Dreamverse Series - Part 1
WELL YALL, I made a thing, here’s my own RnM fan fic Erotica series. Enjoy
You have to keep telling yourself it’s not real.
You squeeze your eyes as hard as you can or, at least, you think you are, you can’t tell. You could never tell.
You try and focus on melting through the sheets or falling through them, as if you’re sinking down to the bottom of a pool.
Focus…shit! Don’t freak out!
You hear the banging again but this time it’s much louder and any minute the door will bust open and it will come in.
Your mind flinches with every blow, each louder than the last. Your ears ring as if they were gunshots, only louder, which seems impossible.
Why is it so hard this time? You’ve escaped before…
Your heart races with each breath that escapes through your nose. You want to open your mouth to breathe, scream, anything, but it’s as though its sewn shut, like some B rated horror movie. You can’t open or even touch them. You can’t move anything and you’re running out of time.
Abort mission, you can’t do it, you need help.
Suddenly the temperature drops and although you can’t see it, there’s a black fog that’s entered the room, completely blanketing the floor.
The door violently swings open and a huge black figure enters the room, then slowly glides towards you.
You try to scream but your lips won’t move. You try moving your head to reach for your night stand, but it’s as though you’re in quicksand. The more you move the worse it is.
As it gets closer, the figure suddenly begins to change and the fog changes from black to a bright neon green. The first thing you notice is the figure’s wild and disheveled teal blue hair. Your eyes travel to its face, which hadn’t come close enough for you to see before. A man comes into focus and across his lips lies a huge scar curled up in a sinister sharp smile.
Finally he reaches the side of the bed and that’s when you see the look of pure evil in his eyes.
Towering over you like an omen, radiating every horrible thing that’s ever happened to you, He raises a hand and you notice he is wearing a white lab coat over a black shirt.
Suddenly he lunges forward, grabbing your neck and begins to squeeze. His nails dug into your skin while his eyes pierced right through you. He is here for something, but it’s not to kill you.
What..what do you want from me?!
His eyes narrow as his expression changes to that of amusement and he lifts his other hand to reveal a gun, but not like one you’ve ever seen.
“You.” The single word reply escaped his lips like dripping poison, his voice cold and hardened.
He looks you up and down then places the searingly cold end of the barrel between your collarbones, pausing only for a second before slowly dragging the metal down your body as his grip on your throat tightened. You wince as he agonizingly tortures your skin, the metal colder than anything you’ve ever felt, and continues his slow pace…between your breasts…over your stomach…before reaching-
Closing your eyes and with all your remaining strength you try one last time to move.
Get the FUCK away from me!
You let out a desperate gasp for air and bolt upright in bed breathing heavily and fast. You touch your lips, throat, and look to the door to see it’s closed. Everything’s fine and you’re alone, once again, in the still of your bedroom at three am.
Except, everything’s not fine.
Quickly you swing your legs off the bed and run to the floor length mirror across the room to examine your neck.
It's….bruised. How is that possible!?
Confused you step back, shaking, sweating, and for once scared, only to discover that’s not all. You notice the damp fabric of your panties clung to you, which wasn’t the result of sweat.
Bruises were now the least of your problems.
“What. The. Fuck!” you yelled at the mirror, breaking the silence in the room which almost seemed necessary.
You’ve never experienced a sleep paralysis like that before.
You’ve always been able to escape, turn it into a lucid dream and then go or do whatever the hell you wanted. Sex mostly. But, this, what happened tonight, wasn’t normal.
Your mind can’t manifest real bruises being paralyzed, and you couldn’t have made them yourself.
Previously before you learned to control it, the figures never took a human form or had anything about them you could remember. And you certainly were not ever…aroused.
These sleep paralysis episodes had been happening every night for the past week since moving into this house. You wonder if it has anything to do with the backstory of why your rent is so cheap, causing your brain to get carried away.
The owner and now landlord hasn’t been able to keep tenants very long before they break contract and move out, sometimes without picking up their deposits. Something about various complaints about a particular neighbor, strange sightings, and unexplainable sounds at night, although you were not given the details on the nature of the complaints. If there was something serious going on in this neighborhood, you’d know already, so it didn’t bother you.
Turning away from the mirror with your heart still racing, you decide there’s no chance you’ll fall back to sleep.
Not after that, especially when you are now all…worked up.
Walking back over the side of the bed, you open the nightstand drawer to reveal what you called “Polly”. Technically the manufacturer named it that as you were not in the habit of giving names to your vibrators but it always made you laugh to yourself when reaching for it.
Might as well take care of myself since I’m up.
Just as you grab the smooth purple phallic device, the second loud noise for this evening catches your attention, this one being very real and coming from outside.
Quickly you swap the toy for your 9mm Taurus from the top of the nightstand and bolt to the wall next to the window and peer through the blinds.
Across the street was an open garage, dimly lit, with a huge cloud of black smoke escaping from it.
You spring into action, running down the hall, through the front door, and across the street to the house in question, with your gun pointed towards the ground.
Carefully, you sidestep to one side of the garage as the smoke clears while trying to make out if anyone is inside or what caused the assumed explosion.
“Police! Is anyone in here? Is anyone hurt?” you shout hoping, you’re not about to walk into a meth lab. Paperwork is the last thing you want to do at this hour.
“S-Shit Morty! Be cool, be co-urg-ol Morty. Someone called the f-fucking cops already!”
“Aw geez Rick, I’m freaking out!”
Hearing the little amount of conversation exchanged, you decide to plunge into the garage, gun drawn, unsure of what to expect but definitely not prepared for what you found.
“Police! No one move! Wha-What’s….going…” you trail off as you take in the whole scene before you.
There was what looked to be blood splatter on one side of the garage and directly across on the other side were two people, a man and a teenaged boy, each with what you’d swear to be dead bodies at their feet.
Seconds go by and as more smoke clears, you notice the bodies look exactly like the man and boy except bloody and mangled.
Suddenly you felt the ache and familiar warmth swelling deep in your core.
Either you were still dreaming or the man you just dreamt about was standing before you. His unforgettable blue hair grabbing your attention first before your eyes traveled over the rest of his tall body. He was wearing the same white lab coat but over a blue shirt, a softer expression, and what appeared some kind of glowing device in one of his hands.
He cleared his throat before speaking, “So uh, I don’t know what is more awkward. You thinking these bodies are real or the fact you ran over here h-half naked….O-Officer. Not very professional of y-you.”
He had a certain confidence about him. Either he didn’t think I was actually a cop, or he really didn’t care. Either way, he almost seemed slightly annoyed I was here, despite the scene of the garage.
The man then shifted uncomfortably, presumably trying to adjust what looked to now be the beginning of a trapped erection in his pants as you registered the words he just spoke.
With both hands still firmly on the firearm, you look down to examine that you did indeed bolt out of the house in nothing but a thin tank top and panties.
You pray the darkness works in your favor to hide the damp fabric and address the man and boy, who is now shielding his eyes from you.
“I heard an explosion and responded! Is uh…everyone alright? Identify yourselves!” you state, now fixated on the erection.
“Y-Yes Officer, we are fine…just…just uh, t-testing out our haunted house props for Halloween. I’m Rick Sanchez and this is my grandson, Morty.” He gestures to the small teenage boy who shyly waves a free hand while still averting his eyes.
Trying your hardest to keep a straight face, a small gust of wind enters the garage removing the remaining smoke ghosting across your now clearly visibly taught nipples along the way.
Of course noticing, Rick spoke again.
“Sorry for the noise. We will wrap up it up for tonight. Right Morty?”
“Y-Yeah. S-s-s-so s-sorry Ma’am, I mean Officer!”
Feeling ridiculously embarrassed and knowing the possibility of those bodies being real was highly unlikely, given the fact they looked identical to Rick and Morty, you quickly reply that you will formally follow up in the morning Then you immediately high tail it back to your house, barefoot and all.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/16876743/chapters/39633903
blakekathryn
kaledo-art
prguitarman
annaxmalina
turnnoffyourmind
baratheonpilled
