "That's a delight to hear," he began, stepping even closer to you. "Because I want you too."

His lips lingered over yours teasingly. You could feel his breath fanning over your mouth. He looked at you with a playful glint in his eyes. You let out a shaky breath, realising what he wanted. Closing your eyes, you leaned forward and merged your lips with his.

Sunghoon was quick to cup your jaw, humming in satisfaction. He snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you close. His soft lips moved against yours with fervour. You clung to him, wanting to melt into his embrace. His scent was addicting, making your mind reel in ecstasy. His hand lowered down to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. Sunghoon pulled away to catch his breath, lips slightly swollen because of the intense kiss. "You wanna take me to your room or something?"

Smiling whimsically, you took his hand and led him upstairs to your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind yourself. You fell onto your bed, making space for Sunghoon to come settle over you. He crashed his lips onto yours without wasting a second, hand slipping under your shirt to feel your skin. You raised your knee to his waist, clutching the thin material of his shirt in your palm. Sunghoon's lips trailed away from yours, coming down to your jaw to ultimately reach your neck. You tilted your head to the side, giving him more space to place wet open-mouthed kisses on your skin. His lips nipped and sucked at your skin, leaving faint marks behind. He paused and sat up, pulling his shirt off. You stared at his toned body, completely awestruck by the sight. Sunghoon chuckled at your reaction, tossing his shirt aside before tugging yours off as well. He flicked the dainty bow on your bra, reaching behind you to unhook the material. You frantically pulled it off, discarding it with the rest of your clothes. Sunghoon leaned down and ran his tongue over your nipple, squeezing your other breast. He sucked until the nub hardened, moving to give the other one the same attention. Your fingers threaded into his silky hair, back arching as his kisses began trailing down your body. Sunghoon reached the waistline of your pants, looking up at you through his lashes for permission to take them off. Your chest rose and fell as he stripped you clean. Sunghoon's hands ran over your legs as he stood back to take in the sight of your naked body. "Fuck, you're hot," he muttered under his breath, spreading your legs apart. His fingers ghosted over your pussy, eyes coming back to yours one last time before he settled in between your legs. He held your thighs, licking a stripe up your folds. A pleasant warmth radiated through your body. His tongue circled over your clit, lips delivering a light suck to the sensitive bundle of nerves. You wondered how many times Sunghoon had done this before to be so good at it. You could easily say that no one had ever made you feel the way he was right now. His tongue was doing wonders to your pussy.

Sunghoon held your hips down, keeping them from rising into his face. He pulled your core closer to his mouth, ravaging in the taste of you. You moaned ecstatically, loving the way he ate you out. Before you could warn him of the budding knot that was beginning to form in your stomach, Sunghoon sat up, wiping your wetness off his chin. "You've gotta return the favour," he said, pushing his pants down. His member slapped up against his abdomen, making you drool. Sunghoon sat down next to you. "Show me what you've got."

You got on your knees, bending down to lick his tip. Sunghoon bit his lip, watching keenly as you gripped his cock with both your hands and guided his member past your lips. Hollowing your cheeks, you clamped your lips around him and began bobbing your head up and down while jerking off whatever amount of him wasn't fitting in your mouth. Sunghoon didn't interfere, keeping his hands at his sides as shallow breaths left his parted lips. "God, you're doing so well," he praised, hooded eyes struggling to stay open. He didn't let you suck him off for too long, wanting to get to the best part quicker.

You released his cock with a pop, moving up to straddle his lap. Sunghoon angled his tip at your entrance, holding your waist in place before sinking you down on his cock. A long moan drew out from you. Hands on his shoulders, you leaned forward and let him fuck into you from below. He went slow at first, wanting to feel the way your warm walls hugged his cock. His breath was hot on your ear, hand squeezing the skin of your ass as he started speeding up.

Moans poured out of your mouth endlessly. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. Sunghoon seethed, rutting his hips into you at a fast pace. "Hmm, you like that," he asked, not giving you a chance to answer? You could barely form coherent words, so consumed with the pleasure he was giving you. It didn't take long for the knot in your stomach to form again. Sunghoon felt the way your walls clenched around his cock weakly. Knowing you were close, he flipped you around on your back, slamming his hips into you after raising your knee to your chest. His tip brushed over your sweet spot, making you cry in ecstasy. Sunghoon brought his thumb to your clit, pushing you closer and closer to your high.

Finally, your walls clenched tightly around his cock. Arousal gushed down your walls as your orgasm crashed down on you. Your back arched off the bed, a string of curses along with calls of Sunghoon's name left your lips like a chant. Sunghoon didn't lose his pace, continuing to fuck you just as fast and just as hard as he was before. He gritted his teeth, feeling extremely close to his own high. It didn't take long for you to feel his cock twitch inside you. Sunghoon was quick to pull out of you and pump his cock above your stomach, wanting to empty his seed on your skin.

You watched closely as his cum spurt out onto you, thick white ropes dripping against your body. You hummed and wrapped your finger around his cock, dragging him through his high. Sunghoon sighed in satisfaction, plopping down next to you after he was done. He looked exhausted, a thin sheen of sweat lining his brow.

"We should do this again sometime," you suggested, smiling merrily. Sunghoon returned your smile and nodded. "Sure, after you pass your test that is."

- ♡ -

[wwwcapricorncom]

hii could i request something? i don't mind whether it's a headcannon with some drabble or a longer scenario, do whatever you have time for. make sure you're taking care of yourself 🥰

oki so nsfw haikyuu, im very indecisive so I'll give you a list of some characters - feel free to include multiple alsjdggwgw.

tsukishima, kageyama, miya twins, kuroo, bokuto, yknow throw in hinata for some spice. basically anyone that would rUiN me 😗✌️

okay so for the scenario literally go wild with it, I'd love to have a few kinks involved like dumbification, verbal degrading, use of "puppy", breeding, denial, overstimulation and masochism (or sadism if you look at it from the characters side).

feel free to improv if there's anything specific you've been wanting to write lmao I'm happy with anything.

have fun hehe

Eep! You’re so sweet I could cry T^T. You’re my first ask btw so Thank you thank you! Anyone who enjoys this post, please thank anon! This will also be my first work for haikyuu so I hope it will be good! In addition, i'll write the reader as Fem for now bc it wasn’t specified, so I hope that’s okay<3. I was gonna include all characters, but I felt I kept you waiting long enough.

Okay so im thinking…. How they act when domming WITH BOKUTO, ATSUMU, OSAMU, TSUKI, AND HINATA.

Genre: SMUT/MINORS DNI/ 18+/ Characters aged up

Warnings: dumbification, verbal degrading, use of "puppy", breeding, denial, overstimulation, masochism & sadism, a wee bit of impact play in Osamu’s... it just happened, gagging, nose pinching, praising, oral (fem and male receiving), dom dynamics, use of the word “daddy.

                                                      BOKUTO

Bo is a wild card, so anything can activate his dom moods and they can vary from service to hard domming.

You have to watch out for those days when you do something that he finds so cute because that’s when he wants to be a service dom.

And that means fucking you completly dumb.

“C’mere puppy”, just wants to show you how much he appreciates and adores you, so he has to make you feel so good that you turn into mush.

Always fucks you in a position that relies solely on you having to rely on him because it’s such a power trip for him.

Will have you picked up and getting fucked against the wall of your room as he tells you how cute you are.

Seeing you like this triggers something so animalistic in him, he is suddenly so hyper focused as he fucks you like an animal.

LOUDDDD

Just wants to see how wrecked you’ll get for him, but wrecks himself too.

~

“C’mere puppy, gonna pick you up.” You're a mess already, having been getting fucked into on your back by your boyfriend. Still, you put your hands out so he can pull you into his broad chest and up you two go. He smiles at your compliance and goes in to kiss your cute lips, albeit deeply as he sucks on your tongue and bottom lip which makes saliva string you two together when pulling away.

By the time he is done kissing you, he has your bare back pressed against the cool surface of your room walls and is nudging the head of his big, fat cock back into your needy hole. “Ah! Bo, fuck! like this?”

You can’t help but ask while clinging to him for dear life as he bottoms out in you. All he can do is nod, one hand strongly wrapped around your lower back, close to your ass, and the other flat against the wall above your head. He loves the way you cling to him, much like how your soft walls do at the slightest dragging of his cock. In and out. He begins to buck his hips up into you and you bounce at the sheer force of each of his thrusts, breast bouncing gloriously in front of him too as he eyes them.

You’re open mouthed panting in no time in rhythm with his thrusts as your eyes gloss over while looking into his golden ones. He searches your face before using force from his legs to start ramming into your spongy spot and you gasp, “fuck daddy wait!”

“Just wanna make you feel good pup, just let me…” He groans as he continues to fuck into your gspot, making you clench around him sporadically as you begin to moan, “i-if you keep thrusting there-

“You’ll cum? Good, cum for me and i'm not gonna stop either.” He states seriously as he picks up his pace, moving the hand he had around you to your hip and gripping it tightly as he enclosed you against the wall more. You had no choice but to take the harsh thrusts that he was giving you, each retraction taking the air from your lungs before the thrust to your spot delivered intoxicating pleasure.

Your fucking head was getting cloudy as you succumbed to the pleasure, sweat trickling down the valley of your breasts at the body heat you two were producing, the mere sight of you sruggling to determine what you should do makes him go feral. Gripping both of your hips, with a bruising glasp, he makes sure the top half of your back is still resting on the wall as he begins to bring you down on his dick while thrusting up.

“You look so fucking sexy like this! Shit, I love having you on my cock!” He is growling now as you moan incoherent sentences, clinging to him closely you decided on just nodding your head. Too fucked out for anything else as he dominated your throbbing core.

He moans loudly at this as he balls slap aggressively against your ass, “already fucked dumb, pup? Fuckkkkk just how I wanted you.” He says as you start to go weak from the pleasure of your orgasm staring to consume you, moving to place your head in between the crook of his neck. He doesn’t let you though, grabs you by the chin and forces your unfocused eyes to stay on him as drool trickles down your skin from your lolled out tongue.

How could he not watch you go dumb on his cock as he fucks your through your orgasm and into his. You two are going to be so sloppy when he’s done.

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

                                                           TSUKIII

This fucking Psychopath mean and hard dom.

The most verbal degrader, but also lovesss to humiliate you too.

Just looks at you condescendingly, but is trying to hide his amusement.

“You look so pathetic right now, sweetheart.” is pushing his glasses up with one hand.

Has the other hand buried two fingers deep in your needy cunt.

All you can do is whine because for fucks sake he won’t give you anything, but shallow thrusts. All because

“If you want more then fucking work for it!”

Has you fucking yourself on his fingers in an instant while he snickers and smirks  (still being mean) as if his hard on isn’t threatening to fucking cream his pants.

~

“TSUKIII!” You whine as you grip his wrist that is connected to the fingers inside your dripping cunt.

“You look so pathetic right now, sweetheart” He states with a smirk as he gives you two sharp aimless thrusts into your cunt, making you whine louder.

“P-please just give me more! Stop being so mean!” You say as you look up at his shirtless frame. You know by the look on his face that he is having fun, that he enjoys seeing you so needy and you hate that you’re feeding into it. But it’s so hard, when he has been fingering you to the edge and stopping every time right before you could even release.

“You want more? Then fucking work for it, whore!” He says almost sadistically and you nod as you lift your hips up to meet his fingers. You begin to thrust up into his two nimble, long fingers as you clench around him. Your walls are thankful for the aggressive friction that you are finally getting after 3 near orgasms.

One particular rough thrust hits your g spot and you moan lewdly, tongue almost hanging completely out as you feel the familiar tingles of a strong orgasm. Just as you go to lift your hips up to ram into his fingers in the exact same way, his other hand is pressing you firmly down onto the mattress, halting your attempts.

You fucking choke on a sob as tears obscure your vision and he snickers, “Aw you’re such a crybaby!”

But seeing your flushed face and rising chest as your lip quivers, does it for him. And he’s a little mad at himself because you won and don’t even know it. I mean now he just has to fuck you- you just look so pretty, begging for him after he’s been so fucking mean to you. Crying. Gosh, it makes his dick twitch as precum trickles down to his balls.

Yep, now he’s gonna fuck that needy cunny and give you all that you wanted and then some.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

                                                      ATSUMU

Much like Tsuki, he is also a mean and hard dom, but actually has the ability to turn into a soft one.  

Loves to degrade too but because he loves feeling superior. 

Will be at his meanest when he just lost a match and Def takes it out on that cunt. 

Right after like right after the game, he has you riding him in the fucking car. 

Is being so mean too, “don’t tell me that’s all ya got, ya little slut?”

“Ride my fucking dick then!”

Once you amp it up though, fuck his tune switches so fast. “God yer so fuckin’ wet, gonna breed ya just right bc ya think ya can fuck me like this and get away with it?”

Like sir you were just… anyways he will hug you into his chest and mark your flesh up. 

Fills you to the brim while praising and then makes you sit with it leaking into your underwear all the way home 

~

“Come on slut, fully sit on it. I don’t care if it hurts!” Atsumu grumbles as he smacks your ass, making your legs quiver and a few more inches to slip further into your stretching sex.

He’s so big and that asshole barely prepared you before telling you to basically spear yourself on his erect cock. He’s only this mean when he loses and as much as you wish you could say you hate it, you don’t at all.

You love proving him wrong and he always tries to be right, the only difference is he is being meaner right now. That’s why he slams you the rest of the way down on his cock and has your eyes springing open as you arch and shake with a loud cry.

You can’t even express how full you feel or how it feels like he could’ve just broken you, but your pussy can. It’s gushing around him as if you just came, making a mess at his base and his neatly trimmed pubes.

“Don’t ya fuckin’ dare cum yet, don’t tell me that’s all ya got, ya little slut!” He growls taking ahold of your neck with his large hand. You whine at this putting your two smaller hands around his forearm and shaking your head ‘no’, mind getting cloudy.

He sits up a bit, sweaty back unsticking from his leather seats as he gets inches from your face, still clenching your neck, grasping tighter even.

“Then. Ride. My. Fucking dick!” He snaps, eyes dark as he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. You feel so aroused at this point, grinding your hips into his as your walls scream from the weak prep.

He continues to spew mean shit at you, further stimulating you as you begin to ride him faster. He is slipping soon after, groans tumbling out of his mouth as you bounce on his cock like a rabbit.

Whines sharply when you start to clap your ass down on the dick before hugging you to his sweaty chest. Your hard nipples will drag against his skin as he keeps you embraced, strong arms around your back as he sucks purple marks into your skin. Will begin to fuck up into you as he moans, “ya can’t ride me like that and not expect me t-to fill ya up, pretty!”

Doesn’t care for your response, too lost in his own delirium, as he concentrated on ramming all that fat cock into your hole in attempts to get deeper and deeper. And when he hears you finally cry out about how, “ ‘TSUMU! YOU'RE TOO DEEP!”

He is emptying his balls into you, with an iron grip on your hips to keep you firmly planted on him as he repeats, “gonna fuckin’ bread ya! Bread ya so good… look at that cunt drinking it all up ah!…such a good girl.”

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

                                                     OSAMU

Is the reverse of his brother- Is primarily a soft dom, but knows when to be a hard/ mean one.

Loves caressing you and giving you touches everywhere.

But is really good at commanding, does it calmly with hot lazy eyes. 

“Go a little faster… yea there ya go. Good.” 

“Don’t do that baby, ya wouldn’t want me mad right?”

Sometimes that is what you want thoe and you’re being such a brat that he understands too. 

That’s when he goes Dom, probably having enough of your bullshit.

Like if you’re teasing and disobeying him, per example, when you’re giving him head. 

Without warning will put a firm hand on the back of your head and push you forward roughly. 

Will fuck your face so meanly, scolding you about how, “this is what ya wanted.” 

~

“Come on, go a little faster baby.” Osamu commands and his matter of fact tone, the one he uses when he wants you to do something without protest, sends tingles to your cunt as you flutter your eyes up at him.

Deciding to obey this time, even though you know you want something a little more tonight, you begin sucking on his tip a little faster. He nods his head slowly, relishing the scene before him as he tilts his head back.

He’s really getting into it, baby loves when you suck him off on your knees. It always feels so good and he finds himself in this exact position. Head thrown back, eyes shut, one hand holding your makeshift ponytail, and the other on your cheek.

You love the look in his eyes, lustful and lazily hanging open as his pupils flicked down occasionally to drink in your movements. You were growing needy though, panties getting soaked as you rub your thighs together, sucking faster. His hums of approval indicated that he enjoyed this action as he wets his lips and rakes his fingers further through your hair.

Deviously you decided to take him in further and graze your teeth along his skin, something he loved but did not take kindly. It always made him feel way too good like he would cum way sooner than he would want to, so it pissed him off every time you did it. And you knew that it had worked now too when he let out a surprised hiss as you continued to lightly graze your teeth on his member. His breath is shaky as he lets go of the ponytail that he had formed to keep your hair out of your face.

“Fuckin’ mistake” he states seriosuly as his strong hand pushes on the back of your head, lunching you forward and making his cock fully slot itself in your throat. It hurt, it burned, and you were soaking yourself because of the pain. You loved when your daddy turned into such a meanie.

“Can never use yer fuckin’ words huh? Had to be a damn brat.” He grumbles as he starts to slam into your mouth, making tears trickle down the corners of your eyes as you try to keep up with the brutal pace.

He is groaning by now, the force of his thrusts making the veins pop from his arms and legs as your thighs get wet with arousal, “ya like it that much, nasty girl, huh!” You try to tell him yes, but a quick slap to your cheek makes you moan like an absolute slut. It was not enough to hurt, just sting and utterly surprise you, but it was more than enough for you, “don’t fuckin talk when I'm blessing ya with a full mouth.”

His tone is still as calm as ever which makes your pussy throb even more as you nod rapidly, desperately, doe eyes looking up at him as he smirks slightly before continuing to stretch your throat with brutal snaps of his hips. When he begins to cum, he makes sure to thrust fully into you, on his tippy toes, as he firmly plants one hand on the back of your head while using the other to pinch your nose closed.

You cum untouched, choking on his seed and gasping for air as tears stream down your face. But all he says is “ya wanted this and ya liked it, my little masochist.” Osamu has no problem being a sadist for you.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

                                                HINATA

SERVICE DOM !!!

Such a precious baby (reminds me of Izuku) loves to eat you out, but because he really wants you to feel immense pleasure.

Is so attentive, sucks on your breasts, licks your inner thighs, places kisses on your ankles and legs before diving in.

Holds your hand while using the other to spread you apart.

“You taste so good baby.”

Is the type to shake his head from side to side while eating that pussy.

Will overstim you on accident at first, but realizes he loves how easy it is to reel orgasms out of you when you’re sensitive.

“Cum again for me please?”

Oral with him almost always leads to over stimming… both ways.

~

“Another kiss here… and here….here.” Hinata mumbles against your skin as you arch into the touch of his soft, wet lips. He started at your own lips, made his way down to sucking your neck and breasts, paying special care to your nipples. Sucks and nibbles on them for so long that you're wet and the buds are throbbing and sore.

He will then move down, dragging his tongue down your stomach, kissing your belly button, licking at your thighs before grabbing them. He spreads you open, groaning at how your cunt is seeping with arousal as he stands up, your legs on his shoulders while he admires you.

Will kiss your ankles as he rubs his underwear covered cock along your slit, collecting your slick and dampening the fabric. When he can no longer kiss your flesh or produce light touches here and there, too needy, he dives in and kisses your pussy.

“Sho!” You gasp as your hands fly to his hair, weaving into the orange tuffs as he licks a long flat tongue up your entire cunt. He’ll sigh against your puffy clit after this, amazed that he gets to taste you whenever he wants, and this starts the feast.

He starts to suck and nip at your folds, cute nose bumping against your clit which makes you squeal each time, “you taste so good baby.” He groans again as he reaches to hold your hand that abandoned his hair in favor of gripping the sheets. Your heart swells at the cute action as you grasp his warm hand back and he reallys starts to get lost in your soaking cunt.

So engrossed in tongue fuckng you while rubbing your clit with his thumb, he doesn’t register your slight warnings of, “S-sho you’re going too f-fast!” Because you weren't used to being touched and cared for so attentively, him being the first to do you like this, and your orgasm was approaching so fast it was shocking you.

Precum is rushing out of his cock when you start cumming on his tongue, but he doesn’t stop there. He starts to shake his head between your legs from side to side, further stimulating you and getting sloppier, as he gulps and slurps and continues to eat you out.

“TOO SENSITIVE!” You yell as you start squirming away, but his hold on your hand just gets tighter as he flicks his eyes up to you, “cum again for me please? I know my beautiful girl can…” He says, hot breath fanning your quivering cunt as his dark eyes look up at you. You whine at his words, but accept and he's back to over-stimulating you, using his tongue to weave through your folds and into your hole, rubbing your clit harder.

You gush so much for him by the end of the night. And he hasn’t even fucked you with that monster stamina yet.

[fandom-puff]

Gorilla- Remus Lupin

Warnings: smut- rough sex. Mentions of drugs/alcohol but as like a metaphor no one takes drugs/alcohol in this. Remus getting wild in the sheets 😉😉 also remus gets called daddy so

Also I like cut out the last bit of the song bc it’s basically like a repeat of the chorus with some ✨vocals✨

Gif creds to owner

Song creds to owners

Ooh, I got a body full of liquor

With a cocaine kicker

And I'm feeling like I'm thirty feet tall

So lay it down, lay it down

He was practically feral.

This close to the full moon, you knew better than to expect your usual tender lovemaking. No... tonight, Moony would take control, possessing the gentle man before you until he was a rutting beast.

Towering over you, Remus backed you up to the back of the bedroom door, which you had only just managed to kick closed, staring down at you with such intensity, it made your knees weak. His pupils were blown, the glinting greenness of his irises now almost completely eclipsed by the black of his pupils. His hands lay against the door, either side of your head, boxing you in as you stared up at him, eyes wide; you really felt like little red riding hood cornered by the big bad wolf.

And you definitely weren’t afraid of the ‘big bad wolf’ who happened to be your boyfriend. As you so often did, you wanted the werewolf to ruin you, to make you scream until your vocal chords were raw, to fuck you until your eyes rolled back and you could barely string a coherent sentence together.

All that from being pinned to the wall and put under the scrutiny of Remus’s lust-filled eyes.

You got your legs up in the sky

With the devil in your eyes

The backs of your thighs burned with exertion as Remus held them up and apart, his face buried between your thighs as he drank from your wetness like a starving man. The little bedroom was filled with the soft whimpers you could no longer suppress and the lewd wet noises of Remus’s tongue sponging over your most sensitive parts.

Let me hear you say you want it all

Say it now, say it now

He had been down there for a while, and you had come several times from his tongue and lips against your now swollen clit, but you felt so empty. Despite your best efforts, Remus’s hands stayed holding your thighs apart, and his tongue had hardly dipped in your soaking channel.

“Remus, please!” You groaned, inwardly cringing at how needy you sounded. Yet, you could not bring yourself to care- you wanted nothing more than for him to be buried to the hilt inside of you, pounding you into the bed, finally dulling the throbbing ache of arousal that had been burning inside you for hours.

Look what you're doing, look what you've done

But in this jungle you can't run

'Cause what I got for you

I promise it's a killer,

You'll be banging on my chest

Bang bang, gorilla

Resurfacing from between your legs, Remus licked his glistening lips, staring at you as you backed up the mattress, towards the pillows. “Please...” you whined, reaching to tug him down to you, pawing at his jumper in a pathetic attempt to feel his skin against yours.

“You want this off, darling?” He murmured, voice throaty with arousal. You nodded quickly, sitting up to help him shove the jumper off, tossing it aside without a care in the world. Instantly you attacked Remus’s chest with your lips, occasionally trailing your nails down over it as he rid you of the last scraps of your clothes. “Get on your hands and knees,” he growled into your ear before biting the lobe sharply.

***

Yeah, I got a fistful of your hair

But you don't look like you're scared

You just smile and tell me, "Daddy, it's yours."

'Cause you know how I like it,

You's a dirty little lover

His name fell from your lips in a garbled chant of ecstasy as he pounded into you from behind, one hand maintaining the arch in your waist, the other wrapped tightly around your hair, holding your head up by a rough ponytail.

It was a good thing too- had it not been for his hand in your hair, you would’ve fallen face first into the sheets, which really would’ve been a shame as Remus so dearly loved to hear your cries and moans and whimpers as he shagged the living daylights out of you.

After a succession of several particularly well-aimed thrusts which had your eyes rolling back and your jaw slackening, and a rarely used word slipped out of you mouth. “D-daddy...”

If the neighbors call the cops,

Call the sheriff, call the SWAT ‒ we don't stop,

We keep rocking while they're knocking on our door

And you're screaming, "Give it to me baby,

[Explicit version:] Give it to me motherfucker!"

It was as if something in him snapped completely, and he yanked you up by the hair, still thrusting into you as his chest pressed into your back, a strong arm around your middle. “Daddy... Hmm, someone is a needy girl tonight,” he growled into your ear, sending shivers down your spine and bolts of arousal shooting to your core.

You nodded weakly, head looking back against Remus’s shoulder as you felt pleasure beginning to crest in your belly. You allowed yourself to fully let go, your suppressed moans dissolving into needy cries as you begged remus to make you come. You knew that there were silencing charms up, but couldn’t bring yourself to care if they were still working, too caught up in your ecstasy to care what Sirius may or may not be able to hear.

I bet you never ever felt so good, so good

I got your body trembling like it should, it should

You'll never be the same baby once I'm done with you

“Are you gonna come, sweetheart,” he grunted into you ear, the gentle pet name so dramatically different to the way he was wrecking you. “I can feel your tight little cunt squeezing me... fuck, good girl,”

You moaned lewdly, pressing sloppy kisses to whatever bit of skin you could reach. “Daddy...” you whimpered, reaching down to rub desperately at your clit.

“I know... good girl, touch yourself while I fill you up, Princess,” he grunted, biting your shoulder slightly. “Fuck- you won’t be able to walk in a straight line once I’m through with you,”

You merely groaned in response, the change in pitch alerting him that you were teetering on the edge of your climax. “Come,” he growled, tilting your head to kiss you intensely as your orgasm crashed over you.

If it weren’t for his arms, you’d have collapsed on the bed in a twitching, messy heap. But remus held you up, holding you close as he released inside you with a feral growl of your name.

Breathing laboured, his grey-flecked hair in his eyes, he pulled out of you, shushing you tiny whimpers, helping you onto your side as you came down from your mountainous high.

Once partially recovered and totally cleaned up, you snuggled under the covers, holding onto each other. You could hear Remus’s heart pounding and knew that there were a few more intense rounds in store for you before the full moon- not that you minded of course. The ache already blooming between your thighs was indicator enough as to how much you and Remus enjoyed your intense couplings.

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